RP:To Mend a Broken Wing

Sabrina pushed the door open to the silence that was her home. She figured Rohk would have dropped off the wounded Avian, but she knew the hound could net enter the abode. As luck would have it two students from the nearby Academy had been there for study upon his arrival, they explained as much in quite excited tones when she arrived. They explained the Avian's injuries, proud of their assessments, and concluded that he was moaning her name in his sleep over hushed giggles. She scolds them both for their indiscretion as asked for updates on his status. They go over the standard triage and hand her a feather of the oddest nature. She drops the small packet of information on the nearby table and examines the flight feather in great detail. “Hm.” She runs her fingertips along the vane and gathers the papers once more, motioning for the students to take their leave. She had groomed the Avian a few days prior, and the down and pinfeathers and did not recognize anything out of the ordinary, but this... this was truly noteworthy. She jots down information on both versions of quills, but with only these specimens it would be impossible to calculate the true nature of this oddity. After procuring a full range of test feathers she would be able to conclude her findings. So far, it would seem his flight feathers possessed an irregularity she had not come across as of yet. A metal alloy coating the hollow calamus all the way through to the point of the rachis. Surely he had some explanation of this, but she would simply steal pieces of him while he slept before she questioned the nature of it. Oddly she had walked through the door exhausted, by now she was fully awake.

Josiah's eyes fluttered open...or at least, the left one did. The right eye was swollen completely shut, and bruised all the way down to his cheekbone. He could seethe ceiling of the House of Ara, and he smiled, which hurt a bit. He was alive. And if he was here, Sabrina was alive too. The pain all across his body was too much to bear, he couldnt even turn to look around...but he was happy. And exhausted. They had made it. He fell back into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

She crept into the guest room, figuring the students were bright enough not to allow anyone in her own room, and peeked through the door to check if he was both asleep and decent. Success. She enters, closing the door behind her and clutching the growing stack of parchment in her hand, a golden quill balanced snugly between thin and still bloodied fingers. She sits on the edge of his bed, taking in the many wounds that seemed to be healing faster than average, but slower than her own. The students had performed admirably, removing him of his armors and leaving him to rest in clean pants. His wounds were clean but some were still seeping trivial amounts of blood that had began to clot under the ointment they were dressed in. She looks to the wound on his shoulder, rubbing her own in response to vague familiarity that it once belonged to her. “Stupid Paladin” in Elvish, whispered lightly in the still air. His wing appeared damaged, and untouched by his aides- it was no wonder since the hollowed-boney material was not a common thing to come across. She leans forward, a smile creeping over her battle ridden features. She was right. The feathers used for general flight and navigation were indeed rooted in a lightweight and pale metallic overlay, the down and filler feathers were not. She urges a sample of each type of feathering, delicately, and couples them with her research in hand. She would leave him for now. Bare hands keep him from stirring as a melatonin effect dulls any irritation she may have caused. In tandem with her efforts a small wave of energy glazes over his superficial wounds, sealing the oozy bits so they may better heal. She was far too drained to be of any more assistance. There was much study to be done, and a bath. Gods knew she was in dire need. She gets up and leaves quietly, closing the door snug and silent in her wake.

Josiah opened his eyes, both of them this time. The swelling had gone down and he could see moonlight streaming through the window into the darkness. His entire body ached, but he felt much better since he had last woke up. He sat up gingerly in bed, wincing. He ran his talons across his body, assessing the damage. He felt a bandage across his chest, and another on his ear...which appeared to be intact. His ribs felt like dry kindling, he felt completely weak, but the worst feeling was in his wing. Something was definitely wrong in there. He was still exhausted, but he felt he had to see her face. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wondering how he had gotten here, and how long ago. His legs felt like they hadn't been used in weeks. He hauled himself up, almost falling back down, and made his way to the door. As he opened it, he heard running water, smelled a familiar fragrance in the air. He wanted to go straight to her, but he was a gentleman. He made his way to the table, which was cluttered with paperwork and feathers. In his exhausted state he thought nothing of it. He pulled the chair out and sat down slowly, waiting for Sabrina to emerge.

She did emerge shortly after he'd have found his seat. She exits the lavatory in a cloud of steam in not but a thin white T-shirt, a modestly short pair of shorts, and a thick towel piling her hair high up on her head. Her cheeks were flush, her eyes looked tired, but her wounds had faded to mere bruising of which would take some time for the body to reabsorb. She was barefoot as she padded down the hall, walking past the table where he sat only to pick up the paperwork, the feathers, the quill. She took a halfstep further before she realized he was sitting there. She stops, backs up a step, and frosted mint eyes find him in well enough form to leave his room. Her smile is not automated when she see's him. “Feeling better?” It was elvish, though it was not unlike her to speak it naturally and only catch herself after the words fall like song from her lips. She corrects by repeating it in Common, broken and complimented with a short laugh over her idiocies. She looks away before he can reply, and heads to the kitchen to fix a special cup of tea. When she returns with the steaming hot cup she slides it over to him, the taste would be foul, a clear indicator it was good for him. She slides a single long feather in his direction. “Does this look familiar to you?” Surely he'd recognize it as his own and she would delve further “Notice anything... abnormal?” She took her own cup of tea to her lips, dropping the feather and leaning over the table to study his facial response. Either she was used to the taste of that putrid liquid, or she was not drinking the same thing, but she seemed unaffected by the flavor.

Josiah watched her enter the room in a wave of hot steam, looking like something out of a dream. He noted with satisfaction that her wound had been healed, and judging by the bandage around his own shoulder, he had taken it upon himself. As she spoke to him he could hardly listen. He was too busy taking in the lines of her face, the stray bits of hair that had escaped from the towel. She went into the kitchen and made some tea, and he could feel a smile creeping across his face. It seemed too good to be true. She sat down and slid something that smelled completely vile across the table to him. The acrid aroma seemed the break his daze. She was holding a feather in her hands, gesturing for him to inspect it. He couldn't think of anything to say, so he grabbed it and oliged her. It was definitely one of his own. He turned it over between his talons, and then looked back to her, sipping her own tea...which didn't seem to be as disgusting as whatever she had made for him. He wasn't sure what the question was...so enchanted with seeing her safe he was having trouble focusing on anything but her face, and her eyes. He felt a bit choked up, but would never show it. He handed the feather back to her without answering her question, and picked up his mug. "It's good to see you again, Sabrina," he said, his voice brittle with sleep and exhaustion. "We made it."

She frowned, pushing back from the table and taking the towel from her hair. The cascade of raven locks clumped together as she shook the access water from them. “About that. Don't ever heal me again.” The ungrateful bitch offered no explanation, but truth be told if her injury was bad enough he could end up killing them both. “My healing works at its own pace, you can keep me awake, but by the will of Hind do not EVER heal me again.” It was rare for her to refer to any God unless the need was dire. She turned away from him, finishing off her tea- as hot as it was and as quickly as she downed it, it left one to wonder if it did in fact disgrace her palette. She paces back into the kitchen to clean her mug and place it 'just so' in its rightful place. After a few self-directed words of encouragement she makes her way to the table again, this time standing right beside him as she pretended to check his bandages. She unraveled the one about his shoulder, pressing the cold tips of her fingers into the thick scar tissue that was forming over the wound. It was still rather squishy inside which meant the meat had yet to bind itself to the fibrous mate it was severed from. He would feel a heated sensation, followed by a light fog that burdened his mind of all indiscretion. “So, the feather... notice anything?” A positive answer would render positive feelings, euphoric in nature depending on the degree of his honesty or awareness. Likewise a negative answer, or lack thereof, would be answered in kind by an excruciating level of the true awareness of his wounds. Complete with a small thumb digging into the sensitive tissues of the wound that was supposed to belong to her.

After she scolded him and left for the kitchen, he took a swig from the mug and had to choke it down. The taste was nearly unbearable, but he felt his head clearing a bit as soon as the liquid made its way angrily down his throat. When she came back to him, he smiled up at her. She could be mad all she wanted. She had needed him, and he had been there. Knowing that was enough for him. As she asked him yet again about the feather, he picked it up and looked it over. Nothing he hadn't seen before. He had lost many of these over the years. With her fingers over his fresh wound, he felt her power emanating through her...it felt like the bath all over again. He shook his head gently and said "Nothing that I can see. What's this all about?"

I need to test the shaft for particular alloys, but metal coated bone structure is not... natural. For some reason or another, while he looked at her like that, she was hesitant to force any truths from him. She was already convinced he didn't know. “I am curious to see the extent of the infusion.” Like... cut him up? No, she wouldn't...would she? She releases him and goes back t her paperwork, lent over the table that was made for someone that was easily six inches taller than her, probably human, by the sturdy and completely unsophisticated design. She would wrap his wounds one final time before giving him a clean bill of health, though he would need to tidy up first. “I realize you smell like books, but you are not exactly a sight for sore eyes. You are no good to me if you don't learn to take care of yourself.” It was the most polite way she was going to ask him to bathe. “Do you require assistance?” She tucks the pages into a folder and closes the file shut, turning her head to him for any indicator he may not be as well off as he looked. Being of a vainer species the Elfess often bathed two or more times daily, unless on the hunt, and today she was not hunting.

"I think I can manage," he said, gripping the table for support and standing. He was confused, but he knew better than to push her for information. When she was ready, she would fill him in. He just hoped he wasn't going to lose all of his feathers, or that his wounds were worse than they felt. He took several steps towards the door, holding his bruised ribs, then turned back to face her. "Sabrina," he said, strongly. "Could you leave me some reading materials out? Anything you think will be useful. If I'm going to be on my back for a while I might as well train something." Without waiting for a response, he limped into the bathroom and shut the door. 

She was not one to take pause when asked to do something, especially if he was willing to read for it. She took to searching for applicable titles by the time the door closed and had a full stack ready within minutes; Alchemy, Herbal Lore, Conventional Dressings (the only one written exclusively by Humans, fascinating creatures,) Social Intercourse; Do or Don't, and several smaller books written in an array of languages. The stack had grown to a height that made it hard to walk, though she made her way down the hall and paused at the bathroom door. Should she go in? She bites her lip and knocks lightly, that was the most logical of methods. She calls out from behind the closed door, “Do you want them in your room?” She presses pointed ear against the hardwood grain, like somehow her keen senses would be muted for some insane and unexplained reason.

He was deeply relaxed in the tub, the strange bubbling sensation that had at first been almost painful soothing his aching muscles. When she knocked, he grinned to himself. He wanted desperately to tell her to come in, but he realized that was not the right move for this game. "If you would be so kind," he replied, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth. 

She smiles and the silent reply told him she did exactly that. When she had finished stacking them properly she'd change his linens, clean up the disaster of a living space that the students had left, and she would leave the room in good order. She was growing into the position of care giver and she wanted to make sure she stayed on friendly terms. An unfriendly healer is just weird. Eventually she would make her way back to the table to study her findings, bringing with her an series of vials to test on the metal coating the shaft of his feathers. Tungsten, one of the most unforgiving of metals for form and mending. Interesting. 

Josiah emerged from his bath markedly less smoothly than Sabrina had, but felt like he was moving a bit better after the soak. Sabrina was at the table, doing some type of work with the feathers, papers scattered all around her. He was exhausted, and knew he should go to sleep, but he felt he needed to speak with her again, even if only for a few moments. He had made sure to get himself as clean as possible, removing the blood and dirt from under his talons, getting the debris out of his hair. The braids she had helped him with had held up incredibly well through this whole experience. He sat down at the table with no shirt on, wearing only a clean pair of pants he had found in the bathroom, placed in such a way that he could only assume Sabrina had prepared them for him. He wasn't sure what to say...so he said the first thing that came to mind. "Is it possible...to set this wing?" he asked, grimacing a bit. "I feel almost worthless with it this way." He chuckled. "Not that I know how to use them, anyway."

She raises her eyes from her pages to his eyes, staring back at her. In study those frosted mint gems turned dark to a glossy emerald, the irises widened to near full sclera making her appear a tad on the demonic side. Such was the state of a Druid harboring an Arcane spell, it didn't sit well in the natural order of things, but there was no other way (that she knew of) to remember anything that happened around her. She set the studies aside, eyes slowly fading to the barely there minty glow and it altered her smile from ominous to pleasant in nature. “Okay.” She was cheerful in her response as she slid from the chair and swiveled his seat around so she could stand, between his legs and close enough to address the ruffled section of wing while still providing him her body to lean on if he needed it. She looks him dead in the eye, sweet as candy. “Brace yourself.” she slid one of his hands to hold the table, the other she left free to do as it needed and thin fingers meander their way between feathers to lay flush against the still-warm skin beneath them. There was a loud crack, it would announce the flurry of multiple pains as the bones re-broke from their partial healing, only to realign in proper order. Each fiber ripped from its origin had bent and writhed in search of its twin, its home, its connection back to its previous state. As tiny pieces flexed and sifted through its relatives, and other sections missing tiny slivers grew back in an agonizing 40 seconds or more. The pain would settle into distant memories of excruciating torment. Her hand would slide up his chest to support his weight, the horror of it all would have stolen his breath and caused him to slump slightly forward. In the faded reality she put him in her voice would sound smooth and comforting. “You're OK” was repeated in a plethora of languages, each one chiming with the previous like some spell meant to seduce his nerves to surrender. There was the fast way, there was the easy way. This was not the easy way.

Josiah closed his eyes, grabbed onto the table as hard as he could, and waited. He trusted Sabrina completely, but he knew what was coming. During the fight he had been so full of adrenaline that he hadn't even noticed the break...but this time would be much different. He was mostly just afraid of passing out in front of Sabrina, but the pain was going to be intense. Thankfully, she didn't give him much time to think about it. She forced the bones back into place and his mind exploded with excruciating pain. His talons dug rivets into her table, and with his free hand he slammed his fist down as hard as he could. He felt like screaming but did not make a sound. And then, it was over...she was soothing him with her words and her eyes, and he let the magic do its work with no resistance. After several moments he nodded to her to indicate that he was okay, and stood up. "Thank you," he said. "That was bothering me more than anything." He caught her looking at the claw marks on her table and immediately cringed. "Sorry about the table," he almost whispered. His energy was completely gone. "I think I'm going to go back to bed now." He smiled at her, his eyes drooping in mid-sentence. Without another word he shambled off into the guest room, shutting the door softly behind him.

She was happy to have studied so hard on the structure of his bones, else healing them would have proved less than successful. She felt drained, too much healing for one day between the two of them. She looks outside and tries to remember just how many days she had been awake, with no resolution she decides it is a sleeping day and leaves her papers on the table to resort to the confines of her own room.