RP:Whatever Happened To Paladin Kelovath?

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc

Summary: Sabrina, having recently learned that Josleen is a 'guest' of King Macon and not believing it, visits the nurse-bard in the fort sick bay. There she sees that Josleen looks quite well, yet is emotionally gripped by something Sabrina doesn't understand. The women discuss Macon and the war, and briefly speculate as to Kelovath's whereabouts, presumed to be in Cenril. The relationship between the friends is strained, in part due to Josleen's secrecy and Sabrina's elven frigidness.

Larket:Fortress Sick Bay

Sabrina parted the curtain to the supply room to Larket’s clinic. She still found this place a little dank in comparison to many of the facilities to the west and far less homey than Frostmaw’s welcoming ambiance. “Lady Josleen?” She was hopeful that Macon was being truthful about the woman, but her tone suggested she didn’t yet believe it. She was still in full dress; neck to floor leathers with the Guild crest burnt into the material on her right shoulder, heeled boots give a false impression of those few inches she was sure fooled many on her relative size. It didn’t. Her hair is pulled back in intricate elvish braids, directing those hip-length raven tresses away from her face but left to sway like an inky black river along her back. One hand is on her bow that is strewn across her chest and she appears to be somewhat on the defensive. Being held as a guest in a kingdom not one’s own could have any level of meaning.

Josleen wears a ratty nurses apron over a fine silk dress fit for a queen. She stands by the hearth at a long table mixing ingredients into a putty. Sabrina may recognize the blue salve as a magical bone setting agent originating from Frostmaw. Josleen looks up when called. "Hmm?" Finding Sabrina, she smiles though there is a weariness to her smile, and a weight on her shoulders. Still, the smile doesn't look forced and she removes her gloves to properly greet the elf. "Lady Sabrina! How lovely to see you." Reading the elfess's expression, Josleen realizes how odd her presence here must seem. What does Sabrina know? What's still a secret? "I suppose this is unexpected. Have you yet spoken with the king?"

Sabrina is quick to pass those few step to meet her, a look of genuine relief on her face as she takes Josleen’s hands with gloved ones of her own, and pulls her into a hug that would make her question captivity on a completely different level. “I thought you were lost.” Two nurses stood staring at the embrace, none knowing the elfess to be overcome in a manner that she’d sacrifice saving face. She frowns at them and gestures for them to get out, the gesture did not leave room for debate and whether they were guilded or not, Sabrina’s ruling in clinic scenarios were rarely overturned as no elders were present. Finally, after what seemed like a full minute, Sabrina releases Josleen to allow her a portion of air to breathe. She is not without some meddle though; Josleen’s shoulders are squeezed, arms toiled with, then an attempt to whirl her around and make sure there was no damage there as well. “You need to eat.”

Josleen would never have attempted to hug the proud elfess, and is surprised by Sabrina's sudden embrace. She hugs the healer back, lets herself be examined and twirled, all the while reassuring Sabrina that she is alright. "I haven't been mistreated. Quite the opposite." "I'm well, Sabrina. I'm well." At the healer's comment that she needs to eat, she waves a hand dismissively and playfully like 'p'shaw, I'm fine.' "You thought I was lost how?"

She had switch into doctor mode and Josleen’s p’shaw over orders is met with a glare that proved it wasn’t up for debate. One hand is taken to Josleen’s head, to hold her steady as a ‘spark’ is brought across her field of vision to check pupillary response. She had the dwarves fashion the device, but it was no more than a particularly bright ‘glowy’ procured from the mountain and affixed to a thin silver rod. “All I know is you were here, then run off by the masses with Kelo…” She didn’t even finish his name before interrupting herself. “Is he alright?” The spark is returned to a breast pocket and the back of her hand assesses temperature with surprising accuracy given the supple skin covering meant to protect those she touched from accidental exposure to her touch. The halfbreed’s head is surrendered to its person and her wrist is taken as a secondary hostage while the Healer counts the beats on a internally accurate scale.

Josleen submits to the doctor's inspection--not that she has much of a choice in the matter. Her pupils respond normally, and by all appearances she is in perfect health, temperature and heartbeat and reflexes and all else too. Emotionally, however, Sabrina finds a fissure when she utters Kelovath's name. Josleen's face twists. It's unclear if she's angry, sad, worried, or what, but it's clear she's in pain. Her bottom lip quivers and she turns away from Sabrina and hides her face in both her palms. For weeks in this fort the bard has kept her composure, but one heartfelt question from a friend, one kind stroke, and she falls apart. In a sea of indifferent servants, in the company of a war-focused and Kelovath-hating enemy king, she had no place to dump her emotions, to express her anguish over what has happened, over the final twist. Her shoulders shudder as she sobs, quietly at first then audibly. Snuffles and snot and gasping breaths pressed against her wet palms. She's glad Sabrina emptied the room. She'd be embarrassed to cry in front of the nurses.

Finding no physical reason to worry about her wellbeing Sabrina released Josleen’s appendage and stood statuesque amongst the sobs. “I asked the Macon to release you to the care of Ara. He said it would be an insult to your current level of care.” She finds a chair and sits in it, unequipped to handle the emotional aspect of the woman’s light. This was usually Pilar’s specialty. She is digging around in her bag before obtaining a green glass bottle with a tarnished silver twist cap. The bag is set to the floor and she rises to rummage the shelf across the room for a clean yet smaller vial. A slight distribution is allotted for Josleen’s use and surrendered in passing as she places the remainder back in her bag. “It is a natural powder obtained from the Sage Ent; one half teaspoon to rest the mind, more to gain a restful night’s sleep if you don’t favor your wits.” There was an allotment for two to three servings for a woman of Josleen’s size and stature. It was unwise to prescribe more given her emotional state. At most the entirety, would put the poor girl out for several consecutive nights which did little for the previously addressed voluntary malnutrition. She reclaims her seat and slides out a chair, suggesting the fair lady to do the same. “Do you want to leave this place?” She could have Rohk here in half a beat if requested, the repercussions of war were not her concern at present.

Josleen takes the ent powder drink and holds it against her middle as she tries to calm herself down. The bard hasn't the will to drink it yet. She takes several sharp breaths and chokes down a cry. "No," she mumbles wetly. "I'll stay here." She finds a clean cloth in a drawer and pat-dries her eyes, wipes her snot. "I'm sorry," she moans pitifully. "It's been difficult but I'm alright."

Sabrina doesn’t exercise a lot of sympathy, it was simply not her way. “Lady. Where is Kelovath?” She had concern spread over so many venues it was difficult to stop and just let Josleen have her much needed cry. “And what can you tell me about this false…. I mean, King Macon.” It was clear she didn’t trust the man at face value, too much negativity surrounded his rise to power.

Josleen sniffles into the cloth and tries to compose herself. Sabrina makes it clear she's no shoulder to cry on, and Josleen, embarrassed, does her best not to cry or vent, which unfortunately results in short answers with little detail. The more she speaks the more she cries, and so to stay composed she must be brief. "I don't know where Kelovath is, but I would imagine Cenril." She shrugs and chokes back a sob before addressing the second question. "I can't tell you much about the king. I'm not at liberty to say much as our cities are at war, but I will say King Macon was misjudged. He has an unfortunately dark character that people, myself included, prejudged--unfairly so. Darkness isn't always evil. He's a war veteran, if that helps explain anything."

Sabrina’s lips purse. She couldn’t console Josleen with words, and she couldn’t very well hide behind a hug. She didn’t know she would if she could. She sits back further in the chair and crosses her legs, giving the whimpering woman time to breathe between words. “This isn’t reconnaissance, first and foremost I came to see you.” Reaching for a clean, soft dressing on the table beside her she offers it to her, even her eyes would tell Josleen nothing of how she truly felt. By the looks of it, she felt nothing at all. Hundreds of years of practice would make one very precise at hiding compassion. The Elfess’ movements since that hug were very rehearsed, it was like she had a lapse in judgement and that moment of being overcome with joy was a malfunction of some sort. “They are on the brink of war. No one has cast more than foul words and bottomless threats. I have been around a very long time, Lady.” An involuntary tilt of head, concern surfacing. “Do not resort yourself to something that may never happen.” She inwardly wondered if Kelovath in Cenril was the reason Krice denied her passage beyond Milous. He said it wasn’t safe, something of another war brewing. Josleen was clearly overflowing with enough sorrow, she would not press the matter. Too much talk of death and blood, honestly it made her more tired than sad. She did not have the numbers to heal the whole damned world at once. She places a gloved hand on the silky material over Josleen’s thigh. “I have a lot of people I care about invested in Larket.” It was almost an apology, but then, it wasn’t as if Frostmaw showed any compassion for the ones she lost. She had chosen a side somewhere in these last few moments, and it was unlike her to do so. But, if she wanted to save as many of her healers as possible, she had no choice but to buckle down this time, instead of spreading thin. If only Hildegarde had ever reached out with concern or pity, sorrow or apology, for the lives lost in her war. No, The Silver turned her love to her people while the healers cleaned up the mess in thankless silence.

Sabrina can't possibly know why the bard is so upset, and yet Josleen feels incapable of correcting the healer's sensible assumptions. Besides, the elfess seems closed to the troubles of the heart. Josleen chokes it all down again; conceal don't feel! She nods after Sabrina's words as if listening to the sermon of a guru. "You're right. And few are more invested in this than you. I'm glad you came to see me." She speaks as if reading a script and preparing to close a scene. All the bard wants to do now is return to her room and cry, grieve.

She wasn’t getting a whole lot out of the halfbreed. She wished she could empathize but the war did not seem true concern for the voluntary captive. Sabrina was not prepared to decipher her plight, not emotionally experienced enough to realize that Josleen was grieving over the loss of a more personal nature. “Tell me what you need.” Her voice was pleading, she could not resolve a problem that did not clearly present itself, chances were she would be of no use to Josleen on an emotional level anyways. But she was trying. She stands, feeling excused. That much was conveying.

For a moment Josleen considers telling Sabrina exactly what she needs, but to do so she'd have to speak of her woes. To speak of them would bring her to tears again, or fury, as she can bounce between rage and sorrow quickly when she thinks of Kelovath. She's broken pictures and glasses, a perfume bottle, and so on. It's all still raw, and she's not vented to a soul. She doesn't feel strong enough to start now. "Just time," the bard replies. "All things pass with time."

What ever inner turmoil Josleen was facing, Sabrina couldn't help but wish she didn't resort to stubbornness to face it alone. "No, they don't. You work it out until you become numb to it." She was behaving like an immovable child. It was not too often the healer ventures into personal woes, but this was different. She owed this woman a kindness and she was determined to see it through. Even f there was wetness and snot, and god awful noises, even if it meant Josleen would need to take her rage out on something less inanimate. Sabrina was sure she'd survive a few well-fueled strikes from a woman like her. "Let me in on your mindset, honestly, you are impossible to read even if I knew where to begin." She stands, pouring a glass of clean water and catering it to her with the proffered bit of cloth.

Josleen mouths dumbly a spate of aborted words and sounds. "Sab-" "I" "You don't". The bard's undoing isn't all Sabrina's fault. Josleen has been wrestling with acute anxiety and stress for weeks, while displaced in this fort, isolated from the outside word, without a friend, and coping with the greatest betrayal of her young life. Sabrina's questioning is simply the figurative last straw. "My mindset on what! Lady Sabrina, you claim not to have come for reconnaisance, but all you want to know are my thoughts on King Macon, which I have shared! He has been kind to me, and generous. I believe he has been misjudged. He is not a bad man as I once thought. But I am Thane to Frostmaw, and whatever thoughts or strategies I have for this war are only to be shared with my Queen." By ignoring what afflicts her heart she is able to speak more loudly. Avoid Kelovath, and the voice has strength.

She just blinks, frozen in a sort of bewilderment. No one had ever raised their voice to her like that before and she was unsure why, despite the obvious intrusion. The glass of water is semi-slammed on th table beside the bard, the bit of material laid down beside it if she so chose to wipe her tears. She presses her hands to her thighs and rubs down to her knees, searching for careful words that are never found. “Very well.” The Elfess turns back to her chair and pushes it in neatly where it was found. “I had been torn on recent interactions with Macon.” As she gathers her things. “With the predisposition I have as an advocate for Frostmaw I thought it only fair to asses my options, given Larket is my home.” A pat down to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “I suppose a central location within Larket’s walls is a sound place to base the Guild’s major healing operations since there is no legitimate reason not to. Easier and all, rather than a complete relocation.” The bag is situated on her person and she turns to face Josleen, a tilt of head voices concern still, but the bard already insisted she did not want to leave. A kinder tone is offered. “I needed to confirm my healer’s safety. That is all.” In one mild outburst, the fair lady had stilled many concerns the Elfess had with stationing any of her people here at all. She’d take a step towards the bard, her hands raised as if to clasp those of the trembling woman, but something changes her mind. This closeness, this intimacy, was not her strong point. “I needed to see with my own eyes that -you- were okay.” There was nothing left to say, Josleen, like many others, did not care for Sabrina’s company and that was alright. She was used to it by now with the wrong words and the wrong reactions always burdening her cause. Nothing left to say, because she did not have the trust of the one she was looking in on. She was not so blind as to miss the undertones in Josleen’s words; she thought her an advocate for Larket, and no matter how wrong that was she had found that changing the mind of someone who had already decided was a waste of time. And she had rounds that she was hours behind on. It was time to go back to work.

As Sabrina explains she is trying to choose between cities, it dawns on Josleen that Sabrina's motives are different than what the bard assumed. It's been a confusing interaction for both of them. The Thane expalins, "I am looking to end this war so that neither you nor I has to choose between either city. I want peace. I have been in three wars in as many years and do not want a fourth. I believe King Macon wants the same. That is all I can say about that." She nods when Sabrina insists she came to ensure Josleen is okay. She isn't, but it's complicated, and it isn't Macon's fault. "I am alright. I will be better when everything has settled and there is peace again." She reaches as if to clasp Sabrina's hand, to reassure her that her quarrel isn't with the healer, but won't press the issue if Sabrina avoids the gesture.

A small sarcastic exhale of laughter escapes her lips. A nod. "Peace." These days the idea of peace had taken its toll on the elfess, it seemed she and her people were no sooner recovered from one war than they were commissioned for another. It is all the Healer has to still her initial response to withdraw from physical contact, she was still working past this, and the gesture is not declined. Instead she wraps thin fingers around Josleens as a sort of return. "If you need anything then." She looks over her shoulder at a noise near the door, just a passing of a nurse hard at work. "The Guild uses blue-eyed-ravens, they know how to find their mark and Hollow is riddled with our messengers if you look hard enough." A pat to her hand is followed by a release, in her own opinion it is well timed and the gesture was ecexuted with perfect precision. "Anything."

Josleen bows her head gratefully to Sabrina's offer then lets the elfess go. She leaves shortly after to sit alone. The bard is much changed after recent events. Recent wounds have calloused her a little. It's difficult to shed the shell and be herserlf again. With time, maybe.