[By the warning, Maria has assumed the rag to be doused in alcohol, but that wasn't the case. Just having the wound pat down and clean around the edges is easy to take, she'd long stopped being sensitive to such things. Arya might need to tear the back of Maria's vest and undershirt a bit, just to open enough room to wash the slice in his shoulder blade. Maria won't protest if she does, it's still more modest an option than taking off her clothing.

She tends to the holes in her stomach herself, rummaging through pockets until she pulled a glove back with glass shards in the leather. She had a veil on her? It had broken in the skirmishing, clearly, but there may be some blood left. Reaching into the pocket, her gloves reemerge with a smattering of strange blood, darker and somehow ominous seeming than Maria's own. Huffing, perhaps hesitating only a second, she reaches to her gut and placed the blood to her wounds.

Healing blood, even a small amount, could work miracles. She breathed in to feel the wounds seal. It was what she'd hoped and yet she still felt the desire to curse over it. Maria will stay silent, it would be improper to have an outburst, after all.]

... again, I thank you sincerely, young miss.