RP:Flewminati Strikes
Summary: Brennia wakes up in the Imperial Healing House after Covo and herself got jumped by the Flewminati after a campaign event in Chartsend. Luckily, a friend of her's is there to help the healing process and Soraya takes the bard's mind off of what happened as she blames street thieves for the attack. Brennia isn't sure the citizens of Schezerade could bear the news of the Flewminait's return, not during the current political climate.
Imperial Healing House
Well trained healers –be it magic or otherwise—can be seen flitting about this structure tending to the unwell and injured folk that walk in. A long hall is built off to the eastern side of the large clinic, where patients with more serious injuries can have private rooms, or be placed under the care of more experienced healers if the injuries are that severe. Herbs, potions, and jars of honey line the back wall where a youngling healer sits at a desk, recording who has entered the clinic for the healer’s services and which healers are currently available. Off to the western side of this room is another, smaller room, where the highest ranked healer keeps their personal healing supplies. Freshly cut flowers decorate the clinic to give a relaxing and pleasant scent to its visitors, and soft lighting gives the building a sense of calm and tranquillity.
Brennia is slowly waking up as morning light is spilling into her room and she's blinking the sleep out of her eyes - or eye since her left eye is swollen shut and bruised. She is trying to gather her thoughts on how she wound up here and only flashes of the horrible night fly through her mind, but she is here now and everyone at the Imperial Healing House is instructed to be discrete on why she is here. Most will not be surprised to learn the Bard College's dean is in the hospital again since she spent so much time in healer institutions over this past year because of her condition. Brennia doesn't want to cause panic about the Flewminati returning until they get to the bottom of things first because it could be an isolated incident and she needs some time to piece the night of the attack together. Her campaign manager, Corvo, is recovering in the next room from more serious injuries consisting of a stab wound and a broken wing for starters. Brennia is dealing with a nasty black eye, sprained ankle, a fat lip that splits back open if she smiles too hard and a dislocated shoulder which was set back in place last night, but the rest of her injuries had to wait till morning because Corvo's injuries were more serious and they had to tend to him first. So, the rather thin dark skinned woman, sits up in her bed the best she can while dressed in only a healing house gown and covered in a thin sheet, waits patiently for her healer to pay a visit.
Soraya Sian is not one to blanch at the grotesque. A bit of blood or a mangled limb came with her duties as a healer. The air of secrecy that fell upon the pair of avians she would be tending to today came easily as well. Brennia and Corvo were a curiosity that Soraya chose not to pry into, though she did wonder how either managed to keep such level heads with the whispered misadventures she had heard about them from other healers. The soft click of her white heels against the floor down the hall announced her arrival before the knock of her gloved hand upon Brennia's door. She doesn't wait too long for permission to enter the room, but the slow push of the door inward is intentional, just in case the woman required privacy and wanted Soraya to come back later. “Miss Brennia,” she greets with a gentle smile, slipping through the crack in the door, nudging it shut with a bump of her hip. Soraya Sian looks as she always does, her statuesque form dressed head-to toe in white to match her equally stark white skin and hair, as if she were hewn from a block of marble. The only color the healer possessed appeared to be the pale pink of her lips, and the bluish-grey hue of her sharp eyes. She carried a tray in her hand, now both after opening the door, laden with warmed water and a selection of tea-bags to choose from, along with a bowl of soup covered with a lid, believing that it might be easier to consume than solid foods that may disturb Brennia's split lip. Another would be brought to Corvo later on, but ladies first. She sets this tray upon a bedside table, and while doing so her eyes wander along the woman's injuries, taking mental note of any improvements. “How are you feeling?”
Brennia goes to don her usual warm smile without thinking of it, but sucks air through her teeth at the pain it caused her lower lip before gauging her smile to a more manageable one, "goodmorning Soraya Sian. It is nice to see you again," it is nice to see the fellow avian as they've been on a patient healer basis for a while now. Between here or the House of Ara, she probably knows many of the healers, but more so because she is a fellow healer and a member of the guild. Her bruised and scraped knuckle adorned hands fiddle with the white sheet covering her legs because she knows if anyone is going to ask what happened, she will have to lie. She knows they will all see right through it and have to just leave it at that because Brennia has been on the other side of this, easily seeing through patients lies, but hopefully the Flewminati won't be a problem anymore and people will feel safe once again. "Oh, like I've been run over by one of those gold plated royal carriages, you know, the ones that have to have six or eight clydesdales pulling it," which is their way of saying - she feels like she got hit by a truck! It is an attempt at humor as her solid teal hues take in the fellow healer's appearance. Brennia always found the avian's beauty to be ethereal in a way and admires the stark differences in their appearance. Brennia, being dark skinned and covered in a tattoo pattern along with her dark wings and dark hair, the pair look like opposites! "It is the pits, but I am just going to have to let most of this heal without pain reliever potions," as any of the healers know, Brennia had to go through a recent organ transplant due to a Gastrointestinal perforation which allows her to eat and drink normal foods now, but she's been advised to steer clear of potions for now. "How have you been? Anything new with Soraya?" Brennia knows this job can be rough, so she always tries to be caring in return to the healers she meets.
Soraya stifles a laugh at the imagery Brennia provides with the back of her gloved hand, though her brows do knit with concern. What an unbearable amount of pain, she thinks, lowering her hand once the laugh subsides. “Well, it goes without saying we will make sure you're in much better shape as soon as possible, Miss Brennia. I'm seeing to it myself,” she states, turning to the tray she brought in with her. While she wasn't among the most senior of ranks within the Imperial Healing House, she was decidedly in the upper middle of the pecking order. A mix of substantial skill and nepotism placed Soraya there, but she liked to believe such placement was mostly based her talents alone. “Soup's a bit too hot to try swallowing, but would you like to try drinking some tea? I brought, goodness, it feels like a thousand different flavors for you to choose from. Floral, blooming teas from Enchantment, Larketian Grey, some berry-flavored tea from Vhys...” And a jar of honey to sweeten it, of course. The late Raan and former Sian named Neema started the tradition of keeping the gardens for bees and honey heavily stocked in the Healing House's store room, and that had hardly changed with the tumult Schezerade had dealt with over the years. She turns to look over Brennia once more, taking in the woman's blackened eye this time. A bit of magic might numb that and reduce the swelling. Any injuries that leave scars would be an absolute nightmare as well she deduces, not only for how unsightly they might be but for potentially ruining Miss Brennia's tattoos. Soraya is absolutely fond of them. It's a tradition that she hasn't delved into herself, but older members of her family certainly did. “Oh, me?” she asks with some surprise. Brennia's kindness at times was incredibly disarming. “I have been well, thank you,” the healer replies. “Working, reading, just the same as always. I found a delightful book about the history of the Kuronii in Frostmaw that I haven't had a chance to read yet, but it's waiting at home for me once I have the free time.” Before she can let herself ramble on about books, Soraya approaches the bed, one hand lifted to gesture at Brennia's eye. “If you don't mind me starting here, I can try to make you a bit more comfortable.”
Brennia feels a little sense of pride being able to get Soraya to laugh - or almost laugh. Other patients can always be so serious or scary because even in this magical world, there isn't a cure for everything. It is a harsh reality that Brennia has dealt with many times and she does an exceptional job hiding her own pain by burying it deep down under her warm dimpled smile. "Oh, that I have no doubt Soraya, now that the expert is on the case," she attempts a wink with the bruised eye - forgetting it's already swollen shut and quickly corrects to wink with her good eye with a soft short chuckle. Brennia's smoky alto timbre is usually soothing and pleasant to listen to, but she's had to talk so much on the recent campaign tour, that it is a little more like sandpaper at the moment, "tea sound absolutely heavenly. Well, as you know Enchantment teas are my favorite, but let's try that berry flavor tea from Vhys," it is quite a genius idea to use the bees from the Healer's Way garden for honey! It always makes her feel better in a strange way. Tattoos are a cultural thing with avians and the island she is from - even more so, but fellow avians typically don't inquire about them or admire them like those below in Lithrydel do. Brennia is a lot more open than the stereotypical avians with her wings and inkwork, though. "That is good," a knowing look comes over her facial expression. "Books, huh? You and those books, you've always been reading it seems," she offers in an admiring way. "Have you considered applying to Schezerade university or even DeVere College of Bardic Arts? I bet either institution would love to have such a well read mind like yours. I am sure your talents here are greatly appreciated, but is this all you want, Soraya?" She sits up a little straighter when the fellow healer comes closer and shakes her head slightly, "I do not mind at all. I trust you and I know I am in good hands, thank you."
Soraya – Shuffles back to the tray of tea and soup she brought along with her to steep some of the tea from Vhys, withdrawing a miniature hourglass from her pocket. Upturning it so the white sand captured within the glass can fall to the bottom and keep time, roughly five minutes for the tea to steep, she laughs again, not bothering to stifle it this time. “You flatter me, Miss Brennia,” Soraya says. As much as the avian prided herself in multitasking, she didn't believe she could bounce between beginning a bit of magical healing on Brennia's blackened eye while also preventing the tea from over-steeping. As such, the healer waits, finding that she enjoys the small talk. Besides, how often does one have the ear of a college dean? “I have considered it, returning to the university or applying to the College of Bardic Arts. I'm hardly a bard, admittedly. I'm a painter in my free time, ” she divulges, chewing a bit on the suggestion Brennia presents to her. It's refreshing discussing something personal instead of the usual, impersonal conversation she tended to have with patients. It feels so...expository, discussing her personal life at length, but Soraya assumes Brennia's inquiry is an invitation to talk about herself a bit. “I come from a family of Sians and Hvans, with our bloodlines traceable back to Bardriel. We aren't physically strong like your Khars and Shars and Tzurs. The mind is where we excel, or with the hand of a healer...” she trails off, not necessarily out of disappointment that her strengths favored the latter of the two, but longing for switching rank to the former. “What one fancies is often dictated by the wants of others,” she concludes. “My duty is to the Empire. Wants and desires are secondary.” With that in mind, Soraya focuses on her duties, pouring a cup of the fragrant tea for Brennia and carefully handing it over. A sheepish grin appears as she removes one of her gloves, flexing dexterous fingers that gradually illuminate with a white light. The light concentrates along her pointer and middle fingers, which she gently presses against the brow bone of Brennia's blackened eye once she has lowered herself to be just at eye-level with the fellow avian. The sensation the tattooed avian should feel is cooling, perhaps tingling; a gentle wicking away of the pain that bites there transitioning from herself to Soraya, bit by bit. “Forgive me for sounding so serious. I don't ever want to place the weight of my problems upon the shoulders of a patient.” She winces, eyes squinting just a hair when pangs of the pain transition over to her, but she maintains focus. The light fades from her fingertips as she removes them. “That should help for a bit...I can't make the bruise disappear, but it should hurt a little less, I hope?”
Brennia listens to Soraya. If Brennia never gets her bard magic back, that is one talent no one can deny. Whenever someone talks to the avian - they do truly feel listened to and it isn't just by the expression of her face, her body language speaks volumes to her ability to get others to open up and trust her. The mention of flattery is met with a playful little scoff, "please. Everyone here knows it." She nods once to the mention of painting, "we have painters at the college. We also have sculptors, writers, poets, actors and dancers. The arts college is about creativity and expression. It is a place that allows someone to find their own way, you know?" She speaks fondly of the college she's founded, but she still works very hard to do the best by her students and it shows. "You and Uriphiel Shar are so similar in your sense of duty," she offers with admiration again. Uriphiel is new to Schezerade, but so many in the remainder of avians within Schezerade have talked of the handsome golden winged man and he is definitely the talk around town. Many want to either be like him or be with him in the sense of hope he's brought to their broken city. "After arriving in Lithrydel I wanted nothing to do with duty," it is known that Brennia isn't from Lithrydel and from an avian Island known as Vere - which many thought to have been a myth. "I followed my wants and desires, but doing so led me to a new sense of duty. I had my home built here and planned to just use it as a sanctuary where I could wallow away in self pity. Not many know that story," she admits almost sheepishly before slowly sipping her tea with a pleased hum. "One day, someone suggested I turn the castle I built to help other bards and it was a decision that changed my life. I found such joy shaping young minds and helping them find their passion in life. It wasn't until Vermillion Draft threatened to cut us off from the rest of Lithrydel and show prejudice against anyone that isn't an avian that I decided to run against him, not only for the safety of my students, but also for the future of Schezerade." She ended up losing and that is when Vermillion Draft handed over Schezerade as a military garrison for Kahran's forces. Brennia will never not be amazed by Soraya's talent and she smiles as much as she can to her, "that is much better, thank you. If no one has said it to you yet today, then allow me; you are amazing." After taking another cautious sip of her tea, she asks, "would you ever want to be a professor? I've heard the dean at Schezerade University is actually looking to retire soon."
Soraya – Receiving praise without dismissing it due to a mix of seeing her actions as not much but a sense of duty and she supposes humbleness is difficult for Soraya, but she lowers her head in a sort of bow. “Thank you,” she murmurs, appreciative of Brennia's compliments. The revelation that the Bardic College taught more than musicians and dancers like she had assumed is a delightful bit of news. “I'll have to look into it, then.” Read, gain permission from her parents. Though clearly an adult in her later twenties, Soraya's family kept their children on a tight leash. For the Empire, they explained. Out of duty. It didn't bother her too much usually, as she had ample opportunity to read or paint here and there, but the Empire came first. Her brows raise slightly at the notion that she and a Shar would have any similarities, but she supposes it made sense. Though she had never crossed paths with the golden-winged avian, a title like Shar shared similar duties to her own, primarily the Empire. “We are?” The title Shar brings to mind someone stern of face and an air of seriousness that she commonly possessed, but kinder folk like Brennia had a tendency to soften such edges for Soraya. “It's ambitious, running for Raan,” she remarks, admirably. There's a smile that accompanies the comment, the cool coloring of her eyes softening to a more pleasant shade of blue, even moreso at the next compliment Brennia gives her. “As are you, Miss Brennia. Thank you – Professor? Why, I...” The thought crossed her mind occasionally, clearly, though not until Soraya was far older, wiser. “One day, but it's a far off dream. For now, delving into our history when I have the time and mending cuts and bruises and bone are what I must do.” She adds with a mischievous grin, “And a bit of painting here and there, if time allows. But! More importantly Miss Brennia, where would you like for me to take a look at next?”
Brennia motions to her arm in the sling with her good hand after setting her tea down, "maybe if we can manage some of the pain in my shoulder. It is set back into place, but by someone's god it still hurts like the dickens." She considers Soraya's words, "well, young people are doing amazing things in this city these days. Uriphiel and I are trying to get more of the younger avians like us to run for seats in the senate. Why couldn't you run a University if that is something you want? Heck, you could even be a fresh point of view in Raan yourself. Hinder Windgate is running, but he's of course doing so to honor his father... poor guy," it has been in the papers lately that the Bard college graduate and Blitzball star is looking to follow in his murdered father's footsteps. Hinder had recently brought forth proof that the Flewminati had a hand in his father's murder because of the records he'd been keeping on their misdeeds and plans to expose them. He is also quite the hunk! A start to a chuckle is given when Soraya mentions she is ambitious, "ambitious? Is that a new fancy word for dumb? Last time the Flewminati almost killed me on a couple occasions," there is humor in her expression and even in her tone, but what she says is true and maybe just the lowering of her wall only a little. "They've petrified us citizens into thinking we are powerless against them, but I think every avian should feel the sense of duty you do and stand up for Schezerade. This city needs more forward thinking minds to protect us from ever falling into the dangerous hands of that cult or anything like that again." Those black as night wings which seem to glitter like stars in midnight shift in agitation at the mention of the Flewminati. "Please, Soraya, you can call me Bre if you'd like and don't think I didn't catch that 'patient' comment from before," she playfully teases. Brennia has been a frequent patient, yes, but she has helped as a healer here from time to time when needed and the two of them have had many thoughtful talks like this. "I think I would consider you more of a close acquaintance than just my healer…. Maybe even a friend if that is agreeable to you."
Soraya immediately brings her attention to Brennia's arm and that same, healing light that illuminated her ungloved hand before begins to reappear. Instead of gathering at her fingertips, it coalesces with in her palm, which she gently sets on Brennia's upper arm so she isn't adding pressure to the reset shoulder without a word. This takes far more time and concentration than siphoning off the sting of a bruise and replacing it with the numbing chill of her healing magic, but it functions similarly. Though her face is screwed up in a concentrated, albeit pained wince, Soraya fine enough, trading her numbing cold for a bit of the pain in Bre's shoulder. This surely would hurt later on. She quietly considers the suggestions Bre provides, making mental note to drop the formality in doing so. The notion of being considered a friend softens her expression a bit. Soraya had a very distinct lack of friends, what with being holed up in the Healer's House when she didn't have her nose in a book. The possibilities she is being presented with are tantalizing, for sure. “I suppose you're right, Bre,” she is quick to correct herself, instead of addressing Brennia as Miss Brennia. “The leadership around here could use some younger blood. ...And no more Flewmanati.” The name is uttered with an air of disgust before she continues. “After Cerinii Raan and Neema Raan perished,” she pauses, uncertain if Cerinii Raan is actually dead. She was too young to recall exactly, but the statue she knew of near the statue of Schezerade herself made her wonder if it was a memorial of sorts. Snippets of memory from her childhood retell the family receiving news that Schezerade would be the new home for the Empire, and her family flying to the new floating metropolis once they had received word that the ancient avian had hoisted it skyward. “..After both of them perished, it feels as if we are back to where we once were, eons ago. ...Without the homunculi, thankfully.” The hubris of the avians so long ago didn't necessarily feel like a thorn in modern avians' sides, but it is something to be mindful of. Another lapse of silence, partially to complete the bit of healing she applied to Bre's shoulder and partially to cycle through bits and pieces of the Empire's history that she knew. “A mix of ancients and younger avians leading the Empire would be the best option, I believe. Ancients are living pieces of history. First hand accounts of what happened so long ago, and a wealth of intelligence that we simply don't have...Or well, I don't at least. To have an opportunity to leaf through the mind of one of them would be delightful.” Her tone turns slightly sheepish, uncertain of Brennia's age. For all she knew, Bre could be an ancient avian herself. “Younger avians offer a contemporary perspective. We all don't necessarily have past prejudices, and we're...I suppose more willing to travel out of Schezerade to interact with folk below. I certainly am. I enjoy traveling when I have the time. More libraries to find, more books to read,” another pause, in which she removes her hand from Brennia's shoulder, and rolls her own at the dull ache that begins to materialize there. “I appreciate you looking to me as a friend, Bre,” she adds, tone softening yet again. “I could call you the same, if you would like.”
Brennia continues to smile softly while having such a stimulating talk with Soraya. It is quite refreshing not having to talk of campaigning for a little bit. A soft raspy giggle bubbles up on the bard's timbre, "I am so glad you aren't afraid to say their name like most citizens still are. I don't know if being in my mid two hundreds counts as being ancient. Even if it did, I do not have the benefit of being from here. I only recently came to Lithrydel over the last decade from Island Vere. The only history I learned there was local," is has been debated recently that after Bardriel fell, a piece of it broke off and became Vere, but that was so long ago that details of it have been blurred by time. The only thing currently linking the places together is the fact that Brennia and Uriphiel speak in the same native language - or at least understand each other in it. "I think you will find Uriphiel Shar's knowledge particularly interesting, though. Whenever you get the chance to meet him," and if he is so kind as to open up about his own fantastical tale. Brennia has picked up on the wincing and roll of the fellow healer's shoulder, but is yet to puzzle together that it is due to the fact that Soraya is taking her pain and placing it upon herself. If she had known, Brennia would probably decline any offer to be healed this way. She has to refrain from smiling any wider, "you do? Well of course you can consider me a friend." The bard turns her head into her hand and yawns, "you've helped me so much today, I thank you. Hopefully I am your last stop so you may be able to get home to those good books." She reaches out for her tea with her good arm and takes a generous sip as if that will help fight off the sleep threatening her.
Soraya nods with some understanding. Living on an island sounded utterly fascinating. “It's funny how we all scattered over eons after the cities fell, but generations later, we regroup again. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes.” She chuckles. “My family took roots along the mountain range of Xalious until Schezerade was built.” Taking Brennia's words as an indication that Uriphiel Shar is in fact an ancient, the healer blinks with some surprise. “If I am fortunate to meet him, I'll have to pry. Thank you for letting me know." The sound of a yawn brings Soraya to quickly rise properly to her feet, and give the room a sweeping glance for anything that may be out of place or potentially disruptive. “You should rest up, Miss- Er. Bre. I'll make sure to return periodically to check on you, and...” The healer trails off, uncertain if now if she should stick to the formal Mister Corvo or simply address him as Corvo now that friendship with Brennia has been established. She sticks to formal naming conventions. “Mister Corvo. I won't be far,” she reassures, “so please let me know if there is anything that you need for me to do for you.” Soraya turns to depart, casting a passing glance at the tray of teas and soup she brought along. She can bring warmer soup if it's too cold whenever Brennia feels up to eating. She lingers at the doorway, turning her head just a bit to peek over a white-winged shoulder. “It has been a pleasure talking to you today, Bre. I hope you're feeling better soon.”
Brennia lets another little raspy giggle escape her lips and nods, "birds of a feather indeed." She starts to relax into her bed again and get even more comfortable, "are you sure you don't want to just hide away here and read while pretending to work?" Brennia knows Soraya isn't the type to slack off, but she figured she would ask just in case. "Your secret would be safe with me," it is probably best no one is in the room while Brennia sleeps because of her nightmares. She sometimes wakes up in a silent panic and she isn't sure she is ready to admit why she is still plagued with night terrors to her new friend. The bard rolls over onto her good shoulder and drapes her wing along herself like a blanket with a soft smile up at Soraya, "it really has, thank you again Soraya."