"I think it would be interesting to know how your healing interacts with purely magical ailments. Of which not very many people are afflicted per capita, but they can be disproportionately disastrous." 

"Would you like me to check now?"

"...It isn't getting worse. If you'd rather not interrupt this conversation it isn't necessary."

"Checking is quick, and bringing in a psychic healer may not be, they're harder to come by than physical healers."

"I suspect that if you can't do anything for them then the problem is just that they're functionally dead. But it's not impossible."

"Where can I find them?"

"They're mostly used to guard particularly sensitive locations--follow me," she says, gesturing. 

Nelen follows.

She brings them to a door that two figures are standing in front of. 

The two figures are blank-faced in a way that speaks of excellent autonomic control and nobody whatsoever home. They're wearing uniforms different from the ones the ordinary guards were wearing, all in black. 

Nelen pokes one on the back of the hand.

The man's face shifts briefly from blankness to shock, and then he collapses to his knees sobbing into his hands. 

"I'm going to call that a promising result, under the circumstances."

"- would you like me to have him teleported to a place where we tend to put people who've had - supernaturally traumatizing experiences, or do you think he can likely recuperate locally?"

"I mean, he could, probably, but we don't have a great place to...put him...that wouldn't make him interact with Father, which, uh, wouldn't be fair to him."

"Okay. I'm going to put him in a Lórien, that's a kind of magic forest that's very soothing for the most similar cases we've tried -" Pop.

And then Nelen's back a minute later. "Sorry for the wait, I had to explain him."

"You know what, that's fair, it's the kind of situation that bears explaining. Given that your role is Ambassador rather than, uh, atrocity relief, do you want to--call someone else in to handle the rest of them, table talks until the rest are done, table doing the rest until talks have progressed--also could you tap my mother at some point, it's considerably less urgent but my mother did, also, sustain a significant magical injury while Father was being mind-controlled."

"I can call in a float healer with the same powers as mine who can heal them all and bring them all to the Lórien, and I'd be happy to heal your mother."

"Thank you. I thought it was very promising when you reacted well to the implication that meeting powerful strangers was not more important than comforting an upset child, but you have nonetheless far outstripped my expectations."

"...my species likes babies more than most," he says a little sheepishly. He takes a picture of where they are, and presently a float healer - she's naked, but covered by a moving illusion of millet stalks that obscure her torso - appears. "Millie, hi, this place has some people who are in a sort of catatonia and need a poke and a ride to Lórien, possibly not in that order."

"Okay, where are they at?" Millie asks.

"They aren't all currently gathered at a central location--I'll alert Father and he'll send them all here."

She raises her hand, and a glowing purple butterfly appears above it and flutters off much faster than a normal butterfly could fly. 

This urgent task having been accomplished, she looks at Millie more closely, eyes tracing up and down her without particular hesitation or prurient interest, and says, "--Some kind of nature spirit? I suppose it's none of my business, but you almost seem to fit into the paradigm I'm familiar with, you see."

"Pretty close! I'm a nymph, and the goddess who invented us made nature spirits, but I'm from a domesticated strain."

Nod. "Millet?"

"Right in one!"

"I like your," she waves her hand in the general direction of her own torso, "effect, it's very pretty. And thematic." 

"Thanks! Nymphs don't wear clothes, so this is a compromise solution."