RP:Waking
This is a Healer's Guild RP.
Summary: After Valrae is rescued from the clutches of a rival coven and finally returned to her home, there seems to be something stopping her from waking. Penelope, the leader of the Healer’s Guild is called upon and arrives amid tensions between the Captain of the Guard and the former acting Mayor. Lanlan tries to ease tensions and remains after Valrae is awoken to offer advice on how to handle the public scrutiny that is sure to follow as Jaxson explains to the Mayor the events that have led to Larket and Cenril declaring war.
Mayor's Private Suite
The Mayor’s private suites are luxurious and spacious rooms of the same marble and tile that can be found throughout the estate. A replica of the mighty desk in her formal office resides in an amply spaced study surrounded by towering shelves crowded with books, crystals and tomes. There is a wide, intricate hearth with Cenril’s crest shaped into the mantle on the private sitting room. Watery blue high-backed chairs on either end of a long settee placed in front of the usually lit fireplace welcome guests to rest as they enjoy a drink. Two doorways frame the fireplace, one leading to a beautiful but impersonal guest room, paintings of Cenril’s Market and the cove at night adorning the wall, the other to a child’s room. The Mayor’s bedroom boasts ceilings with marvelous, artful frescos of Selene and Cenril’s ocean. On a raised platform stands a grand golden canopy bed, draped in layers of white downy comforters and jewel toned, soft raw silks. High, arching windows let light filter in from both the east and south while double windowed doors lead northward toward the renovated balcony.
Valrae || The sun was tucked behind roiling dark clouds, the promise of seasonal summer rains thick in the salty air. The mayoral estate was a buzzing hive of activity following the return of Valrae. There were Cenril’s finest healers, of course, and an overwhelming number of guardsmen, staff, and the clamor of the press outside of the tall stone gates. News had traveled fast that something was happening, though without an official statement from any government official most of a practical mind guessed that after more than a month of her reported absence meant they might only be confirming the Mayor’s death. In the private rooms Hector waited, just beyond the doors to Valrae’s personal room, and he paced the small tea room like a caged animal. He was out of place, an older man with sharp features made more severe by the crease of worry between bold graying brows, wrapped in the shining armor of his former office against the backdrop of pastel wallpaper and dainty mermaid carved chairs and tables crowded with small feminine things. He’d requested aid from the Healer’s Guild, sending for what he hoped would be the very leader herself, and left the room to offer the other men more privacy. After Valrae was returned, there were handmaids to see to washing the dirt from her tangled hair and the other tending that required other women to preserve her modesty. It had been several hours since her return and still she remained unmoving but for her shallow breathing in her wide bed. The room was cast in dark shadows, the fire in the hearth burning low and candles scented with honey and cardamom burning on most available surfaces. It played over the hollows of her gaunt cheeks and cast the darkness between her eyes so harshly they looked blackened as if she’d lost a terrible fight. The doors to the balcony were opened in hopes that fresh air would bring some life into the long unused room but there was a staleness in the air that not even the scent of summer rain or candles could beat back.
Lanlan dreamt that the world was falling apart; that the only things holding up the very ground that cities dwell on was sticky tape and scaffolding. It never should’ve lasted this long, and now it was all falling down. Everyone was doomed. When he opens his eyes, he finds that his dream is coming true. With a metaphysical roll of tape, he departs his castle-on-the-sea at 1 Reverie Court, and makes his way toward the Mayoral Manse. He’s dressed humbly, in a soft Chartsendian Periwinkle, dye extracted from the brittle shells of those giant carnivorous mollusks. The fiery orange trim looked like the color of a sphinx’s eyes at night, or so he told people. Now he stands in the foyer of the long house, waiting to be admitted up, for an audience with the mayor. “Send word to Hector, Jaxson, whomever,” he directs the servants with a callous dismissal from his hand. He hardly sees them, he’s looking more intently at his hand mirror, and more particularly at his own face and neck. In this, he could see beneath his glamors without dismissing them, and he swore he could see broken capillaries snaking up around his chin.
Jaxson Ravencroft's entire world is standing still, even as a mass of handmaidens, healers, guards and numerous others work their asses off to do whatever they can, the sorcerer himself seems frozen in time, his eyes locked on Valrae as he sits on a chair next to her bed. He hasn't moved since he brought her back, he hasn't really talked, he hasn't eaten, one would wonder if he has even taken a breath since he walked through the portal with her in his arms. Lanlan had taken to go to his own place in town for the remainder of the night to "get things in order" being the cryptic message from the drow noble, still, he stayed just long enough with Jax to make sure Hector and the others were notified and the Archmage even did most of the talking, silver tongued devil he is. Hours passed, days, weeks, months, years, eons, who knows, time seems irrelevant at this time to him. He watched as Val was cleaned, as she was examined, as she just -lays- there. For a man blessed with so much raw power, both magically and financially and even now politically, he felt absolutely powerless during this entire ordeal. Back in the vaults of his home sits the Emerald Skull, but tucked within a pocket on the trench coat he has hanging off the side of his chair is the gem that contains the witch responsible for all of this. Jaxson still doesn’t know why, he doesn't know who she is, he doesn't know what she did (witchcraft is still very alien to him despite being with perhaps the most known witch of all time.) He just can't even right now. His lack of movement had become so reliable that when Lanlan's voice cuts through the madness of everything around him, Jaxson suddenly stirs and calls out from his haze. "Let him through!" he calls out over the crowd, his voice holding some power but still cracks from lack of use just enough that he has to clear his throat to say again. "Lets the Archmage through, -now-." No one dares object, and so the drow would be given a clear path in through the madness and to the Red Witch's still slumbering form.
Valrae || Lanlan would be ushered into the mayor’s rooms without hesitation following Jaxson’s abrupt orders. Though what he might find there would be very unchanged from how it was left. Valrae had not awoken. Hector had not stopped pacing. The press had not stopped trying to sneak onto the grounds. But by then, a persistent drizzle of rain was falling from the darkened sky and pattered pleasingly outside of the balcony doors, cutting through the oppressive silence like a song and mingling with the small cracking of the logs in the low burning fire. With the archmage’s arrival Hector would join him in the room. “Is it some magical sleep?” He demands of the drow, his tone harsher than he might have meant. There were shadows of exhaustion under his own eyes. “You are the archmage, surely you must know if it is.” Though he’d hid his edge behind more composure before, it seemed he was worn as thin as Jaxson himself and no longer bothered with the pretense of hiding it behind closed doors. A handmaiden entered carrying a fresh crystal carafe of water. She busied herself with gently righting a few strands of Valrae’s golden hair and plumping the pillows around her head. The witch herself does not stir with the movement.
Lanlan would put his mirror away for now, as he is hastily guided up to the private rooms. His preoccupation with his own neck wouldn’t end. His scarf of the softest silk is deemed too tight. and loosened while he climbs the stairs, hopefully to the point of hanging in a decidedly careless way. He enters the room and looks automatically toward the sleeping mayor, and then away. His eyes happen to fall on a vanity which, though kept spotless, has not been used. And of course, he sees himself in the mirror again. Hector interrupts his obsessions and Lanlan generously glances in his direction, and then scoffs. Was he talking to him like this because Lanlan is a drow, an elf, or because he tasted power for more than the briefest moment? “Sometimes, people just need rest,” he says. Though Lanlan had been wondering the same thing. He’s tempted to visit her, wherever she is, if she doesn’t awaken soon… But invading someone else’s dreams without permission was somewhat discourteous, so he wouldn’t even suggest it so soon. Maybe later, when there weren’t witnesses. “Thank you for having me up here so soon, Jaxson,” he says, mentioning the man’s name for the sole purpose of excluding Hector’s. “...Been taking your meals in here, then?” It was his way of politely noticing that Valrae was astoundingly cleaner than he was, despite the fact that she needed help getting that way. Already another handmaiden was coming in to fluff Valrae’s pillows which were as fluffy as possible, or more accurately Lanlan suspected, to gather more gossip material. “Did someone send for you?” He looks to Jaxson, “Did you send for her?” He wasn’t about to dismiss another person’s servants, but he would make it known that they weren’t welcome, at least to him. What they'd be talking about, at least in his mind, should be extremely confidential.
Jaxson's ire rises from a combination of lack of sleep, worry, and just overstimulation from the recent events that he feeds off Lanlan's own energy and snaps more viciously than the charismatic nobleman is known to do at the staff that has diligently tended to the mayor for hours on end. "No..." he says in a low, but dark, tone in response to Lan's inquiry about who summoned them. "No one sent for them.." He continues, as Hector's own emotional weight seems to seep into the sorcerer, adding to the already rising tension levels. "Get out..." he starts, his voice low, almost drowned out by the noise of everything happening around him. Moments pass in the blink of an eye, and perhaps he just wasn't heard, or ignored, or who knows, but this results in the man's rage building, electrical surges start to spark about him and he rises now to his full height of six foot two inches, and bellows out with thunderous command in his voice to all servants currently in the room. " I. Said. Get! OUT!" The booming volume of his anger-fueled command starts almost everyone, causing pause and panic as the man's almost bloodshot eyes fall on person after person as if daring them to challenge him at this very moment. Then, as he shifts his body they scatter to leave as quickly as possible, before Hector (Jax's superior) turns to him puzzled by the fact the man now stares a hole through him. Jax says to his mentor. "You think he holds back?" Gesturing to Lanlan. "You think he'd keep -you- out the loop? You think he can just "magic" up a cure all for everything, hmm, Hector?" Jaxson's current state verges on tipping over the edge, as Hector becomes the target of the man's pent up emotional baggage at the moment. "You dare question the land's -Archmage-, while you sat here playing politics? Why don't you get the hell out too, and leave this to people more capable, hmm, "Mayor?" The look of just utter misery upon Jaxson's face is a sign the man is a distraught mess. He'd sell his soul at this moment to whatever otherworldly power would take the damned thing to make her better. He is in obvious pain, watching helplessly as the woman he loves lay in this condition with no answer apparent. And poor Hector, and those poor servants, ended up caught in the explosion of his emotional outburst. Hopefully Jaxson's actions are understood, but at this moment in time the man doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything except Valrae. In his mind, Hector's lack of action is directly responsible for all of this, and it's this thought that gnaws its way past reason and common sense to the surface of his mind. Hopefully this would be diffused quickly…
Penelope had been a handywoman most days since the reconstruction of the Healer’s Guild walls. Endless questions of building structures and placing of healing artifacts. Leadership was really taking its toll, as she had not had her hands on a patient in weeks. All the other healers were eager to take over and find guidance. It was warming, yes, but there was a bit of jealousy that resided within the graceful healer’s bones. Through the midst of pointing and question answering, a Cenrilian courier had reached her. “Lady Halifax,” there was an urgence in the young man’s tone which would make anyone’s heart drop by the sound. A note lingers between the distance as well as thick silence as she plucks the letter quickly. Eavesdroppers stare waiting for the Ardelian to crack in composure. There was a mild shallow breath–a moment of mere panic–before it faded. This news was… big. Instead of riling up the halls, Penelope places a hand on the courier’s shoulder before brushing quickly past to saddle up quickly for the trek. Silence. Confidentiality. Off the healer went in the cascades of summer rain to Cenril. The time would tick, of course, until the druid arrived at the gates with the swarm of press and Cenrilian guards. A swarm of madness. A swarm of nosiness. She slides off the side of Dee, her horse, and grabs the reins to guide the steed forward. “Where is your humanity? All of you are vultures!” She could not help herself with this one. All of them waiting to get the first article in for a break in their careers. A Cenrilian guard recognizes Penelope before helping her and her horse through the chaos and through the gates. Where to go? Well, she is hoping someone would lead. In the walls of the building, however, she can hear yelling. Yelling that would send a quick jolt through her back. This was not good. A faint, familiar voice, but she would wait to be directed and updated. “She’s found? Where is she? What happened? Her state?” Penelope is not sure who she is speaking with, but she needs as much information as she can get from these people. The atmosphere felt hard to breathe.
Valrae || The press seemed less interested in hearing Penelope’s accusations and more focused on shouting over her to get the first question from the newly minted Leader of the Healer’s Guild. This sends a rush of excitement through them, an air of optimism under the rain that hadn’t existed before now. She was led quickly toward the yelling. Hector doesn’t seem to be offended by Lanlan’s frosty and dismissive answers, though the set of his jaw might belie his annoyance. Mages, with their refusal to give direct answers. He’d never really met one that didn’t speak in some sort of riddle or carry the same arrogance that the archmage donned as easily as the scarf he wore about his neck. “Rest.” He scoffs loudly. “She’s hardly moved. This cannot be a natural sleep.” The handmaiden seems to jolt harshly as the drow addresses her, and she flinches. “I’m only tending our lady,” She says defensively, her eyes locked on the carpeted marble floors in feigned respect. She jumps again as Jaxson turns on her, yelping at his raised voice before hurriedly rushing out, nearly tripping over herself. Hector clasps his hands behind himself as his own eyes darken. He doesn’t flinch as Ravencroft turns all of his ire and frustration at the situation onto him or even as the room cracks with the sorcerer's power. “As you wish, Captain,” His voice was impassive and cool as he dipped into a low bow and slipped beyond the room. He passes Penelope just as she begins her questions and stops long enough to offer her a kind, if sorrowful smile and the simplest answers possible, “She’s beyond this door and unmoving. The archmage claims there is no magical sleep but she was found among enemy witches and under a terrible curse.” He pauses. “Word from my man who was there when they found her suggested that she might have been trapped in some sort of binding spell for the entirety of these past months. She is thin and clearly unwell, I am no healer but our own have suggested there are some complications that are beyond me. I will send for them to join you shortly, though I’m sure you are capable of your own assessments.” It didn’t seem as if he would be joining her in the room again. Instead, he would resume his pace in the tea room just outside of it.
Lanlan responds evenly to Hector’s rebuttal. “Well then forgive me, please, for you know far more than I.” The words are spoken without a hint of sincerity. But he doesn’t need to defend himself, Jaxson has taken it upon himself. He knows he isn’t about to leave, and assumes he isn’t the one being commanded to do so, so he merely averts his eyes from the drama unfolding. This isn’t how he’d expected the privacy he’d wished for to come about, but it would do fine. For once, the anger wasn’t directed at him. Still, it’s all too much. “Alright, alright, Jaxson. That’s…plenty. Is this the state you want to be in when she wakes up? No I’m sure it isn’t. And Hector is just as worried as we all are, and everyone’s entitled to make a mistake aren’t they?” Of course he did agree that Hector -had- made a mistake in addressing the archmage so incorrectly. But Lanlan -was- holding back, wasn’t he? Too early to call it a mistake of course… Yet there was a further commotion, coming from downstairs. Was this more excitement than he earned? Couldn’t be, but then what was that yelling? “Who’s that?” He knew exactly who it was, it was someone who would let him get out of this room for a second while everyone became distracted from all the yelling up here. He exits the room and finds Nel being swarmed by journalists as she makes her way into the manor. “Oh? Aren’t you…?” That Nosy Hedge-Witch? But she was already riled up, and he was trying to avoid being targeted, he’s too weak for it today. “You helped us save the Xalious Tree!” Part of him wonders what she could be so upset about, when isn’t this type of media attention exactly -why- people hold public office? Maybe she’s playing hard to get. Hector passes her some regretful information on his way out, and Lanlan suddenly finds himself thinking defensively. “That’s not what I…!” He can’t be seen defending himself against such nonsense, he realizes, and he closes his eyes and frowns. “Come in, please. We should speak.”
Jaxson watches as Hector leaves, then hears the Archmage's words, which given he is one of the only people his anger isn't directed at, manages to breach the fog of rage induced emotional chaos that storms within the Ravencroft heir at the moment. He calms as Lan leaves, allowing a brief moment of privacy between the sorcerer and witch now. The man's gaze falls back to the slumbering witch, and again the pain swells up within him as he doesn't know what to do. Hell at one point he thought about trying to give her a jolt to awaken her, but her isn't so foolish as that, nor not that quite desperate. Besides he knows she hates when her hair gets all static frizzed, she'd wanna kick his ass for that alone given all the reporters lurking outside. "Val..." He says, his tone smooth, compassionate and loving as he speaks, hoping she hears him. "Come back to us.... come back to -me-." It's a rare moment of vulnerability that he is glad they are alone when he lets it slip. Knowing Lan won't be gone for long, the noble collects himself. The drow was right, he can't let Val see him like this when she awakens. So Jax collects himself, even tossing in a bit of magic to tidy up his appearance, and even managing to grab a pitcher of ice water that sit by Val's beside and take a glass. He was parched, starving and in need of sleep, but he was here and he'd stay here until the love of his life awakens.
Penelope tucks damp, tangled strands behind her ear. There was no time to cloak herself in the midst of travel, so she was stamped with rain. A pale blue corset with thick straps embroidered with soft brown flowers with a navy blue cotton long-sleeve under the laced top. A belt weaves around leather brown pants that hold a miniature canteen looped through the belt. Her medical satchel was clear and evident with that stitched Healer’s Guild symbol upon it. Eyes lock on Hector as he approaches before eyes glance over his shoulder to find the familiar Archmage. Her mouth parts to respond, but nothing comes out as she tries to register and take note of all that was given to her from Hector. The information provided was concerning, as the Ardelian was not as familiar with magical healing or spells. The druid was learning from the Kelvarian witch before her friend disappeared without a word or trace. A minor wave of dread tingles throughout her chest, but she presses it back. The standing mayor disappears before she looks up at the drow. “You’re the Archmage, aren’t you?” And the man that stirred a bit of snarkiness, but she would live that bit out. “I read the papers.” Beat. “And I remember you,” her voice is even and delicate. “Penelope. Nel, if it’s easier. Or Penny.” She approaches before she offers a hand forward. “Lead the way?” She would follow suit whenever he would move before entering to find the mayor and Jaxson. The freckled healer is careful with her movement and words in such a vulnerable time. “I’m nervous by his words." She means Hector's words. "If it’s magic that we are dealing with, this might be heavier than I thought, but I’m hopeful, especially if she is breathing.”
Valrae remained unmoving on the bed. She was like some shallow, pale and bruised version of herself. There was none of the life or color that usually graced her be it through natural or magical means, for she was a creature of vanity that loved both makeup and the aid of glamor. While her imprisonment had been through magical means, it might be strange to find there was no lingering of malevolence upon her person now. There had been a stake of iron clear through her heart, yet there was not even a faded scar upon her chest to show for it. Whatever kept her in this deep slumber, so deep there was not even a flutter behind her eyes at Jaxson’s soft and pleading voice, it was nothing magical. If Penelope were to examine her, she might find that she was touched with other, more mundane ailments still. Dehydration, malnourishment, the general afflictions of a person who had been kept in poor conditions for many days. Strange enough that she might be alive as in truth it had been several months. There was no frostbite either, something odd for the state of her undress in the harshness of Frostmaw’s cold. Still, while she might seem mildly unwell there was nothing that would lead to an obvious answer.
Lanlan feels that he can sense the snark hiding just beneath the surface of her words, and that maybe they’ve both agreed to an armistice for Valrae’s sake. “That’s right, I am. It’s good to meet you officially, Penelope.” Her name wasn’t too hard for him to pronounce. “I hope you remember me as fondly as I remember you,” he says. Then he would guide her into Valrae’s chambers, where she lay as still and silent as a dead person. “She -is- breathing,” he confirms. “As I was saying to Hector…it’s only been a single night since she’s been free of that witch’s curse. It’s simply too soon to tell if it’s a magical sleep or a convalescent one.” He pours himself a glass of water from the carafe, but he doesn’t drink it. He merely stares at Valrae, wondering if it could be something so simple. In the end, he places the glass down. “Maybe she’s pretending.” He continues to stare, bending over her bed and looking for signs that she might be listening. At the very least, he notices how little of the color has been returned to her cheeks, and having recognized a bit of the vanity in her, he takes to addressing some of the issues. At least she can look like more of the woman he was used to seeing, and then she’d be less embarrassed when she wakes up. They both would be. He flicks his fingers this way and that, flushing her cheeks rosy, and reddening her lips, and shading her eyes with reddish-brown color. “Who did her hair like this,” he wonders aloud. “She’s going to cry when she sees it.” That’s the best he can do without being even more invasive. “If she -is- in an enchanted sleep, there are ways we can help her. But…it’s not always wise to delve into another person’s mind unless there’s truly no other options.”
Jaxson is standing there watching over the Red Witch like a stalwart sentinel when Lanlan and Penelope enter the room, breaking the silence that was lingering. The man is glad for Lan's ease in which he addresses everything, even smirking as the drow does up the Mayor's makeup, kicking himself for not thinking of it before, but glad none the less it was taken care of. Penelope, dear gods was it good to see her! He'd hug her if he didn't smell like he did, given he never left Val's side after the battle and has been covered in whatever rank mess the corrupted witches used against them. A warm and welcoming smile would be all he could offer, as he'd leave the healer to tend to the woman in need, knowing Nel would do everything she could do to help. As far as Lan's words on enchanted sleep his attention is piqued. "Oh?" he says to the Archmage. "What are you thinking?" Jax would fight the legions of hell itself for a chance at making things right, with the land's archmage and the land's healer's guild leader in toe? Yeah, he'd love to take a shot at breaking an enchanted sleep curse.
Penelope was not sure what she would find close up to the scene. All she could see was Jaxson at first, as he was trying to tend to Valrae. The Ardelian smiles faintly at the Archmage, as it was really a team effort at the Xalious Tree. “I do remember you. In a good light.” There was sincerity despite their previous banter in passing. Penelope wastes no time, however, she would listen and approach to get a clear vision of the witch before her. Perhaps she should have swallowed her words. Did Penelope flush pale? Even if she did, she tries her best to keep her composure for the sake of Jaxson’s and Lanlan’s sanity. Now would be the time that she would be cursing herself for her jealous tendencies regarding care towards another being. Maybe she was the vulture. She could see the headlines now: Leader of Healer’s Guild Stands By as Mayor of Cenril Dies. The dramatic news covering to stir the pot. Moss eyes close momentarily before she breathes. She stands on the opposite side of the bed before reaching in her satchel to pull out a stethoscope. Breathing was good, but she would want to listen to any murmurs in Valrae’s pulse. Any signs of clues… especially if there was a stake in the woman’s chest at a point. “Pretending would be some joke,” there was a mild smirk on her features, but it went back to that serious nature for the stakes at hand. Humor was how Penelope coped best in scenarios such as this. The druid, although not the strongest witch, would close her eyes again. Her hands reached out to rest on the witch’s arm. Lips mumble to ground herself to see if she can detect any magic which she was having hard time finding. Eyes open, “I can’t feel any magic. She looks very malnourished, and if we don’t get her up to speed with nutrition, it’s not going to be good.” A single finger glides against her lower lip in thought. “Her body will shut down. We need to get her on a plan pronto. I’ll talk to the other healers to see what they have in the building to get her what she needs.” She looks over the woman for any other clues, but it seemed there was nothing that was standing out other than other pokes and prods in her time away. When Lanlan suggests delving into the mind of the woman, her eyes squint in thought. “If it was a curse, wouldn’t we detect it?” She was truly not knowing. “She is lacking nutrients that can cause fatigue, but... she wouldn't be like this." She continues to slide that stethoscope around before lingering it around her neck.
Valrae || While the rest converse around her, the witch remains in her sleep. She doesn’t rouse at Penelope’s touch, though there is some small movement where her fingers rest at her sides. It’s hidden by the thick velvety comforter that has been placed upon her. When Valrae awakens, it is with no dramatic gasp. No sunlight suddenly breaks through the clouds to shine on her newly glamoured face. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, her dark lashes beating like birds wings against the dim light as if it were harsh. There was a new color to her cheeks underneath the kindness Lanlan had offered. They were flushed pink as if she might be cold though there was both heat from the fire and the summer wind that breathed quietly into the room. Slowly, she began to stir. First, the gentle rise of her fingers, as if she were testing her own body or learning to move again for the first time. The witch blinks around the room with heavy lidded eyes, the deep green of them so far away she might still be dreaming. Penelope’s face swam into view. And then Jaxson, Lanlan. The usually soft features of her face were sharp with an unhealthy thinness now and the lines of it rearranged themselves into a mask of confusion. A small sound came from her throat, but she felt unable to form words against the ache that beat like a heart behind her eyes. The warmth of the room deepens, the air cracking suddenly with a burst of mana that is so palpable it nearly sparks on the air. Valrae’s heart begins to race as the power sparks on her skin, glimmering like fireflies in the near dark. The water, once cool and full of ice, boiled so hot that the glass shattered in both cups and the crystal carafe that had held it as she sat up abruptly, back straight as a board. The cover falls away from her and in Valrae’s frantic struggle to get out of the bed tangles around her legs. Her body was slow to respond, weak and trembling. She threw her hands out to catch herself but her arms crumpled uselessly and she landed face first on the floor. There was a huff of air leaving her lungs, a gasp as she tried to collect it and scrambled to stand. The magic continued to rise, a hum filling the room as the fire roared to life in the once calm hearth. She pulled herself up enough that she might scramble back until she was pressed against the wardrobe, her dark eyes darting around the room with a feverish look of an animal freshly caught in a cage.
Lanlan can’t hide his disappointment. Penelope was about as much help as he was, and she was supposed to be the healer! “Look, she -was- cursed, but she is no longer. She should be awake! So if she isn’t awake, then it must be because of something else. I don’t know what. But this…situation, is already volatile enough. We can’t be involving any more people when we don’t know what they’ll be saying. When we don’t know what -we’ll- be saying.” Then he moves ever so slightly away from Valrae, and inches just a few feet closer to the door. “And as grateful as I am that you came, you can’t really mean to leave so soon…” Then, as if a trick of the eye or an optical illusion, he sees Valrae stirring, ever so slightly. “...” He can’t do anything but point as she struggles to her feet. “Get her…” He gasps as his cup explodes in his hand. He’s relieved that he doesn’t have to pursue the line of thinking he was just threatening, and offers Penelope an apologetic look, and then averts his eyes. A small amount of guilt struggling to rise to the surface of his face. He suppresses it, in favor of absolute joy that his friend is finally awake. Embarrassingly, she falls on her face immediately after waking. Now, he’s suddenly become aware of how -strange- this must be for her, to suddenly awaken in her private quarters, surrounded by people staring. He moves toward the door at once, but…unwilling to face the paparazzi, he quickly turns the other way, heading to the balcony to weather the drizzling rain that was falling in quiet sheets across the city. They deserve some privacy, and while the doctor had a reason for lingering, he was just an audience. Besides, the cool, cool rain helped his scalded hand to feel some relief.
Jaxson listens as the two people he expected to help the most seemed just as puzzled as he is, the sliver of hope that came with their arrivals slowly starts to dwindle to the point the man almost falls into a deeper dispair than even before. That is until the room suddenly gets oddly warm... only to rise in heat rapidly, distracting the sorcerer from the subtle movements of Val as he half expects another attack to be on its way. Its not until the Red Witch erupts into her panic filled fit to free herself from her blankets (and the less than graceful crash upon the floor) that the man's attention is caught up. Lanlan bolts, or tries to, he seems unsure having gone from the door to another possible exit, a look shot his way as Jax quickly moves to help Valrae up off the floor, motioning to Nel to come check on her too now that she is awake. "val... Val, I'm here, you're safe." He tries to tell her, tries to get through to her to help ease her justified panic. He can only imagine the horrors she was subjected to during the whole ordeal, nor do they know how long she's been in that magical slumber, or worse what they did to her -before-. With care and patience does the man tend to the woman, more than willing to get out of Nel's way should she see to looking the woman over once more.
Penelope did not notice the first mini twitch of fingers beneath the blankets. The girl was looking for any indication, and really, there was panic within her chest. Not knowing. Confusion. It would eat this girl alive if she had no answers to give. The drow’s disappointment is one that adds fuel to the guilt the healer felt for not having an obvious answer right away. She felt oddly hotter, and she could only think it was the embarrassment that she was summoned here to give no answer. However, she had just arrived there and this man was planning not to give much grace. “I never said I was leaving. I -will- figure out an answer, but you need to give me time, and I need to buy her time, so excuse me for needing the extra ha–” She cuts off her spiral of words on Lanlan as that small sound fills the grim air. The rustle of movement. Her gaze darts towards the witch who now has her eyes open and is flinging herself out of bed. The flames grow within the hearth, water bubbles, and the druid is quick on her feet. Penelope reaches out a hand to the side to go against the flames that were brewing with force to tame them. Valrae backs into a wardrobe, and as Jaxson helps the woman. A hand is held up in a calm nature. “Hey, hey,” she coos. Was this a freaking miracle or what? “Easy,” she was almost talking to Valrae like she was an actual animal. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” While Jaxson helps, she moves towards his side to assist. "She needs some cold water, she needs it."
Valrae || It’s perhaps not the joyful reunion anyone imagined. Valrae doesn’t seem to be able to comprehend the scene before her. Lanlan’s flight, Jaxson’s gentle concern, Penelope’s calming tone. She doesn’t seem to recognize them at all at first, pressing herself into the wardrobe so hard that the gilt rubbed handles of the drawers dig into her spine painfully. The witch closes her eyes tight, her breath hitching at the rising panic. Safe. Safe. Penelope’s voice echoes in her mind. When she opens her eyes again Jaxson is closer now. Her first instinct is to try and flee but she’s trapped again… And then something clicks. There is a shift in her. The magic that crouched there in the air simmered low, the fire already quelled to less dangerous levels by Nel’s quick action, banked out almost completely. She dissolves into his arms and clings tightly to his shirt, her knuckles white. There were no tears, no hiccuping sobs. It was a quiet moment of comfort that she accepted greedily. He moved away though, leaving room for Penelope to resume her work. There is much of the same to be found, only malnourishment to face now beyond whatever damage was done to her mind. She doesn’t speak, just nods slowly at the mention of water. As if on cue, Hector and the handmaiden have returned. There is water. She’s crowded and there is a return of the panicked look in her dark eyes. The water was taken greedily and with trembling hands. It is with considerable commotion and flinching that the Mayor is finally seated by the dying embers of the fire with a blanket wrapped tightly around herself. She doesn’t look at any of the faces that watch her, her own eyes cast downward at the nearly empty cup in her hands. “How long?” Her voice was a whisper, a reedy and pitiful sound, as if she’d gone so long in silence that she’d nearly forgotten how to speak.
Lanlan reenters the room after Valrae’s been picked up and put back in bed, and hopefully is being tended to properly now. He dabs the moisture off his face, which came from the rain outside. “I can get her that,” he says, happy to take direction in a situation like this. So he’s back out of the room again, almost as quickly as he reenters it. Of course, now he has a new predicament: he doesn’t know where water comes from in this place. There’s a guard nearby, just outside her door. “She needs water. Cold water.” He sends the man off, before quickly calling after him again, “And -ice-!” The guard hesitates. “Go! Go! She’s awake, she’s finally awake. What do you need her to tell you to get her -water-!?” He goes, and Lanlan shares a look with the parallel guard, silently communicating what a clown that guy must be. “There’s one in every outfit isn’t there,” he says, as he waits. When the guard returns with a fresh carafe and a new cup, Lanlan enters briskly and stands dumbly in front of Penelope, as if he doesn’t know at all how to administer such a complicated concoction such as water and ice. By the time he returns…there’s already new water waiting for him. “Ah,” he says, understanding why the guard was looking at him so strangely now. He must’ve looked insane. “There’s one in every outfit…” he mumbles to himself. About himself. He clears his throat a little bit, because there’s something that needs to be understood by everyone here. “So we rescued you,” Lanlan says, eyeing everyone carefully so they take heed. “We rescued you from Larket, where witch hunters were keeping you captive. Is that…what you remember? I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s very important that this is…what you…remember.”
Jaxson watches everything unfold as it does, greedily not wanting to let the woman go as she embraces him but knowing now is not the time to keep her to himself. Penelope's assessment is keen, as once look about the woman seems as if she's been set ablaze upon the stake once more, those flames, her dehydration, it's like she has to relive that moment time and time again every time she's resurrected in any manner of speaking. Jaxson is left again to sit by the wayside as the professionals handle things, Nel going to care for Valrae as Lanlan directs servants to do their duties like only a drow noble can. But then Lanlan speaks, he tells Valrae she's been a captive of Larket. An obvious lie, and one that makes Jax look at the drow side eyed for a moment. "No." Says the sorcerer, finally speaking up. "She was not." Here Jax shoots Hector a look, who shoots him one back as the two already had it out over the entire Larket fiasco, even if finding the clues he did played a part in her rescue it was not without cause. So, Jaxson Ravencroft, Captain of the Guard of Cenril and the man who lays claim to Valrae's heart steps forward to break the news. "You were taken by a coven of witches, a little over a month ago. In this time many believed it to be Larket's doing, as near there was were you were last seen." He goes slowly on purpose, allowing her time to process, maybe even recall things herself. "In that time another world leaders meeting happened, and in it, Larket's representative said that if they had you, they'd burn you at the stake... again." Again him and Hector exchange glances. " Hector tried to cool rising tensions, and really look into matters but I..." he pauses, and gathers his courage. " I could not wait. I ventured into Larket, found the area they now dedicate to tracking witches, and found clues on who did actually take you... but I was discovered. A fight broke out, people died, and now Larket seems to be on its way to war with us." He knows it's a lot, but still, he continues. " After this, it seems others were looking for you as well, Hector again gathered up what information he could to try to get us all in one place, and a small party was sent to get you. A battle ensued with this coven, who had taken you to Frostmaw. There we encountered darker magic than I've seen in some time, and a ritual being done with your emerald skull, which I recovered, as well as you, yourself, having had a iron spike driven through your heart. We stopped the ritual, I imprisoned the would be witch queen, and you've been here for the better part of a day now in a deep slumber no one could wake you from. And thus, here we are." There, all caught up now.
Penelope remains quiet. Jaxson and Lanlan are the ones to do the talking on this one. Lanlan stands in front of the healer who is holding a cup in confusion. “Uhm,” but thankfully Valrae greedily takes it. Penelope would only listen now as she would take Valrae’s vitals yet again. Jaxson speaks about what had happened after the last world leader’s meeting. The emotional toll that Jaxson was in. His words were concerning. The talk of war. As the handmaiden came back in with Hector, her focus would be on the handmaiden while there would be talk of what Valrae remembered… Penelope talks in a faint voice to the handmaiden while dire matters are discussed. The mention of liquid diets to help not provoke refeeding syndrome. Timeliness in meals. The mention of rest. She continues with her notes. “It’ll take about a month or so to regain her strength with whole foods and proper nutrition. Not to say she cannot go out, but…” With the land right now, it was best to keep boundaries, as they would already know since she had been captured in the first place. She would not verbally say that, as that was not her place. Eventually, complete silence would fall from the healer as the group discussed what actually happened to Valrae during the time of her disappearance and the state of the land.
Valrae || It is the exact moment that Lanlan begins to speak of Larket that Hector seems to remember his own position and that of the handmaiden’s in the room. He passes Penelope a grateful glance as she talks over the worst of it and waits until she’s finished before he shoos her along, catching the greedy and interested look in her eyes, though more kindly than she had been sent off before. Luckily before Jaxson takes the floor. He follows her to the door and closes it firmly behind her, barking orders so as to bar anyone else from entering before he takes a silent and watchful stance before it. There is a moment of hesitation as his eyes find Penelope. Should she remain? How could he weigh the needs of Cenril’s Mayor over the needs of utmost privacy? She seemed to understand the seriousness at least. And there was Lanlan, the archmage of Xalious. While relations between them had been strong, should the leader of the strongest magical area to the West really be dictating how Cenril moved forward after the unfortunate and, to his mind, foolish mission gone wrong in Larket? Hector resigns himself to waiting anxiously for Valrae’s own response as Ravencroft goes into every detail, every misstep they’d both made in her absence. When Valrae finally moves her dark eyes from the water to Lanlan’s own, there is confusion flashing like silver fish in a shallow pond. Her mouth hangs in a small o. It closes shut and into a tight frown when she moves them to Jaxson, listening intently as he tells her not only the length of her imprisonment but how such time was filled. There was something different about her, something that even Hector’s powerless eyes managed to see as he watched her. Before her abduction, Valrae was a contained and neatly put together woman who preferred to project a delicate balance between capable and confident airs wrapped in just the faintest touch of fragility. Now, even in her state of confusion and unwellness, there was nothing fragile there as he might have suspected. She wore power like a second skin, nearly palpable and shimmering over the air around her. There was an almost animal sharpness to her eyes, a watchfulness that used to be dampened by slightly lowered lids and a demure curl of lips. “I know who captured me.” She finally bites out, her voice stronger now and carrying a tone of offense that either man might suggest she hadn’t. The room heats again, as if reacting to her sudden anger. She looks away from both of them to Hector. “I want every paper I’ve missed, every intelligence briefing, anything I’ve missed - I want it in here. Now.” The witch snapped the nearly empty cup down on a nearby table with such force a small crack webbed over the crystal surface. She stood, and though it was still clumsy her legs held her on their own. She seems to soften when approaching Penelope, “Thank you,” She says, her voice still whispering and raw. “Cenril owes you and your guild a debt. Please do not hesitate to call upon us if the need should ever arise.” She seemed to be regaining her strength well enough with each passing moment. Enough that she’s able to turn heel and stalk past both Jaxson and Lanlan. “Thank you both for not letting me rot in iron.” Her words for both of them were a bit cooler somehow. It wasn’t that she hadn’t meant them, she had. It was that there was too much to process and not enough time for her mind to work through it. “I would like a moment. Alone. With my son.” She sailed out of the room to her balcony, letting the cool air press into her still cold skin and droplets of splashing rain adorn her cheeks like glittering jewels. Finally, she wept.
Lanlan can’t tell if his words are landing with the proper amount of gravity, but as Jaxson begins to speak, he can see that they have not. He spares a glance between Penelope and Jaxson, hoping to clue him in. “Yes but…” Everything Jaxson says is true. “Yes…” After a while he’s resigned to folding his face into one hand. “Yes. That is all…a version of events. However, instead of having -Mayor- Valrae connected so intimately to the one person who can reasonably be blamed for starting a war…” He once again eyes everyone in turn to convey the importance of understanding. “We will all maintain that Larket hired mercenaries to kidnap her, and that Jaxson discovered this plot while he was in Larket. Yes…?” Luckily Penelope at least dispenses with the servants while they’re in the middle of discussing this, so hopefully the best thing they would get out of that particular handmaiden was confusion. “Penelope of course will not disclose any other version of events, because she knows how terrible that would be for both Jaxson and Valrae, and I for one am very grateful for this.” Lanlan understands one thing perhaps more than most others, and that is the importance of perception. “I’m certain that Valrae, after thinking long and hard about what happened, will begin to understand that it was Larket who kidnapped her. And Penelope and the Healer’s Guild in fact did very much to assist in bringing her back to health, and we’re lucky to have her trust and…confidence?” He looks from person to person again, to see how they were receiving his recommended and entirely made-up history. When his eyes fall on Valrae again, it’s as if he’s seeing someone he doesn’t quite recognize. No other time comes to mind for when she would talk like this, even in the worst and most dire situations. He feels shrunken somehow. It truly is not the welcome he’d anticipated, and he’s far too surprised to protest. “Ah! Of course. How silly of me, of course you should have time with your family, they must miss you most of all, and you them.” He hopes this is enough explanation for her curtness, so that hopefully Penelope would not be as insulted as he feels. “We should discuss what we say to the press,” he squeaks in before the door shuts on him. Outside of it, he offers an apologetic look to Jaxson, he doesn’t know what to say or how to explain Valrae’s mood. To Penelope, he manifests a great deal of effusiveness. “Penelope, thank you very much for everything you’ve done here, Valrae is a very good friend of mine and... I’m sure you don’t know how much you’ve helped the Mayor. Probably the whole city! The continent even.” He offers a slight bow to Penelope, to Jaxson, and then he exits into the rain, which seemed to be falling much harder now.
Penelope waits in silence and remains passive as everyone talks around her. “The Archmage is right, I abide by my confidentiality. You won’t hear it from me.” There was a cautiousness from the druid as Valrae stands up on her own. She wants to say ‘careful’, but she refrains, and instead, she takes the gratitude from the mayor. Though, Penelope is just thankful the mayor is alive and found, though she is not sure what to think of these matters due to the Healer’s Guild. They were a neutral zone. Helping people of all needs, but underlying, Penelope was a resident of Sage. A neutral good soul that fought for what seemed… right. For that, she knew in the back of her biased mind, she would be a closer tie to Cenril during these trying times. Lanlan thanks her as well and there is a puzzling expression, as Valrae woke up on her own, however, it would take a team to help the woman through the healing process. “Thank you for being her friend. She needs those. Those who truly care about her. Please keep an eye on her, and please reach out if you both need anything from me.” She looks between the Archmage and Jaxson before she nods. “We’ll be in touch, and your words are safe with me.” With that, she moves about the building. Time to find a guard to shake the press, so she can safely travel home without being bombarded with questions of new news.