Morrigan can heal, but generally doesn't. Today is a rare exception.
"Who causes, should cure." quoth their leader righteously. Said leader is currently holding Alistair's head still with a firm grip on his chin while Morrigan palpates his ear and neck with long tapered fingers that should almost certainly be gentler.
At a particularly invasive prod, the victim yowls in dismay and flinches away from her touch. Morrigan rolls her eyes.
"Stop acting like a child. You brought this on yourself, you know."
Alistair tries to jerk his head around to glare at the witch. "You wait to cast until you know I'm going to get there at the same time!"
Elissa shushes him, brushing her thumb along the uninjured side of his jaw. "It's just a little burn. You'll be fine. You know Morrigan's magic is very helpful to us. I'm sure this was an accident."
"I suppose 'tis far too much to ask you to stop and think before you dash into battle. You are most fortunate that I did not deform you dreadfully, though I do not know how anyone would tell." Morrigan fires a healing spell into her fingertips and directs it at the slightly charred side of Alistair's head. She watches impassively as the blisters fade and the reddened flesh is soothed, though his hair will stay singed for a while. She may hate the man, but that is no excuse for sloppy work.
Magic managed, Morrigan starts to stalk back to her tent, but not fast enough to miss Alistair's appeal to Elissa to kiss it all better. "I am going to go retch now," she calls back over her shoulder, thinking wryly that no good deed goes unpunished.