RP:Threadbare

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

The aftermath of Frostmaw’s attack on Larket to free the Thane Josleen from voluntary imprisonment. This takes place shortly after Sabrina had visited Josleen and been assured of the woman’s wish to remain where she was housed by the courtesy of King Macon.

House of Ara Upwards from the river bank lays a small path to The House of Ära. The details of this place are plain and not overly extravagant. Everything seems to have a place, and everything that has a place is in its place. The well kept artifacts are random, not fitting any motif other than being of a magical nature. The items here are protected, unwelcome hands of thieves are sure to be met with a sting they will not likely forget. Located in the center of this room is a table meant for a large piece of Text, it appears to have been moved…

Once a home to the Book of Ära, the House of Ära has been remodeled to take in Larket’s wounded…

There is a long hall that faces north; at the end of the hall is an extravagant washroom complete with a large round tub approximately three feet deep and possibly six foot across and accessible to clean and soak the wounded . The door on the left belongs to the owner of this house; the door on the right appears to be a guest room.

Sabrina was still working, going on day three with no sleep, no rest, and no method of replenishing the energies she had lost. She looked disheveled; hair brushed last some time yesterday and dark circles forming under her eyes while the irises had fixed themselves in a boggish green shade. The worst of it had passed, with Frostmaw’s assault on Larket to free the Thane Josleen leaving a terrible array of injuries in its wake. Some limbs had to be removed, while others were mostly saved and in healing. There are three beds set up on short notice on the far east wall with several students mulling about to clean and replace old bandages and bring fresh water from the bath-room. She had since moved on to smaller injuries, treating first with antibiotics and resorting to field healing with needle and thread. Bloodied sleeves had been rolled up to the elbow, though the blood soaked her front and the only truly clean part on her were her hands, aside from fingers that pinched and sewed at a leg wound from a Larketian soldier. He was talking to her, but she didn’t seem interested in his story of how it happened, she had already heard many times over from the many prior treatments she had performed in a consistent flow.

Thamalys perched from the edge of an austere wooden chair, pitch black, almost indiscernible from the long legs of the Avian, tightly wrapped in battered dark leather. The same gloomy color characterized the huge tome wide open on the table nearby, the solid blue gaze of the improvised scholar absolutely focused on the small - oh, so small! - letters covering the ancient parchments. Both arms embracing his own knees, the pearly white shirt of the Avian would have hung loose on his skinny shapes, the knotty pattern of his ivy tattoos spiralling everywhere on his pale skin. Not much of his face would have been visible to anyone, the untidy mass of his many ivory braids cascading forward, as if they as well wanted to learn something at any cost. "The stunning anti-inflammatory properties of the Calendula Officinalis... oh, for the Wind's sake!" he eventually yelled, shaking his hands and then rubbing his eyes while at the same time delight the absent public with the biggest yawn one can possibly imagine. Despite having been considered only days ago by the Guild, the moans of the wounded just outside his room called for some action other than dedicating himself to the mystery of herb lore. His healing skills close to nil, notwithstanding Thamalys decided the time was ripe to - at least - trying to lend an hand. Two long strides only, and the door would have been opened already, the graceless form of the Avian trudging toward the lamenting soldiers close by.

Arcos and Aurora were just returning from some distant journey, their travailing cloaks and boots still covered in dust from the road. Arcos knew the state he would find the House of Ara in but that was one of the reasons his return was so hasty. He knew that they would likely need assistance. The door swung open and the pair entered, both of them moving to take off their cloaks. Four scarlet eyes surveyed the room, little Aurora a bit overwhelmed at the scene. "This is it," Arcos said to her as he pulled first her long black hair into a ponytail and then his own. "You said you wanted to be a surgeon, right? Well, this is your chance to get a little experience with what you'll have to deal with." He moved closer to the action, the little avian girl close on his heels. "Sabrina," he said as he neared her, "How can we help? Do you have enough sterile equipment? Perhaps we can retrieve some water?" He had no actual experience dealing with the sick and injured, and it perhaps showed.

Sabrina smiles at Arcos, near hitting a level of rudeness when she stands up from an ankle injury to greet the avian at the door with two arms wrapped around his neck and tip toes only narrowly allowing the gesture. Maevus, an older student drops a stainless tin of bloodied water and just stares open-mouthed at the Master Healer’s reaction to a face he hadn’t seen before. Voluntary touching with no professional reason was simply unheard of. Sabrina lets go, looking down at Aurora, but not by much. At a mere fifteen hands she was small even for her race and the girl was growing quickly. “Is this really her?” Of course it was, and Sabrina was quick to curl a thin finger at the girl and lead her back to the injury she previously abandoned. She seemed happy, if even forcibly so through the exhaustion she must’ve been suffering. She sits on a small stool and directs Aurora’s attention to the huge purple ankle presented to her. “Tell me what you see.”

Thamalys kept moving, anxiously darting saddened glances around, till he eventually reached the industrious Healers at work, evidently pushed to the limit if one was to judge by the sorry look of them. Stopping a few paces away, the Avian attempted to pinpoint the best person to offer his close-to-worthless help to, his choice eventually focussing on the tiny, dark features of the master healer. A particularly loud whimper uttered by what remained of a once proud Larket comrade shook him from his odd stance and propelled him forward, almost crushing into the ever moving figure of Sabrina, at the moment quite hellish-looking due to the loads of blood soiling the whole of her. Well, not only her, in fact. "Who..." would have the Avian muttered in the softest of the murmurs, having set his gaze upon the curious pair of... Avians, it would seem, albeit even the most ignorant creature in Hollow could gave told there was something quite peculiar - if not rather shadowy - with the two of them. Such a contrast with the pale, well groomed look of Thamalys the Clumsy, who, managing to stop himself right before bumping into the three of them would have first nod an hint of a bow toward the Avians and then asked to the master healer, in a soft voice first, and then - realising that whispers were less than useless in a hall crowded with dying people - raising his voice hopefully above the chaos, "Sorry for interrupting, Ma'am. May I be of any help? I know very little about healing people - yet, but I do have two hands for you to count on...". After having stretched both his arms, as to support the latter claim, not for a moment his gaze abandoning the bizarre duo nor the awfully swollen ankle nearby, thus he would have went on: "Anything I can do to speed up things, really - forgive me, but it would seem the healers are in fact more exhausted than the wounded, at this very stage. Would not you agree, Sir?" the last query directed at the tenebrous features of the Scholar, not without an hint of badly concealed concern.

Arcos hugged Sabrina back with as much enthusiasm as she had given him, the dark avian giving her a smile despite the rough situation. His attention shifted to the other avian in the room, to which he gave Thamalys a polite dip of his cranium as a greeting. "Unfortunately so," Arcos agreed with him, a quick glance around the room to take in the carnage once more. "But they have a very good Guild-master," he nodded his head in Sabrina's direction, "If anyone can sort this out it's surely her." Aurora, meanwhile nervously approached Sabrina her large red eyes exploring the injury. "Ist ein ankle? Ja, but ist all full." Her accent was strong, a sign that she was not raised in a place that used common. "Should we empty it?" Aurora was perhaps precocious for her age but not for a girl that read medical books in her free time. Sabrina looks way way up at Thamalys and his hands with the oddest ‘who the hell are you’ expressions. She is posturing neatly when she tells him “You’re up.” She was not as friendly as conveyed to the she-child that sat beside her and a rather large needle is produced for Thamalys’ taking. Aurora was turned to with an approving yet tired smile. “The wound is at least three days old, that amount of swelling on the first day would have meant it was broken.” She stands, offering the girl her seat. “But on the third day is certainly infection.” She directs her vision to the beads of sweat gathered on the man’s forehead. “And the fever confirms your diagnoses. Good job.”

Thamalys slightly frowned, as soon as he realised the ruby shade of red glowing in the eyes of the surprisingly skilled lass - no doubt much more qualified in this situation than Thamalys, in fact. Lost his memory he may had, but not so badly to not remember what the eyes of an Avian should look like. A matter for another day, though, on top of the fact that the master healer herself seemed to acknowledge them as trustworthy - and that was more than enough for Thamalys to shut his mouth and move on, taking in his right - faintly shaking - hand the intimidating needle. No time to show to the three of them how taken aback he was from the master healer's instructions. A swift sigh would have followed, in the attempt of blocking out the foul stench developing in the hall and the despair - or worse, the resignation - looming in the eyes of the battered warrior. Steadying his hands, Thamalys would have collected with his left hand a rather filthy pot laying near by, positioning it just below the purple mess he had to deal with. Again with is left, he would have proceeded to grab the talon of the poor man, gently and yet firmly, while positioning that injured leg between his two, slightly applying some pressure for the worst to come. Shortly after, with the tiniest hint of hesitation and stubbornly avoiding to look the wounded in the eyes, he would have focussed on the bulge, locating the apex of the infection and consequently inserting the massive needle into it the lump, so much to make it to the liquid underneath, and extracting it then swiftly enough to allow the pus, mixed with some solid doses of blood, to pour into the pot below. Trying not to listen to the screams of the man, he would have then addressed the odd-looking child: "Would you mind to help me out and... squeeze it for me, yes? So that we can get rid of the whole of this mess..."

Arcos watched in silence for a moment, something bothering him, bubbling just on the surface. He had come here with more intent than just helping with the wounded but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. Aurora, on the other hand, had decided to actually get her hands dirty, but to do that she had to get her hands clean. She zipped around, searching for a basin of clean water to sanitized herself with. She hurried back over, her eagerness replacing her apprehension. "Hier!" She called out, ready to assist with the ankle. She had a strange talent for removing herself from any sense of empathy for the patient, caring more about efficiency than painlessness. With enthusiasm that approached creepiness, Aurora gripped the puss-filled area and did her best to drain the infection without moving the actual ankle. She frowned at the man's screams but she seemed more annoyed than worried about him. "Sabrina," Arcos said, leaning in close to her, "I know this is a really bad time, but there will never really be a good time to say this..." His voice grew more hushed. "There was a child born the other night. I received a letter and... I examined the child myself. There's a strong possibility that I'm the father." He left it at that. He knew this would likely upset her and he hadn't even gotten to the worst part.

Sabrina had since found a new patient, his nurse stood presenting a threaded surgical needle at the ready and the stool is claimed by the elfess at once to both perform the procedure as well as demonstrate the task to those who began to gather around to view it. She was pulling the long thread through the base of the first stitch, anchoring it to the inside of the wound for proper snag free healing. She was the leader of the Healer’s guild, it was they who people came to for the delivery of their offspring. It was Emilia that had delivered only one child of the many expecting mothers in recent days. Arcos’ words hit her hard and sudden- so much the stitching comes to an immediate halt and her eyes flash to his direction but only for a brief moment. She was silent, aside from a short excursion of what can best be described as a laugh and she resituated her position so her back is more to him. The stitching continues slow and steady without so much as a peep. The soldier watching her work looks at Arcos, almost accusingly and his expression fails to describe what he can see that the Avian cannot. The Elfess was not particularly known for being an emotional woman; it was rare to see her smile, let alone cry, unless one truly spent some amount of time with her. Here, now, in this room full of the wounded and those learning alike silent tears were flooding down her cheeks and drawing wriggly lines through the dried blood that stained them. There was no sobbing, just the occasional wipe with the back of her wrist to offset the loss of vision as she didn’t care to leave sloppy scars. She finishes; tying off a perfect knot and discarding the tool in a stainless dish more roughly than necessary and the clear water is soon splintered with a sharp crimson cloud. She stands, wiping her hands on her pants and then smudging the marks from her face before heading toward the kitchen for some air. Most already knew she wasn’t a woman of many words either and instead of offering some console the others simply created a path in the thick silence that befell the room. Her gift had grown in all this time, the emotions she conveyed were no longer committed to physical touch. If she felt something strong enough there was a defining level of that secret she could still keep. This new information far surpassed her threshold. This type of sensation was different from the infectious manner her touch transmitted, this type weighted on the atmosphere like humidity in a summer heat. As Aurora and Thamalys were left unsupervised to tend to the screaming man Sabrina modestly abandoned her post in unnerving calmness.

Thamalys took little notice the slender figure of the Dark Avian leaning closer to the healer, whatever words were voiced never doomed to reach his pointy ears, so concentrated to the task he was entrusted with. Not to mention the surgical precision and the unnatural confidence of the red-eyed lass, to whom he nodded a sharp gesture dripping the same gratitude he would have now expressed in words: "Very well done - well, at least I think so. Thank you so much for your help... you have a name? Mine is Thamalys, young one." Most of the disgusting, viscous liquid would have leaked already in the pot, the cries of the man slowly wearing off, possibly leaving in place a vague sense of ease. That would be enough for Thamalys to relax a bit as well, abandoning his stance and turning to face the man, who laid back, eyes close, breathing a bit more steadily. In the process the Avian would have noticed the small figure of Sabrina leaving suddenly, with no apparent reason other than some whispers uttered from Arcos. Letting go of the ankle, while at the same time kicking away the soiled pot and trying to clean the needle as much as possible with his own shirt - for now, the Avian turned to his Dark akin, his blue eyes nailed into those red pits as if demanding some sort of explanation. "What in the name of the Wind did you tell her, to make her vanish with such haste?"

Arcos stood wordlessly as he stared after her, everything in his core telling him to call after her not to go, but he found that he couldn't. Of course she already knew who it was; She was the leader of the healer's guild. Anyone delivering babies would report directly to her. "Scheisse!" He cursed at himself in an ancient avian dialect before his scarlet eyes, filled with guilt, trailed over to look at the other avian who had addressed him. "I-" he began, "I made a mistake a long time ago and I'm being painfully reminded of it." With that he slowly walked after her. He didn't know what he needed to do but he wanted to make things right. Aurora, on the other hand, decided that she didn't care about their stupid grown-up matters. She had a room full of new toys to play with and nobody to supervise her. She casually washed her hands of the infectious grime and began her search for her next victim.

Sabrina stopped as she sensed him in her wake. “Don’t.” Her voice is low and there was nothing wavering in it. The wedge of people between them could be seen stuck somewhere between curiously caring and uncomfortable awkwardness. She turns, stomping right up to him with a single digit raised to his face. “You don’t get to…” Her eyes were black as pitch and her lips trembled like she wanted to cry but her demonic glare is cast toward the audience caught in the pique of a total breakdown. She was already tired before Arcos got here, she wasn’t even trying at this point to muster some sort of self control and her mentality was being overwritten by a flood of several different strains of anger, deceit, and betrayal. “Was it-“ No, she didn’t want to confirm her already colorful idea of the who regarding the mother. “Just get out.” And giving him no time to react she screams at him. “Get out!” If he faltered in his retreat or attempted to utter a solitary rebuttal he would be met with a solid strike that was the bottom of her palm aimed upwards to the dorsal base of his nose to ensure a proper break.

Thamalys silently witnessed the unintelligible drama developing before his eyes, for a moment almost forgetting about the urgency of the situation. Something far more complex and secret than he could grasp seemed to be involved in the awkward display unravelling within the most inappropriate of the imaginable locations. It mattered not, though. A member of the Guild he was in the process to try to become, and as such the realm of the possibilities truly narrowed down to a single option, in the end. Shaking his shoulders, the huge shape of his ivory wings, the edges of which stained already with crimson, the Avian would have only uttered, in the most neutral tone he could have mustered, "Apologies to you both. I better get back to my place and duties...". And off he went indeed, turning swiftly with an elegance he had almost forgotten, his gaze screening for the next task ahead, knowing that he could not do much, but that every little had the potential to make a difference - if tiny, yet a difference still. Somebody cried for some more hot water. "I'm on it!" he would have shouted, eagerly covering the distance separating him from the kitchens, two massive buckets, soiled with the Winds knows what, already picked up in those comically long arms of his. A last look, on the verge of disappearing into the huge room ahead, would have been dedicated to the arguing pair already in the distance, before the Avian vanished whole into the steamy, chaotic interiors of the House.

Arcos didn't protest. He felt he had no right to say anything in his defense. "As you wish it," he said, not able to look her in the eyes. The dark avian turned and left, his pride and his ego noticely deflated. "Aurora, stay here. I'll catch up with you later." He said as he crossed the room, not paying any mind to the others in the room. "Ja, Papa, I meet you later. There ist still much work to be done here." With one last glance at his eldest daughter, the dark avian left the House of Ara, slamming the door much harder than he anticipated. He would seek out Rohk and speak with him about this matter. There was much he needed to discuss with the hellhound anyway. "Wie unhöflich..." Aurora said to herself as she shook her head. She had taken it upon herself to find a needle and was currently looking for somebody who was actually willing to let an eight year old perform surgery on them.

Sabrina didn’t say anything as he left, just stood there with arms crossed at her chest and eyes steeling into the back of his head. It was only once the door closed that she turned to the few still watching the unfolding take place. The students were the first to act busy, the few patients not in enough pain to ignore the situation helplessly grounded to their positions and finding inanimate things suddenly interesting; the ceiling, the floor, that blue vase in the corner. Once movement came over the room again she seated herself at the patient whose ankle was left to drain into a pot that is immediately replaced with a proper stainless bucket. His body goes loose, with eyes rolling to the back of his head in a chemically induced state of painless euphoria. While her hands transferred a manufactured serenity her own balance had been so torn off course she doses him to an unconscious state. She curses, something F-bombish and swats the bucket so it clatters under the table and bounces off a leg to a chair halfway to the wall. “Maev.” She gestures to the man now sliding out of his chair with gravity as his lead. “Take over.”