PM to join Hysteria (Tydus)

[Verena Lorak]

Hysteria
40th of Summer, 514 A.V.

“I think he’s in shock,” Taloe declared as Verena entered the healing room. “His pulse is rapid, but weak.” A man was lying on one of the beds, conscious but unmoving. He was strongly build, packed with muscles and probably would’ve towered over most people given the chance.

Verena nodded briefly as she strode toward the patient’s bed. His shirt had been discarded and most of the dirt was cleaned from the injuries. The man had been carted in by some patrolling guards. He was found bleeding and wandering deliriously. Not long after the guards found him, he went almost catatonic. She had listened to the guards recount of the story as Taloe was left to deal with the basic treatments. It seemed like he was probably attacked by some bandits and left for dead. It was amazing that he could hold out that long. Fortunately, his wounds didn’t seem to be fatal. There were quite a few focused on his chest, but most were shallow. As far as she could see, only two of the lacerations needed stitching. “Prepare the tools for suturing,” she called out to Bellara who had been carrying the man’s things – which included a bag, a knife and a longsword.

The young doctor pressed two fingers below the man’s throat, verifying what her slave had identified. His skin was cold to the touch and pale. His eyes were still open, but glassy and dilated. She deduced he was having a stress reaction. It wasn’t the first time she had encountered a patient suffering extreme stress of getting wounded, but it still worried her. She waved a hand in front of his face. “Can you hear me?” The only reaction she got was a blink. Detachment. With a quick check, she realized that his breathing was low and slow. That would mean she couldn’t risk putting him under.

Then, Verena placed her hand on the worst wound – a gash on his right pectoral. He didn’t even flinch at the action. Numbness. Verena called on her healing mark, willing its power to seep through the tissues and clean his wounds. And then the next one. And the next one. Until she was sure there would be no threat of infection in any of the traumas.

After scrubbing her hands in the washbasin, Verena picked up the heated needle already threaded with a fine string of silk. Hesitating, she looked up at Hallan, who had found his way to the other side of the bed. Her eyes immediately sought for the jagged scar just below his last rib – her first suture. The slave smiled weakly in encouragement.

Knowing she couldn’t wait any longer, Verena brought the needle close to the edge of the pectoral wound at a right angle. The next thing to do was the hardest: stop thinking about it too hard. Her hand finally moved in a practiced gesture, weaving the small piece of metal into the skin.Tugging and tightening, making sure the wound started to close. Still no reaction from her patient besides a slight twitch. Once placed, she knotted it snugly.

Next wound, she thought. Verena had just made the first loop when something caught the attention of her peripheral vision. The man’s hand was rising, lifting slowly. She ignored it, focusing on the task at hand instead. The Lorak definitely wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

“Ver!” a voice called out.

A pair of hands slammed against her shoulders hard. Hard enough that she was thrown back against the next bed. Luckily, her mind still had the sense to release needle, preventing a rip on his skin. Her back crashed painfully against the steel frame and a cry escaped her lips as she slumped on the floor in shock. Her vision darkened for a brief moment, but she shoved the panic down. Someone was already on her side, gentle hands helping her to stand up. She blinked

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!” an unfamiliar voice screamed. Faintly, she started to process that Hallan was trying to hold the man down, talking too rapidly to be soothing. But the man was too strong. Hallan was shoved out of the way soon enough.

The man started yelling again as he staggered to his feet. He wobbled but found his balance soon enough.

Verena steeled her nerves and stepped into the man’s line of sight. It was pure instinct that saved her – telling her to duck – when the man grabbed something and throwing it in her direction. She could hear the sound of glass shattering, meaning that the window was probably ruined, but she dared not turn. “You are in a clinic. Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

His furious gaze settled on her. “You’re lying! You’ve killed my whole family!” he screamed again. Definitely an acute stress reaction. He started scanning his environment and for the first time he noticed his sword and lunged.

[Tydus Tempest]

Dry Island. This particular segment of Kenash radiated an overarching, extravagant beauty common to the in-city manors of the Dynasties, which for Tydus, merely encouraged the notion that it was a place of wealth. The Tempest knew that it was not for him to deeply investigate the city or snoop about in places where he was not welcome, but the art of Hypnotism and a silver tongue coaxed him into a state of recklessness, a notion only supported by the fact that if needed, he could sway a Dynasty member to take an interest in him for long enough to sate his curiosity. The city of Kenash, while not obviously dangerous or dark, seemed to have this ever-present and looming status quo of anti-tourism, a notion that both puzzled and intrigued Tydus.

In fact, it almost made him consider getting the mark of a Freeborn in order to assail the city without being attacked, either physically or verbally. For the moment, however, Tydus would inevitably refuse. A brand. A mark of a slave. It was disgusting, a stain upon the flesh that Tydus could not accept. If he could instead accept the mark as a tattoo, perhaps he would, but he knew of no system in place to avoid the brand, and thus did not insist citizenship upon himself. If he wished to continue business in the city, perhaps he would need to. No, he was finding, more and more, that it was a necessity. Kenash did not welcome him. Its Dynasties spurned him. Even the Freeborn looked at him in disgust. It took a great deal of investment into Hypnotism to even carry a conversation, and Tydus knew not how long he could rely upon his soul to do what his mouth could not before it became consumed by his efforts.

The Tempest pursed his lips at the thought, wondering to himself just how far the shakes would take him if he was forced to rely on immense amounts of Hypnotic influence daily. So far, he was picking his battles, wearing a shirt as to not arouse attention to an incredibly degree. His light crossbow was mounted upon his back, bolts fastened in a pocket in his rucksack. To most, perhaps Tydus would look the part of a mercenary, though he was nothing of the sort.

Crash.

The sound was foreign to Tydus in the setting, disbelief cast upon his features as he heard the noise associated with Verena's collapse against the table. Was it a fight? An attack? Both seemed, from Tydus' limited knowledge of the city, to be incredibly unlikely. The city of Kenash did not seem the place for a brawl, and its inhabitants certainly were not the people who would engage in such a rudimentary form of conflict resolution. Curiosity peaked within the Tempest's thoughts as he followed the sound, his ocean's blue eyes cast upon the lush grass of the Mortal Solace, his puzzlement even further mounted in his thoughts.

What sort of fight happens in a... what the petch is this place?

The Tempest stepped forth to investigate, allowing himself entrance into the Mortal Solace, wondering to himself how such a strangely contradictory exterior was accepted in the city until he saw how it looked on the inside. The clinic was beautiful in seeming, Tydus momentarily distracted by the richness of the furniture. Again, it was contradictory, but the words in the following room distracted him again from his musings. Verena's words were muffled by distance, but Tydus quickly sought to close it out, hastening his pace when he heard a masculine voice shout out. It claimed that murder bordering on slaughter had transpired, and the Tempest wondered to himself what could bring someone to believe that such a thing had occurred. Tydus shrugged as he made his way forward, noting the man, obviously injured, looming over what looked to be a medic and her assistant, perhaps? Tydus neither knew, nor cared.

Instinct flared for him to attempt to interfere, djed welling in his throat as he raced forward. The injured man swung out at Tydus, but his movements were sluggish, hampered by his injuries. It gave the Tempest ample time to avoid his strike, the Svefra ducking beneath the blow, merely to swipe his legs beneath the man's feet. Were the man fit and healthy, it would not have sufficed to much, but injury slowed him down, pain brought with it hesitance, and the man collapsed under the sweeping movement of Tydus' foot. He crashed to the floor, and Tydus sought to end his rampage, not by violence, but with Hypnotism. Djed welled within the Svefra's vocal cords still, flowing and stretching to encompass the entirety of his throat as he also brought djed into his touch. Tydus lowered to crouch over the enraged man, clearly enunciating his words, working a slow, melodic tune into his words, clearly intent on calming the man down.

"Yer' only going to hurt yourself worse, lad. If I can take ye down right now, you're obviously not in the best shape. Rest. Relax. Let the nice lady and her friend take care of you, will ye?

The Tempest poured his influence into the man's thoughts, a smirk materialized upon his features as he paired two tried and true Hypnotic applications into the man's mind. A suggestion paired with an emotional response, both intent on accompanying and bringing strength to his words. The emotional response was set to calm, chills flowing down Tydus' spine as Hypnotism welled djed from his soul, the pleasure, akin to a drug's influence present but for the moment ignored. The man's dilated pupils would shrink ever so slightly, his rapid movements slowing as he considered Tydus' words. The suggestion followed to complete the task.

I should listen... I need to recover. They're only trying to help me, then I can sow my revenge.

Tydus would deal with the last part of his suggestion later, but it was clear that the injured man was in no condition to make good on his desires. He must have caught the other two people in the room by surprise. Tydus made his way to his feet, a deep breath escaping his lips as he looked over to Verena,

"Sorry bout that, lass. Didn't mean to interfere, but I don' think yer sorry that I did. Are you?"


Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Verena Lorak]

When the man had started to move, Verena didn’t know what she was going to do. There was no way she could fight him. A single blow would have incapacitated her easily. What then? Hallan might be able to hold his ground, but he didn’t have even the littlest experience in combat.

As much as she tried to predict how the scene would play out, Verena could never imagine that a blonde stranger would charge inside and divert the man’s attention. For a brief moment, she wanted to cry out. Yet, he avoided a swinging arm with a certain ease of a fighter. Then, he brought his leg underneath the raging patient, effectively tripping him. As the man crashed on the ground, Verena flinched. It was always so hard for her to watch any form of violence without reacting negatively. She imagined that his sutures would be ripped from such a fall. Sure enough, the gash started gushing with blood.

Verena surged forward, prepared to treat the man, but apparently the blonde still wasn’t finished. He crouched in front of the man and started talking lightly. Like they were sharing a typical conversation. If that wasn’t odd enough, Verena felt like there was something familiarly compelling about his voice. And Verena had watched enough men eased from their pain to notice the tension leaving the injured man slowly. The anger in his eyes subsided, if only a little.

“Sorry bout that, lass. Didn’t mean to interfere, but I don’ think yer sorry that I did. Are you?” the new stranger said as he turned to Verena. The first thing her mind registered about him was his strikingly blue eyes – just as bright as her amaranthine eyes.

Hallan appeared beside her in a blink, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. He took in the weapon mounted on the man’s back and the foreigner demeanor of his - things his mistress paid little attention to. The slave automatically identified the stranger as a potential threat, especially after seeing his maneuver of dispatching the patient.

Verena didn’t notice the warning her slave was sending her with his eyes, far too focused on the young man who managed to sedate a hallucination-ridden patient with a few words. It wasn’t logical. Mere moments ago, the man was ready to actually murder someone and now, even his breathing had calmed down slightly. Maybe they knew each other of some sort? “How did you do that?”

Realizing that Verena was too preoccupied to ask the more important question, Hallan spoke up, “Who are you? Is he your kin?” He had decided that the man was an outsider by the lack of brand on his hand. As long as he wasn’t from Kenash, he wouldn’t demand the slave to be punished for speaking out of place. Besides, Hallan knew that Verena always had a soft spot foreigners – much to her family’s distress. Though a soft spot may not be the fitting description. She has a . . . deeper interest regarding those who weren’t native to the swamplands.

Remembering the patient, she turned. The man was crawling backward slowly, before leaning against the table. He was still angry, his hands bunched into fists almost threateningly. Instead of keeping their distance, she walked past the blue-eyed young man without a moment of hesitation. All Verena could think of was the strain the suture was taking as she rushed to crouch beside him. She couldn’t leave him on the floor, but she feared that hoisting him up would make things more dire. “Don’t move.” He glared at her still, but at least he listened. The change was startling, but welcome.

“Ver, I don’t think you should treat him for a while,” Hallan suggested as he stepped closer to her. “We can sedate him first.”

The man jerked away and in answer, Verena cursed in Vani rather bluntly – on the knowledge that most wouldn’t understand what she was saying. “What are you doing? You can’t put me under.”

“Of course I can, but I chose not to,” replied Verena.

“Your tackling him reopened his wound,” the young woman said rather sharply after a moment, already slipping into her role as a healer. She inspected the suture she hadn’t finished, the needle still hanging down by the silk thread. What little she had done before he decided to rampage was still somewhat intact, though it was bleeding. It would be riskier to actually redo the whole thing.

Finally, she looked up to the man who had probably saved her life. Zorane’s voice sounded inside her head, reminding her of her manners. “But thank you for . . . helping.” She wasn’t sure what to call whatever he had done earlier.

“I’ll start to patch you up again,” she announced to the patient as she picked up her needle. “Just stay still for the moment.”

The pain her needle brought seemed to be rebuilding his anger as she sewed. Verena made sure she kept a hand on him, her djed flowing to her hand and across her skin. She was still terribly unaccustomed to sensing auras with her touch, but the man’s rage was so strong that it was easy to identify it. The information that came with the heated prickling under her skin felt absolutely strange.

The Lorak guessed that he was still trapped in this stressed haze of his, not quite understanding that he was in a clinic. He still looked at her as an enemy, but whatever the blonde man had done was enough to keep the anger at bay for now. In such close quarters, Verena would have to be able to spot the exact moment before his fury reached its peak. She had no doubt that he would hurt her given the chance. So, she worked quickly, faster than she had expected. The result was rather crude, but it should hold.

All that was left for the young doctor to do was cutting off the thread. It was supposed to be the easiest part. Just a simple snip. However, as Hallan handed her the scissors, something flashed in the man’s eyes - clear to anyone who was paying a close attention. The sight of the sharp tool was too much, reigniting the horrors of whatever moment he was trapped in while he was injured.

Fingers suddenly clamped around her wrist, and a scream nearly escaped her. She could see his hand inching for the blade left on top of the table he was leaning on. Had he planned this? “Don’t let him get that sword.” The Lorak twisted her arm, trying to test just how strong his grip was. In reaction, pain flared as the patient tightened his fingers. She was not going to force her way out of his hold it seemed.

OOCHope I'm not going to fast with this

[Tydus Tempest]

Her question was one that he deemed worthy of response, but not an honest response. Honesty was the demise of the Hypnotist, for discovery of their abilities led to those abilities becoming ineffective. The Tempest shrugged coyly, though his lips parted to speak. Djed welled within the Tempest's throat as he mustered it, keeping his voice level save for intonations of confidence delicately inflected in his words.

"Guess I'm just a charmin' lad."

The Hypnotism in his words was geared towards an emotional response and a suggestion, by far his favourite grouping of spells. Hypnotism was an art far more than it was a magic, and weaving its abilities with one another to form the mind into a tapestry was how the art turned from a two-dimensional facade to a fully fleshed-out and potent, three-dimensional influence. He hoped to bring her to trust him, and he sought after it. The suggestion was simple, though djed was poured into it to make it rather insistent. Tydus did not want this side of the conversation to continue.

He does seem to carry that sort of charisma about him...

Moving forward from the weaving of his spells, Tydus did not see a brand upon her face nor her skin. She possessed an attendant, who by the mark on their face, was a slave. Addressed respectfully and the slave obviously seemed to care for her... it reminded Tydus of Adrienna Lynint and her slave, Lucian. It was uncanny, almost, though the relationship and the people involved were clearly different. This parallel, however, allowed Tydus an insight into who, or rather, what she was.

Dynasty born was the most logical choice. These people had the means to provide their slaves with a lifestyle and the finery that made even them become blind to their situation, it seemed. And thus, those slaves were content in their oppression. The Tempest scion, of course, kept his words to himself, as he looked upon the slave, the ghost of a smirk upon his features. The slave, however, likely had a greater status than himself at the moment. It was disgusting to think that even a woman in chains could raise her head higher than the Tempest could.

He bit upon his tongue, the jibe threatening to worm its way out for just a moment before he listened to the other woman, the obvious Dynasty member, speak out. She seemed soft spoken, rather deliberate with her tone, but the content of the sentence itself was laughable. Indecisive, unsure, this one was starkly different from the Dynasty member he knew. Adrienna was a completely different sort, it seemed. Perhaps an oddity among the elite. Perhaps this was the norm? Entitled, perhaps? Wealthy?

What exactly is it that defines a Dynasty member? An outfit? A birthright? Their way of being?

None of the three seemed right to the Tempest, but he couldn't be entirely sure. Tydus cast his gaze over to the fallen man as Verena circled over to him in the attempt to treat him again. Tydus caught his gaze upon the blade that was nearly within his reach, and stepped forward. He neither grabbed it nor swatted at the man's hand, but instead moved it several feet out of the injured man's reach. He did not seem like he was able to muster a greater range of motion than his pathetic reaching, and the forceful grasp upon the strange Dynasty woman seemed to be the limits of his strength.

The Tempest scion looked down upon the man again before he looked over to Verena,

"Why not just knock him out? He's obviously in shock. Doesn't take a doctor to figure that out. Yer just bein' stubborn, it seems. Don't need medication if yer willin' to add healing a concussion to his list of injuries. Doesn' seem like it'd affect 'im too much."

Indecisive seemed the right word to describe this woman, but perhaps it was out of ignorance. He knew of Rak'keli's mark, but for the moment, though only Konti could possess it. He did not remotely suspect that the woman before him was anything more than a doctor like Nerida, his podsister.


Fratava | Common | Vani
.

[Verena Lorak]

OOCSorry this took so loong, Ty! >.<

"Guess I'm just a charmin' lad." Verena narrowed her eyes at the young man's answer, but accepted it nevertheless. She could never make a proper judgement of how a person carried himself, so the stranger might indeed have a certain charisma that she did not notice. Yet, the way he carried himself seemed vaguely familiar - so vague that it might have simply been her imagination and slipped her mind almost immediately.

"Why not just knock him out? He's obviously in shock. Doesn't take a doctor to figure that out. Yer just bein' stubborn, it seems. Don't need medication if yer willin' to add healing a concussion to his list of injuries. Doesn' seem like it'd affect 'im too much."

Even the mere suggestion of violence was enough for the healer to be vexed. However, the statement had gave her an idea. She did not usually threaten, but it seemed like a possible choice. "You are going to let me go and calm down, or I shall let him do whatever is needed to sedate you." Due to her lack of inflection and tone, the threat had sounded quite serious. When in truth, the healer would not allow such violence to be done in her clinic.

The Lorak guessed that the threat would not last very long and she would need another way to keep him in control - before endangering the rest of them. Yet, Verena could not simply sedate the man using alcohol - like she usually do to most of her patients. She had no idea how he would react, whether or not it will trigger a more violent response.

The injured man grunted an ancient and let her go stiffly. His massive hand left red prints on her wrist, but Verena paid no attention to it and stepped away. She glanced at Hallan who had found his way to her side. Maybe the slave could calm the older man with his magic somehow. "Help him up."

Verena turned her eyes to the blue-eyed man. "Who are you again?"

[Tydus Tempest]

.
The struggle was real. Both his own and the life of some stranger had been endangered by this injured son of a shyke, and despite his stepping in to save the Dynast woman's life, she showed no signs of even being remotely thankful. The Tempest wondered to himself if it was even remotely worth the effort he had put in, and when the Lorak turned to him and asked him not if he was okay, or granting him the gratitude that he so rightfully deserved, she instead questioned him in regard to his identity.

Rage immediately surfaced in his mind, accented and amplified by the surge of adrenaline that continued to flow through his system. It was a burning, stirring sensation that rested deep within his stomach. His gaze flickered to the floor as a breath filled his lungs. The oxygen welled within his lungs before it was exhaled, the life that it brought with him more than enough to turn to his advantage. He quickly turned the rage inward, shelving it to be stowed for a later time.

Upon his face he wore the mask of one who had not been slighted. He wore the smile of the stalwart friend, the grin of the cocky. The countenance of Tydus Tempest. Deception was his ally, and while he was not an actor, the Tempest had learned in the time since the decimation of his pod that the face worn upon his face needn't reflect upon the maelstrom that lived within. The smile cracked only once as he turned his head to face the woman, tilting his head ever so slightly,

"Oh, I'm nobody. A passerby who heard a scuffle and a damsel of distress."

Despite the neutral expression upon his face, his words had the slightest tinge of distaste. Unable to truly mask what he felt, it rolled from his tongue as a poisonous lash, the Tempest continuing to speak on,

"T'is a pleasure to meet you, Ms..."

The next words were expectant, daggers upon the tongue that were not quite pointed, subtle but noticeable to the observant. Tydus released a last, slow exhale and when it passed at last, the smile that formed upon his lips was far more genuine. The words that he spoke next would no longer be baited, for the venom faded from it, siphoned out in sufficient enough of a quantity to hide once again.


Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common

[Verena Lorak]

If Verena noticed the foul mood from the blue-eyed stranger, she certainly did not show it. Her expression remained unfazed throughout the whole event – from the rampaging patient to the mysterious man barging in – and to some people, it might be somewhat disturbing. The healer looked at the man rather intensely as he replied, “Oh, I’m nobody. A passerby who heard a scuffle and a damsel in distress.” By now, even Verena could not help but noting his lack of answer. He had never given her a direct answer – his words vague at best. “T’is a pleasure to meet you, Ms...”

“Verena Lorak,” she answered briefly. “And your name?”

Whether or not the man would decide to answer her question, Verena would wait for a brief moment before turning the injured man who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Despite Hallan’s urging, he simply refused to lie down. It did not matter that much – she could work just as well with the patient sitting up. The Lorak picked up a scissor and snipped off the thread before finally finishing up with the knot.

“Do you remember what happened to you? Anything at all?” Verena asked her patient meanwhile, almost completely forgetting the blonde man still standing inside of her clinic, furious. She was still curious about him, but her priority was the patient. If she could, the Lorak would have taken a brief glance at Tydus’s aura – unfortunately, her magic was limited to direct contact lately. Her trusted means of understanding another’s emotions. Right then, Verena might as well be blind.

On some other circumstances, Verena might still recall and consider what her brother had taught her regarding the proper ways of socializing and she might remember to thank the man for his effort to help. But with a patient with wounds still untreated, how to be polite was the least of her worries. Her patient still had more wounds she needed to heal.

However, the healer’s Konti slave, who was a bit more perceptive, did not miss the shift of temper from the foreigner. She smiled for a brief moment, “Please, sir, forgive my mistress. She tends to be preoccupied when there’s an injured patient.” This was not the first time Taloe was forced to smooth things out in the name of her mistress.

[Tydus Tempest]

.
Once the anger subsided from the Tempest's mind, he began to truly reflect upon what had transpired. Unwilling to commit violence, skill in the field of medicine... This woman bore a stark resemblance to the second of the Konti healers that he had met in the city of Riverfall. She was rather stoic in nature, preoccupied. Tydus had remembered utilizing his injury in that encounter as a way of encouraging her to learn how to enjoy herself. A drink in hand and a conversation regarding what one considered to be entertainment was had from such an evening. This, however different it was, bore striking similarities as well. The Tempest cast his gaze upon the medic once more before he began to form his conclusion.

This woman is a Healer. Rak'keli's mark is most likely upon her.

This encounter, just as the last had, further reinforced the theory that Tydus had that the ability to Heal wounds was as much a curse as it was a blessing. The gnosis upon a Healer's body became a cage and a leash in one, a point of manipulation just as much as a stain upon the Healer's spirit. At least, from Tydus' point of view, it seemed to have a very heavy effect upon the gnosis marked.

How sad. Such a beautiful young woman to be so lost in the midst of a curse.

Pity ran deeper than anger, and eradicated the former almost entirely as the Svefra looked to the Healer. Quickly the expression had turned to a smile once again, his ocean's blue eyes shifting their gaze to meet Verena's as he responded,

"Oh, I did seem to forget to introduce myself. I apologize, Ms. Lorak. My name is Tydus Tempest."

Momentarily offering his hand, Tydus cared little about whether or not the Healer took it to shake. She was more than likely to turn around and re-focus her attention upon the patient. And when she did, Tydus was not disappointed in the least. However, he was quite surprised when the slave began to speak in her stead. Tydus turned to face the slave, Tydus' smile broadening all the more as an understanding nod was cast. Tydus was about to confirm, through the slave, his theory about Ms. Verena Lorak. And he would do so with the assistance of Hypnotic influence.

"Oh, it's quite alright. Rak'keli asks much of her chosen, does she not?"

The Tempest wove his words carefully. Deception was the primary motivator in his choosing to well djed from within. Multiple purposes motivated him. The primary one was knowledge, for to know one's potential allies was a powerful asset to have in the case that alliances must be... modified. Not that the Tempest ever walked in with the intention of preventing or participating in betrayal, but to be thorough was a well-learned lesson in Tydus' life. The second was from where the djed truly streamed from. It welled within his throat and reverberated within his throat.

Smooth tones and a friendly tint to his words cast not just one, but two emotional responses towards the friendly Konti slave. He sought for her to, first and foremost, trust in him. And the second inflected a sense of relaxation. Both in combination specifically directed towards the slaves for with an ally that had others under their command, it was just as important (if not more so) to acquire their favour in order to have a broader scope of what such an ally was capable of.

She seems like a simple enough young lady, but there is no mercy when it comes to the Dynasties. To learn as much as I can, as quickly as possible... That is what is needed to survive in this place. And this is just a step, or even less than a step, in that direction. There are other things to be done.

Tydus had not been prepared for Kenash in his previous visit, and as a result, had learned nothing. This time around, he intended to emerge from the city victorious.

However, the Tempest needed to focus in the moment. He cast his smile before he asked the slave,

"Should I wait outside until you're all set, then? I actually did have something I needed looking at, now that I know that I'm in a clinic. If you don't mind, of course."

Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common

[Verena Lorak]

The healer was not surprised when her patient replied that he didn’t know what had happened. It was common symptom when someone was suffering from a shock. “It will come back to you soon.” There was nothing Verena could do about it for now, except make sure that he had no brain damage. He certainly showed no signs of it. No complaints about headaches or double vision. His eyes followed her movements so he was definitely alert.

Hallan seemed to have mostly succeeded in calming the man down, though things can still be rather unpredictable. The slave handed her a clean bandage, giving a quick glance at the stranger in the clinic.

Gently, Verena wrapped the white fabric around most of her patient’s upper torso. It should guard the stitching in place for now and made sure the other minor wounds would not be exposed to the open air and risk some sort of infection.

For the first time, Verena remembered about the family the man had mentioned. From what she could deduct from his words, they were in a sort of danger. Were there a woman and her children lying injured somewhere outside the city, right now? Were they really dead, murdered, as the man had thought? The train of thoughts worried her, but Verena knew better than to fuss with things that were entirely out her control. All she needed to think about was the person in front of her for now. There was also the chance that this man was simply delusional after the combination of his wounds and the summer heat.

All the while, the Konti slave was conversing with the man called Tydus. “Such a prize must be paid for such a great gift,” Taloe said blandly. She had known dozens of other healers, but none as detached as her mistress. It was unusual, even among the ranks of those favored by the goddess of healing. “Lady Verena is good at heart, as most healers are.” As kind as she was in comparison to other Dynasties, she still needs to be held responsible for the slavery and the corruption of this city. At the man’s second question, the Konti replied, “I am sure the lady will be happy to help you as soon as she finishes with this man. It will take only a moment.”

The slave turned away helped her mistress finish up the treatment, taking away the roll of bandage and explaining that Tydus might need something from the clinic. Verena barely heard it, but at least it registered in her mind. She checked the man’s pulse, placing two fingers on his wrist, making sure that the bandage was not too tight that it cut off most of his circulation.

Once the healer was finished, she would walk up to Tydus and ask, “Can I help you?”

[Matthew]

Verena

It looks like you were last active about two months ago. If you are still around and just haven't posted, please shoot me a PM and I will grade this right away.

A shout-out to Ollic Rimesage, who was kind enough to make this template for me.