Solo [Palsa Hydrasa] Permanent Blisters

[Orinei]

4th of Winter, 512 AV J-2845. Female human, possible Vantha. 5’3’’, 115 pounds. Black hair. Blue eyes. Approximately 25 years of age. J-2846. Male human. 5’10’’, 223 pounds. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Tattoos. Approximately 50 years of age. Male human, possible Inarta. 5’9’’, 140 pounds. Red hair. Green eyes. Muscular build. Approximately 35 years of age. Punctuating these descriptions was the scrape of stone on stone as Orinei laboriously pushed back the lid of each sarcophagi in the Rubellum Chamber, peering at the preserved body within before scurrying back to the book, trying to keep each body in her mind’s eye long enough to write a concise description of it in the ledger. It was getting very tedious, she thought, scribbling number after number, hair color after hair color, approximate age after approximate age. It didn’t help that the only writing utensils—literally, the only writing utensils—were the gaudy, ridiculously long peacock feather quills that Amaryllis favored so much. She must get some sadistic pleasure out of humiliating us with these things, Orinei reasoned as the end of that petching feather tickled her face again. Orinei assumed Amaryllis didn’t do much ledger-keeping, judging by the fact that she didn’t keep anything more useful around. Not only was the quill giving her tiny blisters (they filled with ichor, making tiny bubbles on the pads of her thin, white fingers) and leaving impressions in her skin, but every other second, she was sneezing as the quill tickled her nose. She gingerly massaged her fingertips, wondering vaguely if the blisters would heal. She knew they wouldn’t, of course—that damned quill had left marks on her that would stay until she needed to switch bodies. In turn, because she didn’t switch bodies very often, preferring to simply take extremely good care of her own, she’d keep those marks for quite awhile. She sighed, continuing to the next body. Slowly, measuredly walk up the stepstool. Scrape. Peer inside. Step down, pick up ridiculous quill. Scribble. J-2847. Male human. 6’, 175 pounds. Long black hair, dark eyes. Approximately 20 years of age. Repeat. Repeat. Her handwriting was measured, neat; each letter took up precisely the same amount of space on the page, her lines impeccably evenly spaced, even in her fatigue. The last several pages had been completely her own, but at the beginning of her work she'd found herself annoyed, having to write around the looping, calligraphic script of whoever--Amaryllis?--had been cataloging the bodies before she'd started. As she completed the page, she gingerly set the quill down, sighing, resting her arms on the book and her head on her arms. Her fine, blonde hair, normally kept brushed to a sheen, was greasy, unkempt and tangled. She hadn’t applied any of her cosmetics in three days—and that was saying something. Even on the boat to Sahova, she’d diligently applied cream to the circles under her eyes, and rouge to her lips. Except when she’d wanted to scare the crew—then she tried to look as dead as possible. She smiled at the thought, turning her head and letting her cheek touch the textured parchment of the ledger beneath it. Belatedly, she realized she was probably getting ink on her face, but she didn’t move. She felt lethargic. It wasn’t as if the work was difficult—it was just simply very boring. She found herself much more energized when she had interesting things to do, and this was just about the least interesting thing she could think of. Body after body…at least I’ve finished that shipment, she thought, relieved. In fact, she had finished the first shipment Amaryllis had given her—and one more. Amaryllis had even looked impressed, though Orinei thought she might have been projecting it just a tad. Nonetheless, she felt like she was proving how dedicated she would be not only in this tedium but in the embalming and surgery chambers as well. Slowly, she rose to her feet, feeling as if her bones were creaking aloud. She quietly shut the ledger book, placing the peacock quill atop its cover. She made a mental note to find another quill somewhere—she highly doubted Sahova in its entirety was full of peacock feathers (and surely hoped it wasn't). She’d much prefer something shorter, plainer. Anything, though, would be better than the incessant tickling of the long quill. She walked towards the wall of sarcophagi and then down the side of the room, letting her fingers drag along the surface of the stones. As she walked she studied the glyphs inscribed on each sarcophagus, pondering what they could mean, who drew them, why they worked. She’d realized in the last few days that if she was going to get anywhere in Sahova, she’d definitely need to acquire some skill in magic. She’d come thinking she could simply beautify and preserve—but that wasn’t all she’d need to do, especially if she wanted to do it herself. With a last look at the glyphs, she turned and walked up the stairs back to the main chamber. It was night, and the only lights in the room came from the glowing orb-lamps, giving the room a soft and peaceful, but eerie, light. She sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the tile next to the pool, simply gazing at the water and thinking. She hadn’t even bathed in it herself, yet—she was so fascinated by what could possibly be contained in that water, but hadn’t had the time to ask Amaryllis yet. She made a mental note to ask the next day, lazily dragging her fingertips across the surface of the water as she had the stone in the Rubellum Chamber. The water was warm, soothing the quill-blisters on her fingers. Tomorrow would be another day, she thought, swirling her fingers in the water, watching the slow ripples bounce off each other and fill the surface of the pool. Amaryllis had said she’d be helping Nuits with the baths, and perhaps some other small tasks, very soon. Perhaps tomorrow was as good a day as any.

[Orinei]

5th of Winter, 512 AV First Bell It had been a long night in the apprentice quarters. This was one of the only nights Orinei had spent completely in the small closet she was now calling her own; lately, she’d taken to going back to her room to get her cloak, and then aimlessly wandering the Citadel, collecting her thoughts, trying to sort her ideas and pick them apart from one another. If anything, she had a better understanding of the layout of the place. She hadn’t slept that night, of course—she didn’t need to—but she had deigned to recline upon the hard mat in her quarters. For a while she’d laid on her stomach, wrapped in her cloak, lazily flipping pages by candlelight. Amaryllis had given her a break that afternoon, and she’d gone straight to the library. She wasn’t exactly sure if she was supposed to actually borrow the books, rather than just reading them in the confines of the library, but she’d thrown caution to the wind (no golem had stopped her, after all) and she had borrowed four books: three dealing with basic theory (Animation, Philtering, and Herbalism) and one on Embalming, detailing different methods of keeping a corpse fresh for inhabitation. In her opinion, that one was a little outdated. The books weren’t anything fancy—just a little light reading. Something to occupy her mind during the long night hours. If she'd had her way, she would be working in the Palsa Hydrasa through the night; however, Amaryllis kept decidedly more human-like hours. She’d been working on the Philtering book, as of late; she knew, though, she’d have to reread it later. She had come to Sahova with so many ideas for what she could do to possibly revolutionize Embalming processes, but the last several days of ledger-keeping had burned the gender, height, weight, age, and identifying marks of all of Sahova’s newest inhabitable bodies into her mind, let alone her eyes. Every time Orinei closed her eyes, she saw the ledger materialize in her eyelids, no matter how hard she pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead. She did just that, once more, shutting the book with a snap and a cloud of stale dust, gingerly placing it on the rough-hewn little table in her dark, slightly damp little room. Funny that this place is so small, she thought, laying back on the mat, grimacing slightly as her aching back hit the ground. Everything else around here seems to be unnecessarily big. She was, of course, referring to the size of the Citadel itself: its soaringly tall sculptures, the giant stone golems, and the labyrinth of passageways itself. Even the egos of the wizards that, for all intents and purposes, all but owned this place. All that, compared to the cramped closet she currently occupied. She found herself unable to compare it to anything else, though, when attempting to think of “home”—she had no home, she supposed, besides this newfound one. She’d seen wide open skies, the sea, a city of tents, and once, many years ago, a university. But nothing felt like home. At least this was a solid place, if a bit scary. She knew Sahova wasn’t going anywhere. With a deep exhale, she pressed her hands into her face and once again saw the ledger on the insides of her eyelids.

[Orinei]

5th of Winter, 512 AV Ninth Bell As creaky as she had felt when she quit work the night before, Orinei felt (if possible) creakier upon rising the next morning. She wasn’t used to taking breaks on such a stringent schedule; without the need for sleep, she preferred to do as she pleased right up until she didn’t please. Even if—and sometimes especially if—that meant going for bells, perhaps even days on end. Amaryllis took a slightly different approach. Anyone familiar with Amaryllis knew that she had kept many of her human customs intact, despite the fact that her human life was in fact pre-Valterrian. This included keeping a regular daytime/nighttime separation in her work. Orinei hated this. Why can’t she grasp that this is what makes us special? The fact that we’re NOT human? Her thoughts on it had been raging all night as she read. Personally, she was very proud of her Nuit immortality. She had adjusted to this life seamlessly: had wanted it, planned for it before it ever happened. Even though Nuits lived indefinitely, habits are made quickly for all beings. Being in the habit of doing the same thing for over 70 years—and then having it changed for you—would make anyone a little cranky. Which was a perfect word to describe Orinei as she finally lifted herself up off her mat, muttering curses, stretching languidly in an attempt to soothe her aching bones. She was due to report back to the Palsa Hydrasa: a shipment of bodies was due to come in. Today, though, she had vowed she would do something for herself. It couldn’t be past the ninth bell, and Amaryllis was in the habit of keeping things quiet around the Palsa til at least the tenth. She sat up, cross-legged, grabbing the little grooming kit she kept with her few belongings. In it, in addition to her makeup, was the ornately forged silver compact, given to her all those many years ago by her mother. She flipped it open noiselessly. Out of all the things she’d had and lost, taken good or terrible care of, this was the one item that she’d kept in absolutely perfect condition. It was the only thing that reminded her of her humanity—though she’d never admit that, and barely recognized it herself. The mirror glinted as she lifted it to her face, peering at her own reflection. Ugh. Her first thoughts were a bit disgusted. She may have loved her immortality, but she certainly wanted to look a tad more vivacious and beautiful than the corpse that was currently staring her down. She hadn't had much time to apply her makeup as of late; the last four days had been a bit of an adjustment period as she attempted to prove herself. But today, she decided, she would go to work looking like her old self. Taking a pot of foundation from the kit, she dabbed it under her eyes with one hand while holding the compact in the other. It was a practiced gesture, but somehow still clumsy; the pot of foundation sat on the ground and her hands moved independently of one another, but she stopped every once in a while to swivel her head and check the evenness of her application. The process wasn't exactly an expert one; over the years she had spent more of her time practicing and learning Embalming than cosmetic application, but she looked much better (in her opinion) all the same. The cream dulled the starkness of the bruise-purple circles that had begun to form under her eyes. A tiny smile found her lips; she already felt better. Next, with a tiny brush she ringed her lashes with dark black powder, accidentally smudging it slightly; it still made her blue eyes stand out more than they had, made them look perhaps even lifelike. And last, her lips. She pulled a tiny tin of rouge from the kit, first dipping into it with her ring finger, then gently dabbing it onto her lips. When she’d finished, she shut the tin once more, glancing into the compact. Not bad, she thought, and with another satisfied smile she clicked the compact shut. The last part of today’s transformation: shedding her simple black cotton dress she’d been working in for one she’d brought from many leagues away. Let’s see what Amaryllis thinks of this, she thought, pulling the black velvet confection from her things. In a fluid, measured motion, she slipped out of her simple clothes and into the velvet. It wasn’t cut to be regal, by any means, but she was transformed. The dress was long, brushing the stone floor when she stood at her full height. The neckline sloped into a deep V shape, stopping above the slight curve of her chest. She admired beauty, but was not above modesty. The sleeves hung loosely from the shoulder, but were ruched at the elbow and fitted in the arm from there on. Feminine, but practical. None of this dress would get in the way of her work—especially the low-impact things she’d been wasting her time on thus far. She pulled on her boots, lacing them quickly. Without a second look at her chamber, she whirled out (velvet skirt swishing around her ankles, of course) and began her walk to the Palsa Hydrasa, a new spring in her step. Makeup was a girl's best friend—Orinei could attest to that.

[Orinei]

When Orinei arrived for the workday, Amaryllis was already waiting out by the pool. “Good, you’re here,” she said briskly, turning without waiting and walking with fluttering steps towards the doors at the far end of the room. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us!” She said it almost singsong, and her voice reverberated in the huge chamber. Orinei, puzzled by this urgency (and a little miffed that Amaryllis hadn’t noticed all the trouble she’d gone to with her makeup and dress), rolled her eyes and followed. She watched Amaryllis cross the room, waiting to see what door she would pick. She wasn’t sure which door she wanted her to pick, but Orinei groaned as Amaryllis disappeared through the door leading to the Rubellum Chamber, letting the door slam behind her, obviously trusting that Orinei would follow along. Ugh. Orinei rolled her eyes, dragging her feet across the tiled floor towards the doors. Amaryllis’ choice of door could have meant a number of things, but Orinei was fairly sure what awaited her: a body shipment. And all that meant was more tedious writing, lifting bodies into sarcophagi, and watching some hapless apprentices draw Glyphs and create ice in the large stone caskets. It’s a wonder the bodies stay intact at all, she thought, before her mind turned to her own embalming ideas and she threw the door to the Rubellum Chamber open, feeling like she’d be doing more cataloging than anything for the rest of eternity. She took the stairs slowly as well, and when she emerged at the bottom, she found Amaryllis directing some nervous looking humans—and they must have been boys, they were so fresh-faced and young—where to put the long boxes, stacked four high and three wide, that they had seemingly pushed in from nowhere on a huge cart. “Over here, please,” she said briskly, pointing at the far wall. “Stack them.” Turning away from the young men, she noticed Orinei standing at the base of the stairs, warily looking around. “Oh, you’re here. New shipment,” she said, unnecessarily. Apprentices, Orinei questioned herself, or just pulsers bullied into heavy lifting? They didn't look like embalmers to her, after all. “I can see that,” she retorted icily. Amaryllis replied with nothing but an overly sweet smile, turning back to watch the continued unloading of coffins. The cart had disappeared without the boys in tow; apparently it was some sort of corpse-retrieval-golem. Upon the cart's exit was when Orinei noticed the giant hole in the wall where before had been a formidable door. Orinei had never actually seen the door open before; she had thought it might be for decoration. On the contrary, the door opened onto some sort of cavern that sloped fairly steeply downhill, dimly lit by torches. “It’s a tunnel,” Amaryllis explained, having not lost her patience with Orinei’s negativity quite yet. “It leads to the Warehouses. So we can get the bodies in without letting them get too much more air. A lot quicker, too.” Faintly, the squeaking axles of the cart could be heard in the distance, damply echoing off the tunnel’s stone walls. “They might have to make a few trips, though. I’m trying to stock up a bit.” Amaryllis smiled sheepishly, but then turned her attention back to the wooden boxes that had begun to pile up. “I’d like these catalogued and put in the sarcophagi by the end of the day,” she said, suddenly business-like once more. “But before that, I’ll show you the first step of the embalming process…the other apprentices can deal with the Glyphing and the Reimancy later.” Suddenly, Orinei found herself very excited. So it won’t ALL be cataloguing, today… Amaryllis walked briskly to the wall, and pulled out one of the sarcophagi; however, this one didn’t contain a body. It looked as if it contained supplies. She removed a formidable looking needle, a long clear piece of some sort of tubing and a green bottle with a faded label. The bottle had an interesting cap; it had a metal stopper that narrowed considerably into a small pipette. As she walked back, Orinei noted that the liquid in the bottle seemed to be somewhat viscous; it sloshed against the sides, but lingered, oozing back down into the bottom. “Take these,” Amaryllis said, handing Orinei the needle, tube and bottle. Obediently, she took them. At that moment, the boys returned with another cartful of pine boxes. “One of you—take a body out, put it on this table, please,” Amaryllis ordered. The boys looked at each other, both terrified that the flamboyantly dressed Nuit had issued them an order. The taller one pushed the shorter one forward. He looked like he was trembling, but the shorter boy did as he was told; he slid open one of the boxes, revealing a very peaceful, pale young woman, dark-haired and petite. A good shipment, at least, Orinei noted. Barely decomposed at all. The boy hefted the woman out of the coffin with ease—she couldn’t have weighed much, she looked like she’d wasted away from some silent disease—and unceremoniously deposited her on the slab in front of Orinei and Amaryllis. Amaryllis nodded approvingly. “Thank you. You may continue.” Without looking at her, both boys mumbled their thanks and continued unloading the boxes. Amaryllis walked slowly around the table, appraising the subject, stopping to stand directly to the left of the dead woman’s head. The woman was nude; some corpses came to them clothed, but not this one. She was indeed frail, and small: her ribs showed, her elbows and knees knobby with bone, unfettered by fat. “The first step in body preservation,” Amaryllis began, “is the initial application of the embalming fluid.” She gestured Orinei to come closer. “We’ll do it together.” She took the bottle from Orinei, setting it on the slab by the woman’s head. “Here, give me your hand.” Orinei tentatively walked towards Amaryllis, stopping at her side. Without missing a beat, Amaryllis grabbed her hand—the one with the needle in it. “And now, you find the vein.” With her free hand, Amaryllis massaged the woman’s pale neck, and abruptly stopped when she found what she was looking for. Finger pressed, she took Orinei’s hand and placed it there. “Feel it?” she said, turning to Orinei, looking for confirmation. Orinei did, indeed, feel the firm, thick, still vein under her fingers, and she nodded, smiling. She truly was excited about this. Amaryllis smiled as well. “Good. Next, we slide the needle in—“ guiding Orinei’s hand, she swiftly stuck the needle into the woman’s neck. Blood—viscous, partially congealed—began to drip from the opposite end of the hollow needle. “Now, attach the tubing, quickly,” Amaryllis said, and she did this part on her own, grabbing the tubing out of Orinei’s hand, pressing it over the open end of the needle and quickly raising it vertically so the blood ceased to flow. Now, it slowly puddle in the bend in the tube. “And now, you connect the bottle.” Amaryllis pressed the end of the tubing, still holding it vertically, into Orinei’s hand. She picked up the bottle, removing the stopper from the tip. Immediately, a strong scent permeated the air around them; the embalming fluid smelled chemical, metallic. Ick. That’s something to be improved upon. Orinei noted it, wrinkling her nose, but quickly returned her mind to the task at hand. Amaryllis took the tubing back, gently pushing the free end of the tube over the pipette-like top. She then very slowly tipped the bottle, holding it gingerly, adjusting its angle so that the fluid flowed out at the right speed. It was clear, and bright, icy blue. It slowly filled the tube, and then presumably went through the needle to flow through the veins of the woman on the table. “Keep watch on them,” Amaryllis said, looking at the woman on the table almost lovingly. “You can’t let too much of the fluid get into the veins. They’ll burst, and then the body is useless because the ichor will flow out into the body cavities.” Orinei nodded, and Amaryllis handed her the bottle. “Keep it tilted just so. You’ll be able to see the veins stand out, in the crooks of her arms—stop when they’re firm.” Orinei nodded again, quickly. A few chimes later, under the watchful eye of Amaryllis, Orinei removed the needle. The needle had been long, but fairly thin, and the mark it left was negligible; a tiny bead of embalming fluid formed, but Amaryllis told her not to worry. “It does that sometimes,” she said, nodding. “It won’t hurt the body, though, such a tiny hole.” Orinei was beaming. She had played a very minor role in the whole sequence (really, she’d only slid the needle in, with Amaryllis holding her hand), but finally, some real embalming—and even if she didn’t get to do this all the time (Amaryllis had chided her, telling her she’d have to put in some major time at the baths before she could do this sort of work again) she was still pleased to have had the experience. “I’ll have one of the other apprentices do the rest of them,” Amaryllis said, waving off the two boys through the tunnel, pulling the huge door shut behind them once they’d finished unloading all of Sahova’s newest corpses. “In the meantime, you can begin cataloging these and moving them into the sarcophagi.” Sigh. Orinei had been dreading that. But somehow, it seemed a little less daunting of a task, now that there was an end in sight. “By the way…you look quite nice today.” With a little smile, and a sashay of her peacock robes, Amaryllis took the stairs back to the main chamber, leaving Orinei alone with the dead, smiling. OOC: : PLEASE let me know if there's anything amiss with this...too complicated for my skills, things you don't like, etc. If you feel like I got too carried away I will be more than happy to fix it.

[Mirage]

Character Name

Experience

Skill	XP Earned
Cosmetology	2
Embalming	4
Observation	3
Organization	1
Writing	1

Lores

•	Lore Earned
•	Layout of Sahova
•	Grand Library: You can borrow books
•	Embalming: The Basic Steps

It's Not What You Think...

Great job!! Usually Embalming is done by making an incision below the clavicle in order to find the Jugular Vein. That is one of the largest veins of the body and travels through the entire body as well. The process is usually not so neat, especially if they are in a hurry, and you can usually see where the incision is made because it has to be sewn up. In your thread, however, I think that works just fine as well and it looks better! You got the extra 2 points from me for the details added about the actual process, and you even had her feel for the vein. I am so proud! Great job, well deserving of the points