RP:Misunderstood Intentions

Gualon Clinic

Krice was on a cot just two spaces over from Leone's location, his blood-soaked shirt discarded into a nearby hamper, legs covered by ward pants provided by the clinic. Healers were briskly cleaning his skin of excess blood, revealing a superficial but long cut in his flesh just below his last floating rib, on the left side of his body; around the cut, the flesh was red and angry, and tinted purple--indicative of another aspect at play, perhaps? Whatever the case, the warrior was barely conscious, intermittently lifting one arm or the other the push the healers away from him, aware on some level that he was surrounded by -someone-, just not sure who. His attempts were weak at best, easily deflected by the healers treating him, who chattered amongst themselves about his condition as they worked. Their words were every so often marked by quiet moans or unintelligible mumbling, the warrior subdued in his delirium. Ultimately, he was left to rest in a quiet but fitful sleep, dressed in clinic garments and covered by a blanket.

Emilia had come to visit the clinic where Leone was resting to show her the staff that she had made out of ice. The Genasi had wanted to prove to the smith that she was capable of making something at her shop that she would be proud to have come out of it and that she was capable of doing more than just growing fruits and vegetables. The staff made out of ice with a carved owl topper was in her hand, enchanted so that it wouldn’t melt while keeping its perfect form while in the heat of Gualon or even Venturil for that matter. As the frail Genasi made way into the clinic her with her mind on one thing she wasn’t expecting the sight that lay ahead; a down Krice. The look of shock across her face lasted for a few moment before the managed to catch herself looking like an idiot staring at the warrior. Her gaze wandered the room looking to see if Leone was here, if so she’d find her way over to the smith.

Reginae stood outside the clinic as it bustled, suprised to find it in such high activity this late in the evening. Various voices drifted out on the edges of the containment curtains and the occasional breeze, bringing with it the fresh scents of blood and rotting flesh. Her false humanoid structure stood a rough four feet, giving her the appearance of a lost child or perhaps an expert street urchin. The thought made her chuckle, just below her breath, before striding into the heart of the clinic in search of some information. These lands were known for their stout fighters and if any survived, they might be worth the coin it would take to enlist their loyalty to her cause. A figure entered just ahead of her, holding a staff of ice. Regi watched the ground as she walked through the curtains and smiled. Not a single drop of water on the ground. Gods, the naga thought, what had she stumbled onto here. The curtains brushed heavily against her forearm as she ducked inside, wisps of winter thread fluttering in the breeze it caused. Immediately inside, her glacial optics spotted Krice. Given the extent of his injuries and the activity around him, he must have been on the losing end of some Arena match. Silently, she stood there a time and took in her surroundings.

Leone is seated upon the double-thick cot yet again, her posture pitched forward from pain and anticipation. The curtain that corodones off her bed area is thrust open, pushed all the way to the wall. The farrier sits transfixed, phosphorescent orbs intently watching the ebb and flow of healers around the injured swordsman. As Emilia makes her way over to the rearward cot, the metallurgist thrusts out a hand, shaking it fervently toward the blonde. Not waiting to see if the request for assistance is met or not, the petite plover slides off the edge of her mattress and onto her feet, her balance and strength tested before hobbled steps are shuffled in the direction of the silver-haired man.

Krice shifted subtly on his cot--a twitch of fingers, the shudder of a breath, furrowed brows--but for the most part remained locked in his sleep. The healers left him for now, though Agnus was conferring with two others in hushed tones, mentioning something that sounded like 'poison'.

Emilia was quick on those bare feet that left frosted prints on the ground in her wake to the side of Leone. “You shouldn’t be on your feet…” The little woman said in hushed whisper, though in truth the Genasi should herself be resting still. One arm would move to slip around the smith’s waist to help hold her for support as she would then walk alongside her toward the warrior. “What happened?” She asked still speaking in a whisper while staying at the side of her friend.

Reginae listens intently to the surrounding conversations while watching the injured male on the cot nearby. Yes, she could smell it in his skin...the words fell off nearby tongues. Poison. But what sort? If she could taste it, she might be able to tell but...her tongue rolled against the back of her ebony fangs hidden behind closed lips. It would largely too risky to walk over and bite the man without introduction. If he was not lucid enough to comprehend his surroundings, perhaps she would have a shot. Tucking back thread-like strands of white, the childish form of Reginae steps toward him with a cautious. "Can I get anything for you, sir?" Her question was directed towards Krice, but her eyes were rolling over all the surrounding bodies...trying to see who was paying attention and what she could get away with.

Leone grumbles something inaudible as Emilia and she pass by Angus, near enough to hear the word "poison" uttered. The farrier's pace increases, and a scowl is shot toward the girl who bothers the swordsman. "I know," the shoer answers Emilia, "But I have plenty of time to rest. The time to act is now." Approaching Krice's cot, the bantam farrier ventures to lay a hand upon his cheek before whispering to the fitful mercenary, "Krice. It's Leone. You're in the clinic. Calm down."

Krice seemed oblivious to everyone - the quizzical Emilia, the sneaky Regina, and even Leone who spoke to him directly and went so far as to touch him; the weight of her hand against his cheek seemed to help a little, however, for he calmed enough that only the tips of his left fingers twitched, and only every so often. Comforted, perhaps? Or mere coincidence? Whatever the case, the warrior did not seem ready to rouse from his sleep, let alone able to reply to either woman.

Emilia would give Leone the staff made from the ice, “Here.” This would give the woman a little more help in moving herself around the clinic. “I have to go. I am sorry I can’t stay here.” The Genasi looked to Krice who was down for the count for the moment. Letting go of the smith the frozen woman would leaned over to almost touch Krice, but stop and instead lean down to kiss the top of his head where his silver hair was. A small whisper, “Get better.” Then she would turn to Leone and kiss her cheek, “I’m sorry I have to go.” Then in quick steps the ghostly woman was gone faster than she arrived to the clinic.

Reginae fought to keep her lips from dropping into a serious frown. Instead, she met the scowl with a short bow and took a pace or two back to observe the scene while rummaging in her side bag. Oh! There's the figure from before with the ice staff, she thought, looking both of the women over with a critical but silent eye. The man was barely there, his thoughts likely streaming him through various planes. Poison was such a bitter enemy. "May I help you back to your bed?" The child reappeared at Leone's side, a small vile tucked into her pocket. " I believe he needs to rest mar'm..." Her sly slitted eyes missed almost nothing, "And perhaps you should as well?" It was posed as a question, she couldn't force anything nor would she.

Leone frowns as Emilia thrusts the ice staff at her. It is laid in a nearby chair, out of reach and unneeded almost as soon as the maker disappears. For her efforts, Reginae is also shooed away, the metallurgist staggering several steps backwards as the little one tries to approach her. "Leave me be," the silver-streaked, black haired farrier says coolly, again dismissing the girl away from her and Krice. Nothing is tucked in Leone's pocket, because surely the smith, clad in clinic robes, has no pockets to speak of. The arm of the chair with the staff is grasped with one hand, and the seat is dragged over to the swordsman's bedside. The plover reaches up her hands seeking to take both of the mercenarie's hands in hers, the touch gentle yet sure.

Krice did not respond to Emilia's kiss to the top of his head, nor to Reginae's insistent presence, nor Leone's resulting irritation. Even under her eventual hold, his fingers continued to twitch, almost as if he was struggling to maintain hold of something in the unconscious realm. Reality, perhaps? Some poisons were known to cause delirium, disconnections between the mind and body. Perhaps it was one of those that plagued him now.

Reginae bows carefully to allow the woman her space and does nothing to interfere or assist. Her eyes move back to Krice now, guarded carefully by the fierce female now seated at his side. Regi had hoped for a moment with constant vigil, but alas, there she stood, watching the man's muscles convulse and twitch with a look of rigor and distress painted on his features. "I've had enough of this." She whispers under her breath, dropping the rouse of bed side attendant and stepping towards the discoloration in the bedded man's skin. The wound was thick, bulging. Regi pulled the vile from her own pocket and used a small thin blade to puncture the flesh around the discolored area. Hopefully, no one would attempt to stop her. Without a word, she gave a look that spoke caution to Leone. Regi was not sure if her intentions were conveyed but she would need a moment's concentration to drain wound before applying the salve. "A moment." She said to the priestess, hoping she would detect her urge to assist.

Leone isn't about to let someone she doesn't know cut into her friend. Tucking both of Krice's hands beneath one of her own, the blacksmith leaps to her feet. The action is not beneficial to the already wounded woman's well-being, and pinpricks of blood blossom over the back of her robe. "Stop it," the petite plover yells, no doubt garnering the attention of many of the actual, able-bodied healers in the area. Agnus leads the way over to the swordsman's bedside, she and the rest of the clinic anxiously attending the yell from the resident smith.

Krice 's hands settled beneath Leone's single present palm as the healers walked over. Agnus' first order of business was to distance Reginae from the warrior's cot; she did not know the woman, and given Leone's reaction, she must have been interfering in some way. "Excuse me, miss," the brunette (is she a brunette? I forgot <.< ) said firmly, easing her way into Reginae's space at Krice's side. Other healers assisted, one young woman tending to Leone herself. "You need to return to your cot, Leone. Your wounds have re-opened," she murmured gently, whilst Agnus checked Krice and addressed the stranger. "Give him some space, if you would. He is not to be interfered with."

Reginae cursed quietly before removing her blade and stashing it away. "If you don't trust me, then take this. And see for yourself." The child-like creature almost hissed in annoyance. It was easy to forget that your practices could be seen as ill-mannered in untrusting eyes. Regi's small hands held out the unused vial towards Leone. "Take this vial and I'll go." Her eyes were stern but honest. Krice garnished a quick side glance as she offered the concoction to the woman once more before attention came to fall on her. Swift hands were on her arms, but still she held out this potion towards the woman with a determined stance. "Just take it and I'll leave, I swear it." The man whose hands were around her forearm chuckled sternly, as if she had a choice in whether she would be leaving or not.

Leone frowns deeply at Agnus, shaking her head to the healer who had so far kept her comfortable and safe. "Once he is out of the woods I will," the blacksmith promises, her mouth setting into a rigid line as she stares the reputable healer down. The metallurgist's sights quickly shift to Reginae, and more specifically the vial she holds out. The diminutive woman shakes her head, her brow furrowed as luminescent, lime-hued sights dart from the vial to the girl holding it, and back again. "He won't need it," the farrier assures Reginae, her tone firm but not stern, "And he would protest it's use, besides."

Krice : Agnus fixed Leone with a stern stare, but ultimately, she knew of the blacksmith's stubbornness - having experienced it firsthand, herself, more than once - and acquiesced with a defeated sigh. " You cannot be blamed for staying by his side," she murmured, glancing down at the resting warrior before her eyes drifted to Reginae and the healers ready to assist her out. She set her mouth in a firm, thin line and allowed Leone to take the lead, to interact with the unknown woman in accepting or refusing the vial. In the end, Agnus' words backed up the smith's. "Indeed. He will be comfortable here. Rest assured that he won't need that vial." A bit stiffly, the healer said, "Your help is much appreciated. Now please, give him some space."

Reginae hadn't thought that perhaps this man wouldn't -want- her healing mixture. The realization settled heavily on her brow as she tucked it back from whence it came and watched Krice for a moment longer. "His twitching has eased." It was the most polite way she could think of in the moment to tell the woman she was clearly correct while simultaneously encouraging her to rest her own re-blossoming injuries. "His palm settled where yours rested." Doing her best to leave the clinic without causing more trouble, Regi took a few steps away from Krice before addressing Agnus. "My apologies for attempting to interfere. Please keep it just in case." The vial was placed on a nearby surface, with the added disclaimer, "I don't have a use for it on my own." Without further speech or interference, the child pushed the curtains back up with her forearm and left the way she had come.

Leone is not nearly as nice as Agnus, and instead just continues to stare at Reginae through the girl's voice observations and final relent. The farrier frowns, tawny lips drawn down until their plumpness thins against the wall of her teeth. The offered vial, wherever it is place, is indicated with her chin only after the too young, would-be healer retreats. "Get rid of that, out of the clinic," the metallurgist whispers to Agnus, tension apparent in her strained, raspy tone through the encouragement. Perhaps the blacksmith is becoming paranoid. Retaking her seat, the bantam woman is careful to resist leaning back, not only to avoid crushing the ice staff, but also to avoid further injuries to herself.

Krice :Agnus glanced back at Leone once Reginae has departed, already reaching for the vial. "You needn't tell me twice," She said, her healers dispersing as she placed the unknown item into another's hand to dispose of externally. Agnus returned to Krice's bed only for a moment, placing her hands upon the edge of the mattress and glancing across the warrior at the blacksmith. Her expression was soft and apologetic, "It happens, sometimes. We get people coming in, trying to help. Some are honest, though others seek only to do further harm. One can never be too careful."

Reginae sighed once outside. Of course it only made sense that they would get rid of it. The healers that followed after her kept a keen watch on her actions and likely would until she was out of sight. A moment longer, the naga just needed to think. Humans she didn't understand. How did she hope to win the trust of creatures she'd just stumbled upon? But truly, the better question was why had she chosen to intervene. Now she had not recruited any fighters but managed instead to have the healers and the staff wary of her presence. The naga knew better than to be too offended. The lands were ravaged by battle and war among other oddities and terrible deeds. Quietly, her fall falls trailed off into the distance, leaving the warm glow of the clinic behind.