[She's grateful Sansa sends her a message for precisely that reason. She replies back with a quick text-- I'll be there in a moment-- and takes the time to pin her hair up and find something appropriate to wear. She hates being seen in pajamas, but there's little she can wear right now.

She settles for a loose shirt, something she'd picked up in Wyver, and a skirt. The shirt leaves bandages from her chest and shoulder peeking out, and there's no hiding the bruises around her neck, never mind the burns and cuts, but . . . she's standing. She's stable. There's no missing limbs. It could be far worse.

Darwin is at her ankles, though he worms his way forward to nudge affectionately at Sansa once Rosalind opens the door.]

Hello.

[She steps aside, welcoming her in.]

I'm all right, before you ask. Nothing that shan't heal in time.

[She's a hideous scar on her left forearm, though, and a smaller one at the base of her throat.]

Though I'm flattered you're fond enough of me that you came to visit.