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Post by moralhazard on Apr 2, 2019 11:53:05 GMT
Kara hesitated a moment at the door, looking at Dhaunmyr – but he seemed to be waiting for her, and he didn’t raise any objection, so she stepped out into the pale spring sunlight. It was mid-morning some time; she couldn’t tell further than that. The day had blurred into a haze of tiredness and lost sleep; she would need to leave time tonight to sleep well.
Dhaunmyr followed her out, shielding his eyes, but otherwise looking well enough. Kara noted it and didn’t trouble herself further.
“Sailor’s Corner. Not far.” Kara said. She had noted it the day before during her explorations; the place had stuck in her mind because Caim had mentioned it when they'd met, now two days ago.
Kara’s leg hurt just a fraction more with every step but focusing on it was the worst thing for the pain. Instead, she paid attention to her surroundings, noting what was different from the day before and what was the same; the sort of memory exercises she had done as a guardswoman, patrolling Sundabar those few months. Normally she shied away from even those memories; today they weren’t as painful as her leg.
Finally they reached the Sailor’s Corner. Kara was aware that she was clammy again; she could feel sweat trickling down her neck, and a faint hot ache in her skin that suggested her earlier concerns about a fever were well-founded. Her leg throbbed and ached, a pain that seemed to sink deeper and deeper. She clenched her hands into fists, refusing to shake any more.
Inside, the inn was cool and largely empty, but for a few customers at different tables, getting an early start on the day’s drinking – or else a very late finish on the night before’s. Kara glanced around; no sign of a lanky tiefling. She limped to the bar, slowly, leaning against it. The innkeeper came over, wiping a glass dry with a clean rag, and raised an eyebrow.
“Caim,” Kara said. It wasn’t really a question.
The innkeeper looked her over, eyes lingering a moment on the glaive, then nodded. “Boy!” He raised his voice slightly. A young lad who’d been picking his nose at the end of the bar looked up, hastily wiping his finger on his tunic. “Go and fetch Caim,” the innkeeper said. “You know the room?”
The boy nodded, goggling at Kara and Dhaunmyr, then ran off through a door at the end of the room, feet slapping against the floor.
Kara slowly looked around, then took a seat at a nearby table, propping her glaive against it; better to sit than to fall. She looked at Dhaunmyr, then back out over the room. Her hair was nearly dry over her shoulder by now, still loose; even sitting, in the dim light of the tavern, the massive bruise that covered her left shoulder was visible, with pink streaks of torn flesh visible in it. She stretched her bare right leg out, slowly, trying to take any remaining weight off it; sitting, her tunic covered just a part of the wound, and the deep gashes in it were red and swollen against the already-swollen and bruised flesh. Even sitting her skin was still damp and clammy, with a faint feverish flush. At least she was wearing sturdy-looking boots.
There would be a vigorous knocking on Caim’s door, the boy bouncing slightly in the hall. He would blurt out his news the minute the door opened. “There’s a woman lookin' for you!” The boy said. He paused. “She’s beat up but still scary lookin'. And there’s a drow. In the tavern,” he jerked his chin back towards the tavern. “You wan' me t'show you the back way out? T'run away from ‘em?”
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Post by orby on Apr 2, 2019 22:58:25 GMT
Mornings at the temple started early -- unsurprising, for those in service of the Morninglord. Caim couldn't remember ever voicing a complaint about it, but he did remember a great deal of yawning and dragging himself out of bed when he'd have preferred to curl into warm blankets and slept a while longer.
An unexpected but deeply pleasant benefit of his newfound independence was the freedom of lazy mornings. In short: holy shit.
He was taking advantage of that complete lack of scheduled obligations, sitting cross-legged on the thin mattress and working through the book he'd bought himself, when the hurried knock at the door startled him. That was new. Frowning confusedly, he set the book aside to answer the door and found waiting there the vaguely familiar boy he'd seen helping around the inn before. The immediate wordvomit was also new, and Caim's perplexed stare was every bit as wide-eyed as the child's.
"Run...?" For a moment, Caim just blinked down at the boy, processing that rush of words. That someone was seeking him out specifically at all was a unexpected. Briefly, with a pulse of panic, he thought of the clergy, of the provost herself showing up at his rented door. But no, that didn't seem as likely given the description of the woman. And a drow? Bewildered, it took him a few seconds too long to actually answer the boy who stood there waiting for a response, staring unabashedly at the strange horned customer.
"N-no, it's alright," he managed finally. And belatedly, it struck him that the offer was nice, in the strangest way. Perhaps if that description had been a bit different, he'd have taken the boy up on it. With a rush of appreciation, he gave a tentative smile. "...Thank you, though."
The boy lingered a moment, wide eyes still caught on their cagey tenant, before he finally nodded and took off again downstairs. Caim hesitated for a bit before following, feeling more than a little unprepared for...whatever this was.
And coming down the shoddy old stairs to the main room, "whatever this was" turned out to be a whole lot of what?
"Kara?" His eyebrows arched up as he came into sight of the dining area below and those sitting in it, eyes flicking from the familiar face to the unfamiliar one to the innkeeper who was pointedly busying himself with his cleaning behind the bar. For all that she'd promised to remember and he'd been so happy to hear it, the woman actually showing up was a surprise. There was a spark of joy to see her here, but it was quickly snuffed out as he came closer and noticed bruised and torn flesh and the overall ill look to her.
With a soft oh he nearly tripped on the last step in his haste hurrying over to the table she was sitting at. He was halfway to laying a hand over the injury at her shoulder before he remembered himself and paused, copper-skinned hand hovering in midair as he looked back to her face. "Ah...I'm sorry, may I? What even happened...?"
Again he glanced to the drow standing nearby. Was this a moment for greetings...? Uncertainly and a little awkward, he nodded in acknowledgement and reminded himself to focus. He'd only ever read of dark elves before, but this certainly didn't seem like the time to gape like the inn's boy.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 3, 2019 9:01:30 GMT
“I didn’t like how he stared at me — at us.” Dhaunmyr sighed. And here he thought people were just about used to him. Waterdeep was tolerant, welcoming, but not absolutely everyone in it had to feel that way, he supposed. And Kara didn’t exactly inspire a great deal of comfort within those around her, with her expression, aura, and her injuries, old and new. “Do you think he’s actually... yeah- yeah of course he is.” He twirled his hair around his finger idly, occasionally fluffing it up and smoothing it back down.
Negative reception hadn’t really been so much of a problem for Dhaunmyr. He was nice enough, not necessarily exceptionally so, but people tended to listen to whatever he had to say. If he decided to speak. He was quiet in a lot of kinds of company, if Kara had been different in some ways, he’d probably still be gushing, but even now he murmured to himself at most. Nothing in particular to say to Kara, nothing that he had of genuine importance to say to her. Basically, he felt awkward.
He didn’t at first register the tiefling as the healer. It just wasn’t something he immediately associated together as concepts or words. Healers were drow women in the temples dedicated to the demon goddess, although they often chose to harm rather than help. On the surface, he hadn’t come into contact with a healer, not really, unless Faerveren counted, perhaps he had. She wasn’t primarily a healer though, she mostly sang and played and performed. She had taught him how to do his makeup, something he quickly became good at.
When he called Kara’s name, he realised quickly his mistake. “Ah!” Dhaunmyr smiled. “Good. I don’t know anything really but— Kara is injured and we came to receive help, you see. If that is agreeable to you.”
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 3, 2019 9:41:20 GMT
Now that she was sitting, Kara was vaguely aware of a feeling of having over done things. It was mostly the sudden awareness of how tired she was and how much her leg hurt, but also the way the room seemed to be slowly swirling at the edges. Her leg seemed to be getting heavier by the moment; she shifted it against the floor and immediately regretted the movement. Dhaunmyr asked if she thought the boy was really getting Caim, and Kara just shrugged; at least the sharp pain in her shoulder woke her up slightly.
Caim came rushing down the stairs, nearly tripping. Kara watched him. She tensed as he reached for her, automatically, both hands tightening, but – he stopped, his hand hovering over her shoulder, and asked if he could proceed. Kara felt an odd mix of gratitude and frustration; she didn’t want him to touch her but she did want him to heal her. It was easier when he asked. She nodded in response to the question, head aching, then paused. “Please,” Kara added, voice rasping in her throat.
What had happened? Kara glanced down at herself, suddenly worried. What kind of healer couldn’t recognize the signs of a fight? Unless… perhaps he meant… “A mace,” she explained. Maybe it would help him to know what had caused the wounds. That made sense to her. Her eyes flickered shut for a moment. Kara tensed the muscles of her left shoulder, this time deliberately; the pain that shot through her brought her out of the beginnings of a daze. She just needed to hold out a little longer – but, oddly, that made it so much harder.
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Post by orby on Apr 3, 2019 10:22:58 GMT
Unfortunately, the healer Kara was getting was more accustomed to farming injuries and sickness than battle-damaged warriors. Perhaps he should have been more prepared for this sort of thing just given what he'd seen during his brief time in the city thus far. But his eyebrows still knitted together in a mix of surprise and concern at that answer and he glanced again to Dhaun as if for confirmation. A mace? What on earth had she been doing?
Whatever it was, she'd come to him. The warm feelings blooming in his chest lasted about two seconds before he quashed it with a surge of guilt. Gods, what was wrong with him? She was hurt, badly.
And the drow said "if it's agreeable to you", as if it possibly wouldn't be. Just blinking for a moment, Caim belatedly nodded, too enthusiastic. "Of course," he said, just a bit too forcefully, and it was only when he looked back down to Kara that he reminded himself to be calm. This was fine. He could help. "Of course," he said again, gentler, and he crouched to better inspect the wounds.
She'd given him permission to touch -- also nice in that same guilt-inducing sorta way -- but his touching was so light and careful it was almost like he was avoiding doing so more than absolutely necessary. His nails were clawlike and sharp-looking, but he handled them so delicately that they were arguably more useful for the task. The pointed tips could neatly slip under the edge of fabric at the hem of her tunic and nudge it more out of the way with minimal contact. He looked over both of the obvious injuries carefully but quickly, frowning at the swollen red look of the gashes on her thigh.
"...This looks infected," he said, glancing back up at her sweaty face. "Is it just the shoulder and leg? Is anywhere else hurt?"
Even as he said it, he laid his fingertips gingerly over the slashes on her shoulder and let a pulse of healing magic wash over it. A simpler task while he waited for an answer to help stem the bleeding and pain some. Under a soft golden glow, the torn flesh began sealing itself back together, divine energy cleaning the gashes better than any alcohol could and without the sting.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 3, 2019 10:58:55 GMT
Dhaunmyr was rather transfixed, staring on at the healer’s magic with a kind of morbid curiosity. Miracles by priestesses of the demon queen were usually tainted, black, dark and dim as anything in the Underdark, some kind of odd, impossible shadowy glow. Perhaps it only. Seemed to have the colours of an oil spill because it glowed, which meant creatures with darkvision could actually see something in colour. He didn’t know if the women ever kept light to themselves, but it had been several years before he saw light generated by something that wasn’t a magical flourish, some kind of effect. While people walked around, business hours, the temples sometimes had balls of light that bobbed and hovered in the archway entrances, but that was a talent that entirely restricted itself to the better sex. Or at least that seemed to be what was driven into him in the area he was from. That magic just didn’t manifest in any but the absolute best masters of men, even if it was bullshit. It was like saying that men couldn’t read. Everyone could cast that little cantrip. Everyone.
“Don’t look to me, I must say, unfortunately, I have no idea I- I just found her last night, and I found myself awfully worried over her condition, not that it truly affected me one way or t’other, it’s just an artefact of my aching heart’s desire to aid, even if I’m rather useless at it.” Dhaunmyr purported, fingertips held against his breastbone in a melodramatic manner, although seemingly sincere. He wasn’t mocking, nor was his worry falsified, it seemed, instead, to be another ‘artefact’ of his general behaviour.
He sighed, hands finding themselves tucked in folded arms again. “So, shall she be okay? You have quite the blessed touch, my dear.”
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 3, 2019 11:14:38 GMT
Kara nodded in agreement at Caim’s mention of infection; she agreed. Even the faintest brush of his fingers hurt when she watched, so she looked away, fixing her gaze on the opposite wall of the room.
“Ribs,” Kara supplied when Caim asked if anything else was hurt. Her right hand reached to touch, gently, a spot on about the midpoint of her ribs on her left side. She didn’t add anything else; she knew they weren’t broken, or the pain would be much worse, but it was hard to tell if they were cracked or bruised. Either way, she guessed Caim would be able to manage it.
There was, Kara thought, nothing else really needed from her. The rush of healing energy through her shoulder was cool and soothing; this time Kara let her eyes shut. Caim wouldn’t hurt her; she had only known the tiefling briefly, but she thought her instincts about him were right. And – if Dhaunmyr had wanted to hurt her, he had had plenty of opportunities to do so. She had slept in front of him for hours.
With her eyes closed and nothing left to do but heal, it was easier to be somewhere else; a place of still and quiet in her mind, where pain couldn’t touch her, whether from her memories, her mind or her body. Her breathing slowed and evened, chest and stomach rising and falling faintly with each breath. The world dimmed around her. Her body hurt, but she was not only her body. Her mind was weary, but she was not only her mind. Kara’s body had been tense under Caim’s touch, despite her best efforts, but it relaxed now, slowly, muscles falling to slackness.
Kara’s shoulder would heal easily under Caim’s hand; the damage was more to the muscle than the skin, and the visible tears would come together easily enough, leaving no trace to share her skin with her other scars. Next the bruise would recede, the healing energy sweeping away the blood that had pooled beneath the skin. The swelling would recede, the muscle beneath pulling back together, strong and whole once more.
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Post by orby on Apr 3, 2019 12:34:11 GMT
A drow, a tiefling, and an ill and injured woman getting healing at a side table. They made for an odd scene in the quiet inn. There were only a few customers scattered around working at breakfast or extremely early drinks, but there wasn't a pair of eyes that didn't wander over to the strange group at least occasionally.
But for once, Caim wasn't concerned with the stares and with standing out. He quickly became absorbed in the task, only nodding absently in response to the drow's explanation as he worked out priorities. The obvious gash would take precedence. Her breathing didn't seem especially labored or painful and he could see no blood seeping through the fabric of her tunic -- and surely if she'd bandaged one wound then she would have done the same for all of them -- so the ribs were likely less immediate a issue. Probably bruising, maybe a fracture. It could wait a few minutes.
"She'll be fine," he finally answered, glancing up just briefly with a slight smile. "I've seen worse."
There was a certainty in his voice that seemed very genuine. Even the slightly awkward, frazzled way he'd entered had settled somewhat, all focused ease now with a sense of contentedness behind it. He liked this -- the helping part, not the injured people part.
The shoulder patched up enough, flesh raw-feeling and a little tender but all sealed up, he dropped a hand carefully to her thigh instead with a doctor's professional lack of shyness. He seemed completely unphased by the position the injury left him in, crouched alongside a bare leg with his hand on a woman's upper thigh. The injury itself kept him preoccupied as he channeled that same warm glow of healing energy into it, delving deeper to seek out the threads of infection and cleanse them. The gashes were closed slower than the ones at her shoulder had been, magic directed with care to ensure more than just the surface problem was treated.
It wouldn't be an instant fix. Sickness was complicated, and he wasn't that good. But the fever would break quickly and easily enough with the source taken care of, and that was certainly better than the alternative.
When the wounds in her thigh were finally fully closed, skin smooth under lingering drying blood, he removed his hand and sat up a bit straighter to look up at the pair.
"It'd be best to rest until you're feeling less ill," he said, eyes flicking thoughtfully back down to that spot Kara had indicated on her torso. "You can use my room to lay down, if you'd like. And I can be more sure about patching up your ribs if I can examine it better, which...you might prefer more privacy for?"
So he hadn't entirely forgotten where they were. Look at that, self-awareness and everything.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 3, 2019 13:42:15 GMT
“Oh- oh wonderful.” Dhaunmyr smiled and nodded, hair bobbing around his jaw. The dark elf placed a tentative hand on Caim’s shoulder. “My many thanks to you — now, I have done everything I can.” A sigh of relief, yes. Barely his responsibility from here on. But yet.
It was odd how quickly he was comfortable around Caim. He instinctively trusted tieflings. He instinctively trusted men— although they often did not have the ability to twist his thoughts and feelings as a woman might. Together in the dark caverns, there was often a feeling of togetherness, that there was an understanding between brothers, between boys. And tieflings, oh, the same darting looks, perhaps even the same clutched coinpurse, drawn dagger under the cloak or wand held in a clammy grip. It happened to plenty, or so he’d heard, and at the least, the dark elves and the tieflings collected the same ugly thoughts between them.
“Shall I wait here? I am happy either way, of course. ‘Tis up to Kara.” Dhaunmyr suggested, taking his hand back, only to let it hang freely and swing slightly in the still air. “I suppose I am here as your tag along guest, perhaps. I don’t want to oversweeten your memory of me all too soon, my dear.” He chuckled, covering his mouth with his palms, steepling over his nose. Mostly he did this to cover his slightly darkened face, oh Dhaunmyr, you idiot.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 3, 2019 14:25:01 GMT
Kara’s eyes opened, slowly, as the healing finished and Caim withdrew. She shivered, once, fine pale hairs standing up on her arms and legs for a moment, then exhaled, goosebumps settling. After so long with pain as her companion, it was a little strange to bid it farewell.
Carefully, Kara rotated her left shoulder. It was still tender, but only just; she had a full range of movement already, and she would trust herself to wield her glaive or lift a heavy burden without fear of it failing again. Only then did she look down slowly at her leg. Her fingers traced the spots where Caim had healed her, slowly. Even without standing, she could already tell it would bear her weight without complaint. There wasn’t even a mark remaining, no scar to remind her of the battle against Horund, just a faint tenderness in the skin and muscle which would pass soon enough. Her face was set and dark for a moment, a last flicker of anger burning against him, and something of that emotion would last when she looked up at Caim and Dhaunmyr again – but only for a moment.
“I feel fine,” Kara said. It was true; the edges of the room had settled back into stillness. There was still a faint feverish ache in her skin, and her forehead was damp with sweat, but it wasn’t enough to disturb her. She paused, looking at Caim. She wouldn’t mind having her ribs healed. If any had cracked, another blow there might break the rib, puncturing her lung. Choking on your own blood was a nasty way to die, one Kara had seen before and never wished to experience. Kara nodded. She wasn’t shy, but she would still prefer not to disrobe in the midst of the inn.
Kara stood, smoothly and easily, without even the slightest yield to her remaining aches, and picked up the glaive from where it rested against the table. Her leg felt as good as she’d expected, whole and strong once more. It was as thorough a healing as she had ever experienced. Kara looked back down at her bare legs, thinking hard. Did she need to say anything? Wasn’t it enough that she had come? She looked at Caim; he was inscrutable to her, as almost everyone was. “Thank you,” she said, finally.
Dhaunmyr spoke, and Kara turned, looking at him for the first time with a whole mind, unclouded by fever or pain. Her impressions didn’t change much. She shrugged, this time without pain, not really caring; she would leave it up to him whether he came or not. She didn’t think he would, after his earlier embarrassment when she’d stripped off her leggings.
Kara looked back at Caim, waiting for him to lead her to his room. There was no awkwardness about it for her, and when they arrived she wouldn’t waste time, propping her glaive against the wall, stripping off her dark blue tunic and drawing up the black shirt beneath to reveal her ribs. The only other clothing she seemed to have on were her underthings; her leggings were still wrapped around her glaive. She was all muscle, almost too well-defined, with a visible sixpack; her skin beneath her tunic was noticeably paler than her arms and face, and even than her legs. She was also scarred across her body, torso as marked as the rest of her. On her ribs, where she’d pointed earlier, was another spreading purple bruise, less nasty than even the one on her shoulder had been.
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Post by orby on Apr 4, 2019 10:57:21 GMT
Kara standing didn't give her much extra height. It did, however, put the entirety of her leg more directly in his view where he was still crouched, and he belatedly noticed that she was wearing boots this time. Which...admittedly, nothing too astonishing, plenty of time had passed since that first encounter for her to find some. It was still satisfying to see, as silly as that was.
Caim stood as well, pausing to brush tavern-floor dirt and crumbs from the knees of his pants. Then there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder as he was straightening back up, and he stilled just briefly, solid l gold eyes glance to the drow's smiling face.
Oh. And that was nice, too. Caim smiled back as the hand pulled away again, warmed by the simple gratitude and a sense of having done something right and well.
"It's no problem," he said, all earnest sincerity as he looked between the two of them. Focusing again on the drow, he added, "And thank you for making sure she got here alright. That could have gotten much worse if left untreated..."
He'd seen plenty of that before. A farmer who'd had an accident with some tool and ignored it, ignorant of the dangers, until the injury had soured and swelled with pus and his family had to drag him in in middle of the night. A village girl who'd badly cut herself but been reluctant to bother anyone with it and waited, so by the time of the weekly service she was feverish and weak. Some of those incidents had been more than he could handle, especially when he was younger.
He was deeply glad to see Kara patched up without issue, all things considered.
"If she doesn't mind, you can certainly come up as well." Caim aimed a smile at the drow, but it lost some of its ease as Kara simply shrugged. He supposed...that was her not minding? He hoped so, at least. This could be very awkward otherwise. A bit of that uncertain manner returning, he led the way back up to his room, away from the prying eyes of other patrons.
It was nothing fancy, especially in a cheap establishment like this. And it seemed like he had little to leave in it, just a plain and only partially-filled rucksack on the floor in one corner and a book on the nightstand. The sheets on the narrow bed were unmade and tangled. It was only as he was holding the door open that it occurred to Caim that he'd never really had guests in his room before -- the provost or Father Tavor certainly didn't count.
No time to dwell on the thought, though, as Kara began stripping down nearly the moment he'd closed the door again. That was easier than expected. And just looking at the bruising, it already looked less worrying than it could have been. He approached to crouch before her again without batting an eye at her exposed underthings and lifted a hand to very gently prod at the bruised area. Nothing that seemed indicative of hidden complications, no excessive swelling or misshapen spots. A relieved breath eased out of him, and a dose of magic set to work quickly clearing up the bruising and any cracks that might have existed in the ribs below.
"You really should rest a bit," he said as he watched the purple fading back to flesh tone, glancing up. "At least until the worst of the fever's passed."
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Post by enchilada on Apr 4, 2019 11:52:34 GMT
He was worried he’d be shrugged away, or worse. It was good to see that the tiefling was at least polite enough to not react horribly, but most likely, he was genuinely... nice. Dhaunmyr felt very happy; a warmth that blossomed from his chest and outwards. Just simple acts, small and insignificant, really meant the world to him.
Dhaunmyr sighed, yes of course she gave neither a yes, nor a no. He resolved to trail behind and avert his eyes when the time came. Otherwise he would simply be off to work, and it’s not like he had much to do after, a rather depressing schedule some days — rise from the trance, partake in various morning rituals, head out with goods to sell, waste time drinking, go to his room. Unless there was an event it was simply rinse and repeat. He didn’t indulge in many hobbies, occasionally reading a book if he wasn’t drunk enough to find staring at a bare wall ‘fun’. Maybe. Shrug- so yes.
The dark elf followed behind, sitting, as before, on the floor, near a corner, looking outwards towards the other two. He pulled out his book and his pencil, ready to busy himself in it, rather than simply face the wall in a rather backwards move to ignore the immodesty. Of course, before he could quite shield himself, Kara quickly got to showing off her bruised up ribs. He winced, they looked pretty bad, again. He wondered if the back of his hand would disappear in the bruise. Other than all the gold that ringed it, of course. The same hand danced up and down the page, sketching, note taking. Dhaunmyr was exactly the kind of person to say he was bad at art, but he was actually fairly talented. He knew so many people, that the ones who were... real... were important to remember.
Kara, who was strong and straightforward, and this new person, oh.
“So, what is this fine healer’s name?” His eyes were still trained on the page.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 4, 2019 12:11:21 GMT
The pain faded from her ribs; a cool tingling deeper told Kara that at least one had been cracked, although no longer. She took a deep, even breath. A night of rest and her leg and shoulder would be as good as new. She was still damp with sweat, even standing with little in the way of clothing, but that would fade too, in time.
"No need," Kara looked down at Caim. She drew her shirt back down over her ribs. Dhaunmyr was sitting in a corner again; he seemed to like them. Kara didn't know much about night elves, but she couldn't help wondering what had left an archer - based on the strength in his arms - so jumpy. She thought he'd been drawing; she wondered what.
Dhaunmyr addressed Caim, so, feeling free, Kara went to put her things back on. She stripped her new boots off, pulling on her leggings, then putting the boots back on. The dark blue tunic she pulled back over her head.
It was a pleasure to lift her arms freely and easily. Kara ran her fingers through her hair and braided it over her shoulder with quick practiced motions, securing the braid at the bottom with a small leather thong. She regretted not bringing the straps for her arms now, or at least the ones she could wear over her wrists. Oh well; there was nothing to be done now.
Kara glanced around the room, taking in the book on the unmade bed, but mostly focused on the tiefling and the night elf. She owed them both, Kara thought. For now there wasn't much she could do, although she continued to feel steadily better.
It had been nearly a day since she had eaten. With the slow fading of the fever Kara's appetite awoke, and her stomach let out an audible growl, twisting painfully beneath her ribs. Kara ignored it; she would eat soon enough. She wore her glaive once more, and turned back to Dhaunmyr and Caim, ready to go.
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Post by orby on Apr 4, 2019 23:19:45 GMT
Straightening again, and with the emergency taken care of, Caim slowly became aware of his own faint weariness. It wasn't terrible, hardly exhaustion, but he'd used a good few spells there and he could feel it. It wasn't unpleasant, though. There were worse ways to spend his energy.
He settled back to sit on the bed and Kara brushed him off and went to dig a pair of leggings out. This was new too, the practicality of it all. Most of his work at the temple had been reserved for services, taking care of those who'd come for healing and casting small spells, mostly cantrips, to awe and delight the simple common folk they catered to. Even in the most out of the ordinary circumstances, folks who came out of dire need in the middle of the night or something, he was still hurried into all the traditional robes and gloves and veils before he could help.
In hindsight, it all seemed very performative. Despite Kara's brusqueness, this felt better, just doing what was needed without all the showiness and ceremony and audiences.
But not all the audiences, in this case. Caim looked back to the elf as he was addressed, abruptly remembering they had additional company.
"Oh, it's Caim." He averted his eyes from where Kara was getting dressed to the elf sitting on the floor, pointedly not looking at anyone. He should probably be offering a proper seat or something, shouldn't he? But the small room was rather barebones in its furnishing, just the bed and nightstand and a narrow set of drawers he'd had no use for. "I'm sorry, we weren't really introduced..."
Understandable, given the only person who could have done such introductions had been bleeding out a few minutes ago.
Said previously-bleeding-out person also seemed all to ready to take off again. Caim's face fell slightly, but it softened in understanding when he could literally hear her stomach growling.
"...They have food here, if you're hungry? It's not bad." He attempted a smile again, fussing absently with an edge of one of the loose, messy sheets.
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Post by enchilada on Apr 5, 2019 16:15:40 GMT
“Well, Caim, I’m Dhaunmyr. I am simply a travelling merchant, who happened to be at the right place at the right time for dear Kara, and I suppose I involved myself up to here. It wasn’t perhaps the night I expected to have had, but, it was certainly worth it to make sure she ended up okay and freshly healed by someone with a rather talented hand— oh-“ He looked up as he spoke, eyes flicking quickly between page and people, until he eventually realised that he’d made something of a mess, a tangle of lines he couldn’t quite make out. He lifted the book to his face, squinting, then relaxed and again placed the supplies away into the pockets of the skirt, a rare find according to Faerveren, although he had to admit he’d never had that kind of problem before, to be without something to carry items around in. Then again, he purposely tailored lines of individual pockets into his favourite purple coat to hold his various pieces of jewellery, primarily necklaces, so perhaps there was a reason he never found himself without a slip of fabric.
The dark elf clapped his hands, just once, rising to his feet. “I did in fact say that Kara owes me her company for a meal, but, if it wouldn’t be so much trouble, perhaps we could head to a more, ah, how to put this, upper class establishment? I have trouble trusting many places, a little thing learned from being raised a drow in the Underdark. I know in my head the food is safe and fine to eat, and yet — oh and it shall be on me, if you worry about the additional cost of such a breakfast! Simply for me, it is worth the pleasure of having company that outweighs the costs, yes?”
Dhaunmyr smiled, clearly a man who spent far too much time fussing over the less important things in life, but he also seemed to hint a deeper understanding. He coped and kept above water by focusing on the superficial. While such things did delight him, they always had, it was out of a kind of fear that if he succumbed to the harsher, colder, or even more realistic terms of the world, when it was far easier to give magic to people; not like spells from wizards, but like misrepresenting the truth, giving people what ought to be the truth. Curved mirrors, special lighting. And best of all, yes, for a few seconds he could fool himself. He didn’t ever want realism, no.
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