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16th of Spring, 519
It was a damp day, in a long line of damp days. Water fell from the sky above Zintila and bubbled up from the ground on Infinity Manor. It snaked in through the cracked windows, dripped between the roof's shattered shingles and collected as a great muddy river in the moat that circled the house proper. It squished up from under your boots when you walked.
But the rain did good things too, Madeira had to admit grudgingly, as she stomped through the mucky ground, circling the manor and surveying the damage. The blood and the worst of the ash had washed away in the rainy weeks. The scorched, acid burned ground was swollen and plump again. A few more weeks of this and you might never know a Desolate One was ever here.
"A good rest and a little tender love and care, that's all you need", she patted the wooden wall, her voice croaky and sore but injected with cheer as she spoke to seemingly no one. "I'll fix you. Of course I will. That's what I'm here for, right?"
Rain was soaking her cloak, dripping off her hood and running into her eyes. Madeira shivered, teeth chattering, and sneezed violently. In her chest she could feel her broken ribs grinding together. The Catholicon had said to guard her health, as her immune system was going to suffer after childbirth and trauma. Perhaps she didn't take them seriously enough.
The house, silent since the attack, stirred itself to press against her mind. She could feel its concern saturating her body, angling
towards her ruined right hand, the burns, and broken bones and the empty space in her womb where her children used to be. It wanted her to rest. A silent force seemed to be steering her gently inside.
"I'm fine", she croaked, squishing her way back to the front door. "Worry about yourself for a change."
The first floor of the tall manor was worse for wear. A great black burn was centered in the middle of the floor, and most of the windows were smashed. An acidic smell lingered about the place, though it was lessened greatly by the spring air wafting in from the missing windows. Most of the soft furnishings had been removed, as most were damaged by claws or stained by smoke to be repaired. What was left was the eclectic art on the walls, a few hard tables, and an enormous stuffed tiger head. In the corner a blue pigeon cooed plaintively.
Peeling her cloak off her shoulders, Madeira hung it from a rack as the heavy wooden door was closed softly behind her. Beneath she had her arm strapped horizontally across her chest and wrapped in sturdy white linen. What weight she had gained in pregnancy was falling away fast, and already her collarbones were showing hard and white over the collar of her green dress. Madeira sniffled hard and sneezed again, rubbing at her red and running nose.
"Where are the tools? We can start by boarding up your windows." She was rolling up her sleeves as she crossed the great room, stepping unconsciously around the burn on the floor. Yet when she reached her the brass handle of her workshop door, it rattled in her hand but would not open. Locked.
A spark of something flashed up Madeira's spine. It felt a lot like rage.
WC: 566
But the rain did good things too, Madeira had to admit grudgingly, as she stomped through the mucky ground, circling the manor and surveying the damage. The blood and the worst of the ash had washed away in the rainy weeks. The scorched, acid burned ground was swollen and plump again. A few more weeks of this and you might never know a Desolate One was ever here.
"A good rest and a little tender love and care, that's all you need", she patted the wooden wall, her voice croaky and sore but injected with cheer as she spoke to seemingly no one. "I'll fix you. Of course I will. That's what I'm here for, right?"
Rain was soaking her cloak, dripping off her hood and running into her eyes. Madeira shivered, teeth chattering, and sneezed violently. In her chest she could feel her broken ribs grinding together. The Catholicon had said to guard her health, as her immune system was going to suffer after childbirth and trauma. Perhaps she didn't take them seriously enough.
The house, silent since the attack, stirred itself to press against her mind. She could feel its concern saturating her body, angling
towards her ruined right hand, the burns, and broken bones and the empty space in her womb where her children used to be. It wanted her to rest. A silent force seemed to be steering her gently inside.
"I'm fine", she croaked, squishing her way back to the front door. "Worry about yourself for a change."
The first floor of the tall manor was worse for wear. A great black burn was centered in the middle of the floor, and most of the windows were smashed. An acidic smell lingered about the place, though it was lessened greatly by the spring air wafting in from the missing windows. Most of the soft furnishings had been removed, as most were damaged by claws or stained by smoke to be repaired. What was left was the eclectic art on the walls, a few hard tables, and an enormous stuffed tiger head. In the corner a blue pigeon cooed plaintively.
Peeling her cloak off her shoulders, Madeira hung it from a rack as the heavy wooden door was closed softly behind her. Beneath she had her arm strapped horizontally across her chest and wrapped in sturdy white linen. What weight she had gained in pregnancy was falling away fast, and already her collarbones were showing hard and white over the collar of her green dress. Madeira sniffled hard and sneezed again, rubbing at her red and running nose.
"Where are the tools? We can start by boarding up your windows." She was rolling up her sleeves as she crossed the great room, stepping unconsciously around the burn on the floor. Yet when she reached her the brass handle of her workshop door, it rattled in her hand but would not open. Locked.
A spark of something flashed up Madeira's spine. It felt a lot like rage.
WC: 566
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