She couldn't help but turn a deeper red as the healer chuckled at her. She'd never been a heavy drinker, even among her own family, and had never taken to spirits once on her own. She liked having her wits about her, and drinks had the uncanny ability of removing every wit within a person's brain.
"I don't drink...and I don't know how I got here."
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensation of whiskey moving about her empty stomach. It rolled through in waves and served to warm her body a bit further - and perhaps, she mused, she could blame the blushing on the alcohol. At least there was one benefit to all of this.
The healer was speaking again, and she opened her eyes to stare at the viscous liquid he was insisting she drink. She had to assume that it wasn't alcohol or blood, and just trust him, but she debated whether to ask what the stuff would do to her or not. For an insane moment she imagined herself slapping the cup out of his hand and across his clothing, screaming into his face that she refused to cooperate any longer, refused to have her life decided for her yet again. I don't want to play anymore...
But the moment passed, and her quiet nature won once more. She struggled to lift her head and drink down the fluid in one go, as instructed. It was bitter, but her taste buds were still dulled due to the whiskey, and she hardly tasted the stuff as it flowed over her tongue and down, down into her belly where it spread like muted fire. Within seconds the sensation shot through her limbs, making them three times heavier than before, and she realized as darkness closed over her that she'd just been put to sleep.
As her head dropped down, she had just enough time to shoot one terrified glance at the healer before her eyes slid shut and she was unconscious.
The Moral Equation
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
Seventri looked back at Lanya as she slipped into unconsciousness. Slipped being a poor descriptive term for the sudden plummet she experienced. He didn't say anything and didn't really smile, but seemed to be waiting for the inevitable to happen. She was gone after a few seconds, at which point he took the cup back from her limp hand and placed it on the tray with the rest of his things.
The infirmary was a poor place to treat a woman with any degree of privacy. There were no curtains or dividers, let alone a separate room to take her to. The place was designed to accommodate an overflow of wounded from the temple in case of war and not much else. There was no nurse and probably not a single other female in the building, all of which meant that Seven had to strip her personally right in the room with all the other men before getting her into a gown.
At least they had gowns. The men didn't have a problem getting naked around each other, especially when one of them was wounded, but spending a night or two required something to wear, so that he had.
He sighed and looked at her mess of clothing. It was difficult to tell what was what, with half of it torn and out of place as it was. There was a blanket tied around her neck as well, so he shook his head and began with that.
***
Camulous grew tired of waiting and passing the time. Ryxa was still gone, possibly dead, and he didn't care one iota about her. The poor bastard she was fighting had it far worse anyway, and if he killed her and escaped it would probably be better for everyone. Everyone but Camulous, anyway.
He turned and headed for the entrance and the two confused men standing at its sides. They watched him approach, visors on their metallic helmets locked up so he could see their eyes, but he stared right past them to the deep orange lighting inside the antechamber. This concerned them more, driving home their suspicions that something was obviously bothering him, something job related and possibly concerning them, but as he passed between the two men he gave one on the right a shove on the shoulder. It wasn't much, barely enough to make him stagger, but the action startled them both.
His point was clear. Whatever was bothering him didn't involve them. Everything was fine and they should stop staring at him like a couple of lost dogs. Do your job and don't worry about it.
Inside the headquarters it was warm and inviting, like returning home after a day's work. His eyes passed over the tapestries and he let their depictions of war and honor fill him with strength. They reminded him that glory had its price, and that price was well worth it.
The infirmary was a poor place to treat a woman with any degree of privacy. There were no curtains or dividers, let alone a separate room to take her to. The place was designed to accommodate an overflow of wounded from the temple in case of war and not much else. There was no nurse and probably not a single other female in the building, all of which meant that Seven had to strip her personally right in the room with all the other men before getting her into a gown.
At least they had gowns. The men didn't have a problem getting naked around each other, especially when one of them was wounded, but spending a night or two required something to wear, so that he had.
He sighed and looked at her mess of clothing. It was difficult to tell what was what, with half of it torn and out of place as it was. There was a blanket tied around her neck as well, so he shook his head and began with that.
***
Camulous grew tired of waiting and passing the time. Ryxa was still gone, possibly dead, and he didn't care one iota about her. The poor bastard she was fighting had it far worse anyway, and if he killed her and escaped it would probably be better for everyone. Everyone but Camulous, anyway.
He turned and headed for the entrance and the two confused men standing at its sides. They watched him approach, visors on their metallic helmets locked up so he could see their eyes, but he stared right past them to the deep orange lighting inside the antechamber. This concerned them more, driving home their suspicions that something was obviously bothering him, something job related and possibly concerning them, but as he passed between the two men he gave one on the right a shove on the shoulder. It wasn't much, barely enough to make him stagger, but the action startled them both.
His point was clear. Whatever was bothering him didn't involve them. Everything was fine and they should stop staring at him like a couple of lost dogs. Do your job and don't worry about it.
Inside the headquarters it was warm and inviting, like returning home after a day's work. His eyes passed over the tapestries and he let their depictions of war and honor fill him with strength. They reminded him that glory had its price, and that price was well worth it.
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
The deerskin blanket's tie had been tied by a nervous male, and therefore wasn't difficult to pry loose. Beneath it remained a torn, ragged and bloody shirt tucked into equally filthy worn leather jerkins. One trouser leg was ripped, nearly to the hip, from when Lucian had snapped her kneecap back into place; the other remained tucked into her boot. And of course, beneath it all, she wore a breast band and panties.
Although she didn't have many clothes left to her name, what remained attached to her was soggy and cold to the touch. It also carried mud along with bits of grasses and leaves from her time in the woods. The fabric clung to her feverish skin as only wet clothing can, but at least she wasn't struggling or moving in any way besides the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Her skin was a mass of assorted bruises and cuts of varying infection. The worst bruises were along her torso and arms, from being tackled to the street the day before. Her knee was swollen and ugly, though at least the kneecap was in the correct location once more. And the knife wound in her back would prove to be relatively shallow, a mere two to three inches, but the flesh around it was already red and inflamed, along with the cut in her hand.
Goosebumps rippled across her arms and legs as wet cloth was removed to leave her dampened skin exposed to the room's air. It was a mercy that she wouldn't remember any of this.
The healer's drug was potent and swift, and like a true sedative, it did not immediately take her into the dreamscape of her mind. Instead it was all black, a total lack of consciousness while her body adjusted itself to this new state of being and compensated for the sudden and unauthorized rush of sleep. The woman was left with the bliss of unconsciousness, which carried the double gift of freeing her from the constant torment of her subconscious and serving to pass the time a bit faster.
Although she didn't have many clothes left to her name, what remained attached to her was soggy and cold to the touch. It also carried mud along with bits of grasses and leaves from her time in the woods. The fabric clung to her feverish skin as only wet clothing can, but at least she wasn't struggling or moving in any way besides the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Her skin was a mass of assorted bruises and cuts of varying infection. The worst bruises were along her torso and arms, from being tackled to the street the day before. Her knee was swollen and ugly, though at least the kneecap was in the correct location once more. And the knife wound in her back would prove to be relatively shallow, a mere two to three inches, but the flesh around it was already red and inflamed, along with the cut in her hand.
Goosebumps rippled across her arms and legs as wet cloth was removed to leave her dampened skin exposed to the room's air. It was a mercy that she wouldn't remember any of this.
The healer's drug was potent and swift, and like a true sedative, it did not immediately take her into the dreamscape of her mind. Instead it was all black, a total lack of consciousness while her body adjusted itself to this new state of being and compensated for the sudden and unauthorized rush of sleep. The woman was left with the bliss of unconsciousness, which carried the double gift of freeing her from the constant torment of her subconscious and serving to pass the time a bit faster.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
When Camulous walked into the infirmary, Seventri had the woman on a bed with a blanket covering most of her torso with her wet and filthy clothes in a pile on the floor at her feet. He was dressing a wound on her knee, a scalpel and jar of green healing salve on a tray resting on her lap atop the blanket. He had the all purpose salve on his hands, and had begun wrapping a bandage over her entire knee. The bedsheets and some of his clothes were covered in blood.
Camulous approached the bed, dwarfing the two of them with his armor enhanced girth. He no longer had any weapons with him.
Seventri didn't look up at first, either because he hadn't noticed or he was too busy wrapping to be distracted, so the captain spoke up.
"She's going to be alright then."
"Yes, good captain, she'll be fine for now." The old man answered, glancing up briefly with his blue eyes as he shifted to get another round of bandage under her leg. The captain immediately looked away.
"I need to take her to the judges once you're finished..."
It was a confession. He was looking for Seventri's support, but they both knew it wouldn't be forthcoming.
"Ah, so it's not just the regular prison for this one."
"She broke our laws, used magic in our city and ran from us."
"Well of course she ran from you!" The old man raised his voice and stared at the captain, who was now defiantly meeting blue eyes with his own. "Who did you have with you? Berne?"
Not Berne, but someone just as bad.
"That's not the point. If she had come quietly she wouldn't be in this mess."
"Oh no, of course not. She'd be tucked away safely inside the Hall."
"Dammit Seven, what do you expect me to do!?"
When the captain raised his voice, he realized that the few other men in the infirmary were staring at him and listening to the whole thing. He'd prefer it if they didn't hear, but it was too late.
"I'm but a healer good captain..."
"Don't pull that shit with me."
It was a defense with little validity to it. Seventri was old and wise, and far from a simple healer. He knew the ways of Marn better than anyone and was one of Camulous' most important advisers. Perhaps his only real adviser.
The old man finished wrapping the leg and then sat back with a light sigh.
"Captain, you do what you can. I'm not the man to judge your actions. That's between you and Theogios. Don't expect me to praise you for arresting a helpless girl though."
Camulous folded his arms across his breastplate and looked out a nearby window slit at the dim blue world outside. Rain collected on the rough glass and he could not see if there was still a cloud of smoke over the woods.
"We are the hand of the city, Seven. I must give her to them. I have not the luxuries..."
"The luxuries of the average man. Yes yes." The old man interrupted. "The price is on your soul Camulous. If the city is worth that price to you, then you are a great captain indeed."
Camulous' eyes drifted to the dark mass of buildings below the horizon and he nodded slowly.
Camulous approached the bed, dwarfing the two of them with his armor enhanced girth. He no longer had any weapons with him.
Seventri didn't look up at first, either because he hadn't noticed or he was too busy wrapping to be distracted, so the captain spoke up.
"She's going to be alright then."
"Yes, good captain, she'll be fine for now." The old man answered, glancing up briefly with his blue eyes as he shifted to get another round of bandage under her leg. The captain immediately looked away.
"I need to take her to the judges once you're finished..."
It was a confession. He was looking for Seventri's support, but they both knew it wouldn't be forthcoming.
"Ah, so it's not just the regular prison for this one."
"She broke our laws, used magic in our city and ran from us."
"Well of course she ran from you!" The old man raised his voice and stared at the captain, who was now defiantly meeting blue eyes with his own. "Who did you have with you? Berne?"
Not Berne, but someone just as bad.
"That's not the point. If she had come quietly she wouldn't be in this mess."
"Oh no, of course not. She'd be tucked away safely inside the Hall."
"Dammit Seven, what do you expect me to do!?"
When the captain raised his voice, he realized that the few other men in the infirmary were staring at him and listening to the whole thing. He'd prefer it if they didn't hear, but it was too late.
"I'm but a healer good captain..."
"Don't pull that shit with me."
It was a defense with little validity to it. Seventri was old and wise, and far from a simple healer. He knew the ways of Marn better than anyone and was one of Camulous' most important advisers. Perhaps his only real adviser.
The old man finished wrapping the leg and then sat back with a light sigh.
"Captain, you do what you can. I'm not the man to judge your actions. That's between you and Theogios. Don't expect me to praise you for arresting a helpless girl though."
Camulous folded his arms across his breastplate and looked out a nearby window slit at the dim blue world outside. Rain collected on the rough glass and he could not see if there was still a cloud of smoke over the woods.
"We are the hand of the city, Seven. I must give her to them. I have not the luxuries..."
"The luxuries of the average man. Yes yes." The old man interrupted. "The price is on your soul Camulous. If the city is worth that price to you, then you are a great captain indeed."
Camulous' eyes drifted to the dark mass of buildings below the horizon and he nodded slowly.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
The infirmary was a quiet place. Light rain hitting the thick stone walls of the building made no noise, and the few men in the room had nothing to say. Only the sounds of the healer shuffling as he examined Lanya's wounds, turned her over (while doing his best to use the sheet to preserve her decency) disinfected and salved the cut on her back, and turned her around again.
Camulous waited with his arms clasped behind his back and stared through the window. Slowly it started to fog from a combination of the humid air and his proximity. White clouds closed in from the sides, and soon it was impossible to make out the city at all.
He turned around and looked at the woman finally. By this point Seventri was finished and everything he could do for her was done. The bleeding was stopped, the wounds were all anesthetized, disinfected, and would heal in a matter of hours if the salve did its job.
"How much time do you have?" Seventri asked, placing his tools back on the tray.
"They don't even know I brought her here."
Seven nodded. "Well that's all I can do. If you're going to take her, take her."
Camulous straightened his lip. The old man knew that the right thing to do for the safety and security of the city was to take her in, and yet he wanted him to let her escape. He knew the captain's duty came first and that nobody, not even him, could question the validity of being dutiful and honest to his word.
None of this had to be said of course. They both knew what the other was thinking, had had similar discussions before. When Saldrin died the discussion was the same, and it had all been said before. Camulous killed Saldrin for the same reason, though the old man was far less innocent than the witch. Then, like now, his duty was clear.
Neither of them liked it, but Camulous was the one willing to do it. Why then should he feel guilty for being the stronger?
He shouldn't. He convinced himself not to. Seventri was the weak one. It made him mad when he thought about it. Seven should be supporting him, not blaming him.
Seventri spoke up. "She'll wake in a few minutes, but she won't be able to walk on her own or feel anything for at least two hours."
"Get some clothes onto her, I'll send someone." Replied Camulous before abruptly walking out.
Seven watched him leave and sighed.
"So blind." He muttered to Lanya, and placed a gown in her lap over the sheets for when she would wake.
Camulous waited with his arms clasped behind his back and stared through the window. Slowly it started to fog from a combination of the humid air and his proximity. White clouds closed in from the sides, and soon it was impossible to make out the city at all.
He turned around and looked at the woman finally. By this point Seventri was finished and everything he could do for her was done. The bleeding was stopped, the wounds were all anesthetized, disinfected, and would heal in a matter of hours if the salve did its job.
"How much time do you have?" Seventri asked, placing his tools back on the tray.
"They don't even know I brought her here."
Seven nodded. "Well that's all I can do. If you're going to take her, take her."
Camulous straightened his lip. The old man knew that the right thing to do for the safety and security of the city was to take her in, and yet he wanted him to let her escape. He knew the captain's duty came first and that nobody, not even him, could question the validity of being dutiful and honest to his word.
None of this had to be said of course. They both knew what the other was thinking, had had similar discussions before. When Saldrin died the discussion was the same, and it had all been said before. Camulous killed Saldrin for the same reason, though the old man was far less innocent than the witch. Then, like now, his duty was clear.
Neither of them liked it, but Camulous was the one willing to do it. Why then should he feel guilty for being the stronger?
He shouldn't. He convinced himself not to. Seventri was the weak one. It made him mad when he thought about it. Seven should be supporting him, not blaming him.
Seventri spoke up. "She'll wake in a few minutes, but she won't be able to walk on her own or feel anything for at least two hours."
"Get some clothes onto her, I'll send someone." Replied Camulous before abruptly walking out.
Seven watched him leave and sighed.
"So blind." He muttered to Lanya, and placed a gown in her lap over the sheets for when she would wake.
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
In her dreams, a kindly old sage and a golden-feathered gryphon conversed above her, discussing her but never by name. They spoke of morals and virtue, and the gryphon fluffed his feathers as the weight of honor hung upon his shoulders. The woman didn't realize they were discussing her, though. She thought they were talking about someone else, someone far away and out of sight. And really, they weren't discussing a person at all. The person was just the convenient topic to shelter their true intent.
Eyes stared from around them, watching the words waft from their mouths and float away into mist. The woman smiled, lazy and free. Nothing could bother her where she lay, far out in the forest and separated from all things human and bad. And though she was naked upon the ground, a cover of leaves protected her from the elements. A wood elf that she knew as a friend fed a small robin, and she was happy.
She snapped awake, mere moments after the captain's departure, but kept her eyes closed for several long minutes while she took stock of her body. Though still drowsy from the sleeping draught, she wasn't the type to wake up in stages; her mind cracked into awareness and gave her ample time to evaluate her personal physicality before forcing her to deal with her surroundings. This was how she realized she was naked upon the bed, and that a thin sheet lay as her sole symbol of any sort of modesty. She also realized that she couldn't feel her body; no pain, no movement, nothing. She sent the signal to wiggle her toes, and assumed that she did so, for otherwise she had no clue.
Naked, and mostly immobile. What a wonderful day this was. Perhaps she would open her eyes just in time to see a blade coming toward her throat with cold steel eyes behind it. She had to admit, she'd be somewhat relieved to be done with this drama.
But she didn't want to know when she would be dying. She decided to wait it out instead. And so she lay quiet and still, waiting for the piercing sensation and then what she could only pray was the most relaxing, peaceful sleep she'd ever have.
It never came. She was forced to open her eyes and see what had happened in her absence.
The healer sat next to her. She could see blood on him, but she did not understand that this was her own blood. She could only lie still, feel light-headed, and wonder how he'd come to be so very filthy.
She moved her eyes down and spotted the gown sitting on her abdomen. The sheet he'd draped across her granted her just enough modesty to not be immediately embarrassing, but she'd never shown so much skin in all her years of living save for birth. Her body warmed with another blush as she realized how exposed she was, and she began the disorienting and painless process of moving her arms to take the gown and begin a struggle to put it on.
This is just a dream, she whispered to herself. You can't be shy in a dream. You can be hurt, and scared, but never shy. You need only remember: nothing is real.
She was having trouble moving herself, propping herself high enough, unfolding the fabric. She could and yet couldn't feel her arms moving, and this concerned her. And worse, she could feel other eyes on her. Lecherous or not, they sat unwavering from her form, and she had but a mere sheet to ward them off. If she wasn't able to put on the gown, she would be stuck in this sheet, and that simply wouldn't do. As she struggled she felt the backs of her eyes begin to burn as tears started to well, and she blinked hard to hold them back. Now was not the time. There never was a time for panic.
Nothing is real. Remember, remember. Nothing is real.
Eyes stared from around them, watching the words waft from their mouths and float away into mist. The woman smiled, lazy and free. Nothing could bother her where she lay, far out in the forest and separated from all things human and bad. And though she was naked upon the ground, a cover of leaves protected her from the elements. A wood elf that she knew as a friend fed a small robin, and she was happy.
She snapped awake, mere moments after the captain's departure, but kept her eyes closed for several long minutes while she took stock of her body. Though still drowsy from the sleeping draught, she wasn't the type to wake up in stages; her mind cracked into awareness and gave her ample time to evaluate her personal physicality before forcing her to deal with her surroundings. This was how she realized she was naked upon the bed, and that a thin sheet lay as her sole symbol of any sort of modesty. She also realized that she couldn't feel her body; no pain, no movement, nothing. She sent the signal to wiggle her toes, and assumed that she did so, for otherwise she had no clue.
Naked, and mostly immobile. What a wonderful day this was. Perhaps she would open her eyes just in time to see a blade coming toward her throat with cold steel eyes behind it. She had to admit, she'd be somewhat relieved to be done with this drama.
But she didn't want to know when she would be dying. She decided to wait it out instead. And so she lay quiet and still, waiting for the piercing sensation and then what she could only pray was the most relaxing, peaceful sleep she'd ever have.
It never came. She was forced to open her eyes and see what had happened in her absence.
The healer sat next to her. She could see blood on him, but she did not understand that this was her own blood. She could only lie still, feel light-headed, and wonder how he'd come to be so very filthy.
She moved her eyes down and spotted the gown sitting on her abdomen. The sheet he'd draped across her granted her just enough modesty to not be immediately embarrassing, but she'd never shown so much skin in all her years of living save for birth. Her body warmed with another blush as she realized how exposed she was, and she began the disorienting and painless process of moving her arms to take the gown and begin a struggle to put it on.
This is just a dream, she whispered to herself. You can't be shy in a dream. You can be hurt, and scared, but never shy. You need only remember: nothing is real.
She was having trouble moving herself, propping herself high enough, unfolding the fabric. She could and yet couldn't feel her arms moving, and this concerned her. And worse, she could feel other eyes on her. Lecherous or not, they sat unwavering from her form, and she had but a mere sheet to ward them off. If she wasn't able to put on the gown, she would be stuck in this sheet, and that simply wouldn't do. As she struggled she felt the backs of her eyes begin to burn as tears started to well, and she blinked hard to hold them back. Now was not the time. There never was a time for panic.
Nothing is real. Remember, remember. Nothing is real.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
Seventri barely noticed when the girls eyes opened, busy thinking about things to himself and passing the time. When he did notice, he straightened up in his chair and smiled.
"Oh good, you're awake. Took your time, didn't you?"
He moved to help her sit up as best he could, holding her arm with one hand and reaching to brace her back with the other, when he saw her blushing and hesitance. It was more shyness than he was used to. Dealing with the men and the kinds of things they saw made sensitive business foreign despite his inherent empathy. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but when he saw the tears welling up in her eyes and the expression on her face it became obvious she was upset, possibly on the verge of crying.
"Get a hold of yourself. I'd think after what you've been through shyness would be the last thing on your mind, but what do I know?"
He turned his head to the side so that he was looking away from her and at the closest guardsman who was in a bed directly across the room. The only one with a clear view of them, with Seventri's body blocking the two others.
"Lovely day outside isn't it Maryn?"
The guardsman wasn't the quickest man on Pal Tahrenor, and took a second or two to figure out what he was expected to do in response. He glanced out the window, then back at Seventri's expectant face, and then reluctantly turned his head so that he was clearly looking out the small window slit beside him.
Satisfied, Seventri turned back to Lanya and helped her with the shirt.
"Now don't waste my time. I've seen things you wouldn't believe. A naked girl is by far the least interesting of them."
"Oh good, you're awake. Took your time, didn't you?"
He moved to help her sit up as best he could, holding her arm with one hand and reaching to brace her back with the other, when he saw her blushing and hesitance. It was more shyness than he was used to. Dealing with the men and the kinds of things they saw made sensitive business foreign despite his inherent empathy. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but when he saw the tears welling up in her eyes and the expression on her face it became obvious she was upset, possibly on the verge of crying.
"Get a hold of yourself. I'd think after what you've been through shyness would be the last thing on your mind, but what do I know?"
He turned his head to the side so that he was looking away from her and at the closest guardsman who was in a bed directly across the room. The only one with a clear view of them, with Seventri's body blocking the two others.
"Lovely day outside isn't it Maryn?"
The guardsman wasn't the quickest man on Pal Tahrenor, and took a second or two to figure out what he was expected to do in response. He glanced out the window, then back at Seventri's expectant face, and then reluctantly turned his head so that he was clearly looking out the small window slit beside him.
Satisfied, Seventri turned back to Lanya and helped her with the shirt.
"Now don't waste my time. I've seen things you wouldn't believe. A naked girl is by far the least interesting of them."
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Lanya shrank away from the healer as he scolded her and fought harder to keep her tears at bay. She was just as annoyed about them as he was, but snapping at her didn't help her at all, and in many ways made it worse. But she fought nonetheless. She'd be damned if she let a few tears spill in front of this total stranger.
When he turned his head away and began speaking to another patient, she gave up trying to fumble with the shirt around the fresh bandage in her hand and just grabbed a corner to shake out the shape. It opened, though still under protest, and she shoved her arms inside, not caring if the gown was backward, inside out or anything else. She'd never shown this much skin to anyone, and regardless of what had happened in the past year, she was a quiet and demure person by nature.
She was halfway into the shirt when she felt the healer's hands helping her along. She heard what he said, but chose not to process it at the moment. She was certain that would only lead to further embarrassment, and maybe a little hurt.
And she still couldn't feel her body. She felt as though she were moving through sand. The slow and delayed responses within her frame caused her further frustration. She refused to look at the healer; she felt ashamed and pathetic. He was clearly used to handling far worse situations, and as a healer who worked with guardsmen, he'd surely seen worse in his long lifetime. But she hadn't, and she lacked the experience. She was new to this criminal life business, and she knew she was terrible at it.
She kept her head down and fought the urge to hide her head under the flimsy sheet. She couldn't help but fiddle with the bandage around her injured hand, though she couldn't quite work her fingers with her normal precision. She hoped that she would be able to play a guitar again.
"I'm sorry to be trouble."
Her voice was small and fading. She wasn't striving for the effect; it was natural to her, the need to make herself smaller and draw less attention in any way possible. And it didn't help that her voice was hoarse and broken from all the screaming and crying she'd done for the past few days. She kept her face down and moved from picking at her bandage to pulling the gown down as far as she could while on the bed. She knew that trying to stand would be pointless, and didn't bother trying to move her legs as it was. She didn't want to think about what she would do if she never walked again.
Her eyes drifted, ever avoiding the healer, to fix on the set of semi-bloodied tools he'd wheeled in earlier. She took a quick assessment of what was available, then turned her eyes back down to her lap and laid her hands before her, palms up. She didn't know if she was the type of person who could end her own life; the mere thought made her tremble inside. But she was terrified to die any other way. And something deep within gnawed steadily at her, convincing her that she would be dead by the year's end. Her creativity could be a horrific curse. Her mind played out dozens of unpleasant and painful ways to die.
It would take resolve, she knew, to take her own life. She would have to think of how to do it, and find the perfect moment. Lunging across the healer with a body that barely functioned would not do; he would have her in restraints within minutes, if not carted out to the jail cell she knew was coming - in restraints.
No, she would wait, bide her time. There was no point trying now. He'd probably just chide her for being tragic again, anyway.
When he turned his head away and began speaking to another patient, she gave up trying to fumble with the shirt around the fresh bandage in her hand and just grabbed a corner to shake out the shape. It opened, though still under protest, and she shoved her arms inside, not caring if the gown was backward, inside out or anything else. She'd never shown this much skin to anyone, and regardless of what had happened in the past year, she was a quiet and demure person by nature.
She was halfway into the shirt when she felt the healer's hands helping her along. She heard what he said, but chose not to process it at the moment. She was certain that would only lead to further embarrassment, and maybe a little hurt.
And she still couldn't feel her body. She felt as though she were moving through sand. The slow and delayed responses within her frame caused her further frustration. She refused to look at the healer; she felt ashamed and pathetic. He was clearly used to handling far worse situations, and as a healer who worked with guardsmen, he'd surely seen worse in his long lifetime. But she hadn't, and she lacked the experience. She was new to this criminal life business, and she knew she was terrible at it.
She kept her head down and fought the urge to hide her head under the flimsy sheet. She couldn't help but fiddle with the bandage around her injured hand, though she couldn't quite work her fingers with her normal precision. She hoped that she would be able to play a guitar again.
"I'm sorry to be trouble."
Her voice was small and fading. She wasn't striving for the effect; it was natural to her, the need to make herself smaller and draw less attention in any way possible. And it didn't help that her voice was hoarse and broken from all the screaming and crying she'd done for the past few days. She kept her face down and moved from picking at her bandage to pulling the gown down as far as she could while on the bed. She knew that trying to stand would be pointless, and didn't bother trying to move her legs as it was. She didn't want to think about what she would do if she never walked again.
Her eyes drifted, ever avoiding the healer, to fix on the set of semi-bloodied tools he'd wheeled in earlier. She took a quick assessment of what was available, then turned her eyes back down to her lap and laid her hands before her, palms up. She didn't know if she was the type of person who could end her own life; the mere thought made her tremble inside. But she was terrified to die any other way. And something deep within gnawed steadily at her, convincing her that she would be dead by the year's end. Her creativity could be a horrific curse. Her mind played out dozens of unpleasant and painful ways to die.
It would take resolve, she knew, to take her own life. She would have to think of how to do it, and find the perfect moment. Lunging across the healer with a body that barely functioned would not do; he would have her in restraints within minutes, if not carted out to the jail cell she knew was coming - in restraints.
No, she would wait, bide her time. There was no point trying now. He'd probably just chide her for being tragic again, anyway.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
The healer helped her put on the gown as best he could and then placed a pair of plain brown trousers in her lap. They looked like farmers' pants, not flattering in the least, but at least they were clean.
"You're not troubling me. Just try to have a little strength, would you?"
Her injuries, as best he could figure, couldn't have been done by Camulous or another guardsman. The wound in her back was far too shallow to be from one of their swords, they didn't use daggers, and had Camulous tried to wound her like that she would have been dead for sure.
"Whoever tried to kill you has failed so far, and I dare say the captain will do his best to keep you alive even if he does go through with his god awful duty. I'm not sure why you're in this mess, but if you haven't really done anything I don't think you have much to worry about."
It was only a half truth he was telling her. He'd seen innocent people tried, convicted and even executed by the judges before, but it was a rare occurrence.
"They usually don't do too much to simple mages who don't know the rules. They have a responsibility to scare people you know. Can't have everyone running around with no regard for the laws."
"You're not troubling me. Just try to have a little strength, would you?"
Her injuries, as best he could figure, couldn't have been done by Camulous or another guardsman. The wound in her back was far too shallow to be from one of their swords, they didn't use daggers, and had Camulous tried to wound her like that she would have been dead for sure.
"Whoever tried to kill you has failed so far, and I dare say the captain will do his best to keep you alive even if he does go through with his god awful duty. I'm not sure why you're in this mess, but if you haven't really done anything I don't think you have much to worry about."
It was only a half truth he was telling her. He'd seen innocent people tried, convicted and even executed by the judges before, but it was a rare occurrence.
"They usually don't do too much to simple mages who don't know the rules. They have a responsibility to scare people you know. Can't have everyone running around with no regard for the laws."
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
She continued to stare at her hands while he spoke, eyeing her fingers and moving one at a time to make sure she at least retained her dexterity. She couldn't help but wonder how she was able to send messages to her body, but couldn't feel the movement translating through her muscles. It was an odd sensation, to be this disconnected. She didn't like it one bit.
She startled and looked at the healer for a moment when he commented on the captain's duty. Whoever this captain might be, the healer considered him both a good man and someone with terrible regulations to abide by. She wondered if she'd meet the man, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. He could have been the one to order her capture, which meant he'd be less than kind should they meet.
And her female vanity reminded her that she wasn't looking her best at the moment. The fewer who saw her, the better.
She took the pants and started the slow process of unfolding and straightening them out. She didn't care if they were worn or ill-fitting, they would make her feel far less exposed than she currently felt, and she was grateful for them.
"Thank you, sir."
She began the process of putting on the pants without full use of all of her muscle groups, and with or without the healer's patient help, she had them on in several minute's time. Now with clothing covering her more exposed regions, she felt more comfortable. Plus, the clothes were clean and dry, which was the best she'd worn in months. Now if only she could have a shower or bath, her day would be lifted.
She shifted herself until she was comfortable again, and finally settled against the wall behind the bed, leaning against it for support and placing her hands loosely into her lap once more. She looked away from the healer, out toward the world as it was, and longed to be walking on the road with her old guitar, her old life. Guiltless and free, and with fewer worries than now. The worst that could ever happen then was to have a bad show, but even then she was almost always guaranteed a bed to sleep in and food to eat.
The healer's comment about mages pulled her attention back to him, and although she didn't turn her head to him, she spoke to him nonetheless.
"I'm not a mage. I can't even do simple spells; I have no magic in me."
She turned her head now to look at him, and now some curiosity tinged her voice. She knew nothing about magic and mages, and didn't know if this was even possible.
"Can people detect magic? Magical skills and the like? I assure you, you'll find none in me."
She looked away again as frustration rose from within. Damn her luck, she didn't have any magic in her body, not the smallest molecule. And yet...
"I just seem to attract the magically inclined."
Here a note of her frustration entered her voice, and her tone snapped with some temper. She was quiet and patient by nature, so it wasn't anything like most people's tone, but it was rather harsh to her own ears.
"Not in the pleasant way."
She startled and looked at the healer for a moment when he commented on the captain's duty. Whoever this captain might be, the healer considered him both a good man and someone with terrible regulations to abide by. She wondered if she'd meet the man, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. He could have been the one to order her capture, which meant he'd be less than kind should they meet.
And her female vanity reminded her that she wasn't looking her best at the moment. The fewer who saw her, the better.
She took the pants and started the slow process of unfolding and straightening them out. She didn't care if they were worn or ill-fitting, they would make her feel far less exposed than she currently felt, and she was grateful for them.
"Thank you, sir."
She began the process of putting on the pants without full use of all of her muscle groups, and with or without the healer's patient help, she had them on in several minute's time. Now with clothing covering her more exposed regions, she felt more comfortable. Plus, the clothes were clean and dry, which was the best she'd worn in months. Now if only she could have a shower or bath, her day would be lifted.
She shifted herself until she was comfortable again, and finally settled against the wall behind the bed, leaning against it for support and placing her hands loosely into her lap once more. She looked away from the healer, out toward the world as it was, and longed to be walking on the road with her old guitar, her old life. Guiltless and free, and with fewer worries than now. The worst that could ever happen then was to have a bad show, but even then she was almost always guaranteed a bed to sleep in and food to eat.
The healer's comment about mages pulled her attention back to him, and although she didn't turn her head to him, she spoke to him nonetheless.
"I'm not a mage. I can't even do simple spells; I have no magic in me."
She turned her head now to look at him, and now some curiosity tinged her voice. She knew nothing about magic and mages, and didn't know if this was even possible.
"Can people detect magic? Magical skills and the like? I assure you, you'll find none in me."
She looked away again as frustration rose from within. Damn her luck, she didn't have any magic in her body, not the smallest molecule. And yet...
"I just seem to attract the magically inclined."
Here a note of her frustration entered her voice, and her tone snapped with some temper. She was quiet and patient by nature, so it wasn't anything like most people's tone, but it was rather harsh to her own ears.
"Not in the pleasant way."
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
He didn't help her put the trousers on, but rather held the sheets up so Maryn couldn't see anything while she was struggling with them. When she was finished, he looked out the same window she was and listened to her questions.
"They do have those who can sense magic in a person, yes. Most everybody who claims to have no magic is subjected to their studies, and according to the law if they find nothing in you, you must be sent back here. Our prisons are not the worst place in the world."
He decided not to add: unless the execute you for your crimes then and there.
"The captain seems rather convinced that you used magic and broke the law, but he doesn't want to see you hanged. It would be better to talk to him about it... But unless you're wanted for some other horrible reason, they must let you go if you're telling the truth."
"They do have those who can sense magic in a person, yes. Most everybody who claims to have no magic is subjected to their studies, and according to the law if they find nothing in you, you must be sent back here. Our prisons are not the worst place in the world."
He decided not to add: unless the execute you for your crimes then and there.
"The captain seems rather convinced that you used magic and broke the law, but he doesn't want to see you hanged. It would be better to talk to him about it... But unless you're wanted for some other horrible reason, they must let you go if you're telling the truth."
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
The woman looked down at her hands once more as the healer spoke, listening intently and considering her options. She had no idea what the difference between one prison and another would be; she only knew that she wanted nothing to do with either. She couldn't make the healer understand that to someone like her, used to running her own life and being on the road, any prison was the worst in the world. Some were more foul than others, to be sure, but they all represented bars, a small room, and total loss of freedom.
She shivered and looked back out the window. On the sill, a small robin peered in, staring at the occupants of the ward and fluttering its wings. Lanya couldn't help but smile, and hope that it was her own little Flame. She had no way to know; robins all did tend to look alike.
How could she convince this captain that she wasn't a witch? It was one of the hardest labels to shake, once branded, and if she did go outside and Flame came to her, she'd never convince anyone that she was just a simple bard. She was stuck as before, no way out and no one on her side. At least the healer seemed sympathetic...but the last man who'd tried to befriend her...
"Was a man brought in as well?"
She didn't dare to hope Lucian was alright.
And now she couldn't help herself; she was lying on a bed, barely able to feel her body and having just been through an extensive healing, and she was exhausted. She shifted herself down so that she could lie prone on the bed. She'd been asleep before, but only for a few hours, and it had been unnatural without any real rest. She could just keep her eyes open if she exerted enough effort, but it was a down hill struggle. And since no one had come yet, perhaps she could at least nap.
"I'm sorry to be rude; I'm just so tired."
A bed, a real bed! It brought something like a smile to her lips; she'd dreamed of something half as comfortable days ago. Perhaps her future held blood and death, but right now, in this moment, she was safe and warm and unable to remain awake much longer. She closed her eyes to drift off and doze.
She shivered and looked back out the window. On the sill, a small robin peered in, staring at the occupants of the ward and fluttering its wings. Lanya couldn't help but smile, and hope that it was her own little Flame. She had no way to know; robins all did tend to look alike.
How could she convince this captain that she wasn't a witch? It was one of the hardest labels to shake, once branded, and if she did go outside and Flame came to her, she'd never convince anyone that she was just a simple bard. She was stuck as before, no way out and no one on her side. At least the healer seemed sympathetic...but the last man who'd tried to befriend her...
"Was a man brought in as well?"
She didn't dare to hope Lucian was alright.
And now she couldn't help herself; she was lying on a bed, barely able to feel her body and having just been through an extensive healing, and she was exhausted. She shifted herself down so that she could lie prone on the bed. She'd been asleep before, but only for a few hours, and it had been unnatural without any real rest. She could just keep her eyes open if she exerted enough effort, but it was a down hill struggle. And since no one had come yet, perhaps she could at least nap.
"I'm sorry to be rude; I'm just so tired."
A bed, a real bed! It brought something like a smile to her lips; she'd dreamed of something half as comfortable days ago. Perhaps her future held blood and death, but right now, in this moment, she was safe and warm and unable to remain awake much longer. She closed her eyes to drift off and doze.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
"Was a man brought in as well?"
"Not that I'm aware of. They might have taken him directly to Justice Hall though. You're only here because the captain decided to take a detour."
He watched her slide down into the bed and close her eyes. He didn't know how long it had been since she'd slept, but at her current rate it wouldn't be long now. In her condition, sleep was by far the most important thing to keep her healthy. No amount of drugs or healing magic that he knew of could substitute for that sort of thing.
He wanted to let her. He really did. But it was not an option, and just then a guardsman walked into the infirmary, glanced around, and headed towards them wearing the standard plate uniform.
Seventri looked up at him but the guardsman spoke first.
"Cam sent me for her. Can she walk yet?"
The healer frowned. He could lie and say no. He could insist that she needed to stay longer or she would die, but it wasn't in his nature to lie. Especially not to a guardsman. Camulous couldn't go back to Justice Hall empty handed without having to answer to a judge. Reputations were on the line.
"Probably." He sighed. "She'll need your help though. Come on."
The healer gave Lanya a nudge on the shoulder. "No sleeping now. You have to go."
"Not that I'm aware of. They might have taken him directly to Justice Hall though. You're only here because the captain decided to take a detour."
He watched her slide down into the bed and close her eyes. He didn't know how long it had been since she'd slept, but at her current rate it wouldn't be long now. In her condition, sleep was by far the most important thing to keep her healthy. No amount of drugs or healing magic that he knew of could substitute for that sort of thing.
He wanted to let her. He really did. But it was not an option, and just then a guardsman walked into the infirmary, glanced around, and headed towards them wearing the standard plate uniform.
Seventri looked up at him but the guardsman spoke first.
"Cam sent me for her. Can she walk yet?"
The healer frowned. He could lie and say no. He could insist that she needed to stay longer or she would die, but it wasn't in his nature to lie. Especially not to a guardsman. Camulous couldn't go back to Justice Hall empty handed without having to answer to a judge. Reputations were on the line.
"Probably." He sighed. "She'll need your help though. Come on."
The healer gave Lanya a nudge on the shoulder. "No sleeping now. You have to go."
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Lanya Caliope
- Fugitive
- Posts: 266
- Joined: Thu Jun 16, 2005 12:49 am
- Race: Human
Lanya heard the guard's approach and question, but she was dozing heavily and didn't understand a word of what was said. Her body was heavy and warm, and the bed was the most comfortable she'd lain on for what seemed like years. Normally she was a light sleeper, but the past few days - weeks, months - had been hard on her endurance, and she'd rarely gotten more than a few hour's sleep for every few days.
From a vague distance she could feel the healer nudge her, a physical indentation upon one side of her body. Some part of her consciously decided to ignore the sensation. Her body was determined to lie here, prone and still, until it was satisfied with the amount of rest it had received. If she'd been closer to wakefulness, she would have made the utmost effort to sit up, perhaps even stand, and been as cooperative as possible. As it was, in the few second's time between lying back and closing her eyes, she had sunk below conciousness. It would take more than a nudge to wake her now.
From a vague distance she could feel the healer nudge her, a physical indentation upon one side of her body. Some part of her consciously decided to ignore the sensation. Her body was determined to lie here, prone and still, until it was satisfied with the amount of rest it had received. If she'd been closer to wakefulness, she would have made the utmost effort to sit up, perhaps even stand, and been as cooperative as possible. As it was, in the few second's time between lying back and closing her eyes, she had sunk below conciousness. It would take more than a nudge to wake her now.
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Camulous Smithson
- Guardsman
- Posts: 209
- Joined: Fri Jun 24, 2005 12:59 am
- Name: Camulous Smithson
- Race: Human
Seventri tried another nudge but was unwilling to do more. Slapping her cheeks was out of the question for him. Not to a girl, anyway.
"Poor girl." He shrugged helplessly and looked up at the guard. "You're going to have to carry her I'm afraid."
The guardsman frowned. He didn't look too pleased with the idea of having to carry the woman all the way downstairs to somehow get her onto a horse, and then to Justice Hall. Not as strong as Camulous, it wasn't his idea of fun, but he didn't have much choice so he just rolled his eyes and leaned over to scoop Lanya up as best he could while wearing his armor.
He was also not a particularly big man. In fact, he was downright short, so the scooping her up part wasn't a breeze either. Seventri helped as best he could, though the old man couldn't exactly pick Lanya up himself either. After a few awkward attempts at getting her into his arms without pinching her to death with the armor, the guardsman stood up and started off out of the infirmary. Seventri sat back and watched, shaking his head.
"Good luck to you, girl."
***
Outside Camulous was already mounted and waiting for Bryon to return. The man did, waddling out of the headquarters towards his horse with the witch in his arms. It was unclear how he was going to get onto a horse with her. Thankfully the captain intervened.
"Pass her here. I'll go myself. There's no reason for you to see this."
Not really understanding the latter part of the captain's statement, and not really caring, Bryon was glad to comply and carried her to Camulous, who leaned over and easily pulled her up into his arms. Bryon assisted him by passing him the reigns once she was up. Camulous nodded, and with a kick to the sides his horse was off to Justice Hall.
"Poor girl." He shrugged helplessly and looked up at the guard. "You're going to have to carry her I'm afraid."
The guardsman frowned. He didn't look too pleased with the idea of having to carry the woman all the way downstairs to somehow get her onto a horse, and then to Justice Hall. Not as strong as Camulous, it wasn't his idea of fun, but he didn't have much choice so he just rolled his eyes and leaned over to scoop Lanya up as best he could while wearing his armor.
He was also not a particularly big man. In fact, he was downright short, so the scooping her up part wasn't a breeze either. Seventri helped as best he could, though the old man couldn't exactly pick Lanya up himself either. After a few awkward attempts at getting her into his arms without pinching her to death with the armor, the guardsman stood up and started off out of the infirmary. Seventri sat back and watched, shaking his head.
"Good luck to you, girl."
***
Outside Camulous was already mounted and waiting for Bryon to return. The man did, waddling out of the headquarters towards his horse with the witch in his arms. It was unclear how he was going to get onto a horse with her. Thankfully the captain intervened.
"Pass her here. I'll go myself. There's no reason for you to see this."
Not really understanding the latter part of the captain's statement, and not really caring, Bryon was glad to comply and carried her to Camulous, who leaned over and easily pulled her up into his arms. Bryon assisted him by passing him the reigns once she was up. Camulous nodded, and with a kick to the sides his horse was off to Justice Hall.