RP:So Fresh an Injury, So Old a Wound

From HollowWiki

This is a Healer's Guild RP.


Summary: Thamalys hastens to the Academy of Magics, where Mythayus lies in a whole world of rather undeserved pain. The Dragon has been pierced by an enchanted spear following the catastrophic Royal Wedding, a news that reached the Avian quickly indeed. Luckily enough, the healing skills of the Spellblade and - chiefly - the tough skin of the Dragon seems to lead the Scaly Blue toward a relatively speedy recovery. Amongst soiled bandages and potent narcotics, the two Winged Beasts manage to open a full conversation about past, guilt, and even hope…

Larket: Academy of Magics

Mythayus had been taken from Lita and placed in a room after the earthquake and the battle with Corruption. His breathing was labored and his eyes were closed. Of course who’s breathing wouldn’t be labored after taking a magical javelin to the stomach. The man who always had a smile, no matter how bad he was feeling lay there with the corners of his lips downward. Healers, students, instructor rushed around the academy that seemed to be getting used as a hospital of some kind. All seemed very nervous, because the man known as Jarith and as Corruption was inside the academy, protected no less by Valen. The healers managed to stop the bleeding and make sure he stays alive but there were just so many victims from the earthquake that they were having a hard time keeping up with everyone. Truth of the matter was Myth was awake. Had had woken sometime ago but didn’t move or show that he was awake, mainly because he hurt. He had woken up to Lita yelling his name but he to weak to respond to her. He jad heard the nurses shooing her back into her room. ‘Good’ he thought. He was relieved that she wouldn’t she him in this condition, again. Though he did want company. He wanted someone to be there. Just not her, she’d seem him like this to many times in the past. Foe now he’d lay there with him eyes closed and wait.

Thamalys set foot into the the halls garbed in a brand new outfit, light-brown leathery pants wrapped tightly around his skinny legs and an elegant dark-green shirt embellished with silvery motifs of trees and stars. Swiftly pacing along the corridors, the bulky satchel hanging on his side would have periodically slammed against his thigh, a muffled thud reverberating into the Academy. Very much more still, the towering shape of an impossibly tall halberd perched from the back of the feathery Blue, skilfully laced across his shoulders and wings, neatly unfolded. "He should be somewhere around here..." he commented while probing different doors along the corridor, till he eventually found the one he was looking for. Word of a rather battered Blue Dragon sheltered within the walls of the Academy reached the House less than an hour ago, and thus here it was, hastening his trot to make sure the Scaly One was well taken care of. Peering through the gap between hinges and wood, the Avian glimpsed the features of the Dragon sprawled on that bed, apparently deeply asleep. Without any further ado, he opened - gently enough - the wooden door, two steps only needed to reach the sickbed. "Oh..." he murmured in a soft whisper at the sight of the dreadful wound. Yes, some more or less skilled caretaker did dress the latter, and he could not smell any sign of infection. However, a crimson patch of blood was blossoming already through the cloth, and the sound of there Dragon's breathing reminded that of dog's paws scratching some wood. Hence he hurled the above mentioned satchel over his shoulders, only to let it down to the floor. Immediately after he would have grabbed a chair nearby, positioning the latter right in front of the Dragon's head and eventually sitting on it letting go of a loud sigh. There was some work to be dealt with indeed. His solid blue gazed darted around the room, not finding what he was looking for. Rather pissed off, he leaped on his feet and shove his head beyond the doorstep. "Some warm water, please?" he yelled, shortly after a small figure clad in white and purple nodded and scurried down the hall. Whether he did manage to wake the Scaly One, he did not care, as he did not like at all the look of that nasty blow in his stomach.

Mythayus was already awake. He knew someone was in his room he just didn’t know who. Then the person spoke. It was his feathery friend. The smile returned to his face and he opened his eyes to show that he was awake. “Tham…alys…? Is that you? What… are you doing…here?” He was relieved to see that it was in fact someone he knew. Yeah he lived in Larket, but he spent as little time as he could in the academy. Several reasons one he wasn’t a mage, his magic was from being a dragon, not some book. The second reason avoiding someone. He’d take in a deep breath. “Sorry… I’m not a… very good… host …right now…” He’d offer a weak pained laugh, while trying to push himself up into a sitting position. He hated being hurt, but he also knew that, that came with being a warrior even if they do something stupid like not dodge the javelin to the stomach because they had a plan. He looked around as if looking for someone or something, but seemed to be relieved when he didn’t find or see whatever or whoever it was. “How are you? You look like a million gold.” He’d offer that warm pained smile. He’s looked down to his stomach and let out a pained sigh. “I… messed up…. Didn’t I?” He’d look to the Avian, paying close attention to his facial expressions, looking for some indication on how the avian was feeling or a sign of how bad he really was, cause if pain was an indication then he would be dead by daylight’s end.

Thamalys swiftly - if gracelessly - turned on his heels not without showing a hint of genuine surprise, quite note expecting to hear a word from the battered Dragon. Cracking a tired smile, he would have trot back to the side of the sickbed and answered. "Why, look at who's awake... no, don't you dare utter another word. Yes, it is me, yes again, I daresay I am in a particularly high spirit, and no, you did not mess up anything indeed - somebody else did." In the meantime, he would have acknowledged the arrival of a not too large bowl of water, hastily dropped as his feet, with a tiny nod and a waving gesture of his index finger, only to return swiftly after to the matter at hand. "Why, did you really expect me to stay at my desk knowing how badly you have been skewered? Everybody talks about it, Scaly One - what do you think I am doing? Making sure these so-called physicians are doing a decent job - that's what I am doing. Now, if you would be so kind to stay still..." and with that last words, he would have proceeded to unbind the the gauze sitting on the abdomen of the Scaly Blue. Quick, confident movements, maybe not that gentle after all, but the sooner he got rid of that stinky stuff, the better. Eventually, the bloated skin of the Dragon came into sight - not a nice one. A huge scab was forming already at the very surface of the wound, a frightening hole the Avian was sure he should have hurt like absolute hell. Every trace of serenity promptly disappeared from the face of the Feathery Blue, an unreadable expression surfacing on those sharp, pale lineaments - the Dragon could and should have noticed it. "Well, my friend. This isn't going to be pretty, I am afraid. I will have to scrape that scab, as I fear I am seeing some signs of infection. Nothing to be worried about, mind you - the process won't be very pleasant, though." He seemed to consider something for a moment, and then "I have a tincture that can help with the pain, if you so wish... a couple of drops, and you'll be dreaming till tomorrow. What do you say?" he went on, already rummaging through the innards of his bulky satchel as to fetch some material for the task ahead.

Mythayus would listen to the words of the avian. He’d remain perfectly still. He didn’t want him to slip and cause him more pain than what he was already in. “Who… messed… up your day?” He’d watch the avians action with a slight smile. “Hon…estly… I didn’t… expect… anyone to show. Everyone?” He took in a deep almost gasping breath. He fact that he was having issues speaking was starting to frustrate him. He closed his azure hue and tried to force regular breathing. After all it wasn’t his lungs that was hurt it was his stomach area. “glad.. Some.one is looking out for me.” He’d slowly speak making sure his words came out together. He’d at the avian’s request try to make himself as still as he could. He’d wince a little as the avian not so gently removed the spoiled gauze. He’d disobey the avian for a brief moment and glance down at the hole in his abdomen. He let out a groan at the sight then the words of the avian. No one wants to hear ‘scrap,’ ‘scab,’ and ‘not pleasant.’ Mythayus would offer the Avian a smile, “That.. doesn’t sound pleasant..at. all” He’d close his eyes. “I turst… You. So. Whatever you.. think.. is best.” He’d paused for a moment and give a light laugh, “I wouldn’t.. want to be.. a bore.. Though.. Slee..ping.. though the pain.. sounds. Woundful…. My friend.” He was relieved that Thamalys had a way to knock him out so he didn’t have to deal with the pain of his would being cleaned vigorously, and then rebandaged. Knocking the dragon out would most likely be the best option and it seemed that the avian wasn’t going to take no for an answer, as he was already looking for the substance in question.

Thamalys nodded slowly. “A wise decision, my friend…” he commented, consequently producing a vial containing a brownish, viscous liquid. He would have lifted the container in front of his solid blue eyes with one hand, with the index finger of the other one poking the glass gently, as if to probe the texture of the mixture. “Opium”, he simply stated, uncorking the vessel. “Aaaaaah…” he would have said while opening his own mouth, hinting the Dragon to do the same. Childish, sure, but most effective. If the Scaly One indeed consented, the Avian would have steadied his hand, four drops exactly dosing in the mouth of the Scaly Blue. The Spellblade would have watched, nervously, for that short time - less than a minute, in fact - needed for the medication to get to work. If everything would have gone as planned, the Avian would have stood right in front of deeply asleep Dragon, most likely snoring loudly. Only then, the Feathery Blue would have put back the opium and dunked both hands into the bowl of warm water near by. “By the Wind!” he hissed, the liquid being in fact still piping hot. He muttered something, consequently producing a more substantial bottle, the content of which he generously spread on the wound - antiseptics, he had to spare. Humming a silly tune along the following lines, “The man that will drink it will cock his caubeen / And if anyone coughs there’ll be wigs on the green / And the feeble old hag will get supple and free…” the Practicus grabbed a clean cloth from his satchel, let go of a sigh, one last time gazing into the sleepy shapes of the Dragon, and began his dirty job. Ten solid minutes of uninterrupted scratching and swearing, and the purulent scab was gone, the lips of the wound now shining with a vivid pink, tiny droplet of blood still trying to escape. Most of the infectious material hopefully departed, the Spellblade popped yet another glassy container, this time a yellowish paste dripping merrily from it - a ointment with calendula, excellent anti-hemorrhagic, plus some other secret ingredients. He topped things with a clean, new bandage, tight on his abdomen, huffing an puffing while lifting the shapes of the Scaly One to wrap him properly. That would have done nicely - he thought confidently. Now it was a matter of waiting. The opium dose should have been enough to put the Dragon to sleep till the morning after, but those creatures… difficult to make proper prescriptions with them. As such, the Avian would have lay down on the wooden floor, his wings wrapping up his own body in a feathery cocoon, his head on the satchel presently used as a pillow. He would have waited for the Scaly Blue to wake up - and make sure the wound looked a bit better than before.

Mythayus watched the Avian in amusement. He tilted his head watching him pull out the brownish liquid. He’d nod to Thamalys on his acknowledgement of his good decision. He’d hear the avian say opium, he didn’t know what that was. “Opium..?” It was easy to hear the question in his voice, but he would mimic the avian, opening his mouth and letting a weak “Aaaaah…” out. He didn’t care for the flavor at all you could most definitely tell by the face the dragon was making. He closed his eyes, wrinkled his nose, and shook his head. His body would start to relax as he faded into slumber, which he tried to fight, but the dragon was no match for the opium and was soon sleeping. The man looked even more childlike as he slept and to the avian’s surprise his snoring was quite faint. The Dragon wouldn’t more at all whilst Thamalys worked to clean the wound. As he’d start to wrap the wound up, tears would start to form in the dragon’s eyes. “I’m sorry….I’m so sorry… I…I… didn’t” He’d speak in his slept, “I… Failed…you….” His breathing would start to pick-up, “Pl…ease… Forgive….Me…” He’d calm down after a few minutes, only waking quiet whimpering sounds, the tears would also stop. The dragon would sleep until the next morning, seems the avian dosed the dragon quite well. He’d wince as he sat up in the bed rubbing the debris from his eyes. He’d look around confused, not knowing exactly where he was at the moment. His blue hue would focus on the sleeping avian and tilt his head even more in confusion. He’d let out a few groggy snorts. Before whispering to himself, “Why is he on the floor?” This fact seem to confuse and trouble the dragon more than what it should, but he was going to fix the issue. Pushing himself to his feet he’d move quietly over to the avian. He prayed that Thamalys was a heavy sleeper and would very gently and carefully try to pick the sleeping avian up and place him on the bed. He prepared himself for the chance of retaliation, wouldn’t be the first time he’d be punched, kicked, smacked, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Thamalys winced, having listened - not without surprise - to the moaning of the Dragon, halfway asleep already. “Failed who, I wonder…” he muttered in a soft voice, right before laying down on to his wooden pallet. He floated deep into the silky embrace of a dark dream, the not exactly soft floor constantly pricking his shoulders, the whole of that feathery mass twitching, moving, snapping, quivering. And yet, eventually, the sun arose, splashing a shiny cascade into the room, moments before the Dragon attempted to lift - why, even to touch! - the Spellblade, still laying down in that skittish sleep. The instant the hands of the Scaly One came into contact with the velvety blanket of feathers covering the snoring mass of the Avian, the latter would have suddenly dismantled the cocoon, with the obvious result of knocking his wings on the bed on one side, and on the chair on the outer one - overall, not the best way to start your day. Within that split second, eyelids were opened, fiery streaks of gold surfacing into the deep blue of the Spellblade’s eyes, who - but for the nuisance of having beaten his wings across all manners of furniture - needed only very little time before realising the Dragon was only trying to help him out. He still would have not let him, though - Avian pride being such a foolish and yet powerful thing. “Please…” he would have uttered in a deep voice, made even more hoarse by the recent wake up, his left hand held high to prevent any further help, the right one connecting already with the floor, a swift gesture following that would have brought the Blue on his feet, basically facing the Scaly One. Then, despite he did not really want to surrender to the mighty temptation, he outstretched both of his arms, bending each phalanx of his hands while letting go of a massive yawn. “Apologies…” he continued, a broad grin on his face, “… I know you meant good, but I just… oh, whatever. And!” on he went, pointing a bony finger toward the Dragon’s chest, “…you’re not supposed to stand up yet! I take you are feeling a bit better, yes? Anyhow, do you really want to drag the healing for much longer still?”. He would have actually layer his hand on that chest, gently pushing it down as to encourage the Scaly One to sit. Whether or not he succeeded, he would have added, while grabbing the chair nearby - fallen, those twitch of his wings having knocked down quite some pieces of furniture: “Also… do you know you sleep talk?” he would have inquired, an inquisitive look so blatantly evident in those solid blue pits nestled into the ivory features of the Avian’s face.

Mythayus eyes would widen. He didn’t mean to startle the avian. He wasn’t trying to touch the wings… He just didn’t want his friend to be sleeping on the floor. If had he known Thamalys was going to hurt his wings, even if it wasn’t severe damage, he wouldn’t have tried. “I’m sorry.” He’d offer with a bit of a nervous look to him. “I…you were on the floor.” He looked down to his feet. There is was the start of the speech he was used to getting, as he rarely ever gave himself time to heal properly. He was just stubborn like that. He would sit down with the avian’s encouragement. “But you were on the floor.” He’d act like a child for a moment, then straighten up with a smile, “I am feeling better, and no I don’t I hate being hurt… It stops me from doing my job.” He’d let out a sigh. He was still sore but that’s to expected when you get stabbed with a javelin in the stomach. He’d tilt his head at the question, “No I wasn’t aware, but I’d image everyone does at some point. If their dreams are vivid enough.” He’d pause for a moment, “What did I say? Did I confess I have feelings for you or something like that?” He gave off a light laugh with the later part of his sentence. 

Thamalys acknowledged the protest of the Scaly One with a rather sharp comment only, dipping his head to his right to a minimum extent, briefly considering before voicing anything at all. “Yes, I was on the floor. Not really soft, but these…” he noted while pointing the thumb of his right hand toward the fluffy shapes of his wings, “… helped. A little price to be paid in order to ensure your recovery is proceeding smoothly. Which…” he went on, squarely staring at the Dragon with narrowed eyes, “… I daresay seems to be the case. Let me see…” he said while moving toward the Scaly Blue, softly laying the palm of his right hand softly there where the wound would have started to heal, searching from some - dreaded - tenderness in his flesh. The last question from the Dragon did raise an eyebrow. “Do you?” he casually asked in return, a broad grin widening on his face, before moving on with the prognosis. “Whatever. I am confident, and also particularly relieved to assert you will recover to the full extent of your strength in a matter of days, my friend. That nasty dart went close, though…as per your sleep talk. Maybe it was the medication… yes, most likely…” he nodded while turning to his possessions, trying to sort them out and prepare to leave. “According to your nightly speech, though… it appears you… failed? Somebody, somewhen, somewhere, you did not give away that much - and yet, you would feel so guilty about it still, so much in fact that your subconscious would bring it up even now. Who did you fail, o’ Dragon?” he asked, suddenly turning his head toward him, his deep blue hue meeting that - of similar colour - of the Scaly One, a queer note that smelled more of an accusation than a genuine curiosity, evident in the low tone of his voice.

Mythayus would nod in understanding, as the avian pointed back towards his fluffy wings. “Even with those, the floor is still hard. The bed was big enough you could’ve gotten in too, or sleep in one of the other rooms.” The dragon took in a deep breath as the avian gently worked around the wound. He held it until the avian was done. A smirk crossed his face at the avian’s question. He’d bring a scarred hand to his chin, and thinks for a moment, trying to decide on what to say, “Well to be quite honest, I’d have to say I do. Your intelligent, your more concerned with my health than I am, and your quite attractive.” He looked down sadly as the avian asked about who he failed. There was a list of people he feels he failed. He’d bring his blue hue to meet the Avians, “It’s most likely the family that adopted me or Chakor.” His voice wavered, “If I hadn’t gotten mad at my father, and wanted to prove I was ready to be a knight, I wouldn’t have left that night and I would’ve been there to save them.” He turn to show the avian his back and moved the long ebony locks to show the back of his neck. The number 956 was clearly branded into the back of his neck. “That’s how many people lost their lives that night, because I wasn’t there.” He took in a sharp deep breath and exhaled, “Chakor…I failed him so many times… but the last time cost him his life. If I would have had a backbone and simply told people how I feel instead of trying to please everyone, he’d still be alive today.” His voice was clearly showing how upset and guilty he felt. Several tears managed to escape the dragon’s eyes. 

Thamalys arched both eyebrows into a silly, ivory display of something halfway between outrage and merrymaking, his hand still probing the texture of the wound. “I am definitely quite concerned about your health - especially as it seems you have a marked tendency to get yourself into all manners of trouble. Dragons are rare, hallowed creatures || “Now, are they really?” - a thundering voice merrily inquired within the head of the Blue only ||, and kindhearted ones are even more uncommon. I shall have you safe and sound despite your efforts, my flattering friend.“ And with that, he would have turned, the bulky satchel starting to fill with the quite substantial amount of materials he brought in the mix. Soiled bandages and the sort… he would have let just there, messily pile up in a corner - somebody would have sort them out. As per fixing the knotty feelings of guilt plainly clashing inside the Dragon, he let the words of the latter to melt into the silence, before making a rather genuine point himself. “Some would say the past has no bearing - I disagree, as I know that darkness lies in mine, and the mere thought of it makes me shiver like a child fallen into a frozen lake || “Oh really… frozen lakes, aye? Now that is an interesting suggestion…” the unrelenting voice kept going ||. But the fate of others, we cannot control, o’ Blue.” he went on, his right hand sinking - if allowed - into the curly nut brown mass of the Dragons’ hair, pulling most of them up - in truth not so gently indeed. “956… that is a hefty number, and yes, you did well in having that numeral inked on you. One has to remember, I guess, to move forward properly - but you can’t let the guilt to devour you. You have countless years ahead, my friend, if only you’ll manage not to get skewered on monthly basis, that is. I bet you can easily make up for those 956 spikes of blameworthiness in time - I am sure you are already well in the process. Would you rather forget?” he asked, his voice a low growl, letting go of the hairs. And with that, he shouldered the satchel, a last glance throwing around to triple check he retrieved everything he brought with him. “Till soon, my Scaly Friend - hopefully, there won’t be the need for yet another wound to see you…” he pointed out, turning on his heels and already pacing to the door. “And…” he added as a last remark, immobile on the doorstep, “… I will listen. Whenever, whatever, wherever. I will always listen to you - as I do not need to be pleased at all. Rest…” he whispered, his massive shapes challenging already the winding corridors of the Academy.

Mythayus would watch the features of the man’s face. He’d taken in a deep breath to regain his composure. He tilted his head listen to the man speak. ‘Hallowed creatures?’ He knew that was far from the truth and he’d speak in an uncharacteristic stern tone, “Dragons are far from being hallowed creatures. Dragons are evil beasts that deserve to be wiped from existence.” He looked down, “Sorry my friend. But dragons do nothing but hurt those around them, and they don’t care so long as they come out on top.” He’d sigh. “It’s not about controlling someone’s fate, it’s about making a difference. You’re right the past does have bearing on us. The past is what made us the person we are today and the person we will be. Without the past we simply cannot be.” He’d choke back a tear, take a deep breath, and offer the Avian a warm smile, though his eyes still showed his sorrow. “Thank you for taking care of me. I appreciate it. I can’t make many promises, at least on the not getting injured part, but I will certainly take you up on the offer.” He’d pause for a moment. “I’ll do my best, my friend, and you take care alright. Until we meet again.” He’d offer a wave as the avian disappeared out the door.


This RP is linked to: RP:Royal Wedding Off the Scale!