RP:Releasing Burdens

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: The healer wakes Kyori to start getting him up and moving after his severe injury. Kyori apologizes, but Penelope officially gives in and confesses the night of her twin's death. Not extreme, but enough to piece together. Kyori also admits his deceased sister, but Penelope does not press. The two start to develop a trusting connection, but one side still holds lies, and Penelope has a moment on why she had such a hard time opening up to others. Lionel and Lanara--when she was present. Kyori also admits he can see dead people. Talk to the dead. Kyori offers his services in order for Penelope to come in contact with Kellin. Will she?

Kelay Healer

Kyori doesn't see much of Penelope after that. He looked at the books and charts and scribbled illegible notes in the margins. Weird plant likes weird plant things. He couldn't care less about the climate it needed or how damp the soil should be. He wanted to care, could have used it as an apology, but he couldn't. At night, after the herbalist's apprentice brings the warrior medicine, Kyori can see the light from the cursed boy’s carvings. They glow white hot through the curtain and every cough makes it brighter. The atmosphere of the clinic was telling. His mood and motivation were soured by both what he did and what he did not do. The dragon girl, Emilia's daughter, wanted him to find the ice woman. He didn't know why she asked him but she'd tracked him down here and asked in person. Hard to say no to a little girl that enjoys playing with corpses. The candle by his cot burns low before he starts to doze and snore. Broke his nose in a fight, wasn't ever the same after that. The pain medicine should have knocked him out an hour ago but he held on until the bitter end. Papers and open books cover his lap and any surfaces in reach. Penelope's twin. Emilia. It irritated the hollow feeling that people left in him. His family. His friends. Nat. Lana. His nosy question would add Penelope to that list if he didn't watch himself. Kyori's eyes are closed and he's snoring loudly. Until he stops and starts to mumble under his breath. “That's not. No, that's not right.” Silence beats through the room and then “No sense in that.” His eyes are still closed but he continues talking like he's in a dream.

It had been days since she had collided with Kyori. The woman intentionally waited until Ruari would give the man the medicine he needed. She would wait hours until she knew the warrior would fall into deep rest. Leon Lovik would be checked on as Sofia would grimly keep rocking in that chair in the hut. The mood was somber. The cries from the boy would be present as Penelope would smother salves and oils on the boy’s skin. Give him herbal medicine to numb the pain he was in temporarily. The healer was like a ghost in the night, and every night she would watch the warrior from the corner of the room she was in. Eyes would stare hard at the books that were scattered across his slumbered body and then she would vanish. The evening tonight, however, was different. The sun was still setting because the nights were slowly becoming longer, but Kyori was deeply snoring anyway. Penelope slips in the hut, and this time, she was here for the warrior. To set him free if his body could handle it. Her chin tilts up as she silently approaches. The room was eerily silent except the mutters from the blonde man. Sofia was gone and Leon was sleeping heavily behind the curtain. The girl seats herself in a stool next to him and a hand gingerly reaches out to wake the man, if she could. The mumbles remind her of the tavern. When the orb floated above him… when he was talking when the orb hovered. Odd. The woman remains resolute, professional, but gentle. “Kyori,” she coos in order to not jolt him. People tended to be touchy in this land. Horrors of post-traumatic stress was very common for people who entered the doors of Yerrel’s hut. “Kyori, it’s time to wake up.”

Kyori was dreaming. He wasn’t talking to an orb but to a vague outline of a person he recognized. His head and heart knew but his eyes could not fill out the blanks. It gives him a familiar feeling of safety and closeness. But what it says is wrong. Opposite the positive aura he clings to like a familiar smell. One more second and he could identify it. The second passes and the blur screams. The warrior’s response to it’s words is negative. His body tenses under Penelope’s hand before she speaks. Kyori jerks, elbow knocking the night stand. Books and pages rattle to the floor. “NO-” He barks, eyes fix on nothing, when he sits up. Reality returns and his body rets. The pain in his shoulder dulls, replaced with Penelope’s hand. “No.” He says again softly. The warrior follows up with “I’m sorry” and a quick look at the curtain across the room. The boy slept. Sapphire eyes crawl back to the herbalist. They are dark and heavy with remorse or the painkillers that made him sleep fought against his waking. “Pen..elope.” His tongue catches on the abbreviation but his good sense pushes through. Don’t forget to smile nice and bright for the lady Kyori. That’s what your kind does. “Good, uh, evening plant witch.” He tries for levity but it feels forced. “Awake and fit as a fiddle, just name your tune.” The drugs were messing with his head. He couldn’t focus. Better to just shut up and see what she’s here for. The possibility that she’s asking him to leave does occur to him but he has enough good sense to think before speaking this time. “Crazy dream.” He says with a frown, looking at the books he’d kicked away into the floor. “S-” He rubs his knuckle against one blonde brow trying to get his bearings.

The painkillers were a heavy dosage, so she knew that the warrior would fall out of the sleep in a groggy way. When he snaps awake with the forceful voice, she tries to remain calm and collected. The books clutter and there is only slight surprised movement. Krice had taught her to be aware of her surroundings. Her hand trails up to his head to try to pick up if there was a fever brewing, but his temperature was fine. Just the medication. “Shh, no need to apologize…” She says very faintly. The dream must have been intense. She lets her hand fall as she gazes over his position. “Hi,” she says almost in a form of hesitance, for, last time, she had ran. “Awake, but fit? We’ll see…” Her accent is slow with him, so he can keep up with her. “Just… take a moment,” she would lean back in the stool and keep her hands in her lap. It was as if there was a window between them. Doe eyes stare at him from a distance as she waits for him to get collected and to figure out his surroundings. Brows narrow in curiosity and she slowly begins to speak. “I am sure.” Blink. “Yerrel used to put me on the same medication when I was very ill. Very strong. Everything seemed so real. Like a new reality.” She reaches for the clipboard with his chart. “So… how’re you –actually- feeling?” The workaholic woman might be able to guess, but she lets him take on his own physicality. Then, she would put him to the test.

“Fine” Kyori blurts out too quickly. Her eyes, usually juniper, take on a purple glow in the candle light. She’s stiff and distant. Straight to business but kind about it. A tell that she cared. She was a healer, of course she cared. That’s her whole job. To mend wounded strays and send them away. His head is spinning still. The distortion slows Penelope’s words down to a dead crawl. She had a point. How did he know this was reality and not a dream? Is he willing to roll those dice twice? “A new reality.” He considered while she waited for an answer. Fine didn’t cover her question. “Groggy.” He’d fought the medicine too long. “Sore.” In bed for days bent over books. “Sorry.” For pushing her on a truth that wasn’t his to know. The warrior waits for her to register his description as the apology it is instead of a bad overview of his well being. He was in a sorry state but he was actually *sorry*. Before it puts him in another tight spot, he jumps ahead. “My hands are so strong, look.” He flexes his fingers like cat claws. Already feeling winded, he hides the exertion with a laugh. “Bet I could, oh I don’t know, hold a sword or something.”

Penelope stares at him as if waiting for another description other than ‘fine’. Really? “He’s –fine-,” she scribbles with the pen that was attached to the clipboard. She patiently waits. The one trait that she was skilled at. Patience. Eventually, he gives in, and she is now scratching ‘groggy’ and ‘sore’ down on his clipboard. Her hand almost itches down the word ‘sorry’ before her bright eyes that take the purple glow look at his half-glowing, orange face from the candled flame. He would not apologize about his frame, for she knew that he had taken a toll. The apology swirls in her mind before her eyes begin to turn gentle. A hand reaches to the man’s arm for reassurance, but then he talks about his hands. Her eyes sort of narrow. “Wow, women must swoon,” she rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately, when you hold a sword, unless you have the strongest wrists, the muscles that you use to carry a sword goes up to your shoulder.” A finger hovers and trails up his body to demonstrate the anatomy line. “So, no, I do not want you to play with a heavy blade.” Her tone is flat, but the gentleness remains. “But, I know you’re tired, however, you have not walked in so long, I think you need to start getting on your feet. Make those muscles stronger even though it might be painful… I’ll help you.” The physician moves to grab a nearby stethoscope. “But first, I need to check your heart,” the eartips are placed within her ears and she inches towards him with the tunable diaphragm to gently place on his chest. “It’s okay, you know… About the other morning. I wasn’t mad at you. Anger is not good for the skin, anyway.” She tries to make light of everything. She was only scared of her own emotions, really. Most people did not know she had a brother. The woman would clear her throat and then listen to the rhythm of his heart for the meantime

Kyori’s face holds a look it rarely does. He’s very serious and present when she responds to his apology. Her fingers trace the tendons in his arm and while he can’t pinpoint why, he finds comfort in her flat joke back at him. “They do swoon.” He tells her, face still set. It was funny, he told himself, but he’d said it wrong. Kyori, stop being serious. It’s a bad look, come on man, learn the lesson. Try harder. ‘Make those muscles stronger even though it might be painful.’ Ain’t that a kick in the teeth? His hands drop in his lap and he bites his tongue while she wasn’t mad at him. No, she wasn’t mad at him. She was hurt, mad at her brother, mad at the circumstances that took his life, mad at herself that it happened. If she was mad at anyone it wasn’t the warrior she’s tending to. She was like his hands. She looked strong and wore a convincing mask but underneath all that she was the wounded muscles. She was tired from overextending with no results. “It still hurts.” He says quietly. Not his muscles or legs but her brother’s death. If she needs her brother to heal this child it only stresses those unprocessed feelings she has. And Kyori came along just in time to kick her feet out from under her by asking questions and not wearing his own mask like a proper gentleman. The warrior did not clarify his answer about what or who was hurting. He’s silent after, to let her listen to his heart or lungs or guilt. His heart rate is strong and steady. There’s nothing weak or abnormal about it’s meter. He is calm. Lie. He is fine. Lie. He is...reaching for her hand on the back of the diaphragm. Slowly, to give her time to pull away. If it stays, he’ll press his palm against the back of her hand without wrapping it with his own. Only a palm, as if telling her to listen closely. “If pain means healing, what do you call a pain that never goes away? That never heals?” He’s looking at her hand, not her face. Kyori can’t stop himself from asking. It’s too late unless this is a new reality and he’s inventing memories.

Penelope keeps her gaze on the diaphragm. ‘It still hurts’. His words linger and all she could do is hold them. Look at them, but she would not be able to transcribe what they mean. His gaze is heavy which makes her own gaze turn rigid. The warrior was not easy anymore. The warrior was opening the door to let himself in. He no longer was staring through the glass like everyone else. As the palm inches forward, she does not let him slide so easy. Her hand with the stethoscope pulls back, but that does not mean she is not listening. The fact he even reached for her was an indication to listen. The woman wanted to keep the last bit of control she had, so before she answers him, she stands and moves slightly behind him, so she can place the stethoscope on his backside if he lets her. The door is opening. Her voice is close to him and steady. “A loss in life.” There is a lingering silence between them before she parts her lips again. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t keep moving forward with everyone else, nor however you can.” Her voice does not shake, instead her head is held high. “You learn to adjust. Learn how to live again.” The girl would keep moving the instrument to various parts of his back to get all the angles of his vitals. The physician would then come back into his view and sit down in the stool again. Her gaze was steady. “It’s emotional healing one would need after a loss, a battle of losing a limb… You learn how to live with it and accept it.” Her head cants, but her Ardelian tone still polished honey. “He died, if that’s what you’ve been wanting to know. A few years ago.”

Kyori watches her hand pull back and uses his now free hand to push blonde hair away from his forehead. He’s doing it again. The warrior stays still and listens, moving only to accommodate her examination. She replies about loss and limbs but there’s a gray area he thinks she’s avoiding. In all honesty it could be his own opinion that he’s projecting on her. There was no smooth way to tell the herbalist he knew her brother was dead. He could play dumb and nod all solemn like a normal person should. He should catch himself on one of his idiotic slides. Penelope is free to poke and prod as she wishes for her examination. He wants to say ‘I know’ but what he says is a guarded “I’m sorry” for her loss. It wasn’t his place to push her. Hell she didn’t know him. Instead of asking, he leaves an open silence for her to fill if she wants to. If she doesn’t, he’ll toss his own coin in the well. “One of my sisters died a couple years ago.” An olive branch of partial honesty. Which of your sisters was spared Kyori? Did only one lose their life? What about starting over with a better, clean slate version of yourself. The new Kyori can have five sisters where one of them died instead of all of them. He’s still a brighter character for it. Just enough loss to be relatable. “I still talk to her sometimes.” Hey Penelope, remember that redacted secret he told you? "You could talk to him. I could help you, talk to him, if you want."

Penelope finds a sense of relief flood the room, and a sense of relief that the boy behind the curtain did not speak common. The woman was holding that secret back from the Ardelians. No brother meant no cure, and destroying that form of hope from a child was one of the hardest things to do. It was not like she had not had to be the bearer of unfortunate fate before, but this was different. She could not save the boy because of herself. The healer does not fill Kyori in, but she gives him a feigned smile at his condolences. The feigning smile, however, fades when he speaks of his sister. He carried the weight. “My condolences,” she reflects his apologetic behavior. The room is still except for the candle light flickering to give the room a haunted atmosphere as he speaks of actually having her communicate with her deceased brother. It made sense. The ghostly caverns and the orb that hung above his head. Creepy. Her lips part as if she wants to say ‘you are insane’. What? There were necromancers, Penelope, so why could there not be people who talked to the dead? She squints and she scratches her head to collect her thoughts. The emotions were whirling inside her head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finally says to fill in the empty space. “He’s not going to want to talk to me, even if I could.” The woman swallows to collect her thoughts. Tell Kyori? Do not tell Kyori? He seemed like a sealed vault, right? Maybe? What do you mean, Penelope? He is a stranger that fell into your healing hands. Why were you not true to the people who were actually in your life? Lionel or Lanara. Only one other knew of what happened to Pakellin Halifax the night of his death. “My ex… Linken--” Surrender, Penelope. Wipe the slate by confession to the stranger and open the door. Her tongue is held. Kyori would know by her just saying those words. Linken killed her brother, and she took the fall. Therefore, she lost her sense of connection to others except through healing. Always trying to scrub her hands clean.

Kyori rubs the stubble on his jaw line. He’d been able to shave a few days prior but the prickle is annoying him again. Sibling relationships are complicated, he understood. “I do need to warn you,” He sits up but the look on her face stops him. The somber mood is not improved by her fill in the blank confession. Her eyes in this light with that expression, her frame stiff with guilt. “Hey.” He says quietly, leaning forward to try again to take her hand. This time to hold. To steady the real or warrior-imagined influx of regret. “Hey, look at me.” She told him more than he expected but it feels like it's too raw. She's too raw and pulling away, back into herself. No, Kyori, that is what you are doing. Stop projecting your grief on this innocent woman. “Penelope.” He says her name with weight and respect, folding his knuckle under her chin in hopes she'd lift her face and look at him. Kyori didn't know the truth. He had no reason to say what he was about to say. It's based on selfish reasons. It's what he needed to hear after the fact, even if he never believed it. His gaze is fixed on her. “No matter what you think or how you twist it to put the blame on your shoulders, it wasn't your fault.” This ex of hers. Did he know what kind of burden he'd put on this woman? This Linken took away her brother and locked her heart in a guilt shaped box. It kept her distant but not safe. And Kyori just who are you to make these bold assumptions about a woman you barely know? I needed to hear this, he argues with himself. I needed anyone to tell me so I didn't paint my own hands red with the blood of my family and no one did. But he couldn't be the first to tell her and wouldn't be the last. The spell blade wants to fill the silence with apologies, truths, lies, jokes, distractions, reassurances.. anything. Instead he clears his throat and takes his hands, putting him back in his own bubble of personal space. “I'm sorry, it's none of my business but,” but what Kyori? “If you grieve like you work, to the bone, it won't heal. Forgetting isn't the issue.” Shit advice from a man trying to do exactly that.

Penelope gives into his grasp with her hand. His actions were wrong. The moment was wrong. It was a strange feeling to finally start letting go, but would it ever feel right? The mood was somber, but her face was still, for the look of weakness is not something she ever gives into. ‘Penelope’, he coos softly with strength. She was not the lost girl she once was, so once he tries to lift her chin for her, she beats him to it at his demand of looking at him. The man does not need to hold her chin up. The reassurance in his voice does not give her a sense of relief. It was partially her fault. Pakellin was ill. Kellin was dangerous. Linken was headstrong. Penelope naiive. It added up so perfectly. Everyone had played a role that night, but she does not go into detail any further. As his hands pull away, she leans back in the shadows were the candlelight does not flicker. It was too late to pull away from her business. “Linken came back, so I guess forgetting isn’t the issue... which seems like that is something you went through.” She says blatantly, but not in cruelty. Linken’s return was a strong toxicity, and Kyori was right about the girl working to the bone. Penelope was a titled workaholic. Yerrel and Ruari were adamant about that fact. The silence fills again. “Kyori,” finally she is not putting the title before his name again. “I need to get you out of bed and… perhaps you can tell me what you were going to warn me about.” The woman reflects to his first response before her confession. The girl pushes a smile as she stands to hover over him. She was ready to help him to his feet.

Kyori knows Penelope isn't a fragile flower but that doesn't stop his selfish instinct to want to shield her from the burden she bears. It isn't his to take, she doesn't need or want him to. Why couldn't he ever protect the people within reach? Someone oughta tell that guy to get lost. At a time like this, with the answer to the boy's life left in her hands and the missing puzzle piece was the brother he'd slain? Talk about a poison. The warrior could always look for the other man. It's none of his business. Kyori grits his teeth with a mute half snarl locked in conflict with himself. Lana wasn't defenseless when he'd punched that racist guy at the faire but he'd done it anyway. Then she was jumped and almost killed because of it. Could this Linken guy do worse to hurt the physician if Kyori elbowed his way into the situation? She isn't helpless so why is he so mad? Penelope stands up and reminds him to try walking and his visible anger drops away. It had been months since he'd been on his own two feet. Logic dictated he couldn't but he'd never tried to stand up and failed before. He throws the blanket off his lap and leans off the bed. His legs shake and buckle, dropping him back down before Penelope can steady him. “My sword.” His body had lost muscle in the coma but his voice is steady. He waits out a predicted denial on her part before trying “Please.”

The expression that lingers on the warrior’s visage is full of hollow anger. Penelope knew that expression all too well. “Don’t think about what you’re thinking about. Linken is not himself lately… It’s a whole other issue. He is an amnesiac and is being cursed by something a lot darker than we know of. Do -not- seek him out.” Her tone sounded like a threat, but only for Kyori’s own safety. She was now the protective one. The woman sort of shudders at the thought of the night Linken returned and doe eyes sort of shift around the floor of the room for recalling the memory. He had ripped a man’s head off right in front of her. Right in this very room. The black soulless eyes. Penelope knew horror. No, Kyori. Stay away. Very away. All she knew is that Linken was safe in the temple of Arkhen, and that was good enough for her to keep her distance from him. The man before her is too weak to rise, and he goes again to request his sword. The healer, however, gives in this time with his last plea, for maybe the weapon was what the warrior needed to support himself. To feel complete. Is that not what the storybooks always talked about, anyway? The girl lets out a defeated sigh as she crosses the room to lift the blade. She walks over with the sword down and holds it out to him. “We’re trying again.” To stand, she meant. The five foot, two inch woman would sit on the cot next to him to support him if he needs the extra strength—trust that mighty, petite woman. He was standing today.

Did Linken kill her brother recently? No she said a long time. Doesn’t matter if he’s himself right now then. Her words don’t deter his mind but he pretends to reconsider with his expression. “Fine.” He lied, exasperated from the effort of standing. Penelope looks away and he does the same. Could she see his lie? Did she know? If she knew he guessed she wouldn’t agree to let him have his sword. He reaches out to take it, the jeweled hilt catching the dying candle light. A sigh of relief shakes his shoulders and the sword remains outstretched in the air while she sits. His arm twitches with effort but does not drop it. Face cast to the floor, Sapphire eyes blocked by dirty blonde hair change. They are green, brown, silver gold and finally blue again. His knees tingle and twitch. The silence rolls away like fog. He puts the sword down by the side the healer wasn’t sitting on. The warrior looked at her again with very normal blue eyes and a tired grin. “As you say doctor.” He obeys her call to arms and leans gently against her. He’d crush her if he wasn’t careful. Kyori’s pace is slow and steady, his legs supported him more faithfully now. On his feet, he turns to Penelope with a cocky grin. “Feel free to swoon now, fair maiden. I’ll wait.” His face wasn’t happy go lucky. The light that lived there was forced while he plotted his next move. “The warning,” he remembered, “was that not everyone who has died leaves a ghost behind.” If her brother was murdered the chances are high he wouldn’t move on. Unfinished business. What a joke. “What was his name, Penelope?” His weight distributes to his other leg and he hisses, leaning on her more until it stabilizes.

Penelope was so caught up with her own thought process it was not until he agrees with standing that she looks his way. A partial smirk flows out of unpainted lips, “I promise this is the last stretch for the night.” She takes his weight and rises with his careful pacing. The woman looks up at him and narrows her gaze. “Hah, hah. Take a step then,” she challenges him. The woman keeps him as upright as she can and when he gives her the warning, her face looks flat. “If he moved on, I think I would be okay with that. I imagine that he’ll want me gone if he’s still there. My brother was very ill, and he did not like Linken, and Linken is who I chose. My brother wasn’t a good man and at times, he was violent, but only because he was ill and saw things and heard voices that I couldn’t hear or see.” Schizophrenia? Either way, the twin did not want her with the metallic-armed elf—Linken. It was a very dramatic and complicated story that happened when the narrator was young. With everything that is happening with Linken now, she understood why. “His name was Pakellin Halifax. Kel.” As he leans more on her, she sort of grunts to push him up straight. “Kel would have rather killed me then let Linken in my life. I never understood why.” The story keeps unraveling, though it made sense now as Penelope speaks. She is telling her story and connecting the dots. Did Kellin see the evil in Linken? “Kyori,” she says faintly and timidly. “Can ghosts do harm?” Either way, it was a risk she was willing to take. For the boy behind the curtain who was drifted in deep, medicated slumber.

Kyori does take a step. It’s wobbly but he takes it and then another. He wasn’t jumping for joy tonight but a shaky walk he could manage. His attention is divided between listening to Penelope’s explanation of how her brother wasn’t the best person and not falling flat on his face. No wonder she didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe this Linken guy had the right idea. Kyori would never tell Penelope but he would think it, out of sight. He has yet to speak until the herbalist asks if ghosts can do harm. He wants to give her a reassuring smile but all he can summon is a half-hearted chuckle. “Only with the help of necromancers.” He lied. If the grudge was deep enough or the being possessed powerful magic in life there was potential. If Pakellin Halifax’s ghost could do harm, the warrior feels Penelope would have tasted it already. “Kiyara told me death is like a maze.” He grunts, taking two steps back at Penelope’s pace before dropping on the bed. “She said it’s easy to get lost if you can’t make up your mind about what you want. If you don’t know or have doubts, the maze can end with you coming back. She thought it silly because people always say it’s a tunnel of light. Even death isn’t that straight forward.” If Kel would have rather killed Penelope than let Linken ‘have’ her then Kel hadn’t moved on. That’s the warrior’s guess. Her small question repeats in his head. It was one of the first times she’d been vulnerable or sounded afraid. Was her guilt connected to the fact that she’d picked Linken over her brother and then her brother went crazy? Linken protected her, Kyori guesses, but was it the right move? The spellblade can’t say he’d do anything different. If Kellin’s ghost comes back and tries to hurt Penelope, he wouldn’t hesitate to banish him. If this Linken fellow posed a threat to her, he’d do the same. He’d punched people out for less. Maybe Penelope had her own curse. It sounded like the men in her life were drawn to her almost obsessively by powers she couldn’t explain. Was there a pattern? If so, had she noticed it? “He can’t hurt you.” He promised. It wasn’t a lie because the warrior would not let it happen. “Take time to think it over.” He snorts. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.” He reaches over to move the sword by the bed. His eyes are still shining green when he looks back at her. While he spoke the color would melt back to rich sapphire. “If he’s around, Kiyara can find him.”

Penelope’s twin was the one in the wrong that night. Not Linken--well, in a different sense. Although, her and Linken did have their own issues to solve, she was not innocent either in this case, nor did she plan to be. There were darker issues than her brother’s death, but the unfortunate part was, she had not visited the twin’s grave and talked to him like she said she had. And, well, there were other issues as in relationship ones. Penelope had a fickle heart and was always the one to leave Linken after they got back together. In a sense, they both oozed with toxicity. As Kyori drops on the bed, the girl only looks down on him. A step or two was enough. To know he was up and moving reassured her that the warrior, would in fact, be okay. Just a couple more days, she was sure. Especially if someone kept him getting up and moving throughout the days. The woman forgets of the books that are scattered. She forgets about Leon in the sense of finding the herbs. The vault was more enticing right now and full of wonders, but she knew she would have to venture to get herbs at some point. Callum helped with that in a criticizing sense. Penelope and he had a rocky start, but the dapper man appeased to her wishes anyway—thankfully. Her mind slowly sinks into Kyori’s words. Kiyara? Who was Kiyara? “Is Kiyara one of your sisters?” It was only a guess, for even though she spilled one of her in depth secrets, he was still a complete stranger. Besides a sister deceased—the healer would ask about that soon, no doubt, for she was as nosy as he. “I’m sure my brother is still there. He was always all over the place. Indecisive.” Her brow furrows in thought until Kyori answers her question in complete. ‘He can’t hurt you’. Her soft moss gaze rests on him with a small sense of relief, but the tightness in her shoulders remain. The girl would still feel the nerves. As he says she has time, she nods. This would be a mental battle. See her brother and witness hate or let an eight year old die due to her own self-absorbed ways? Perhaps Callum was right. It was best to look outside of the bubble she was in. “I will... think about it. In the meantime, rest. Ruari should be coming in to help you start walking and let me know of your improvement.”

Kyori nods easily. It was his sister, one of the younger of the five. “The good news is, if you only see orbs, I’ll be a barrier between you and him.” Penelope could argue her points to her brother and Kyori would reply with a tactful answer if the brother was spiteful. His ghost couldn’t hurt her. The warrior would not let that happen. If he repeats the vow, the follow through will be second nature. He’ll stay aware and on edge to smite whatever ill spirit shows it’s face at the man’s grave. Penelope looked lost in thought now but her instructions were less curt than last time. Ruari would come and help him walk. "Does he swoon?" The medicine was still making him drowsy and, though he was glad she was here, he knew he couldn’t fight the drug forever. He reaches a hand up and out, to reach her with a comforting touch on her arm. There was no rush and he vowed to protect her. For her sake, the cursed boy, and his own selfish need to make it alright. His limbs were heavy, he might not reach her in time. “Sorry about the books…The flower likes direct moonlight...” He sighs while his eyes close. Before he can say anything else coherent a bright blue orb solidifies near the physician. It twirls around her gleefully, happy to help with youthful enthusiasm. It hovers just out of reach, bobbing in the air, before swiveling back to the warrior and vanishing in a flicker of candle flame.