Alleyana listened to Cole go, glad to have her hearing back. She was probably one of the only people in the Inquisition -- besides perhaps Solas when he'd been around -- who didn't mind Cole's... chatter. The silence when her ears had stopped working had been unnerving.

"Yes," she said of her hand, flexing it a bit. It was protected by soft leather. "The tendons are still... too tight in some spots, not tight enough in others. And the nerves are... well, what they are." And it wasn't as though the bones were perfect now, either. Just a lot less bad after a solid night of breaking and setting and healing.

She honestly could barely remember having fully-functional hands anymore. Working clay without pain and frustration was a distant memory, as distant as learning her first sword-strokes. Or the first time her nose had snapped, while her brother was carted off...

Okay, maybe that one was less distant. Alley frowned at her hand, and then went to fetch the thin pieces of wood and roll of twine she'd gotten. It was stacked by some of the pots; she'd known Cole would show up to help.

She arranged the wood on the floor to form several supports for vines, and then held out the ball of twine for the rogue. "Can you tie them where the wood crosses?" That was pretty much beyond her. Little twine, little knots...