When Carissa Sevar opens her eyes again, it's in a bedroom that looks a lot less doompunk than the rest of the palace. Everything here that isn't alive is soft and white, from the deep deep mattress she's lying upon, to the coverlet over her, to the pillow beneath her head. There's vines with varieties of exotic flowers growing on the walls, the ceiling, to prevent all that whiteness from being too unrelieved a picture.
Nothing is hurting her, at all, and also she's not a statue, in case that wasn't clear. No runes on her skin.