Closed Convalescence of Companionship [Fallon]

[Zandelia]

Fall 40th, 514 AV – The Quay House


She eye slipped open, gummy and bleary just before the pain set in to spur her mind into catching up with her body. She was a lattice of various complaint, the most overwhelming of with – if only in number – were the bruises and blotches from the beatings. They hadn't been particularly brutal, clearly pulling their punches before the escape had emerged, but nevertheless the sheer number of them caused her to groan and roll onto her back. A mistake given that there were more there and there was a hiss into the gloom as the back of her left hand came to wipe at her eyes as was tradition. A further mistake as a sort of wail crossed with a very pronounced hiss was ripped from her as shaking fingers came into view before her clearing vision now – nails had been removed. She curled her fingers into a fist part way and felt the flash of pulling pain and retreated. Instead she pushed herself up, a cold sweat upon her from her slumber of poor sleep and nightmares.

Forearms rested upon her thighs as she inspected the nail-less fingers, rage coursed through her. Satisfaction there was also, they had exacted vengeance in a bitterly cruel way. They had had their bodies invaded, taken and used for other's desires. There had been a certain poetic irony in what they had done in retaliation. It had further underlined her growing conviction that the only way to fight the scum of Sunberth was to act like scum yourself. Her morals were solidifying around one central concept – eye for an eye. She would happily be a villain if it meant many others could live easier lives. Vigilante she had heard the term dubbed, it seemed to simple for what she had in mind, growing within her intelligence. She wasn't going to be a dressed up thug, a knight wannabe. She was beginning to aim higher mentally now – she wanted eradication. Not amelioration.

Treating the symptoms is meaningless, they will always return. Others can fight those battles. For myself, I will fight the source. Until either it, or I, am dead she stated to herself as she blinked rapidly and turned to look at the empty space.

“Ah...yes. I remember now. Oh Fallon, what can I do for you?” she asked with a deep sigh as memories flickered.

Fallon thought she had failed, had petched up beyond all belief. She had been beaten and abused, she had not yet fully elaborated on precisely how the abuses were given to her but Zandelia could give some very logical guesses that chilled her deeply. Yet the blame was, in her view, wrongly apportioned. She had been the one to drive Fallon away – albeit that she had not meant to did not stop her being at fault. She had watched her rather than gone to her and brought her back. Had allowed her the space which had led to her being vulnerable and thus taken and tortured. If anyone was at fault she knew she was herself. If she had just been less stubborn, had listened and treated her better. She sighed as she set about garbing herself – it took longer than usual and she wasn't about to leave the Quay House with anything less than the fullest of armour and weaponry. As she clothed herself she could not help but feel the rising tide of guilt.

“I can't change the past Fallon, I can't. I would if I could but...but I can try to at least begin setting things right” she said to the world in general and a deafening silence in response. Looking at her wounds she knew just where to start. She had cleaned her own wounds as best she could but they still needed proper tending. Fallon had not, as far as she knew, even left the basement. Despite cajoling.

Today was the day she would extend a proper olive branch, the keystone perhaps to the rebuilding of a bridge. They were stronger together, even if it was more difficult. That much had been proven without a doubt by now. Each time they were separated was a time of danger and injury. When together none had so far been able to harm them. So together they would be, if Zandelia had her own way. Pulling on her cloak she took up her keys and a medium sized amount of coin and made her way into the world. First on her list was the concept of healing, the needs they both had in large quantity. As she walked she pondered, she knew little of such an art. She knew how to roughly dress her own injuries, that much was a pre-requisite of survival in Sunberth. Yet ripped nails? She had no idea whatsoever. She knew how to clean them though, Fallon herself had shown her that with the rumour of salt she had revealed when her own lip had been torn open. So she made her way to a stall, still barely open and out of actual food but possessed of seasoning. There was something strangely wrong with that state of affairs for her but she purchased an ounce of the preservative and set about her way once more – a simple transaction requiring little stimulus. It was as she came towards the herbalist sections of the general throng that her mind was truly required. She took some time, slipping through the people and ears screening through the background noise, listening to the merchants plying their wares – attempting to determine which of them sounded the most certain, the more knowledgeable, the better purveyor.

“What'll it be there lass eh?” the weathered, wizened old man asked her as she gently nudged her way to the front, through the general browsers.

“Oh, looking for some medicines. Not sure what I'm after, not much of the knack for it you see old one,” she stated with a small smile, “I'm more the injuring type, not the healing one” she stated simply.

“Too many of you if you ask me,” he sniffed at her whilst rubbing at his forehead as she was pinned with a critical gaze, “what is it you've got now? Cuts and scrapes? Bruises? Cracked ribs?”

“No no, nothing like that. Not myself at any rate, my partner” she responded with a chuckle.

“Not totally selfish then?” he gave her a long look, re-assessing perhaps.

“Not at all selfish, I tend to hurt those as hurt others. She's had some nails pulled, bit of...fun...at our expense. Few cuts. Lots of bruising and hasn't slept well for days as far as I can tell. Very...anxious. Stressed you could say. Something to heal and to calm would be appreciated. Please?” she managed to get the reference to fun out from between grit teeth before the heart-felt request.

“I see...I see. Well, can't do much 'bout bruising. Tends to heal well enough on its own so long as it's not too deep and damaging. But you wouldn't know that would you. Hmmm,” he stated as he browsed his goods, cupping his chin and suddenly swiping up a bag or two, “Rugberry and Lilian Root. Brew them as a tea. Decent things for simpler folks as don;t know the healer's art. First helps speed up healing of bruises, scratches...dulls pain and so on. Second calms the nerves, relaxes and soothes” he passed them to her before turning away once again.

“Now this, this is a bit stronger,” he pulled out a wrapping and let the pungent smell engulf her nose with it overpoweringly acidic does, she recoiled slightly as he chuckled and tucked it away, wrapping it up once more, “Krolar Poultice, very good stuff this. Again numbs pain, but better. Speeds up healing and with that there salt you've got...infection is unlikely. You take what you need to cover the affected area, use a damned knife mind. Sterile! Heat it up first now. Then you wrap it up with bandage” he instructed her.

“Bandage?”

“Yes, linen usually. Like this roll here. Now, you want them or not?”

“Sure they'll work?”

“Sure as I'm still living at my age. Doses for two people for a while too. Thirty of the poultice and twenty each of the tea. Throwing in the linen for bandaging comes to 21 gold”

“Who said I need enough for two?”

“You can barely flex those fingers of yours. Left hand. Bruises on your face. Dark look. You were there too. Healer knows those as need to be healed lass. Take it and go look after your partner now” he told her with a small grin as she handed over the gold slightly clumsily and pushed her way out of the crowd once more.

It was a painfully long walk back, tiredness was creeping into her bones now and the jostling of the throngs had not helped her own injuries. She had to stop to rest every so often, keeping her senses at alert as possible until she reached the Gatehouse. She paused, considered, then closed the damned thing. She didn't want to be disturbed today and as the rattling and clanking receded she opened the door to the main house and locked it behind her. Placing the purchases upon a table she made sure all the windows were secured, the shutters latched and made her way to the basement door. She teased it open gently, slowly and stepped into the dim glow from a lantern or two dotted about.

“Fallon? Where are you? Come out come out wherever you are?” she sing-songed into the dingy dankness, “I've come to help you with those injuries. Zandelia, you remember her still right?” she asked into the silence as she tried to probe around for the location of her treasure.



ooc5gm – Krolar Poultice x 10 (30 doses)
10gm - Rugberry Tea x 5 (20 doses)
3gm - Lilian Root Tea x 5 (20 doses)
3gm – 6sq yard Whole Linen Fabric
2cm – 2 oz salt

Total Purchase – 21gm 2cm

[Fallon]

It could only be described as snuffling, the wrinkling of the nose and the long sigh of heavy breathing that escaped into the space. Within the low light of the basement Fallon had set herself up - or at least in the loosest sense of the word. It was as if she had fallen into the room, the few amounts of furniture that decorated it having toppled over, the sense of urgency and the wanting to fight leaving the objects stationary and unmoving. A wave of chaos and confusion, fuel by fear and worry had left her backing blindly into a corner. Grasping onto some form of better and more logical senses had become hard, every creak and groan had been roaring within her ears, the pulse continuing to rise and fall quickly as she went through the motions of agitation and fear once more. The nightmare of the previous days repeated themselves, the chill upon the skin as she burrowed and hid where possible within the room - she dared not leave, she could not bring herself to.

The layer of grime still clung, the scents of sweat and blood clinging to her - she could not calm, even if she willed it. It was not safe here, it repeated to her. But she could not bring herself to leave, not whilst being so close. Another sniff, tired eyes gave a flicker back and forth as she tried to fight off the sensation of sleep again. Hunger gave a gnaw upon her innards, that worked in maintaining her focus on the waking world. Her gaze gave a lift, a flicker of the lantern that had been placed upon one of the upright benches. From there the ochre glow was cast about the darkness, spreading shadows and making shapes dance upon the walls. Further she lifted, a press of fingers upon the edge of her slither of territory over the bench and onwards.

A nest, in the loosest sense of the word, had been formed in the corner she hid in. A turned over bench cutting it off and the ability to hide beneath one of the coarse wool blankets gave her shelter from whenever another came probing in. For now there was silence, nothing to immediately fear from her point of safety. Fingers burned, the bare toes gave a wriggle as she slowly stretched out. Another sweep of tired eyes, nostrils flaring as she watched from her place of safety. Pure silence. A small rise, a pull up into a crouch, the blanket falling from her shoulders as she looked further this time and into the darkness beyond the lantern. No voices, no groans of wood or sounds of danger.

Fallon eased herself down once more to the floor, a cocooning up of the form beneath the wools. There was inky darkness, a piece of peace that smothered over the senses for what only seemed a blink. It was the groaning that brought the mind spurring back into the fore. Danger, alert, something was coming, her entire form seemed to flatten to the floor in her spot. Hairs rose, lids narrowed down, the slither of white breaking out from between her lips as she once more stared about the gloom and had her damp eyes adjust. Her nose gave a peak over the edge of the wood, the palm of her hand pressing onto the wood. Her form complained as she shifted, her teeth pulling into a grimace as muscles complained. The blanket fell once more, skin and cuts cracking and sweeping as she tried to shift herself once more. It was the bare toes that she eventually crouched upon, and her form slunk around into shadow.

Steps, the knocking counts of closing in. Her voice was still raw, and so a crackling, rumble of a growl barely escaped, the door creaking open to have the words seep out. Maybe it was a trick, a trap in which to lead her into a false sense of security. The snuffling started again, sniffing as she gave a tread, barely getting up onto just two feet whilst the rest of her form remained hunched as if waiting for something to happen. Light, quick, she paused at the edge of the lantern light staring intently, the shadows exaggerating the dark look within her eyes. Almost feral, but wrapped up in a state of fear. Adrenal begun to claw upwards, slow and steady as the other woman begun to probe about within the darkness. It was a crack within the silence that the guttural voice escaped, "Za. Za. Za."

A hacking cough escaped, a low moan escaping as her voice failed her once more and left her looking. It was cautiously that she stepped in, and then darted across the light - form straightening as bare feet pattered. She stopped short by merely an arm's reach away, the slow rocking upon her heels as she slunk her way round, feet rising to pass the over turned furniture. It was from there that she begun to probe, looking for the expression, trying to weigh things up. What did she want? Why was she here? Danger? Anger? Something else?

Another flicker, a look down to the form, the garments, the daggers. Stiff fingers gave a flex, leaning, stepping, personal space truly being invaded as she came in closer. Sniffing, trying to almost feel out what was there. Safe, it had to be safe, right? She gave a breath upon the cheek, uninjured fingers primed almost to touch and tap.

"What? Wha-" Something groaned above and Fallon's imagination ignited - even if it was only just sound. Her entire form seemed to hunch down, a sharp flinch away. The once level mindset became aggravated, burning bright and forced her into movement. She jerked, barely looking to where she was going, the low light easily ensnaring her and sending her stumbling. Her foot hooked over one of the other benches, a crash to the floor upon the other side. She writhed, a crackle bubbling from her voice as she whimpered, trembling as she tried to scrabble herself blindly away from the perceived danger. She barely got back to her corner before she slumped again into a ball, "Danger. Danger. Not safe... not safe."

[Zandelia]

It was difficult to see in the gloom, even with the lantern lights hanging from the corners and the air was thick with the smoke residues of long burning. Her lips twisted ever so slightly at the thought of how much oil had been used to keep them going the past while, not because she was a miser who couldn't afford it but more because there were families right outside of their own property who couldn't afford half of it perhaps. Still, it was worth it if it meant Fallon could feel safe, even if it were a bizarre reaction she was observing within the woman. She was usually so strong, so sure. She knew it had broken her a little, even her own mannerisms had changed after such a brief experience – she had ordered herself some metal boots, specially made along with a new set of gauntlets also. She wasn't about to be found with her extremities unguarded again, yet those were understandable reactions as far as she could see.

But this retreat, this avoidance of everything even myself...it's just so far beyond what she's done before. Nothing compares to this, this almost...helplessness. I don't mind admitting it frightens the petch out of me. If she's like this forever...no...no it won't be that way. I'll fix it, somehow she told herself as her ears pricked and caught the sound of movement, the faint croaking of a half-damaged voice.

Her head whipped around and the shadows cleared and coalesced at the same time, the figure rippling out of the corners not one she was used to seeing at all. Breath caught within her chest as she looked upon what was left after the torment, of what was hers and yet not hers. She paced, sniffed and eyes seemed glazed and more animal than anything else she thought as the flickering glows were reflected in her eyes. It reminded her of when she had lost it completely at Brega's, that look which she could never read. She didn't lean back, her chin lifted ever so slightly to meet the challenge as ground was stood and Fallon came in to take in her scent – though how much of it she actually would smell was left unstated, unknown. It was quickly then that the retreat came, the curling up and almost tripping into the wall. It was then that breath was exhaled and her challenging mask crumpled in on itself. She was slow in the approach, the lantern placed on the floor beside them as she knelt down upon one knee and paused.

“There is no danger Fallon. Fallon...oh, what has been done to you? No danger. None. Understand?” she stated, tone as soothing as she could make it as her hand stretched out slowly, not touching but close enough that the intent would be known – she knew of her new aversion to tactile experience since those days and didn't wish to trigger them, merely reassure.

“Come now, I've come. I'm here. I know that you need your...your injuries looked at,” she stated, noting that a bath and some food were also very much required, the smell was wrong, even she knew that, “I bought some things for us. Both of us. For you. And, well...I thought I hadn't looked after you well enough” she continued.

She remained where she was, leaning back with her hand extended forwards. She was patient, was willing to be patient. She was aware that time was ticking, that the quicker her injuries were cleaned and dealt with – that both of their injuries were come to that – the better. Yet clearly psychological trauma was overriding the physical with Fallon, that was clear enough. Normally she would have already tended herself, would never be seen in such a state unless she had just returned from a mission or a job. Her unkempt and dirty appearance was an indicator that she needed help in more than the physical. She would wait, wait for her to come to her. To be urged upstairs and into a bath. Then the salt and water, a portion of food and drink. Wounds tended, it was a nice day by their recent standards.

“Za is here Fallon, she is here. Take your time, then we can eat and drink and more. No danger, no worries. Safe in our house” she finished, watching the woman carefully.

[Fallon]

It was with clambering motion that Fallon managed to wriggle once more beneath the safety of the blankets. Nostrils continued their flaring, the whimpering and hissing as cuts and injuries stirred, a violent shaking of the head as she tried to gain some form of grip upon herself and what was going on. Zandelia was here, that much was apparent somewhere deep within the recesses of her mind. Her eyes gave a blink, the feeling of dampness once more settling there as she pushed the urge to calm downwards - only to have it stumble and fail on her. Tensions were high strung and with it irrational behaviour was brought to the fore.

Words, she had heard them alright. It was slowly she lifted the corner of the fabric up, hand trembling as she looked across the gloom to the other woman. Crouched, that look within her eye that could not be read. Shadows masked the expression, until the lantern was brought beside them and sent the space between aglow. There was that moment of recoil then, eyes moving down to the hand that stretched ever closer and her lips peeling back to reveal her fangs. Whilst the logical side of her did indeed understand the situation, the emotional side was left to run amuck and exist solely on being irrational. Still, it was a slow upward struggle now of improvement. Her gaze shifted away and towards the basement door, a squint through the light into the gloom. Watching and waiting almost for something to appear - though nothing would come.

The hand came closer and stopped as the woman leaned back. There was that careful gaze, those words looking to soothe, the movements slow and gentle. Her gaze once more met the orb, the moment of initial panic subsiding down when the groaning of wood finally stopped. Safe, they were safe. Physically at least, there was no danger here. Yet. Another snuffle, it was shakily that she began the process of sitting herself up - albeit hunched. Another sniff, the look to the hand - so familiar, safe, secure - the outstretched fingers offered, the slender yet strong arm that lead into the other.

Another groan of the house, and in response Fallon gave an angry hiss towards the door. Eyes burned to the opening, almost as if waiting for some unknown force to come down and through. The hiss turned into a growl, the hand clawed around the edge of the overturned bench, and the blanket resting across her shoulders. And then those words once more came. Safe, nothing to fear, no danger. Lips were given a lick, the fangs being covered once more as she remained perched upon her haunches. It was with a slow blink that a trickle of slightly clearer thought managed to seep in. Far from the clarity she needed, but enough to begin the slow process of acquiring some grounding.

"Za... Za... good..." Communication had been lost for now, words stumbling and failing into nothing. She doubted she could form a string of anything remotely useful and so in turn she had to go to the other side of communication - action. It was gently that she raised one of her hands away from the bench, the shuffle forward and the blooded digits wiggling. A tap upon the opposite's fingers, a sniff as she took in the faint scents that came with it. Familiar, safe, trusting. There was the smallest of winces, the raw edges of her fingers tapping against the palm as she familiarised herself with it. Lips parted once more, the low mumble barely being breathed.

"Hurts. Hurts a lot," the crook of her finger tapped upon the wrist, slow and steady as she slow curled her fingers around it. The rest of her form shuffled in closer, crouched, inspecting and gauging for a reaction. Her lip gave a tremble, a choke of a whimper gripping into her throat as she looked. It hurt inside, it ripped and it tore internally, but how could she express that? How could such communication come across. She pulled upon the wrist, gently, luring, a blink as a pleading look that the other somehow understood, "Hurts. Hurts so... much. Hurts." A press of the hand against her chest, hovering above where her heart would lie. Her throat croaked, her hand holding it in place whilst the other uncurled out hovering in the space between them. She gave a blink, a wince as she forced words out, "Make it stop. Make it stop." Equal gesture, it was the only thing her mind could manage to form at present. But it was left hanging on whether or not the other would simply accept such a notion, "Please?"

[Zandelia]

Patience, that was what she needed and though usually she had it in abundance she found her resolve shaking considerably at the hisses and fearfully feral glances at the various noises of the property. It was an old and creaky place, it was normal that it should hold its own voice of expression for the world. Despite their installation of various creature comforts they would never eradicate those subtle shifting noises – the creak of a hinge, the groaning of a floorboard, the rattling of a shutter latch in the winds. Still it didn't make her wish she could just envelop her woman in the comforting embrace she clearly so desperately required. No, after her ordeal she most certainly held the right to being left alone. Physically at least. As such she restrained herself with some difficulty and patiently watched the sniffing, the gentle probing as if seeking to make sure he were real.

If I had a way of going backwards in time, of making that hussy Tanroa stop being a bitch for once, I'd change all of this. I'd have suffered instead. I swear to the world I would she whispered internally, mournfully.

“It's nothing Fallon, the noises are nothing. I promise you,” she spoke, sad in tone despite herself, “I've locked every outer door, every shutter. There is nothing and no one here but ourselves. I'd wager my life on it, I swear” she continued as the fingers brushed hers, the dried blood a flimsy shield against the pain shown across Fallon's face.

From there her position of self-control became all but untenable, the keening and rocking coupled with the expression of intimate pain crumpled her reserves. It was the words, however, that caused that small twinge of pain in her own chest. The patting, the communication, the pain. The fact that she was slowly coming around to a more normal means of thinking, though conversation was far off, was a blessing in itself. Yet at that showing of they way she felt, the subtext that could not be rationally formed at that moment, gave her cause to flay herself beyond what she had done before. She would remember this moment forever, hold it close to remind her what her own stupidity could cost. There was no rushing in, no sudden wrapping of arms, even then she knew it needed to be done slowly. Trust was clearly being rebuilt, or found again, and could not be ruined. She began by shifting forwards slowly, turning and sitting upon the floor next to Fallon, her back against the wall.

“I will make it stop, I will. If there is a way, I will find it” she stated as she slipped an arm behind the shoulders of the other woman.

There was a small recoil, it was hurtful but not enough that she couldn't bare. She understood. Gently, slow motions as the arm came around to pull her gradually closer. She had lost count of the number of times that simple release had proven to be a better remedy than any doctor could ever prescribe. As such, though there was resistance, she made it known that this was going to happen. Dominance was required, even if it was taken for a short period of time. She pulled her closer until she might as well have pushed Fallon atop of her. She placed her head upon her chest and cradled it as gently as she dared. In truth she was surprised that she had managed to get this far without being attacked.

A truer mark of how she feels if I ever needed one... she noted to herself with a sense of emboldened warmth.

“It's okay Wolf, my wolf,” she stated warmly, gently, “it wasn't your fault, None of it. I would choose you over anyone else, because you are you. Even when you are suffering. I'm not going anywhere. We'll just...stay here for a while. Until it doesn't hurt as much. The rest can wait”

“A poor member of a wolf pack would I be if I didn't give as much as I received hmm?” she stated in a low voice, chin atop Fallon's head and hair itching but not preventing the closeness.

“Back to back,” she stated firmly, throatily through her own emotion, “guarding each other...never to be overcome....together. Through the bad and the good. I'm not going to abandon you. I made the promise, if you believe nothing else then believe that I will honour it” she finished as her arms finally wrapped around the form and pulled her as close as she could.

She wondered if other couples went through these things, briefly, before she realised that she didn't actually care. She wasn't committed because of what other people knew, but for what she did.

[Fallon]

Of course there was the natural draw away, the pull back as something she could not work out came closer. Her form tensed in rebellion, her eyes wide as she simply looked nervously at the woman. Her hand released, the other recoiling back with a wince. It still ached, throbbing, festering, lips trembling as she tried to croak forth as movement came. Even she in response saw the mirrored expression of pain, that look of wanting to chase away and embrace as closely as possible. Self control was shattered, and with it the arms came, pulled and gathered the wolf within the safety of flesh. In response there was the hold back of the whimper, the chattering of teeth, her form trembling until at last the realisation there was no ill came to her knowledge.

Fallon cried. And with that there was release. Her head burrowed in, hands weakly gripping onto the fabric, her shoulders shaking as the held back impurities that reigned her in place flowed. She could faintly hear the words, the pressure from tears beginning to cause her head to ache, the low uncontrollable sniffing and contraction of the throat. But with it there was warmth, safety, security. The once confused mind begun the steps of finding itself, the internal storm beginning the processes of finding calm. Heat, safety, the cradling motions that went with it, there was a wince, a quite hiss as the exposed flesh complained at her. Tighter still, she was not about to be let go, the own trembling as she felt the damp layer stick and her breathing fought to find a steady level of calm.

Legs were curled around, her mind noting her lying position atop the woman. There was of course the continuing sniff, but in time the flow turned from a rush and down into more manageable layers. Calming soothing, the shield for the meanwhile. She pressed, head raising to press upon her partner's shoulder but the eyes still refusing to lift. She could not bring herself to meet the orbs, that glint of emerald that held the worry only for her.

"I don't want to be alone again," her throat croaked, barely audible from the muffling. A nuzzle, the faint hiss as wounds made themselves known once more and the body fell into complain. But she did not move, dared not to out of fear that it would be ripped away from her in a blink. Breaths still juddered, strength sapping and her grip loosening. She slid down, but did not move further after that and simply gave a shiver this time to the sensation of being chilled, "Want it to stop... just stop. Stay. Stay..."

The groaning of wood however made her stiffen once more, the low growl escaping out. She could almost imagine the creeping forward of a foe, the tell tale signs there but read far too late to what was to come. Her head burrowed in, that grip of fear taking over - but there was nothing, and the words solidified in their tone once more. It was with that she eased herself down once more and the growl fell away into silence. Head turning, she took in a suck of the air, her gaze looking across the gloom.

"Safe. Safe... cold but safe, safe..." Her mind gave a flicker, the feeling of arms and the attempt to smile. Simpler times, the dark room, the moment of piece from her far back youth. But just as quickly the memory came did it fall and slip away once more. It was gradually that the pulse begun to slow, the aching extremities juddering as she tried to gain some clarity. The breathing turned into whistles, the occasional cough and clinging of what could only be described as the faint grip of illness. Eyes came down into narrows, the slow smothering of the senses into one of calm. There was an occasional flinch however when the house gave a particularly loud creak and the whistling of stronger winds sounded, but otherwise she simply fell into a dulled lulling state.

"Pain?" Fallon managed to ask, her gaze tilting upwards to the other. Her hand reached up shakily, the uninjured fingers stretching out to gently tap upon the cheek. Green blue eyes gave a blink, her lips parting and the digit being dragged down - slowly, carefully, focus in the attempted gentle touch, feeling and testing it out before stopping upon the chest. Eyes begun to grow heavy, the lids drooping into a frown and as she averted her gaze, "Hurt here?" Her hand gave a lift away, and she returned to her simple nuzzling within the comfort of the gloom. The want for rest crept its way in, the lulling state being all too appealing. More so as the ticks slowly pulled into chimes, her mind becoming more malleable. It was little more than mumbles after that, barely distinguishable as words marking the simple beginning of acceptance, "Safe. Warm... safe... beyond? Back to back. Always. Always... your wolf."

[Zandelia]

She was not sure that she could have felt such a strong sense of relief when the small flickering of the woman she loved returning to herself, as the head seemed to half-bury itself into her she wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer. Soothing strokes of the hair, happiness mixed with tears, it was heart-breaking that it had come to this, that it had gone so terribly wrong. There was no sense here, just mistakes and pointless sufferings. She would rectify those and never allow it to happen again, she would get her woman back to normal and spend a long time trying to make things right to her. Fallon pulled away and she almost didn’t let her but she did smile and plant a kiss upon her brow.

“No, not hurt. Not too bad anyway,” she responded as she tried to maintain her composure, “I’ll be fine. We’ll bot be...fine. Just another day yes? We’ll…bathe and sit and just…be here together” she was almost sighing towards the end, her return was a treasure even if it were a difficult one to bear with a smile.

Such simple things, things she had not really thought would be missed when they were gone. How wrong she had been. The time they spent together was always scarce until the evening, they both had their own jobs and professions to undertake. Taken for granted the times together were expected occasions but now she knew they could be taken away. Simple things but very much important to her now. It was strange and yet also right. There was a subtle rocking as Fallon nestled into her once more, voice growing more distant and relaxed – she was beginning to return and she guessed that she had been alert for so long now that she was liable to fall asleep soon enough. She kept up the soothing rocking, the almost motherly noises in the background.

Sleep my dear, I’ll tend to you whilst you rest she told herself as she kept it up slowly, surely.

“Yes, it’s safe Wolf. Perfectly safe. I’ll be here, back to back. Watching. Protecting. Rest now, later there will be food. Always will be a later with me” she said and repeated the words until there was a faint change in the woman’s breathing.


She pulled her head to the side and looked at Fallon’s face, she was asleep. She maintained her position for a time before easing her backwards until she was upon her back and in as comfortable a position as was possible. She looked tired, so very tired. The ring around her eyes visible even through the wear and tear. She looked at her sadly, she had been poorly treated indeed. She set about putting the water and cloth in place, washing the injured fingers as delicately as she could. There were vague stirrings but thankfully she was so under there was no waking. She possessed no true medical skills but she could bathe her partner and that she did – as best she could. It took time, the water became dirtier than she thought possible, all reds and black, but it was done.

She smiled down through the tears that had fallen, wiping them from her cheeks absently, at the revealed beauty. Even though it had been damaged and tarnished, it would heal and return to blossom fully once more. Of that she was certain, she’d make it happen if she had to brick up the damned entrance to keep them both safe enough for it to happen. She pushed the stray strands of hair away and took the bucket upstairs, there to see the fire she had set earlier crackling happily. She went as quickly as possible, moving a comfortable chair before the hearth and slipping back down to slowly and carefully prise Fallon from the floor. It took a long time, small steady steps and much lost air, but she was placed into the chair and a blanket wrapped around her, hands out in the open to air.

“There, much better. Now…I need a drink,” she stated to herself, “and I said there would be food. Terrible food…but food” she finished as she made her way to the cabinet and poured out some rum – or she thought it was rum at least.

[Fallon]

Darkness was what came with the drooping of eyelids, the low pleasant humming and the gentle rocking luring her far too easily into the depths of sleep. Her head nuzzled in, curled up as she came in closer, the warmth keeping her there as slumber took hold and cocooned her. And for a time there was little more than the dark shadows that moved before her mind, the twitch of a dreaming mind that looked to resist, whatever was going on in the waking world. There was the smallest flickers of consciousness as she briefly surfaced, feeling the steady rock of movement and placement before once more drifting off once more into a simple state of nothingness.

It was when her form shifted within the chair, her head bumping against the side of the chair, her toes exposed and wriggling in the air. Her forehead nuzzled in, her lips twitching as she found a string of consciousness once more. Mentally she plucked upon it, bleary eyes cracking open as she peered through the eyelashes to the world. Her shoulders shrugged into the blanket, the lowest of moans escaping from her throat as she registered the change of scene and position. Blurred the crackling of flames greeting her, whilst her arms shifted, trapped behind the blanket and restricting her.

The moan twisted into a whine, arms pressing as she struggled against it. Toes curled, her face growing into a frown, her lips pursing into a line and then parting as she continued her pressing struggling. Somewhere she could hear the movement of another - Zandelia? her mind questioned - eyes narrowing and peering out in the general direction. Her mouth opened then, a half croak sounding forth as she peered out. Her form leaned, mouth snapping shut as she considered what was going on. Weakly, her fingers managed to curl around the blanket, the rest of her unfurling as she moved. Cloaked in it she let the bare feet pad against the floor, her lips twitching as she peeled herself out of it. Hunched, one hand holding it crumpled up around her shoulders, the toes tentatively touching the floor as she stepped, light and focused as she reached the hand out to touch.

The smallest of prods from a nailed finger, her eyes gave a blink realising they were cleaned then - but the rawness was exposed to the world made her shudder. Blinking she shook them away, her hand shifting until at last it grasped upon Zandelia's sleeve - loose but firm, gentle but hooking. From behind the greased hair and from beneath her brow she gave a blink, gently tugging upon it and then inclining her head towards the chair, "Za, Za. Za! Drinking?" Her brow gave a frown, her eyes then shifting and moving to what was around her before she begun tugging once more, insistent this time, "Come. Come. Sit. Sit. Please?" She looked the woman up and down then, "No?"

She pulled a bit harder then, hand loosening around the blanket as she let it slip and then snaked it forward. Gently patting, the tapped the face, fingertips tracing around the nose and eye, down to the chin - confirming and checking in her mind before reaching in. Lacing behind the head, she leaned in, pecking the woman upon the forehead and then reeling her in - holding and wrapping up within arms and blanket. Sniffing, she gave a breathe upon her before at last stating in a whisper, "Mine." Nuzzling in she began her tugging once more, "Come. Za... come on. Come on. You said we'd sit. Sit." She peeled away then, fingers still holding onto the sleeve as she tried to lure the woman back towards the comfy chair, "Come, my wolf. Come on."

[Zandelia]

She sniffed at the dark liquid, not quite amber in colour really but close enough that it made little difference. The smell itself was mildly intoxicating, heady in the way its tendrils sifted through her nose and never seemed to leave. She could smell it even after it was some distance from her face, swirling the liquid and watching it take a long while to slip back down into the bottom of the cup from whence it had come. She recalled such a thing being called testing the legs of the drink, something about the length denoted thickness and thus potency. Or quality. She was not sure and for once she didn’t care, simply frowned once and downed the whole thing with a rasping o breath afterwards.

Refilling the cup once more she stoppered the bottle and placed it to one side with a second cup, no doubt it would be required later when Fallon had arisen. Or so she hoped, the woman looked like a decent amount of alcohol would do her some good. It certainly started to numb her own sensations of pain – inward and outward. She walked to the kitchen area and set about the work. Simple enough to get done really, easy tasks to occupy the mind with so that it didn’t keep flashing back to that blasted room, that small taste of slavery once more. Carrots were chopped, clumsy and thick slices perhaps but chopped nonetheless. She placed them into a pot before a few chosen potatoes followed, diced enough to make sure they wouldn’t be eating with wide open mouths. Onions came next and the tears were real rather than brought on by the aroma – stinging as it was.

“Bastards” she breathed as she continued, she included herself in that summary she had to admit.

Onions were followed by some diced beef, a couple of handfuls for the strength. She had no garlic, she would have to make do without though she remembered her mother saying it was good for cleaning the body and health. It was perhaps fancy but at that moment it seemed so important considering their injuries. She sighed and rubbed her eye with her sleeve before filling the pot with water and taking it to the fire – there to hang until cooked. It would be a while, a few bells at least, but it meant they would have food enough for a couple of days. Not the best but certainly strengthening. She picked up her drink again after placing the lid upon the pot and stood, staring into the flames. There was a muffled sound and her sleeve was being tugged.

“Yes Fallon, yes I’m drinking. I need it, believe me. Food’s started. Will take a while” she responded absently, resisting the tugging at first as the flames danced within her mind but eventually she gave way to the insistence.

Pouring a portion into the second cup she picked it up and passed it to Fallon. It was only then that she allowed herself to be pulled and cajoled into position, making just one simple but undeniably firm change. She sat down upon the chair, sat Fallon on her lap and let her curl up around her. It was like that for a little while, simple closeness punctuated by sipping of alcohol and the infusing warmth of the flames creeping over her. If she had been allowed she would have stayed that way forever, a simple life. At that moment it seemed the most pretty thing in the whole world. She stroked Fallon’s back and wondered not for the first time how it had all come to be.

“I got you out of there, with Shai’s help. That’s all that matters. You’re okay. Safe and warm and soon you’ll be better. Much better. And I won’t say such stupid things ever again to drive you off into…into whatever. I promised. Together” she sighed as she rested her head on Fallon’s.

“But first, first we must heal. Rest and heal. Eat and sleep. Simple enough, huh?” she finished, the cup was empty now and resting upon the arm of the chair.

“And you’re my wolf. I’m…spider. Remember?” she yawned then, long and deep.

She had little strength left, most of it had been sapped by her quest for what was required, the mental solidity summoned had drained her considerably. Not to mention the act that she herself was still recovering from the trauma. The warmth was so lovely, the embrace so enjoyable. Surely it couldn’t hurt to rest a while? And before she knew it she was asleep, perhaps not too deeply but asleep all the same.

[Matthew]

Fallon

Experience Points:

• +2 Begging
• +3 Endurance
• +1 Intimidation
• +1 Meditation
• +2 Persuasion
• +1 Philosophy
• +5 Psychology

Lores:

• Psychology: Just How Much Trauma Can Change Someone

Zandelia

Experience Points:

• +1 Cooking
• +1 Endurance
• +1 Herbalism
• +1 Massage
• +2 Medicine
• +3 Persuasion
• +1 Philosophy
• +4 Psychology

Lores:

• Herbalism: The Effects and Uses of Lilian Root
• Herbalism: The Effects and Uses of Rugberry
• Medicine: First Aid for Unique Wounds
• Medicine: How to Treat Bruising
• Psychology: Basic Care for Mental Trauma

Additional Notes :

Very touching read. Good job, both of you.

If you have any questions or concerns relevant to your grade, don't be afraid to send me a private message so that we can work it all out! Please remember to mark your Grading Request as Graded.

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