by Erato on July 27th, 2011, 6:15 pm
A look of appalled surprise fell flatly on Erato’s face at the sight of Devmond. Admittedly, a small part of her had expected and even began to hope for his return, but she had not quite imagined it happening like that. She remained still even after the dark man cried for help, immediately wishing that Nilkayn hadn’t left. True, he had left his things and would no doubt be returning soon, but this sudden appearance of the mysterious Devmond quickened the already timid pulse of her heart. Was he only an innocent and injured soul as he appeared to be, or was there something more to the stronger tingling in her scales?
It put the startled konti in quite a dilemma. She recognized that the odd sensation in her scales was not the same feeling she received when faced with physical danger. It was difficult to describe the difference, quite like trying to differentiate between light gray and white. More immediate and obvious danger was almost painful, a sharp sensation that pricked at the scales above her eye and made her wince. This generally happened when she stood near the edge of a cliff or approached a startled snake in the grass. She had never been near any manner of incredible danger, but there was always that threat, the possibility of pain that irritated her scales and nerves when she came too close.
To some extent, it could be controlled. Like a slight temperature change, Erato could be accustomed enough to the small sensations that she almost could forget them. It was generally only in the case of very close threats that she could feel something enough to distract, but that was only one aspect of her gift. To only sense physical danger was one thing, but she had a strong suspicion that she had a sense of dangerous intents as well. Perhaps it wasn’t always intentional, but threats were ever present. The closer one became to another, the deeper the trust, the greater number of secrets shared—one moment of betrayal in that could inflict an incredible amount of pain. Thus, the more Erato came to trust another, the stronger her sense grew that something could go wrong.
And it was a rather different sensation. The feeling she had near her mother and her sister wasn’t what she would call sharp or even obvious. Sometimes it was even a strangely pleasant sensation, a slight tickling of the scales, particularly those above her left eye. It only became more present when she was emotionally aroused or inclined to share something personally important, particularly the time when she had spoken to her mother of leaving Konti Isle. It wasn’t easy for Erato to share pain because she feared it might breed more: feelings can be rejected, intents misunderstood; the pain of disappointing a loved one is never enjoyable.
Those were her warnings, the compass that guided her away from danger and into solitude. She found the presence of physical danger irritating and preferred to look after the sick, whose delicate and often short lived bonds of friendship brought more pleasant sensations and thoughts. Yet Erato was always careful to avoid whatever long term relationships she could. It was enough, she felt, to take counsel from her mother and tolerate the shadow of her sister, who had already given birth and lived in the pride of their mother. If she started making closer bonds to others, she worried that her ‘sense’ would never be at rest, and that even the slight pleasant nature of danger could easily turn to deeper pain. It was already difficult enough to feel that sharper irritation when her mother visited with further stories of Erato’s sister and her accomplishments.
In the case of Devmond (who didn’t appear to be in any shape to offer even the pretense of a threat), Erato could feel only that slight tingling, which had led her to look towards the forest not a moment ago. She blamed it immediately on her own curiosity towards the man, who was in every way a mystery to her. How had he been so nonchalant before? How had he been injured? How had he found her again? And why… why did he guess her to be a healer? Was her experience so obvious, or was she simply the only source of help for this lone man in the wilderness?
A few lines of chastisement and inquiries quickly began to rise in Erato’s throat, but none were voiced. Her lips had barely begun to form the first lines when her eyes went to his, and then she could say nothing. He simply looked so pitiful, like a young child who had been stung by a bee and believed the painful poison to be the end of his life. Devmond had not only been injured, it seemed, but frightened and broken as well. Erato had formerly thought him to be rather cocky (he had, after all, approached a mighty Akalak quite alone in the wilderness with no sense of fear or respect whatsoever), but he had either learned his lesson or had let his guard down to receive needed help.
“That looks serious.” Erato gently set the lyre down behind her, leaning forward to inspect the wounds. There appeared to be numerous gashes, and she wasn’t quite sure where to start. So she began with the most obvious, gently moving her hand to tilt the man’s chin up.
Well, that was a mistake.
Erato was not one easily distracted in the processes of healing, as she had been around blood and wailing for a great portion of her profession. But Devmond was quiet. True, he had called out to her, crying, limping, but the pain had not rendered him thoughtless or panicked. He wasn’t even whimpering, almost patient as he submitted himself to the whims of a stranger. It took strength to have that amount of humility and control… something Erato had not often seen. The problem with this was that it led her only to more curiosity.
His skin was silkily smooth, she realized as her scaled fingertips brushed against his cheek. Her other hand was still underneath his chin, following the contour of his jaw as it moved up, up to examine the gash on his forehead. His warm blood wet her fingers as they moved—a waking signal to stop ogling and heal the poor creature. But for one moment, she couldn’t quite help herself, trapped by those eyes sparkled with tears. Such a lovely color, warm and golden like honey, soft with sorrow. It made her heart ache at the same time it picked up its beat.
Tingling, that tingling picked up again, and her hand moved involuntarily to sooth the sensation on those scales above her eye. She stopped halfway through the motion, turning to reach into her pack. Her well practiced fingers found the cleaning water and cloth with little difficulty, and the bandages would soon follow. With her fear forgotten, she looked over the kneeling man with new eyes, searching for each individual wound and hoping that the bleeding wasn’t too bad.
“Are they deep, Devmond? You will have to remove that… shirt if I am to bind those cuts.”