The night had been long — too long. Full of screaming and blood-soaked stones and the weight of a world crashing down with each feather that fell from her wing.
And her wing.. oh, she had never seen something so mangled. Hell bent and broken until it no longer looked like what it had once been. She could only guess that the thing had been an equal match to it’s twin, but still, the healer could not help the thorn vines that bit into her heart every time her eyes landed upon it. Even now, after hours of running around on her toes — from the initial discovery, the chaos, to settling her to set the wing before it began to heal on it’s own, naturally..
Even now, she did not falter from her duties. Although exhaustion tugged at her, lulling her, she had a job to uphold. After all, she was the Champion’s nurse until dawn broke.
Then, when she was moving through the motions of watching her ward, he had arrived.
Through the haste and mist of the commotion of her arrival, the healer had been told he might come. But now, this quickly, this fast.. her eyes only widened for a fraction with shock, before her heart settled and swelled. The way he looked at her, and how she had come alive through the pain and numbness of the alcohol poured down her throat.
Their reunion hurt her heart, yet not as much as the wounds that brought the storm mare here in the first place.
As she moved, tinkering with bottles and closing jars of salves and herbal pastes, she tried — and failed — to not listen to them. Their love was almost palpable, creating washes of gold in a dark and sterile place. Yet it was already cleaved her, even her, because he didn’t know.
And he did have the right to know.
When the mare moved too suddenly, she was there, tenderly lifting a bottle of drink to her lips. Wiping away the droplets that fell passed slack copper lips. The healer warred with her bleeding heart, trying to separate herself and become impartial. Her empathy understood; she knew all too well the shoes that the stallion filled. She knew the questions that would stir like a hurricane that could not be stopped, ruthless and unwanted, until answers were found.
She knew the need to be near his lover in her time of need. But still she shook her head. No. Don’t touch.
Only after her patient began to drift deeper into the haze of stupor born from the medicinal salves and the alcohol, did she gently tap on the stallion’s rain-soaked shoulder with her mind. Her eyes blinked rapidly before her own eyes settled onto his own; steady and true, and not near to neutral. She cleared her throat, motioning for them to step away and into the shadows. One eye and ear always monitoring, counting her breaths, noticing every minuscule change. The other focused on him, and the words that turned to lead in her mouth.
Her voice was a hushed whisper when she spoke. ”I know you have questions,” she started, gaze flickering to the mare, ”I understand. I didn’t see her, but the King had found her in the foyer, collapsed on the stones from shock and blood loss.” She licked her lips, throat suddenly parched. ”Her wing.. it had been broken in a fight.”
The healer was careful, holding back her next words. He had a right to know, more than anyone. ”All she said was a name. I overheard it as we began tending to her.. she was in bad shape. But she should recover okay. We shall see when the night is over.”
She found the unspoken question lingering in the air between them, a phantom star that nearly burst with the want of knowing her assailant. Her lashes fell on her cheeks, sucking in a breath; not knowing if she was truly helping then..
Before she whispered, ”Tor. All she said was ‘Tor’.”
Then, the healer bowed her head, vanishing back into her work again, not able to shake the feeling of dread that fell over her.
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him; she would never know.
@asterion @Aislinn
And her wing.. oh, she had never seen something so mangled. Hell bent and broken until it no longer looked like what it had once been. She could only guess that the thing had been an equal match to it’s twin, but still, the healer could not help the thorn vines that bit into her heart every time her eyes landed upon it. Even now, after hours of running around on her toes — from the initial discovery, the chaos, to settling her to set the wing before it began to heal on it’s own, naturally..
Even now, she did not falter from her duties. Although exhaustion tugged at her, lulling her, she had a job to uphold. After all, she was the Champion’s nurse until dawn broke.
Then, when she was moving through the motions of watching her ward, he had arrived.
Through the haste and mist of the commotion of her arrival, the healer had been told he might come. But now, this quickly, this fast.. her eyes only widened for a fraction with shock, before her heart settled and swelled. The way he looked at her, and how she had come alive through the pain and numbness of the alcohol poured down her throat.
Their reunion hurt her heart, yet not as much as the wounds that brought the storm mare here in the first place.
As she moved, tinkering with bottles and closing jars of salves and herbal pastes, she tried — and failed — to not listen to them. Their love was almost palpable, creating washes of gold in a dark and sterile place. Yet it was already cleaved her, even her, because he didn’t know.
And he did have the right to know.
When the mare moved too suddenly, she was there, tenderly lifting a bottle of drink to her lips. Wiping away the droplets that fell passed slack copper lips. The healer warred with her bleeding heart, trying to separate herself and become impartial. Her empathy understood; she knew all too well the shoes that the stallion filled. She knew the questions that would stir like a hurricane that could not be stopped, ruthless and unwanted, until answers were found.
She knew the need to be near his lover in her time of need. But still she shook her head. No. Don’t touch.
Only after her patient began to drift deeper into the haze of stupor born from the medicinal salves and the alcohol, did she gently tap on the stallion’s rain-soaked shoulder with her mind. Her eyes blinked rapidly before her own eyes settled onto his own; steady and true, and not near to neutral. She cleared her throat, motioning for them to step away and into the shadows. One eye and ear always monitoring, counting her breaths, noticing every minuscule change. The other focused on him, and the words that turned to lead in her mouth.
Her voice was a hushed whisper when she spoke. ”I know you have questions,” she started, gaze flickering to the mare, ”I understand. I didn’t see her, but the King had found her in the foyer, collapsed on the stones from shock and blood loss.” She licked her lips, throat suddenly parched. ”Her wing.. it had been broken in a fight.”
The healer was careful, holding back her next words. He had a right to know, more than anyone. ”All she said was a name. I overheard it as we began tending to her.. she was in bad shape. But she should recover okay. We shall see when the night is over.”
She found the unspoken question lingering in the air between them, a phantom star that nearly burst with the want of knowing her assailant. Her lashes fell on her cheeks, sucking in a breath; not knowing if she was truly helping then..
Before she whispered, ”Tor. All she said was ‘Tor’.”
Then, the healer bowed her head, vanishing back into her work again, not able to shake the feeling of dread that fell over her.
Maybe she shouldn’t have told him; she would never know.
