Genesis

[Luvadros Orthilia]

Merely nodding at the conclusion of her extended reasoning, Luvadros replied with a clipped, “Very well,” and began opening various cabinets and cupboards, apparently looking for something. He had anticipated the trouble she'd have in making her way on her own, and briefly considered clarifying that he could make arrangements for someone to “cart her home.” He decided against it, though, not wishing her to leave and so not about to offer an easy means of escape after she'd agreed to stay. For several moments he searched in silence, rummaging about here and there, pulling out blankets, huge swaths of bandages, and a few other simplistic healing aids before replacing each with care. How he hated it when things got disorganized, and abjectly refused to add to the problem. Glancing back as she spoke again, just in time catch her sour expression as though the word left an unpleasant flavor on her tongue, the barest hint of an approving smile flitted across his features before his whole head vanished once more into the latest cupboard. Once or twice he turned a curious gaze her way, but as it seemed she had not yet finished speaking, he remained silent and continued his search. She does enjoy carrying on, doesn't she, he noted privately, though this was perhaps an attempt on her part to distract herself from the discomfort in her leg. Thinking he'd at last found what he'd been seeking, no glance was sent her way as he replied, pulling out a small mortar with its accompanying pestle resting within and gazing hopefully into the cabinet for more supplies. “The word you're searching for is 'Esterians,'” he declared distractedly, as if she had simply forgotten the term. This business of tiptoeing around the term and halfway hiding what she was was pointless and tiresome. Luvadros had never had a problem publicizing his own stance, though this was perhaps partially because he'd originally taken it as an act of rebellion, an act made much stronger by the shameless showing of it. Of course, the hypocrisy he'd just displayed in not flatly informing her of this earlier in the conversation was brushed aside. “There is no aspect of surrogate use of which I approve, Miss Rose.” At last he closed the cabinet, mild disappointment evident n his face as he turned back to her, scooping up the mortar and pestle. Really, who would leave that in there with no supply of medicine or other philtering tools nearby to actually make use of? Sloppy. For the moment he ignored that irritation in favor of continuing the discussion. “It keeps us alive, true, in some lesser way with perpetually thinning blood. But which is preferable, an ultimate end or a prolonged existence as some pale, pitiful parody of past glories?” A hand was waved dismissively before she could reply, holding up the tools and motioning toward the doorway. “The required ingredients and equipment is not here; we will have to relocate.” Stepping closer, his eyes fell to her bandaged joints before returning to her face. “If I help support you and perhaps keep close to a wall, can you walk? Or will you need to be carried?” Neither prospect seemed to thrill him, and what brief time they'd spent together already had him predicting her response.

[Nissabella Rose]

An incredulous expression crossed Nissabella's face as the young doctor not only uttered the very word that she had been trying to avoid saying aloud, but then, to her growing astonishment, actually spoke in support of the Esterians' beliefs, rather than against them as she'd expected. She would have felt less dumbfounded if the doctor had suddenly sprouted wings and starting flying in circles above her head. As he rummaged around in cabinets and shelves, Nissabella found herself staring wide-eyed at his silk-clad back, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say than a confused "Huh?" or "What?". She was grateful when he continued talking as though nothing was the matter, holding up a mortar and pestle and gesturing toward the doorway. Hurriedly, Nissabella closed her mouth and looked up at the doctor's face with fresh eyes, regarding him in a new light after his unexpected revelation. For years, she had hated and avoided the Purging precisely because she'd assumed all the doctors there endorsed the murder of surrogates for the sake of Symenestra children. She still couldn't quite believe that there was even one doctor there who was against this barbaric practice, yet here he stood before her, slender and irritated-looking. Still too startled for proper speech, she studied his face quizzically instead. Nissabella had thought she knew most of the Esterians in Kalinor, as the dissenters often gathered together at least once a season to share their thoughts and strengthen their quiet rebellion. Among that mostly female company, this young doctor would've stood out like a spider amid a flock of butterflies. Yet, she hadn't recognized him as an Esterian when he came through the door of the examination room. Or had she? Nissabella drew in a sharp breath as the niggling question of why the man looked vaguely familiar to her, despite their never having met before, finally resolved itself. No wonder she couldn't stop thinking she'd seen this man before, sitting across the room from her and speaking passionately about something. It must have been at an Esterian gathering! He must have been arguing against the use of surrogates, probably at much greater length than he'd done just now. A tentative smile softened her face as she gazed at the young doctor, relieved and gladdened to find a fellow dissenter. When he asked her a direct question, though, Nissabella had to wrench her mind free of the mists of memory and turned her attention to the present. She glanced down at her bandaged leg and tensed the muscles experimentally. "I can walk, if you let me hold onto your arm and if we keep close to a wall," she affirmed. "That's how my teacher brought me here. Are we going far?" She rather hoped they weren't. On one hand, it would be a relief to get off this cold examination table and preferably onto a soft hammock or rug. On the other hand, the initial journey to the Purging hadn't been pleasant or painless, and Nissabella privately doubted that some bandages could possibly improve the experience very much, no matter how well they were wrapped. Still, if the doctor was leading her toward pain relief and healing, Nissabella wasn't about to protest. She eased her uninjured leg over the edge of the table and pushed herself forward, using her arms, until her extended foot touched the ground. Carefully, she put her weight onto her left foot and hopped forward, dragging her bandaged right leg behind her on the table. Every small impact against the metal surface made her wince, but she managed to slide her hurt leg off the table and held it out at an awkward angle away from her body. She leaned against the table to catch her breath, unaccountably worn out from the brief exercise. After a moment, Nissabella drew herself up as best she could on one leg and held out her hand to the doctor. The gesture felt oddly like a dancing motion, when she stretched out her hand to catch another dancer's outflung silken swath. The comparison made her feel better, and she looked toward the doctor with a smile on her lips. "Care to lead me to where we need to go?" she asked. As an afterthought, Nissabella added, "And you were right. The word I was looking for was 'Esterians' for my friends and me."

[Poison]

THREAD AWARD!

Skills: Rhetoric 2, Interrogation 1

Lores: Acquaintance: Luvadros Orthilia, Recognizing a Fellow Esterian

Notes: I really enjoyed the thread. It's a pity that Luvadros left.

I'm afraid I couldn't give you a lot of skill points, Nissabella, since you were mostly sitting there, waiting for Luvadros to treat you and talking.

Luvadros, if you come back, send me a PM, and I'll give you XP as well.