RP:Northmans Checkup

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

Synopsis: Jarith and Sabrina have a random run-in. Where the Guild Leader has a chance to ensure the Northman is keeping up on medication.

Northmans Checkup

Jarith was looking not to the sentinel, but to the mask in his hands. The dark ravens-wing black of his hair was pulled into a tight ponytail save those four braids that mark his station among the tribes framing the left of his face. The knight seems to be quite truly lost in his own thoughts as the mask in his hands is traced by slow fingertips over the ridges made by the fight at the red dragon and a few other brief uses both past and present. As Harken, the altered elf had managed to do some good and long ago borderline bad things for the overall good of Lithrydel. The mask had been a gift from Rumiko so very long ago, when he thought their dreams were the same. The lie still burned him and as he looked over the thin mithril he flipped it to see her etching, a sweet nothing that made old wounds raw. Still, those hands moved over it and upon looking back to the clear sky the northern borne cracked and broke it into pieces. Harken Tulle was running out of uses and the blue and white leather wrapped hilt of that alias’ longsword was long tired. Perhaps, he mused it was time to retire the duality, and focus more clearly on the vision that still woke him in the night, haunting him…Damn the gods.

“ A bit raw, isn’t it?” She didn’t want to startle him with her silent approach. She spoke of the Lizard King, crouched in an eternally feral warning. Elvish footsteps had been accused more than once as sneaky and suspicious but her stride, silent as the grave, was a thing of grace not malice. “I said two days, it has been more.” And he had made her come looking for him. Elements of his energy left a trail, untraceable to those not gifted with her curse. Energy, she could follow, like a fingerprint akin to only its user. Even now as she closed the distance it would be his heart beat that told her of his name, not his face, and surely not that mask. Mismatched eyes obviously follow to his train of thought, settling on that broken mask with a twitch of brow. Memory tends to flood the mind with its familiarities, like a name drop in a public arena. She saw the artifact before, the night she lost her calm t the bonfire that spread from Larket’s prized Inn. Suddenly she appears quite breathless, shaking, even. She halts her approach. There was no way he would have missed her body’s announcement to connecting those dots. “You’ll have a hard time killing me, I promise.”

Jarith gave a cast of those eyes towards the beast of earth and stone and gave a solid shrug of that pristine new armor. No doubt it had set him back a bit, and yet the lord of the northern reaches only comment was for the sentinel. “Somewhat amusing, perhaps more elegant than it should be in my mind.” A mortal’s idea of the earth golem in his opinion and yet it did not bother him so greatly. Her mention of the time is something that the knight seems to recollect next himself before allowing a subtle nod, betraying a friendly and almost trusting nature to the elven woman. “Well, as sad as this might sound, we have formed a strange habit of running into one another. I simply figured I could make due until we did so once more, rather than bother a pretty lady who is often busy herself.” A leftover of the purge had left him with similar abilities, being able to hunt down those magical entities which were familiar to him, trailing them like a painted path to the owner without much effort. He didn’t do so with her though, something nudged the knight against it, not wishing to interrupt or upset her with some surprise arrival on his part. Strange really, but then her breathing altered and the blue of his stare caught Sabrina’s mismatched eyes on the remains of the shield as he deposited it to the ground. Moments strained between the pair and when her voice offered a defensive chord, the elf’s regal bearing broke to a casual shake of his head before a dimpled and genuine smile broke over them. The Ardent would be given a glimpse of the real Jarith, the roguish smile tempered by anguished eyes before it faded back into those rigid shields he near never let down for anyone. “ I have no intent to harm or kill you, Sabrina.” His voice spoke her name in that honey and leather depth, tainting it with the strange accent born of the mountains he hailed from.

Sabrina only happened upon him by chance, really. She is yet unaware of the full scope of why she came this way, toward some frame of comfort that her unconscious mind sought. It was the brain making decisions based on unknown elements; turn left here, stop there, tread that path. Yet she was not surprised to find him; she meant to look for him, surely, but did she mean to look for him in this moment, probably not. But thoughts of him must’ve lingered in her mind since she rarely left a patient in the condition she left him. Under circumstances she left him. When he denies a threat to her safety she just smiles but she stays her distance. She is not by nature a frigid thing, though life lessons were teaching her it might be right to adopt the sense of unapproachability. Her name on his lips had a warmth to it, it softened the manufactured expression to a more convincing one. “I am glad. You would be surprised what a person can live through.” Her smile falters, with her eyes downcast to the ground at his feet. The comment was too real, and to this day she still had vivid flashes of times long passed. She admitted her fear of what she thought him capable, yet here she stands awaiting his approval for her to approach and assess his progress. She thought it fair to address “I am loyal to Larket… its not the same as being loyal to the crown bearer.” Interesting choice of words, not a King, not a rightful ruler…. She still had her suspicions, given what she knew. Her smile spreads once more, this time nervous and less endearing. She was the King’s personal advisor, it would stand to reason she would hold patriotism in a slightly-less grey area. She was so entranced by this admission of guilts that the reason she had wandered through the main streets of Frostmaw was momentarily forgotten. Eirik.

Jarith didn’t move towards her, and the larger than perhaps normally accepted form of the black wolf, Illios just to his right may have become a reason. But no, the wolf was otherwise focused on the earth under his paws, not his master’s intrigues. The frigid response didn’t hurt the knight, if anything he may have been accustomed to such especially given the recent past and yet he did note the slow change that came and made her features just slightly more real in his mind. “ I assure you, I would not… but I am ashamed to think anyone would deem such a thing worthy to know. Were we all capable of less viciousness, such knowledge would be unknown I think.” There may have been sadness in that tone, but he seemed to pull his emotions back again as she addressed the matter of Larket and the ‘royalty’ ruling it. “To be blunt, I don’t care who runs the patch of dirt. I care for the whole of Lithrydel, even if when puppeteers and pretenders do not desire me to do so. A habit and perhaps not one of my better ones.” There it was, the reality of her smile, almost nervous. She received a return, the show of those dimples and real emotion that brought a light to his otherwise brooding features. “So, if you wish, you can examine your work.” Was the knight teasing her, perhaps it was but the flash of those white teeth vanished just as quick.

Sabrina grins wider, his teasing setting her at ease. Nothing broke serious quite as good as a little friendly mockery. A sway of her head an expression of her features said ‘alright then’ and she only now takes those last two steps matched to her original approach. She didn’t have fangs, but raven tresses and an obvious figure under such professionally woven attire might have given him flashbacks to his previous assaulter. Her eyes apologize when her hand is slid under his garb to test the area of ribs left abandoned in their last meeting. Even with no gloves in this unyielding environment her hand was warm, one could argue feverishly so. “Did you take what I gave you?” His armor was quite stiff, likely because of it’s age. She shifted in kind to run her fingers along that section of hidden damage. The bandages had done well enough to stabilize the break but she could feel that two pieces had yet to align themselves and there was heat and inflammation surrounding the tissue. She is frowning slightly and looking more past his shoulder than into his eyes. Concentration puzzled her features and the focused visual was pronounced before her rather than in front of her field of vision. The opposite hand curls around the hem of his pants, tugging him solidly close as her head dips and eyes search thin air for the disruption to what lay beneath her fingers. The thought may have crossed his mind that she’d have a better view if she looked at it, but the argument would be denied. As the mint of her left eye shifts to the twisted black sclera a jolt would be issued deep with his tissues, this must have been her reasoning to pull him so close. The pain was not electric, more like a compounding pressure where muscles recoiled from moving bone as sister edges seemed to flex and reach for their match beneath his skin. Her hand was awfully hot, and she didn’t seem in the mindset of offering apology. She bites her bottom lip; figuring these kinds of old fixes were sometimes a blur since the swelling altered the textures she was used to manipulating. He would feel the bones settle like an arrow in a nock, and after the relaxation of the cramped soft tissue relaxing over the torment in his torso.

Jarith probably should have lied to the elven woman in fact he seriously thought about lying to her about that. Instead he shifted only enough to pull out two of those three mixtures she’d given him. They were still separate in their vials, but he would offer them to her anyways. “They didn’t last more than a few hours, probably an effect of the purification. I can hardly even get myself drunk now.” Said with that same casual puff of frost from those lips. His skin was not quite warm, but it was not cold either, a strange thing that and when her digits touched up along the ribs the knight withheld a grimace that would instead blossom in the depths of his form. Her digits trailed across the muscular and bruised definition of his skin and made no sound for moments as her stare drifted off over his shoulder. The altered elf was too close already to miss her scent and yet her digits dug and pulled him nearer to press against her. That act would push the smell of vanilla and sandalwood into his nostrils, a smell that was one part beach and the other a touch of home. Strange that, but in tune she would be hard pressed to miss the smell of mint from the wash he used and the leather too an unmistakable and easily male mixture, unique perhaps only to the tall northern born elf. Perhaps he would have spoken in other instances and yet Jarith’s only act was to place his right arm at the small of her back, bracing her and himself in time as she called upon that ability. The sensation of one piece of bone meeting another was something that he could not describe any better than an arrow nocking into position perfectly and his response was a sigh, pain and yet all the same pleasure. The knight perhaps had problems mentally if he was connecting such things to some inch of pleasure but nevertheless he spoke now, a smile seeping through those rigid shields. “Well, that explains the hard time laughing and striking from the left.” Which meant that his stubborn ass had not been resting but training for the upcoming duels. Why she was suddenly on his mind though, the knight hadn’t much clue himself, and he looked upon features lost to the transference until they shifted back with a peculiar light in those arctic blue eyes. This was the first time in weeks, where he had not compared a woman to Talyara, and to be blunt the pair were not a comparison as both came to near polar opposition. Curious, and yet he didn’t speak, a blush perhaps, and he cleared his throat to glance steadfast, suddenly so intrigued, back towards the sentinel beyond.

Sabrina had frowned at the vials but did not move to take them. For a moment, even when the heal was finished she would catch herself taking him in; his scent, his structure, and finally down at the curl of her fingers over the edge of his pants. She licks her lips slowly, the thought forming and conveying was inappropriate to say the least. In her defense, it had been ages since she was properly this close to a man and it was almost painful. But she recalls his marriage and whether she made sense of it or not, he was off limits like every other. His hand at her lower back would have given him more feminine insight on the gesture than he would likely ever admit. There was a hint of safety and sensuality that causes her to clear her throat, swallow hard, and push him away at the hip. She knew he meant nothing by it but for a female with an affiliation such as hers, all touches made things more difficult especially those who were from the appealing and opposite sex. And some just couldn’t be hidden without proper warning. She barely caught that smile on his lips but it did raise a curious brow. She grunted out an uncomfortable ‘um’ and points to him. “And the burns?” She interrupts “Wait… bring that back?” Did he just mention over extension in the form of a swing? She didn’t want to scold him since he felt bold enough to give him the truth but she sends two fingers in her hip pocket to procure a slightly bent but entirely smoke able hand rolled medicinal herb. She issues an order by the come-hither salute and makes her way to the statue to sit crisscrossed at its feet. Clearly, she had little respect for these things. The herb is lit, puffed on, and held out to him. “Yerrel makes it specifically for me.” Self-regeneration was not without its daily downfalls of barely being able to become intoxicated, let alone remaining so.

Jarith probably could have responded to her thoughts of that marriage, a more false sham there could not be. Yet her mind was her own, and the knight had never possessed an ability to read them even when he had magic. The push separated them and he still perhaps out of sensation moved the hand that had been at her back last, it was still warm from that touch; innocent as it had been. There was a drift of his gaze again, from the limb and back to her at the sound of that voice, the smile did remain however, not vanishing as before. “The burns were well tended, I’ve not had an issue.” Then she is halting him, the mention of his training didn’t earn any form of attack and that at least was a relief to the northern borne. “ I simply noticed that when I shifted and tried to swing through or strike through with my left today that it hurt like hell and I could not effectively do so. The bone… well, that sort of explains the issue, yes?” She was then commanding him to follow and walked away, did she know she had a lovely gait? Jarith, was decidedly watching her walk, enjoying it too… Damnit knight.. you need to get laid. It was a tragic truth, but there was more to it than that, and it sobered his features a bit as he did slowly acquiesce to her demand. Halting before the large beast he’d sit opposite the Ardent and partake in her little herb smoke, inhaling it slow before offering the item back with an easy if frosted and fragrant exhale. “ One of those lively little secret Items eh? Like my family’s homemade winterfyre whiskey, I’ve come to near rely on the dangerous stuff. Makes that Blue fyre trash everyone raves about so much taste like garbage swill.”

Sabrina laughed, out loud, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant but friends could probably count on one hand how many times they’d been gifted with the chipper and feminine… giggle. Oh yes, it was definitely a giggle so small and petite. “It is a mix of this and that, but not the Blue Fyre rag.” If he gazed upon the cherry as she took her drag he would recognize the subtle crackles that were spent blue and that the pack was tight and near powder ground. She brings her knees up, propping forearms on her knees with her legs spread, yet she still managed to hold some secret elegance in all her movements no matter how barbaric the pose. She holds it in, eyes closing as the rush of foggy senses washes through her brain and tingles along her cheeks as it works its way through to her core. That kind of airless speech camoflauges her normally harmonious voice when she passes it back to him. “I can not condone training (exhale) Until the muscles have time to acclimate.” Two fingers gesture to his rib cage. “Depending on your next match you don’t want to be too sore going in. Save that for after.”

Jarith was in fact quite taken by that tiny laugh, perhaps because he suspected it to be so rare, or perhaps because he simply hadn’t heard a real laugh in some time. The firmly rolled smoke was looked at and while he could fully appreciate it’s use, the knight was never a large partaker as far as the smoking went. Drinking, he had little issue with, but smoking was something he’d mostly needed to be in a mood to do. Here, with Sabrina, yeah… it totally worked. The elf smirked a little and took the offer when it came, inhaling again, short and then again for a slower, more effective pull before he’d offer it back. Her ‘doctoring orders’ were considered, and he’d note with something of a frown. “Possibly Saturday evening… possibly later.” He couldn’t be sure just yet and it was more dependent in this moment on how he felt in that short span of time. “Exhaling came as more of a trick this time though, his amusement sated with the drug as he puffed a few small wavering rings of the pungent aromatic before looking back to Sabrina from her little perch betwixt the claws of the sentinel. It was somewhat adorable really, yet he turned that pupil-less azure stare to the maw above their heads. “ Bastard reminds me of the old war’vounds we took to battle when I was a boy… They were a bit more, beautiful though.”

Sabrina squints at him, not trusting for a minute that anything he said implied he meant to follow doctor’s orders. She peers up and behind her, poking the end of the smoke between her teeth, “not so amusing, I expect?” She pushes up from her position with relative ease, the movement from sitting to standing almost planned out in the way she seated herself; she was not without strong legs it would seem. Even if those piddly sticks were quite thin in comparison to the battle-ready females of the land. She reaches her hands up around the lowly curved crystalline claws, too large to make sense which implied the artist that built this was probably overly extravagant in its rendering. She requires a little hop to gain a full grasp and she hoists her body up, legs wrapping around the extended mount, and twists her frame to be cradled by it. Each movement was measured and leveraged, she was fit enough that the manipulation of her form was granted by way of sinewy strength rather than a sloppy wayward swing and abuse of gravity and inertia. Such desecration. She would have been awestruck if someone defiled the Druid’s Tree this way.

Jarith never for a moment meant to imply that he’d adhere to her orders, in fact he probably would be found training the very next day, though perhaps not in full armor. His attention soon became her smaller form as she stood and with little adieu began to scrabble and rather skillfully settle herself between the claws of the beast’s paws. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t like that if he were real.” Just before Sabrina might manage to reach the summit and turn the poor creature into her personal hammock Jarith would tickle fingers of one hand against her ribcage and then drop that hand, feigning innocence as he slipped just shy of a pouncing range. He’d already been pounced by a specifically pointy-toothed demonic female who literally undulated on him. Of course… The vivid blue eyes seemed entranced for a moment, she was lithe, slender and lean but beautiful really. The knight mused, it wouldn’t be bad at all if she pounced or did similar… Fact, he’d probably enjoy it more than he should. That train of thought did bring a smile to the northern borne and still he shifted his stare from Sabrina, to the spell etched around the beast, complete with glowing and vivid meaning. “ Bet the poor guy would be a slow mover if he were real, not for the weight, he’s terribly unbalanced. “ Yes, talking about the Sentinel would surely keep his mind off that track of -other- thoughts

Sabrina snaps her eyes to him in that instant. Nodding her head as if to agree with this challenge she leaves the bestial structure to solid ground and lets him alone. “Okay then.” She was in high spirits when her feet it the ground and she walks over to him all soft and sweet. Her arm swings wide, fingers splayed, to smack the side of his armour where the tissues were still new to pressure and force. She may not have pounced him but her version of play would test his balance over his intestinal fortitude. The act was a mix of play, and a little bit of ‘try and listen.’ “I also bet, if he were real and his injuries caused him to favor one side over another he would make for easy prey.” She gestures from her eyes to his side, he would have to master that involuntary and stiff lean.

Jarith didn’t expect her attack, and it perhaps showed as she landed that swat against the plating that flexed and distributed her blow across the still tender flesh. That however lead him right into a shift-ball twist, stepping back on his left heel and with an adjustment he dipped low, crouching as he came back around. The action though changed as he thought better of it, mischievous perhaps, but she also was not a battle-hardened fighter. His hand shot out, but his movement slowed as he came back, an inward step carrying him just inside the smaller elven woman’s spread stance. The arm which would have like a blade flicked over her hair normally in teasing fashion to another fighter but it swept low, turning and stopping before connecting Sabrina’s side. Instead his palm was a heat against the small of her back, pulling her close, up against the hard-armored line of his body. The action was in a span of seconds, so very fast as his left hand cupped under her chin, caressing it and giving a light tilt. The heat of his lips a sudden, firm thing against hers, and quite honestly the knight kissed her with that steely strength and an impassioned ferocity that spoke perhaps of an unexpected desire to do so, and in truth. The male would blame that playful smile of hers for this whole ordeal. “Easy prey indeed.” He offered after that touch, slowly letting his hand drop from her chin, the one at her back remained, and Sabrina would see a true vision of his smile, complete with those dimples and a flash of white teeth.

Sabrina was frozen, when she braced herself for one thing that changed into something else she was left momentarily shocked. Playfulness left her there and her body was brought close to press against his. It was a stumbling step where her feet were scooted across the frozen ground, it didn’t take much to boost and steal her to his will. Her hands impulsively pull back, the automated reaction when proximity was breached to stow any sensations he might glean but then that kiss…Shakily a sharp breath is pulled in her lungs, breaking what silence this place settled upon them. His caress urges her eyes closed, there was want, present in the return. When his lips came to hers she did not necessarily pull away but she didn’t engage either. In the moment it took to accomplish that impromptu shuffle he would feel the silk of her tresses graze the back of his hand. When he releases her lips her eyes open slowly, a hand laid upon his chest but not pushing. She almost smiled; brows come together and the corners of her mouth begin to tug and naturally she began to trace the events that put her in this position. A thick wave of guilt washes over her, but he is no longer privy to her internal war. She touched him moments ago… bled into him the idea, like a seed it was planted. She recovers, shaking her head and the practiced smile takes over her outward persona. “I see.” Her cheeks are flushed and her hand comes around to her back to guide his apart from it. Feigning a light-hearted chuckle, she steps away and lets his hand fall to his side, or, puts it there. She won’t look at him when she explains but it is obvious she feels the need. “It’ll pass.” Another Knight kissed her like that weeks ago, she even begged for it to be real. She had her doubts. Doubts confirmed after the passing of time proved her initial fear. “It isn’t real.” Small hand comes to push a stubborn strand behind pointed ear. Wincing, she apologizes and makes for the walk that forks from the main road that led to this place. He was obviously confused, but in time he would learn how to separate her wants from his own and he would look back on this… hopefully not in anger, or worse, disgust.

Jarith was decidedly baffled by that reaction. In the greatest of truths, the knight was not sure why she was the one who pushed off as she did. When the Ardent began making excuses and statements it left the northern borne even more a confused state. She was insistent in some form or fashion that she’d led them to this, that she was the reason and not his own desires had driven him to steal that kiss but instead her own. Bemused, he watched her ease further and further away, looking back again and she would see the clarity of that frown that was becoming evident on his features. The issue of which Sabrina was unaware being that it would not be disgust, anger, or regret than made him change, but rather fear. Somehow Jarith had over stepped his bounds, what he had desired was not the same as the elven woman who now left, and those chilled walls begun to lock down around him. Jarith was learning of course, as a strange reaction to his purge by the ice-mage twins and the Genasi, Emilia that as he focused, his body tensed and it urged outwards one of the very side-effects of the purge. His armor would chill, like his body and in the wake of those steps over the open earth frosted prints of his boots would remain. His voice was a strange sound, not to the woman, not to any mortal soul but instead to the gods whom he grew to loathe more and more as time passed. “Damn you all…” The damned were not meant to have peace, or anything like what he craved.