Rohka exhaled slowly as the guard spoke her last name. She didn’t give it out lightly, preferring to be associated purely by her own merits—the very few merits that were built during the five years spent in the city proper. The sibyl couldn’t tell if he recognized her background; he seemed to ponder, but showed almost no emotion before stepping up to her, replacing her papers in her pack ever so gently, and addressing the slave in the manner of authority. Her face softened at the recognition of his aiding gesture and she stayed in silent pain while he instructed the other guards to take care of the creature. It took her a moment to notice that they’d all had red paint on their skullcaps—these were cherries that she was dealing with. Recruits gaining experience. The thought was interrupted when Little Bloop pounced off the arm of the man and stuck to her own before the cherries dragged him away to ‘speak’ in private.
“Heyyy little one, did that dumdum hurt you?” She whispered gently, unmoving. The snake shook its head and made its way up her arm and into the crook of her neck. It didn’t take long for the armoured man to question her next, his eyes looking at her far more suspiciously than she’d expected. Jorlin was clearly standing right by them, the cherry could’ve asked him instead; why was she being interrogated about an inconspicuous whisper? Roh quickly let it go in her mind and gladly lifted the hand that held the parchment. She had nothing to hide.
“Well, he gave me some Float, he said it would ease the pain,” the sibyl began to unfold the sheet with her fingers and held it up to her face. Jorlin had already gotten into the boat—he’d shut his eyes and held in a groan, then lifted his pole, staring straight at the guard should he intend to question him. “So I just sniff it, right?” Rohka didn’t wait for an answer. She brought the powder up to her nose and took a deep breath.
“Shyke,” Jorlin murmured. His hand had gone to the side of his head, brows raised and awkwardly smiling, seemingly entertained. “You have to get in Rohka, quickly, before it starts working.” She looked at him quizzically before taking the guard’s extended hand, carefully easing herself back inside the boat.
It took effect instantly. The sibyl’s heart began to race as her body got warmer, then colder, then warmer again, the cycling of heat moving in tandem with the feeling of her body lifting and expanding, slowly losing the ability to locate the edge of her body. From the outside, Rohka would purely seem to stand there, as if in shock, her eyes widening then closing, her shoulders relaxing, and a smile creeping up the corners of her lips.
“Oh, Jor,” she hummed, eyes still closed, feeling something bubbling between her ears. “This is fun.” Rohka opened her eyes, suddenly washed over with a pleasant wave of weightlessness, the ache in her arm reduced to a dulled, suspended sensation. She couldn’t quite locate the pain anymore, but she knew it was there, she knew it existed. It didn’t feel like an entity anymore. The sibyl still held the piece of parchment between her fingers—she watched herself lift her hand as if it required no effort, as if it was being moved by someone else, when she knew that she had to be in control of her own arm. Did her arm exist if she couldn’t feel it? Roh shook off the thought and handed the parchment over to the guard, should he choose to take it. Otherwise, she would keep it in her hand while she sat through the ride to the Healing Hand.
Rohka knew she was sitting down. She knew the boat was starting to move. She could see it happening—she saw herself reaching down to aid herself onto her seat, she saw Jorlin pushing the boat off the platform, she watched the water move behind them. Nevertheless, her body had ceased to feel solid. It was like she’d turned into air, or a cloud, or a ghost! That thought frightened her. Rohka hastily spat out a question,
“Hey, you two can see me still, right? Can I—“ she reached out to poke the Cherry’s arm. “Did that work?” Rohka was grinning. She felt incredibly light, both in body and spirit. She poked the leather again, looking up into the cherry’s eyes this time. He was far older than her, with a darkened gaze that reflected her own. She was grateful for his support on the short journey, but wasn’t in the mind frame to express it. Instead, she glanced at the lines of his face, noticing that he was trimmed, clean, and neat; unlike Jorlin, with his messy, medium beard of blondness. Still grinning, she spoke with an air of assumed friendliness. “What’s your name, Cherry?”
She stressed the ‘your’ with purpose. She wanted a reaction—she wanted to know if he knew her family. Jorlin heard her and knew the intent at once. He recognized the last name as soon as the guard had uttered it. The boatman’s aunt was the wife of one of the Calicos, and he’d heard the usual about their line of work and their productive reputation. He knew they were preparing for a few projects soon—Bethel, his aunt, had been excited about new recipes to try out on the workers at the lakeshore. He kept silent, however, sticking to the job he was meant to do.
Before long, they would reach the Healing Hand, where their ride would be complete and where Rohka could finally be fixed. She really needed to get back to work.
