Closed A Healer's Warmth (Devi)

[Baelin Holt]

24, Winter of 514AV

Baelin was sprawled on the ground again. Why was he back on the ground? He shouldn’t be on the ground. It was cold on the ground. His uncle would be waiting for him. Probably worried. He shouldn’t have wandered off. He was so cold.

No...that didn’t make sense. His uncle was warm. No, his uncle lived in Black Rock, and Black Rock was warm. This wasn’t warm. This was cold. Baelin stretched his arm out of his cloak again and pushed himself back up onto his knees. He kept his right hand tucked firmly against his chest. He had to protect it. It was his. Had to be protected.

Awkwardly, Baelin grabbed onto a branch and pulled himself back up. He stumbled forward a few more steps, his center of balance horribly off. He made it no more than a few meters before he collided with a trunk. The half-Dhani stood there for a moment, confusion barring him from action. Belatedly, he realized he wasn’t shivering anymore. That was a good thing, right? He was nearly home.

Home...that’s right, he was going home. He needed to find a cicerone then, he was in no condition to climb down on his own. Wait...no...not a cicerone. Not Black Rock, Syliras. He needed to get to the gate.

Ever so slowly, Baelin made his way back. The walk was familiar to him and he could have done it in his sleep if pressed. Swimming in the Suvan during the summer was probably one of his favorite things to do. Taking a dip during the winter, however, was perhaps not the smartest play.

But Dira was kind to him today, and he realized he was wavering in front of two guards posted at a gate. The gate. Syliras. When did he get here? He should really pay better attention to where he was going. Meandering was the quickest way to fall off a cliff. The mist could always hide drop offs. You really did need a cicerone if you weren’t feeling well.

The half-Dhani blinked slowly at them. He uncharacteristically pushed his hair back and squinted at the pair, slit pupils having dilated painfully and making everything both too sharp and too fuzzy.

“Business in Syliras?” They were wary...they didn’t trust him. Did he look suspicious? He dropped his hand from his hair and drew into himself.

“I want..to go...home,” he said, voice slurring over the words.

“He’s the swimmer,” a voice called down from ramparts, “He’s a resident, always goes out for swims in the summer.” Baelin slowly tracked his gaze up to the stranger. He never really paid much heed to the archers. Well, not their faces at least. He did watch the bows though.

“Looks like the summer isn’t the only time the fool swims,” one of the guards grumbled. He seemed a bit cold himself. Shivering. He was shivering. Baelin wasn’t shivering though. He had gotten used to the cold.

“Get inside, you look like you’re about to drop,” the other guard hissed between clattering teeth.

The half-Dhani stumbled into the courtyard as the gate opened for him. The stone of the city swam around him as he shuffled in what was generally a forward direction. Time was moving faster than it should have, he thought. Or maybe slower. Either way, he couldn’t remember when he went from outside to inside. But the warmer air was nice. Stuffy maybe, but nice.

Actually, it wasn’t. Baelin frowned and shook unpleasantly as his skin started to prick. No, prick wasn’t the right word. It felt more like little needles were attacking him from every direction. He squirmed in an attempt to escape the ache, but instead only managed to lose his footing and fall down again.

He may have crawled for a bit, or he may have stood and walked like a dignified human. He had scuff marks on his knees. He must have crawled at some point. Or maybe it was from falling. Either way, Baelin was going home.

Up until he apparently wasn’t. His hand was coaxing the door of a familiar place. Home, he thought with relief, ...safe.

Before Baelin had found a place at the Ironworks, he had hopped around different smithies as a striker. Ronan’s had been his favorite. The smith had always reminded him of his uncle. He was a good man. Easy to get along with and could be counted on to do the right thing. No false nobility about it, he was just good. Baelin could never be that kind of man, but he did love to be around them. It had been years, however, since he had last seen the smith.

He pushed the door out of his way. The warmer air of the smithy pricked at him unpleasantly and Baelin’s frown deepened as he staggered inside. But it was alright now. He was home.

[Devi]

Devi was absorbed in her journal. She was sketching one of Ronan’s regulars, an Akalak that lingered to talk to her in Tukant now and then. She was huddled in a corner of Ronan’s smithy, a slightly cleaner corner that she had slowly overtaken and eventually claimed as her own. It was close enough that the warmth of the forges reached her but not so close that the scents of coal and sweat were overpowering. Try as she might she couldn’t quite get the facial features to match those in her memory, her drawing skills woefully underdeveloped as yet.

A cold breeze caught her left side and startled her out of her reverie. She turned with irritated eyes to the entrance to the smithy to see a tall and broad-shouldered man lingering in the doorway. He paused a little longer than he should and Devi’s eyes flicked instinctively to the man’s face, sensing something amiss about it. Whoever it was, he seemed a little unstable on his feet and confused about what he should do. She called Ronan’s name and without looking, heard him pause in his hammering. She absently put her journal and ink sticks aside and stood just as Ronan reached her side.

“Baelin?” He said, recognising the man with a light note of incredulity in his voice. Barely had the word left his lips than the man staggered toward them, tripping over his own feet. She and Ronan stepped forward to catch him, Ronan having significantly more success with it. Personally Devi felt like she was trying to hold up a mountain but fortunately her brother was a lot stronger than she. Together they eased him to the ground, drawing the attention of another of the smiths.

“He’s shivering…” Devi muttered, noting the dusting of frost on the man’s clothes and the unnatural pallor of his skin. She closed a hand on his forehead, concerned at how cold it was. All in all it looked like he’d been submerged in icy water. Devi had no idea what would cause someone to spend so much time outside at this time of year, a dip in icy water just sounded suicidal. She could see signs of frostbite seeping into the tips of the man’s fingers on his left hand. His right was fisted tightly against his chest and try as she might, he wouldn’t relax it.

For what felt like the hundredth time Devi lamented not having an infirmary. Hypothermia was best treated by keeping the whole body warm and dry. She could stave off the frostbite by submerging it in gradually warming water. Thinking absently about where would give him the best chances of healing Devi pulled open an eyelid to check if the man was still conscious and aware. A deep green colour greeted her, the pupils slit like a snake's. She looked at Ronan, raising an eyebrow. At her unspoken question Ronan rolled his eyes.

“Is that really your most pertinent question right now?”

Devi shook her head and gathered her things as Ronan and his companion pulled the man to his feet. She led them towards Soothing Waters and ordered around the workers there until they had a private room with a bath, a fire, a pallet and a large pile of towels and blankets. She told Ronan to remove most of Baelin’s wet clothes so they could wrap him in towels to warm up. He protested at first but quickly submitted once she asked him who he thought Baelin would feel less awkward about undressing him. She hung the clothes to dry and found a basin she could use to fill with water for the frostbitten hand. The temperature was just about right when Ronan was done and she sent him away. Thinking ruefully of the many-limbed Eypharian she had met earlier in the season kept one eye on Baelin’s hand, assessing the damage visually and the other on her hands, routing through her pack for supplies. Rugberry tea was going to be an essential, assuming Baelin woke up enough to actually drink some. He wasn’t out of trouble just yet.

[Baelin Holt]

Baelin wavered where he stood, unsure of what was happening around him. His cousin...no, his uncle...no, his former boss was undressing him. He struggled to remember what had brought him to this moment, but it was a near impossible task. There was a woman...soft hands...he looked around and yes, there she was. She was small...curved...pale. He blinked rapidly, trying to remember where he had seen her before. Perhaps never...what was he doing here?

The half-Dhani peered down at Ronan as he worked on the laces of his pants. It wasn’t particularly difficult, Baelin had never properly laced them after his ill-advised dip in the Suvan. That was perhaps for the best, seeing how pinched Ronan’s expression was. Baelin never took the more competent blacksmith as a lover of men. He had a baby girl...though Baelin supposed the child was older now. Strange how time moved so quickly like that.

Baelin waved one clumsy hand at the blacksmith. He didn’t need to be undressed like a child; he was fully capable of undressing himself. The taller man attempted to show his skill by bunglingly tugging on the top of his undergarments.

But then Ronan was gone...and Baelin was hard pressed to remember what he had been trying to do.

And where again was he? He swung around awkwardly, trying to focus on his surroundings. A fire. He loved fires. And a bath. He loved baths.

At the moment, however, his skin pricked painfully with the warm air around him and the thought of submerging in a warm liquid filled him with dread.

And yet...Baelin struggled again to focus on who was with him. A woman. Baelin felt himself relax a little at the thought. It had been far too long since he’d been alone with one. Yet he couldn’t remember what he had done differently to win this one’s affection. Usually his charming personality was the end of any chance he could cook up. Perhaps it was the lack of most of his clothes that had lured her over. Baelin did try to work on his body as much as possible. He liked being looked at.

Baelin’s vision swam and he couldn’t tell if he was standing or sitting...or lying perhaps. Why was it so damn difficult to concentrate? A woman with him or not, he was beginning to feel ill at ease. Something was horribly wrong. He tried to voice his consternation, but instead only managed a series of slurred grunts.

He tried again. “Wheeere ‘m I?” He blinked rapidly at her, trying to force himself to focus on something solid. He was vaguely aware of his breaths coming slower and perhaps more shallowly than normal, but what bothered him far more was his frustrating confusion.

[Devi]

Devi paused as Baelin stirred, his voice gravelly and slurred. Her hands still deftly mixing a warming tea she turned her face to him, her eyes on his so she could judge just how aware he was of his surroundings.

“You’re in Soothing Waters. In Syliras,” she clarified, unsure of just where her patient might have decided that a mid-Winter swim was a wonderful idea. “Can you tell me your name?”

Devi felt his forehead again as he started to shiver. Oddly enough the shivers were a good sign. He’d stopped for a while when he passed out. Shivering meant they’d managed to warm him up enough that his body was waking up a little once more. Of course that also meant that soon enough he’d be able to feel the prickling pain. The warmer he got for the time being, the worse that would feel. Partner that with the significantly more painful bathing she would need to give his frostbitten hand and her newest patient was due for an interesting few hours.

“How about how you got here, do you remember that?” She kept him chatting as her hands continued to prepare and her mind wandered. Up close there was something vaguely familiar about Baelin. A memory whispered through the back of her mind just out of reach. Ronan had known who he was at least and he was well built. He’d also come directly to the smithy, presumably for help so perhaps she had seen him in there.

She found herself curious again at his unusual slitted eyes and the right hand still clenched into a fist at his chest. His hair was dark, long enough that had he been standing it could have fallen easily over his forehead, obscuring his unusual eyes. Tiny scars littered his otherwise clear skin. She peered closely at one, baffled as to what could have caused them.

Devi had filled a large basin with some of the hot water from the bath and a deal more cold water, leaving the contents barely lukewarm. She would need to gradually heat it to stop the frostbite in Baelin’s fingers from spreading and allow the tips any chance of healing.

“I’m afraid this is going to sting a bit...” She said softly, keen to keep the atmosphere calm in case the man’s disorientation caused him to panic and lash out. Picking his hand up with both of hers she eased it into the basin by her side.

[Baelin Holt]

Baelin was pleased to note that his surroundings were beginning to become clearer. Being told that it was the Soothing Waters had indeed helped. The lover of cleanliness had always meant to take a trip to the baths. But communal bathing wasn’t really his cup of tea, and he had always managed to find an excuse for himself not to go. The most common excuse being that the saltwater of the Suvan reminded him of home far more than any Syliran bath.

Speaking of which...with his wits returning to him, Baelin was becoming increasingly aware of how he was still covered with patches of sand. It was quite annoying and he desperately wanted it off.

But far more pressing than his need cleanse himself was the realization that his skin had transformed itself into a full body suit of discomfort. The half-Dhani hissed out of his nose as the sensation became overwhelming while his jaw began to work furiously, teeth chattering.

Frustrated with his weakness, Baelin ground his teeth together and clamped his jaw shut. He was more or less successful at stopping his chattering, and for that he allowed a small trace of pride. But his shivering only seemed to amplify.

He blearily realized that the woman asked for his name. Baelin forced another hiss of breath through his nose as he tried to ignore the growing prickle in his skin.

“Baael’n,” he croaked, still not quite able to get his tongue to work as it should.

The woman was doing something...Baelin tried to concentrate on what it was, but couldn’t quite piece it together. The smith snarled, feeling far too vulnerable and weak to his liking. If he couldn’t figure out what she was doing, then he could at least try to figure out who she was. Rob always told him that it was important to get the name of a woman first.

Red hair...it looked soft. Baelin raised a hand without quite realizing, tempted to see for himself if it was as soft as it looked. But as soon as he lifted his fingers, he snatched them back and hissed in pain. Far more than the rest of his body, the fingers on his left hand hurt. He only just stopped himself from audibly whining like some kicked mutt.

Before Baelin could try to figure out just why it felt like his fingers were going to explode, the red head asked if he remembered how he had gotten there. The smith furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, not quite sure what she meant. The Soothing Waters? No...with consternation he realized he had no idea how he had gotten to the Soothing Waters. He had thought he had gone home...where was his uncle? His uncle would know what to do right now.

With a growl, Baelin reminded himself, “Not here...” Grenor would never leave Black Rock, and Baelin had foolishly decided to leave his hometown. The idea that he may never see the man again was not something the islander wanted to dwell on.

The stranger was still preparing something, but now he realized she was studying him. Baelin unconsciously fidgeted at the scrutiny and scratched at his left wrist, well aware that he had just yesterday spotted a scale there that would soon surface. He wanted it out.

He had unclenched his right hand to allow for the old habit and felt a rush of relief from easing the tension on his fingers. Baelin stretched the fingers, gritting his teeth as feeling returned to them. He still wasn’t ready to look at his palm and verify that it held a mark. The whole encounter still felt like a dream and, despite the pain that accompanied it, he wasn’t yet willing to wake up. Baelin wasn’t ready to see that the palm carried the weight of nothing but callouses.

The smith was jolted out of his thoughts as the woman warned of a sting and picked up his hand. He tensed nervously, not sure how to respond in the slightest. Baelin couldn’t tell if she was flirting or threatening him. It was a thing he should figure out...but more than anything, Baelin was exhausted. Thinking hurt...standing hurt...he wanted to sleep more than anything.

Right up until someone lit his hand on fire.

Baelin yelped at the shock and snatched his hand back, retreating from the woman. He wasn’t sure what he had done to earn her scorn, but he was in no mood for torture. His body hurt enough already as is.

[Devi]

The next few hours were interesting, medically speaking. Given that native Sylirans spent most of their time inside the Stronghold’s hallways during the winter, Devi had not had many patients present with symptoms like these. Mostly it was just the poorer residents without enough firewood to keep their hearths alight that became ill. Even so the knighthood, forthright as they were about such trivial threats to the general populace, were quick to offer solutions. She didn't often need to deal with such serious symptoms as these.

After his initial outburst Devi had concentrated on warming the core of Baelin’s body instead of worrying herself over his hand. She chastised herself for not prioritising in that manner sooner and tucked his hands back beneath the piles of blankets. She could just hear Versin’s cutting voice in her head, asking her if she thought the man before her would rather be alive or have a functioning hand before he perished. He kept up a mental tirade in her head as she corrected her process and continued to replace cooling, damp blankets with warm, dry ones.

Leaving the frozen flesh without a warming bath for a little longer left the risk of further damage to Baelin’s fingers. It had distracted her from the real priority, which was to keep him warm and dry until his body was recovered enough to maintain the temperature himself. She kept a kettle on the fire and as soon as Baelin was conscious enough she shuffled around until she was seated behind him. With his head and shoulders leaning against her she used one hand to help steady his torso and the other to bring the tea she’d prepared earlier to his lips. It was a blend of Rugberry to which she’d added a great deal of honey. He could do with eating a bit to replenish his energy but in the meantime the tea and honey would help. Then there was nothing to do for a while but wait and continue to encourage him to drink more warm tea.

After a while the shivers began to abate and Baelin felt a little warmer against her. She carefully extricated herself and prepared the lukewarm bath for his hand once more. Hopefully this time the shock would not be so intense to the damaged flesh, though from the look and feel of it she found herself resigned to the fact that Baelin would have lasting damage in his fingers. Being as careful as possible she dipped the damaged hand once more into the water, bracing once more for any reaction to the pain.

Once Devi was satisfied that Baelin’s hand was settled she pulled her journal towards her from her doctor’s kit. Flicking through the pages until she found a new one, she started a new record for Baelin. Scratching away with an ink stick she silently agreed with herself that he was an interesting enough case that she’d want to document it. She left the charcoal she used for sketching safely stowed away. Waking up to find a strange woman taking care of you when you’re barely clothed would be enough without finding that she was also sketching you.

[Dravite]

Baelin Holt

XP Award:

• Observation: 3
• Socialisation: 2
• Endurance: 1
  

Lore:

• Syliras: The mist is dangerous
• Dira: A kind Goddess
• Ronan: A good man
• Devi: A small, curvy woman
• Suvan: too cold to swim in winter
• Baelin: Loves warm fires
• Frostbite hurts
• Suvan: Just like home
• Rob: The importance of a name
• Grenor: Loyal to Black Rock
  

Penalties:
It will take a full season for the frostbite to heal completely though Baelin’s fingers may feel desensitised whenever they are cold in future.

Loot:
N/A

Baelin please make adjustments to your ledger before you accept the rewards above.

Devi

XP Award:

• Drawing: 1
• Observation: 2
• Body Building: 1
• Medicine: 2
• Socialisation: 1
• Rhetoric: 1
• Writing: 1
• Planning: 1
  

Lore:

• Drawing: Practice makes perfect
• Syliras: Is very cold in winter
• Winter: Not a good time to swim
• Medicine: How to treat frostbite
• Medicine: Hypothermia
• Medicine: Life over limb
• Baelin: Crazy for swimming in winter
  

Penalties:
N/A

Loot:
N/A

Notes: Hey guys, great little thread. Devi is such a kind soul! Baelin I really admire how well you played the character’s confusion and remained consistent. Let me know if you think I have missed anything here and be sure to edit your grading request! I’m new to grading so any feedback via PM is greatly appreciated.

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