RP:We Rise By Lifting Others

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

Synopsis: Penelope waits for Kyori to discuss the matters with Emilia's disappearance before talking to Khitti. He has nothing that is too useful except for the knowledge of Lynn stopping by the hut to ask of his help. In the meantime, Kyori's wound is oddly healed by this magical sword--which Penelope has to keep secret. Easy. The stubborn woman offers to assist him with an odd note that was slipped under his door, even though he says she has too much on her plate. Naw. Oh, and Penelope basically said yes to talking to her dead brother and talking out the logistics before doing so.

Kelay Tavern

Penelope waits in the Kelay Tavern with Kyori's chicken scratched letter in her hand. If he was speaking about Lynn, she needed to know everything that happened in the hut while she was away. The woman sits at the bar with a glass of merlot. No books, no nothing. One leg is crossed over the other as she keeps in her own bubble. The woman wears a casual pair of denim jeans, a black blouse, and a pair of casual, red heels. Her dress-coat sits neatly on the back of the bar-seat. Her hair is tied back messily in a low bun, but her hair was always unkempt with frizzy strands framing her freckle, dusted face. Was it strange she was waiting for the warrior to wander within the tavern? Maybe, but he had information she might need to know for Emilia's purposes. Either way, she had made herself productive besides the wine, okay? There was a new flyer hanging up in the tavern with Emilia’s familiar sketched face. Not to mention, she may needed to get out of the gloomy hut.

Kyori’d been out doing god knows what for god knows how long today. When he rolls into the tavern, he’s wearing the new shirt the clinic’d given him but the rest of his appearance is par for the course. Shaggy blonde hair, tired blue eyes, a stubbled jawline, and the jeweled hilt of his sword poking over his shoulder. Without looking around the bar, he lifts his hand to flag down Nancy and orders an old fashioned while staring at Emilia’s sketch posted on the board. That was her all right. The sleeping ice elemental in the library. Lynn’s mom. He squints at the image trying to commit it to memory before turning to find the herbalist likewise seated nearby. The warrior gives her a showy smile and drums his fingers briefly on the back of her chair in greeting before sitting down. “Well, well. If it isn’t miss Halifax.” His tone is spirited. “Out for a night on the town?” In Kelay, there weren’t many places TO go out. Slim pickings in a small city. “Hot date? Should I make like a tree and split?” Yes, Kyori knows he’s mixed up the two idioms, and no he’s not sorry. He hikes his thumb over his shoulder, giving her a suggestive smile. “Glad to see you get away from work.” Nancy brings around his drink and asks Penelope if she’d like more wine. “Or did you come to make fun of my last name because it’s not funny, it’s very respected in Lativu.” Yep. Not like he’s from the most important and influential families there or anything. Nope, not a mercenary for hire. 

Penelope had been staring into nothingness for maybe too long. Long enough that she had forgotten to look out for the warrior. Gentle eyes sort of linger on his attire before they reach his face. She cannot help but to let out a laugh. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. The girl sips on the glass that is half-empty, but she almost chokes on the mention of a date. Her last date had been with Lionel after she had fought for his heart to beat again. The date had been sweet, of course. Easy and casual, but the two were still rather distant from each other. Two shields up. Hard to break barriers. Lanara said that casual dating was a thing, and well, the witch was the one pressing the workaholic into the dating world. Not easy. “You’re obnoxiously nosy. I –am- working,” she says blatantly before nodding along to Nancy’s question. The girl then gestures to Emilia’s sketch on the board. “And with that being said,” she smiles. “I’m here for you and your information about Emilia, and perhaps to poke at your name a bit.” The woman leans back casually in her seat and downs the rest of the wine that lingers in her glass. “So, Kyori D. from Lativu.” She would slide the crumpled up note from him across the bar to his sight. The taunt lingers about his last name. “What is up –your- family tree? Are you part of a kingdom or something? Truly a prince in disguise like the books say?” She is obviously teasing, but nosy all the same. Just like him.

Kyori watches the herbalist laugh. She is bright, you know Kyori. If it’s pretend, it’s damn good. Not here for a date? He looks at her heels and scuffs. “Whatever you say Miss.” His hands clasped at his chest at her accusation. “Takes one to know one.” Noisy is the wrong word or the more fun word. “I prefer to think of it as ‘intellectual’.” Kyori had his share of dates in Lativu and a couple ladies he kept regular company with but the affection there grew differently than they might have wanted. Nat was young and innocent, she couldn’t know better. Lanara was vulnerable and trapped, the warrior looked like a good escape. Caring can give the impression of interest, not that he’s an expert in reading signs. Speaking of signs, he looks at the poster of Emilia with her gesture and nods. “The ice elemental.” Penelope explains her business and Kyori leans back in his chair lifting the front legs off the ground. “Oooooh, I see.” He starts but then she continues teasing him about being a prince in disguise and he laughs too loud. The warrior can’t help himself. “Ha!” He barks above the pub noise. “That’s a knee slapper. Very imaginative, Miss Halifax.” Why is he calling her Miss all of a sudden? It felt strange to empathize  but important to keep in mind. “Now, don’t tell me you came all this way to nose around about my name.” Kyori D. had no mythical ring to it. It sounded plain and belonged to a plain man in plain clothes. Must be so. All four legs of his chair clack back to the wooden floor. Kyori puts his elbows on the table and leans towards her. “Here’s what I think.” He starts, casting a look at the bar patrons before settling his sapphire eyes back on glowing juniper. “You could have just asked, I respect bold women.” He gives her a smile and tips his glass in her direction. “You’re making me look bad, taking me on a date. I have pride, woman.” Let’s get the topic away from history with some light flirting, shall we? “I should warn you I’m a hot ticket item but for the right lady?” He shrugs, playing this banter off. “In case you’re wondering, I'm not the sort that goes back on the first date you know. Classy gentlemen. Don’t try to woo me with coffee at your place. I know the game.” The bit is withering with his anxiety to move on. “So this ‘not date’ is to get information about Emilia. I’d like to do the same. Lynn suggested I talk to you, I suspect you healing types know each other. Apparently she’s missing and there’s been no luck with a search party?” Good move, Kyori. Ease it back to business nice and tidy like.

Penelope rolls her eyes at the scoff of her heels. “Whatever –you- say, Kyori D.” The new glass of wine is filled and she places the glass to her lips. As he calls her Miss Halifax, she sort of gives him a side gaze, but there is a sort of comfort there. The wall is being placed back up. He was guarding himself. Pulling her same move, but for once, she was okay with the formality. “I didn’t come all this way to nose about your name, but I mean, it’s a great starter, don’t you think?” The glass is lowered as she meets his blue gaze. The woman snorts. “Oh, so you think these heels are for –you-? No. Not a chance.” It was plain and simple. If anyone knew Penelope Halifax, she dressed to impress. She may have had too many clothes within her closet. And if anyone knew Penelope Halifax, they knew she was as stiff at romance as they come. “These heels are for my clients. And if you think you have a chance with anyone, better change your… that.” She sort of wiggles a finger over the shirt that was given to him from the hut with a knowing smirk. She was rudely blunt. Extremely, but at least there was honesty. “Well, Sir Kyori, if we are not going to talk about your name yet,” she waves her glass to him to talk about Lynn. “I don’t know if Thamalys found anything new. All I know is, I sent word to Khitti. I’m headed to see her bright and early tomorrow. We are suggesting another search party which I figured you would be interested in tagging along in, but I figured before I meet Khitti, I should get information out of you if you had any. I would let you know about the search after we decide the day to do it. Did Lynn say anything else about Emilia? Where she was possibly last seen?”

Kyori gives her a look that’s plain disbelief. “Sure, sure.” His shirt was bad, so what? “Hey, don’t act like you haven’t seen a nice shirt on me. Pretty sure it was season appropriate too.” The fabric cut through like butter, splitting his shoulder open. The scar tissue surrounding the gasp burned with awareness. The warrior set his drink down and pushed his knuckles against the tissue, aiming for casual. “Also I’m your client so, technically.” He shrugs with a wince that he rolls into a smile. She calls him ‘Sir’ Kyori again and he looks skeptical. “This ain’t even mine so easy to change my this.” They settle back into the comfortable distance of casual conversation. There’s that familiar feeling again. Lynn was unsettling. “She said Emilia went to Cenril to take potions to sick people. Over a week ago when I saw her. A couple weeks now I guess.” Don’t mention the creepy, almost decapitated woman Lynn spoke to in the hut. Penelope lists more names that he doesn’t recognize and he gives her a look encouraging her to explain these strangers and how they were involved. Lynn didn’t mention these guys. The spellblade takes another drink and studies the way she’s perched there so neatly. “Yeah, yeah.” He catches back up with the conversation. “That’s all she said.” His shoulder hurts now, it’s distracting and makes his hands sweat. “Yeah let me know, I need to figure something out. I don’t even know Emilia. Why did Lynn ask me?” He was a practical stranger here. “That kid is creepy right? Or is it just me?” He rubs the back of his neck with a stretch.      

Penelope crinkles her nose. “What? I’ve seen you three times before you were in my care? I don’t remember what you were wearing.” Her eyes then settle on the warrior pressing his knuckles against the underlying tissue. The healer was very observant, for she had to be. That was like numero uno in the job description. Her mind waves over that he is a client as she is now focused on his behavior. She listens to him steadily as her eyes settle on him, but her peripheral keeps his movement in mind. The words he spills, she already knows. The girl looks disappointed. She was looking for more, but so was he. “Thamalys is Emilia’s brother. Khitti owns the bakery down in Cenril, and well, she does a lot of things. Sister to Lionel, if you know him? Though, probably not I assume,” she sort of brushes her gaze over his shoulder again before gazing back at him. “I think you have a thing against children honestly. You were yelling at a kid at the ball, and now you're calling kids creepy," she is obviously teasing, but her voice remains serious as if she is concerned. "I don’t know Lynn. I’ve only met Emilia’s two boys Leo and Liam. I only have heard that Lynn is the third. In conclusion, maybe creepy is attracted to creepy.” The woman shrugs nonchalantly. Aka, Kyori. Ghosts, right? Creepy plus creepy equals extra creepy. Penelope, however, cuts away from that thought. “Speaking of client,” she sort of nears him as if to touch his wounded shoulder, but she hovers. “How’s your shoulder? You’re being careful with the stitches, right? Put on the medication you need? Change your bandages?” Here comes twenty questions from the nosy, nurturing woman. Her personalities could give someone a whiplash.

Kyori looks offended she’s calling him creepy. None of these names ring any bells. “I guess I’ll have to meet them during the search.” The scene came into focus and left him more confused. Penelope knew Emilia but did not know Emilia’s daughter. Emilia had more kids than Lynn, 3 total, two boys based on the healer’s math. “All their names start with L.” He observed dumbly. “First of all, that kid was a brat, we already agreed.” He continues to fake his offended tone. “Second of all, Yerrell had to tell her not to play with corpses in the clinic! I think I am less creepy by more than a landslide.” Ghost aren’t decomposing bodies but they could be grotesque. “One thing is a, is a, is a… a gift.” Talking to ghosts. “It’s not glamorous but it gets the job done.” As if he had a choice in the matter. Her shift demeanor while he’s mid teasing fight with her knocks him off balance. Penelope drills him with questions about the upkeep and he nods to check each item off in order. “Yep, yep, yep.” What he didn’t answer was how it was because he has not been doing any of that. He looks down at this glass to avoid her eyes with joking smile. Make it light. Make it shine. This little lie of mine. “You had me on bed rest so long I thought you’d be more worried about my legs.” Swift subject change. “What about those flowers? Did you find them?” The ones she’d asked him to research while trapped in bed. Moonlight was all he remembered about it now. Parts of being in the clinic felt like pieces of a dream. The painkillers and his own stubborn want to not need them. If she’d just brought him his sword the first time.

The healer might have been low keyed freaked about him talking to the dead, but what was the difference between a demonic ex-boyfriend and a ghost-whispering acquaintance? Friend? Whatever. Two people hanging out. The woman shrugs playfully. “I suppose he was a brat,” she plays along. “I don’t know what you do with your free time,” she says nonchalantly as if pointing out maybe he was creepy. Though she gives him a knowing smile as he tries to defend himself. Her eyes focus in that nurturing mode, and his waving off has her unpainted lips turn into a flat line. The ‘yep’ was not suiting her, and she understands the subject change, but that does not mean he was off the hook. “I haven’t. I was planning on venturing off after the search for anymore clues of Emilia. I think the herb might be across the seas past Rynvale. It likes moister climates. I'll just come home and pack and then, well, venture off for a few days.” The woman says this like it is no big deal, but it is, though her mind was jumbled with a list of tasks to accomplish, as of late. Especially that Aeric came to visit her. Linken's son. Life was getting a little sticky. Moss eyes flick over his shoulder. “Pull down your collar. Let me look,” she meant the wound. Her tone was relentless with stern authority. She had a control problem, okay? She needed to know especially because he was her patient.

Why isn’t she commenting on the creepy corpse girl? Kyori stops kneading his shoulder and listens to her explanation about the flower and the search for Emilia. He didn’t know about Rynvale but he knew Cenril was by the sea. It would make sense if Rynvale was off the coast of Cenril. And she’ll come all the way back here? That only makes sense if they find Emilia. The healer must be hopeful. “Oh you know the usual. Meet random women in bars.” Truth or Lie, that’s how they met. “Tell me you’re taking someone with you?” You really should Penelope. At least lie to the poor man if you aren’t. His jaw stiffens at her instruction to pull his collar down. “It’s fine.” He insists sternly. His blue eyes are dark with warning to let it pass. The rattle of chairs and flicker of fire paint heavy shadows on his face. His aura changes. Light hearted, fun all the time Kyori that doesn’t take anything seriously. Be the light! But he can’t. It’s too important to tell even his friend--quaintance. His drink is half finished but his lifts his air to summon Nancy and pay the bill. “Wine’s on me.” He tells the bar maid. The heavy air breaks with a smile on his part. “Sorry, I guess I’m just tired. Long day and all.”

Penelope stares at him kneading his shoulder. “Sounds like a real hobby that brings out the characteristics of someone,” her sound is flat. Eyes move to him when he questions her, and for his ‘heroic’ sanity, she does lie. The two lie. That is what they do. “Yes. Mr. Erickson. He’s coming with me.” The tone in her voice has no inflection. Like butter. The aura in his face catches her off-guard. Her head cants momentarily with his switch in personalities. The girl then turns to the barmaid. “Wine’s not on him,” she corrects Nancy and her gaze lands on him again. She stands. “Long day…” She repeats his statement before her eyes shift up and down over him. The glass in front of her is grabbed as she takes one more swig before pushing it up the counter. Half-gone. “Let me look, Kyori,” her accented tone slowly falls into a silk. Quiet. Something was off with him. There had to be. Or maybe he could not know which Kyori he wanted to be, but the girl was not any better, if that was the case. Slowly she brushes past his seat to gesture near the door to the upstairs in the tavern. She waits, but that does not mean he has to abide. “Let me look,” the Ardelian repeats gently. Maybe sternness was not the way. "Then, I'll leave you for the night. I'll let you get your rest."

Kyori stands still as Penelope corrects his instructions to Nancy. “Put it on my tab.” He grunts with finality. No more discussion about it. It’s done. The warrior doubts very seriously that Mr. Erickson is going with her. He’s seen the man around and while he’s a devoted fellow and hard worker for Penelope and the clinic, he doesn’t look capable with a sword. Weapon of choice could be an axe for all he knew but he didn’t. If she wanted to lie who the hell was he to call her out on it? She didn’t owe him a damn thing. This swift change in mood makes his body feel heavy. He’s about to tell her no again when she gestures towards the door to the rooms upstairs. Sapphire eyes study the aging wood and then he sighs reluctantly. The warrior moves past Penelope and opens the door to take the flight of stairs to the rooms. While they walk he’s silent, shoving his hands into his pockets to dig out the key. It’s  a sparse room for rent, same as she’s seen it before, with little to no furniture or possessions to speak of. The spellblade moves to the center of the room then stops. “Shut the door.” He doesn’t look at her but unstraps his sword and tosses it on the bed. It lands with a thump. It’s heavy. Heavier than a sword that size should be. Once she’s shut the door he’ll shuck the borrowed shirt to show her the injury. It’s completely healed. The stitches were cut out and occupied the side table with a pair of scissors. A jagged lighting bolt scar is all that remains. He stares at her hard, face set in stone. “Not that I wanted to take my shirt off in the tavern.” He starts, tossing the shirt on the bed and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. “You can’t tell a god damn soul.” This wasn’t like when he told her about the ghosts. This time he’s deadpan serious. 

Penelope follows him and senses the thickness of the frustration that wafts off of him. Her face remains motionless and she follows. There were no more games. Talk about whiplash in return. The Ardelian wanders inside behind him to the room that holds no personality. The door shuts behind her and she leans back on the door to keep her distance from him. As he escapes from the shirt, her head shifts in cross-examine and unpainted lips part as if wanting to muster something. The jagged scar is like a big slap in the face, and then green eyes shift to the side table. The stitches and scissors. “You’re—“ a digit raises and her hand cants back and forth as she keeps her eyes back on the scar. “I told you to pull your collar down. There’s a difference…” She shakes her head. It did not matter. That did not matter. “How the hell…? How?” Eyes flick up to his face with that twisted confused look. "Did someone heal over you?" She knew she was not capable of magic. Yerrel could have easily healed him, but he wanted the apprentice to learn.

Penelope's face makes him hesitate. He can still lie. Her mind is searching it's known pathways for logical answers and there wasn't one. So you'll lie, right Kyori? “I knew you'd have questions.” A match sizzles to life to light his cigarette. The healer's so surprised she's not stopping him. “That's why I didn't just pull the collar down.” And if she'd reacted this way in the tavern he wouldn't have the option to tell her the truth. Here he does but her face. She looks fragile, really fragile for the first time. How could he say it now and risk her breaking? “I did.” He waves the match out and takes a long drag. The smoke hangs over their heads like transparent rain clouds. The wrong word from either of them threatened to start a downpour. It should be unnerving that he led a woman up here alone to his room. It had a look about it, he isn't naive. A fresh ache built behind the scar and his arm went limp. The cigarette fell to the floor to be crushed out by his worn boots. Now it looked intentional. The wound was not completely healed. The skin has the appearance of being healthy but underneath that scar was muscle tissue painfully fusing itself together. “My mom was a plant witch.” The funny way he'd said it on their walk came from a different man. The words sound stolen. They didn't belong to him. That part wasn't a lie but his healing was mostly untrue. Why does she keep looking at him that way? He can't tell if she wants to slap him or bolt out the door. Fight or flight or a third option he can't piece together now. He uses his good arm to pull the discarded shirt up off the bed but he doesn't put it back on yet. He just holds it, waiting for what she'll say.

There is a twitch in her hand for the cigarette in his lips. Of course she hated smoking, but would step near him? No. ‘I did’. Her shoulders relax and there is slow nodding to understand—it was easy to find someone else, she was not hurt. Not by this. This was minor. The healer connected those dots. The woman pushes off of the door as the stick drops from his loosened hand. “Wasting a perfectly good inhale of crap,” she says critically. There it was. Judgement. “So your mom told you what could heal you?” She was calling his bluff due to the foreign tone he was using. Kyori was a lost man, and it was showing clearly. Not like she was better. Her eyes sort stare off at a blank wall. The lying was toxic, and she slowly begins to close the gap. There was one trait that he would not be able to brush off. Penelope Halifax was observant. “Then why didn’t you just tell me and let me use your mother’s strategies? Get you on your feet earlier. Clearly, I’m missing something or you’re false. Take your pick.” Pause. Green eyes look over his frame without an inch of facial movement. “Witches are more common than you think. I don’t think you’re telling me what you don’t want me to know. Especially when you said not to tell a soul.” Her voice is stone as she calls him out—no she was not naïve either, and that fact showed as she was about to corner him with interrogating inspection. Her accented tone was deadpan like his.

Kyori’s defenses aren’t infallible. Her tongue is sharp, slashing across his chest and face without mercy. He thought she wanted to believe the lie. She’d looked so delicate and confused. Another lie waits for her conclusion but like every time before her eyes stop him. Her guarded accusation. Why did it matter to her if he lied about being healed? It’s the simple explanation healer, take it and go. Be satisfied the injury is mended and let’s focus our combined attention on Emilia. “Thought you’d be happy I put it out.” He slides his gaze to the opposite wall with his hands stuffed back in his pockets. There’s no room for light banter anymore and honestly, he’s relieved. It’s hard trying to hide all these parts of himself and it’s really pissing him off that she’s being so nosy...even though he’s being the same. What happened to being a light? Kyori, you idiot, did you think you’d magically become a different person if no one here knew you? He wants to blame this place’s racism against witches as the reason he’d kept quiet but it’s another lie. He’d been too quick to guard a secret she didn’t understand and now she’s demanding to see the parts she missed. The warrior does his best to swallow his anger. He isn’t actually mad at her. He’s mad at himself for being no better here than home. He was a joke. How could he fool himself into being a different person when he couldn’t fool a stranger? The fight with the dog breeder. He’d been so mad, pulled Lanara roughly behind him but she never complained. Why? This is the part he’s supposed to be good at. Compromise. Common Ground. “Fine.” He goes back to the bed, drops his shirt and picks up his sword. It jingles inside the sheath until he’s standing back in arms reach of her again. “It isn’t all a lie.” He grumbles, thrusting the sword out for her to take. She’d held it before, why did he want her to do it again? “If you want answers you gotta take risks Pen. Take the damn sword.” There it is again. He’s a liar but he’s also wrapped up in his own mind as a hero so it’s not too risky to trust him not to hurt her. 

Penelope lets the conversation of the cigarette slide. Was she happy with said-cigarette in the first place? No. The room becomes stiff, and she senses the thickness. Perhaps she should have kept the mood lightened, for this was a pattern when she lingered around others. Stiff air. Discontentment. It was too late, for she had led him in deeper. Next time, she would keep the distance. Eyes stay faced forward as he wanders off to grab his sword, and it is not until he wanders back that her eyes trace his steps. He stands before her with sword extended and all she could do is blink with an expressionless gaze. How was she supposed to feel? All she could think is that he was brash; an uneven man, and... risks. She had taken too many lately, and that was getting to be heavier with each risk she took, but she is not dewy-eyed nor afraid, so she reaches to take the sword. There was hesitance, but she does with his wicked tone of voice.

Kyori eases the weight of the sword into the healer’s hands. It's heavy but to Penelope it wouldn't be. In Penelope's hands it's a balanced weapon for her height and strength. Heavy enough to prove its existence but light enough to use without a struggle. “Draw the blade.” The blonde stays where he is but encourages her again if she argues or hesitates. She thought him false now is his guess. “Draw the blade and strike me,” he repeats, holding out his arm. A target for the sword.

The girl has no issue with the weight of the sword. He dares her to pull the blade out and, well, she takes the command. Though, there is a record scratch at the thought of striking him. "Draw the blade and do -what- now?" What was with all these men and wanted her to cut them with a blade? The avian and now this warrior? The healer feels the uneasiness of the request and it shows. Her face looks twisted and ill. Healing was like a moral conduct, okay? No striking anyone unless for the safey of your own health. Then again, she was curious. Maybe he was off his rocker. He had looked a little nuts with his stern behavior, but then again, so was she. She had named a dummy during her combat training and talked to it like a friend. Off the point, either way, she looks at his arm. Moss eyes observe where the veins pop out and trace to under the forarm. She would feel more comfortable on top of the forearm... The woman had practiced with her dagger, but a sword? Oh, dear Sven. The sword points at his arm. Her muscles flex as she uses the strength to not cut him so deeply as he rests the sword on top of his forearm and slowly slices before drawing back. She would not use any added pressure. "What the hell did I just--" maybe this was not the best idea. Automatically the girl is dragging the sword behind her and attempting to reach out for his wound. "I--this was a mistake. Here let me fix--" Was this a test? Was she in trouble? Panic swarmed her face.

Practice makes perfect Penelope. The warrior’s surprise at her agreement blunts the unexpected prick of the blade. The cut was neat, leave it to a healer, but shallow in it's own right. As soon as she panics whatever fire they'd sparked for his stern tone was doused. He crosses the single step distance to reach her and tries very carefully to hold her close and still. “It wasn't a mistake, I'm fine.” The steel of his tone turned velvet, remorse settling in his eyes and forehead like a weight. If he can snag her, he’ll hold her a healthy two seconds before letting go to examine his wound. He pulls at the cut, assessing the depth, and decides it'll do. “You've been practicing,” He smirked with a tilt of his chin. “Hand me the sword now warrior, no more dragons to slay today.” The words were well practiced, worn in like a comfortable, ratty sweater. It was too easy to keep. The security of words familiar came with their own sting of remembrance. Calmly, Kyori reaches to take back the sword and seal it back in it's scabbard. “I really mean it,” he looks up at her until their eyes connect. “You can't tell a soul.” He wouldn't hurt her, he wasn't that type of guy. “It would mean trouble for me.” He follows, hoping it sheds light on the complication. A safe distance could reassure her. The spell blade moves back to sit on the edge of his bed. “All right, all right... Watch the wound.” He directs her attention just so and leans forward so his blonde hair covers his eyes. The jewels on the sword’s handle glow dimly. His eyes, hidden by his hair, cycle their colors again while the killing blow Penelope landed turned a silvery white. Stitches of light sew the skin together again. Every individual thread visible until the deed is done. It takes a matter of seconds before it's complete but when it is, the wound appears to be mended enough to pass for ‘healed’. 

Penelope is resistant to being pulled in close, but she does at least let him hold her arms in stability for those two seconds. That boy be swinging moods like a kid in a park in her eyes, so of course she was trying to keep herself distant from him. She had been practicing. Krice and Linken had taught her a thing or two, and well, she always kept a dagger on her for years. All she could manage to do is stare at the slice on his arm even though his words had turned softer on her. Perhaps she was too pushed back for games in the current time. Quietly, she holds out the sword and he gingerly slides the weapon back in place. A gracious nod is given at his gentle demand. Who would she tell? As he sits back on the bed, she back pedals into an old wooden chair in patience. Green eyes carefully trace their way back down to his bleeding arm. The light glows and the short girl scoots forward to get a better examination. The stitches weave their way through until the skin is neatly sewn back together again. Her brows are narrowed in focus and her pale lips part to try to find words. “How did that--?” A digit is held up as if to piece together what had happened and how it happened. Why was magic so strange? Why was Lithrydel so strange? “Why would this cause you trouble? It’s mended. Isn’t this a good thing?”

Kyori is suffering a mood swing of epic proportions. It’s a side effect of the panic Penelope caused by asking to see his wound. He wanted to stone wall her, push her back to a friendly distance but he was confused. She’d been equally hot and cold but it is his inability to stabilize those two parts of himself that’s causing this erratic behavior. The moment she expressed concern that she’d hurt him, despite following his instructions, it broke whatever stern blockade he’d tried to build up. She never looked unsure of herself. Hesitant, sure, but confident. He’d seen her scared one day and during that one day it felt like she aimed to never be scared again. The healer had her own shell. An orb of resistance and that similarity between them and telling her fragments of truth continued to confuse him. Of course she was loved by the people here. Who wouldn’t love a healer as kind yet stern as she? Who’d enduring sickness in herself and others like a personal burden. Kyori felt an overwhelming need to protect her and the secrets she kept pulling out of him like an infection. But that was his impulse, not her need. He had to put distance between them before he said too much or found himself in an irreversible state of being. “No.” He says, trying to pull back his unnecessary concern. “It’s the sword.” He turned it over in his hand, pointing out the crest on the underside of the scabbard. It wouldn’t be familiar as it was from another place. A prince, a pauper, a knight or a thief. How did he come to own this sword? “This isn’t an ordinary blade.” Everything was special and magical and secret always. Why couldn’t it be the normal thing he wanted to be? “It’s dangerous. It’s a black mark on me. If anyone who knows about it catches a whiff of rumor, I’ll be in a bad state. There’s a price that’s paid when it’s magic’s used.” He didn’t elaborate. “I’m sorry for being across the board, I’m...having a rough time sorting out that monster.” The warrior shakes his blonde hair and sighs. He shrugs his shirt back on while his mind floats elsewhere. “That beast killed me. I was sure of it.” He looks at her like with pure bewilderment. “But then I woke up here. No injuries. No nothing. Not even blood on my shirt where I know it cut me. I thought it was all a strange dream. A shadow creature planting false memories of danger in my mind but...then the coma? Out of nowhere? And when I wake up the same wound from the shadow dream thing whatever appears? Does that make any sense to you?” Could be it was an illusion they’d both seen or could be his sword was strong enough to mend his body back from the brink of death. 

Penelope remains seated from across the room. The blade is twisted to show the unfamiliarity of the blade. How would she know? Her geography was horrible compared to others. Lionel even had to tell her which mountain range where Ardelia was originally from. The Aurens. After all the confusion that settles on her visage, her face would now appear relaxed. Perhaps it had something to do with the distance away from him. The negative energy was away, too. He was cool and collected. “Is it because other people want it? The corruption of power?” Immortality. It was only a guess. Someone gets severely injured, and the magic blade heals them. These fables had become reality lately. As he apologizes, Penelope is quick to stand, “No, please don’t. Somehow… I understand.” For the healer was all over the place too. She would begin to pace as she listened to him. The girl walks to a nearby window and stares down at the people below. The man talks about the beast. When she left him behind with the dark demonic figure in the caverns. Tall. Lanky. Chilling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you. To mend you.” Though, she was weak. Recovering from illness, but every part of her wanted to be a savior. The healer she is. The reason why she mends, and she failed, though her face remains still. Not until he questions what happened. She steps towards him as she cants her head. “No, but it’s a miracle to me. Something so strange healed you, but as people say, magic always comes with a price.” The woman paused. She was nosy—always. A similar bond between them, so he best get used to it. “Where did you inherit that blade? Perhaps we can research it… Is that why you tried the library in Cenril?” She was trying to connect the pieces.

The jewels in the sword's handle continue to reflect splinters of colored light. The warrior's head is hung, blonde locks long enough to obscure parts of the room. His jaw sets at her apology. He remembered she was sick. She'd talked so openly about almost dying where he’d made up a juvenile game of questions to keep conversation casual and easy. Kyori got to play the man he wanted to be on that journey. Sapphire eyes follow her heels to the window. A miracle huh? ”A miracle would be consistency.” Answers not puzzle pieces that don't fit together. She steps back in his direction and he looks towards the door. “I went to the library to decipher a note slipped under my door.” He recounts slowly. “We needed the flowers to see the ink.” That’s right. “I thought the letter was about Nat but it turned out Nat was safe at home.” And Lanara’s daughter, complicated. “If the note wasn’t about Nat I can’t be sure it isn’t about the sword.” A warning? A threat? “We never got a chance to see.” He’d bypassed her question on the sword’s history on purpose. “Guess that’s the next step.” How did it all connect though? The ghosts with the flower, the monster, the note, his sword, the healer. They were all jumbled and suspended mid-air and the spellblade had a bad feeling it would all crash down at once. “It was forged a long time ago, my father said it was in our family for a long time.” Plus or minus this magic ability. “Or maybe we stole it from the actual owners, who knows. War times are often lawless.” Kyori looks up at her after a long sigh. “And where do you fall in all this? This is all trouble I brought around to you.” She had a child to save, an ex to deal with, and who knows what else weighing on her shoulders. Emilia was missing too. “By comparison this sword thing isn’t a big deal. It can wait until we find Emilia or a cure or fix your ex or something.” His hand wafts the issue away like smoke from a fresh fire. “Let’s deal with the rest of the list first. I’m mended. An odd note and weird monster don’t make a crisis but please. Until more of this is resolved, don’t tell anyone about it.” It could be that he’d already been found, depending on the note.

Penelope could only blink at the ‘miracle’ response, so was the sword inconsistent? She would let his words slide, and she would nod along with his statement instead. As for the note that is discussed, well, she could not just let that slip by. “The Kyori oil,” meaning, the cerulean flower oil. A small smile presses on her lips. “I can get you some. I think whatever note was slipped under your door is of importance.” The freckled healer would nod. As he begins to talk about the sword and how it was passed into the family a long time ago, her lips would purse before giving a squinted nod in thought. Questions about the sword would come within time. “I help you with the note, and then we take the next step. Baby steps, of course.” As he blames himself of bringing her trouble, she nears him and sits on the bed next to him. Green eyes are full of clement. “Kyori,” she says genuinely and her voice clips his name with ease. No more diplomatic tones. Only gentleness and sincerity. “I am the last one you should worry about. Let me help. Your matters… well, matter.” Inspirational, Penelope. Inspirational. Really? “Yes, Leon needs my help more than –anything-, for we only have about… a little over two months. Maybe three?” The woman shakes the time off her shoulders, and she continues on as he tries to press against her words. “Don’t wave this... At least we can take the steps together. I say we can multitask. After all you say that it’s just a note.” The girl then rises. “If you’re curious about the note, you know where to find me, and you know my lips are sealed. I wouldn’t say a word about it. I promise.” She sort of takes steps near the door. “Tomorrow I see Khitti. I’ll find you for details about Emilia, and well… perhaps we can talk more about the note—if you decide so--and my brother.”

Kyori is still and silent. This woman took on too much, obstinate to a fault. No sense arguing about it. Did his little note matter if it wasn’t about Nat? He didn’t know many people so the note had to be of interest but Penelope was carrying enough without this. It embarrassed him to be talked to so gently. He wasn’t helpless or a lost cause. He had scars, sure everyone did, but he was capable of carrying his own burdens without shucking off some of the responsibility on the healer. No use arguing though, he thinks again, letting her sit near him with quiet comfort. The last one he should worry about. Don’t wave this. Sapphire eyes follow her when she stands, angling towards the door. The heels she’s wearing give her an unnatural height that shapes her differently. He scratches the back of his neck with a solemn “Thanks” until she mentions her brother. She wants to talk to him about her dead brother? Did she decide to meet with him for the boy’s sake? “Yeah, I’ll come by soon.” He promised in a contemplative monotone. All these problems were tangled together like weeds. All of them were important and time sensitive. One step at a time. He stays on the bed, letting her draw out the distance as she goes. Emilia needed to be found, the note deciphered, the boy saved. Was there really time enough to do it all?