An Apple A Day

[Cassandra Southwind]

Winter 21, 513 Catholicon "I'm fine." "No you're not. You're tired all the time." "I'll sleep more." Marina didn't have to mention that her cousin already slept more than she ought to. "You haven't helped with the camp for weeks." It cut deep to be accused of indolence. "That's not true." "Come with us to the healers tomorrow. Your mother wants Richie to get his cut looked at, anyway." Richie was fine and both girls knew it. It was an excuse and it was embarrassing, to hear sweet Marina try at motherly manipulation. Cassandra yielded. "I'll go tomorrow morning. But only if you promise not to come." "Alright, they're ready for you now." "What?" She wasn't at port. She was in a big room that stank of earth and herbs. A uniform was standing carefully at her periphery, forcing the svefra girl to turn her head. "A room has been prepared, miss. Up the stairs, fourth curtain on the left." "Oh. Thanks." Cassandra followed the pointed finger to the stairs. Had she not climbed enough of those? Her legs already ached to throbbing. They hummed with that low, deep pain that couldn't even bother to burn. She had been standing for some number of minutes, fearing the chairs and their comfortable grip. Without a second look, she shuffled stiffly to the steps. She did not walk as slowly as she craved to, else a stranger notice her fatigue. The space wasn't really a room. Instead of walls there was a thin curtain, oddly consoling in this otherwise strange and sterile place. The Catholicon's latest patient dropped her bag on the bed and made for the bowl of stagnant water on the table. She took a handful and pressed it into her face with more enthusiasm than she might have if she hadn't been alone. It cooled her, but somehow it did not refresh her. With a sigh she rubbed her eyes of weariness, stained her cheeks with kohl, and carefully wiped it away. Her hands smelled like fish--not that they didn't usually. Fishing was all she seemed to do since they had made port, fishing and selling fish and hauling fish and eating fish. This was the furthest from the market she had ever been, and the familiar scent was a small comfort. A deep, candid inhale rose on her shoulders. The privacy, even just a moment of it, was a little blessing of its own.

[Oswin Raulins]

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until it passes. There’s little we can do short of cutting you open, which I’d imagine would not end well for you.” Oswin flicked her brown eyes at the tall, pale woman standing next to her. “Though you might want to consult the good doctor here for a second opinion, I hear she’s quite good at the cutting.” Alessia Amaryllis responded to Oswin’s remark with smirk so amused that made her wish she’d held her tongue. One sideways, crimson glance was enough to remind the human that etiquette around these parts favored the polite and respectful to the snide and honest. Oswin cleared her throat, raised her eyebrows, and did her very best to maintain her poise. To be fair, it was not the best moment to casually make reference to the rumors Alessia extracted Widow children from their unfortunate mothers. “Give it a full day,” the doctor told the poor sod seated in front of them, a stout man with more hair on his chin than was left on his head. He was smarter than he looked. In an effort to thwart some young bandits from stealing the little coin he had on him, he made it quite unavailable by, well, ingesting it. A clever plan, to be sure, but it did lack a great deal of forethought. Who could blame him? It was the heat of the moment and it did seem to work for him. “If you’ve any discomfort, see us again right away. Miss Raulins here would be happy to assist if you there’s any… difficulty.” Oswin visibly paled. “Best of luck.” Alessia waved toward the room’s exit. "Oswin, I believe you have a patient waiting in the fourth room. Off you go, then.” She shooed the human with a long, pale hand tipped with trimmed back nails. “Uh… yes.” There wasn’t much else she could do here anyway, except put as much distance between herself and this room as possible and forget this moment had ever happened. If the gods favored Oswin at all, they would help this man with his problem and he wouldn’t have to come back. In recent member she hadn’t done anything to cross them. A young medic passed by Oswin as she emerged from the curtain, pausing to quickly give a summary of the patient in the fourth room. Human, young, female, uninjured feeling out of sorts. Appreciating the medic’s brevity, Oswin nodded and headed off to see her. Hopefully she’d not been recently robbed by ruffian youths. The short trip across the loft afforded her enough time to erase the last few chimes from her mind and insert herself into a fresh new moment. “The floor is for your bag to lay and the bed is for you to sit, if you’d please.” The curtain falling behind her, Oswin materialized all at once as she simultaneously gave her immediate assessment of the human female. Cassandra was not given much of a direct look, but Oswin made her observations well enough using only peripheral vision while she headed for the water basin. Young indeed, still in prime childmaking years, sturdy build, far too much hair, tanned skin but pallid facial features, water tattoo… or was it? Oswin paused at the basin, turning her head to briefly stare. Was that tattoo moving? “Some sort of sailor, I presume?” Oswin dipped her hands into the basin and began to wash them as a matter of procedure. And then suddenly she stopped. “Or a fisherman. Excuse me a moment.” Without drying her hands on the nearby towel, she picked up the basin with both hands and quickly disappeared out of the room. Quieted words were exchanged, and half a moment later Oswin appeared with a new basin and fresh water. The item was quickly set down before it could be discerned that it was heavier than she was prepared to carry for more than a few seconds. “Apologies,” she mumbles as she resumed washing her hands in warmed, clean water. “Now then. Your name? Your symptoms? Any pain, loss of appetite, or the like? Do be thorough.” She dried her hands in the towel and then closed a polite amount of distance between herself and the patient. “You may address me as Miss Raulins.”

[Cassandra Southwind]

She should've heard the footsteps in the approach, should've sensed the curtain move. Maybe she had, but a part of her still lurched when the voice suddenly sounded from behind her. Cassandra turned carefully, a soft glare carved into her face by a lifetime of practice. The woman who entered proceeded straight toward her, almost as if she weren't even there, and for a moment she tensed for an assault. But a few neat movements all but pushed her aside. Before she knew it, Cassandra had taken a step toward the bed and was depositing her bag onto the floor. Not every direction was met with the same dumb acquiescence, however. The effort of standing felt like the only thing keeping her awake, especially as the cold water dried quickly from her face. So she didn't sit. She resisted the healer's strange presumptions and the subsequent air of authority that surrounded her knowledge and her position. Miss Raulins turned her back to exchange the tainted water for something purer, and Cassandra stuck her tongue out in secret retaliation. The woman returned quickly enough, and was greeted with folded arms and a reciprocal scrutinization. But the girl was too consumed in her own pains and irritations to observe anything on consquence. She was plain, and she had small eyes. "Cassandra Southwind," she replied, and without the rebellious bravado she had intended. In fact it all came out entirely civil. "I... I am tired. I sleep a lot and it is difficult to wake up." It would have been easier to be rude if this Raulins had made a better conversation of it. Rarely had she encountered someone so concise; she didn't even realize just how she might have preferred it. She took a step back. "Pa says it's because I am young, but someone else said it's not natural. Might be poison." The last came out with a scoff. Her tired blue eyes poured from the healer's to the healer's shoulder. "Oh, and my knees hurt. Might just be the cold. Or-- I don't know. They made me come. Tell me now, if I'm wasting your time."

[Catastrophe]

e

Cassandra Southwind :

Skills

• Socialization: 2 XP
• Rhetoric: 1 XP

Lores

• The Stench of Fish: A Warming Comfort

Loot

• N/A

Oswin :

Once you return and update your ledger, please PM me and I would be happy to give you your grade!

Notes :

It was a shame this didn't go anywhere. I really saw a nice thread happening, but as you mentioned, it was finished too soon. Here's your grades anyway, and I hope you enjoy!