Denen's thread

[Bolden Denusk]

Time stamp: 22nd of Summer, 511 AV
Location: Denen's Tent

Bolden waited till sunset to peek his head outside the tent flap. He heard only the sounds of people finishing their evening meal or asking for coffee. There were only the normal movements and hushed murmurs of people talking tiredly at the end of another day's hard work. It looked quiet and empty so he decided it was safe. His sword training with Matthial aggravated his old injury, so it was aching in a new and fierce way. The young man did his best not to limp, but it proved impossible.

The trampled dirt path made nary a sound in the hushed night and the darkness drew swiftly around him. Fireplaces made shadow figures against the tent walls as he walked by as silently as possible. A night bird chirruped a short distance away, calling out for a perspective mate in the lonely and deserted night.

Ever since the young Denusk was thirteen and broke the bone in two places, he'd felt the ache of badly healed tendons over half formed muscle. His pants hid an ugly round scar of where the bones had ripped free of the skin. Because it was located near the upper inside of his thigh near a sensitive area, not many had seen it; except maybe a few women.

He looked over each shoulder and limped painfully to the healer's tent. The scar was an angry purple and the quad muscle knotted and bunched just beneath it. Bold hoped to the Gods this healer kept his or her mouth shut. The last thing he needed was for everyone to know he had a bum leg. Especially living in Vanator's shadow.

The dark haired man stood just outside the healer's tent, tugged on the flap, and waited tensely.

Secret :

Denen wanted the thread graded, although I disagree. Grade hers, but I respectfully decline any lore or xp.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen struggled when it came to making ends meet. His supplies had seemed limitless when he lived at home, namely because he didn't have to buy anything. It was all put into a familial common wealth, and even then, Denen, being one of the least experienced healers, didn't use much. People often preferred healers who were whole in body themselves, healers they could hold spoken conversations with. He'd always been the docile one, standing to the side, waiting to go fetch things for the more experienced members of his family. But things were different now. Denen was the healer for his new family, and it was upon him that Sam relied when it came to having his injuries tended to. Denen was still relatively inexperienced, but he had learned much in the past year, and his knowledge had grown in leaps and bounds. He was far more confident now, certain that he could keep them both alive at the very least. Much to his surprise, however, there were others who came to him now. People who wanted privacy and discretion, to be treated away from the rush and bustle of the Opal Clan tents. Denen knew he couldn't give the same quality as the Opal Clan's finest might, but he did a good job with what he had, and he hadn't had complaints yet. It was nice to have people come to him, but Denen didn't want to become known as the healer who made little problems disappear. Denen had been fetching a few herbs to set out to dry when a sudden motion came at the front of his tent. He startled, nearly toppling over his mortar, before he got up to see who was there. Sam would've simply come in, and that left only the knowledge that it was a stranger. He slipped out from his tent, adjusting the scarf around his ears, and looked up to the muscled man in confusion. “What can I do for you?” He signed, wondering if he'd be forced to speak with this man. He hoped not. He hated being teased for how he sounded.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bold's eyebrows shot up at the use of Grassland Sign, usually reserved for silence needed during hunts and ambush. When he stopped to think about it, it made perfect sense when you're trying to be discrete.

'This should work out fine then, on literally keeping things quiet. She's very subtle to not even speak.' He thought with approval.

He'd fully expected a male healer and was surprised to find this slender girl at the tent instead. He took in the dark hair, high cheekbones and long lashes.

'How does a delicate thing like that survive here? She's kinda cute, I mean not bad looking; flat as a board and no hips though. That girl would never survive childbirth.' Bolden evaluated the healer's figure with eyes the color of wild honey. He signed his name to her and flashed a smile as he gestured for her to maintain secrecy as much as possible.

'Mildly cute, but too skinny.' was Bold's final appraisal.

The young Denusk took two steps into the tent and it was just one step too many; his injured right leg gave out and he fell directly on top of poor Denen, accidentally crushing the healer beneath him.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen was pleased to see that his visitor was able to understand and speak Grassland. It meant he wouldn't have to strain his voice. But Denen didn't fully realize that this man thought he was trying to be stealthy. It was simply easier for him to talk this way. He tilted his head, still waiting for an answer. The man was big. He reminded him of people like Vanator and Kayiri, or of his own older brothers and father. Healers they might have been, but Denen was slender and small, as his mother had been. He blinked slowly and smiled as the name was given. “I'm Denen,” he answered. “It is not a healer's way to go around giving out secrets.” He was about to ask what it was that Bolden wanted, when suddenly the other was toppling towards him. Denen was hardly strong enough to keep either of them from hitting the ground, and as such, when Bold collided with him, he gave a sound of alarm and hit the ground hard. His eyes squeezed shut before they shot open and he tried to squirm out from beneath the stranger. He was, however, fairly well pinned in place, oblivious to the fact that he'd been thoroughly studied for breeding moments before. His heart was hammering in his chest, likely able to be felt by the Denusk, and his face was hot. Very carefully, Den sought to ease Bolden off of him, grimacing as his thin frame protested the amount of weight that had dropped on him. “Bad leg?” He signed, though he didn't have to ask to know the answer. He managed to get himself free, before he offered a hand to his patient.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bold's face, ears and neck turned crimson in embarrassment at his weakness. Identical to Vanator's own expression, the man scowled in anger and mentally berated himself. He rolled off Denen and kept his eyes on the ground in humiliation.

"Sorry Miss Denen. My uh...leg's not doing so well lately."He answered in sign after sitting up. At least it wasn't a guy he fell on. Talk about utter humiliation!

"I better stay sitting down for now. I don't wanna crush you again. You all right little one?" he motioned with concern for the girl's skinny frame.

"I didn't hurt you did I?"

[Denen Sunsinger]

Miss Denen? The young healer's brow raised and he almost broke into a laugh. But he managed to contain himself, and decided it might be for the best if he kept his gender ambiguous. He didn't want Bolden to feel embarrassed for his mistake. He nodded his understanding, giving a small, meek smile, and carefully reached to help Bold to his feet. His dark hair fell into his face, and he reached to push it back and out of the way. “I'm fine,” he assured. “My...friend falls on me all the time.” And it was true. Sam did fall on him from time to time, namely when he was trying to do tricks off of Dohaina's back. He offered his shoulder as support for Bold, and led him into his tent, where he moved to help him sit. “Where is this injury?” He asked as he sat down.

[Bolden Denusk]

An embarrassed grimace tugged at his mouth and he gestured with a red face,

"Well that depends on whether or not you have a Chevas mark. If you do, I can't show you. If you don't, it's close to a uh.. an intimate place with no subtle way of showing one without the other." He motioned as discretely as possible.

'Hells maybe it would've been better if the healer was a guy. Then we could just get on with the job and stop worrying about a lady's delicate sensibilities.'

He sighed heavily in frustration and then sucked in a breath at the sharp pain. The leg shouldn't hurt like this. It was only a little sore this morning, but now something is definitely wrong.

Bold saw that her neck and ears were covered, so there was no way to confirm or deny if she was married. Either way he really needed to know. He'd met too many angry husbands and brothers to even chance it. She might be as scrawny as a horse with worms, but someone might like her type.

"Show me if you do or do not have a Chevas mark so we can get on with this." the man said impatiently. The pain drained away his charming nature, making him surly and uncharacteristically rude with the girl.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen's brows shot up, and his nostrils flared indignantly. The nerve of this man! He placed both hands on his hips, lips pushing out, and he snorted. “You came to me, sir, without an appointment, and expecting me to put aside everything for your convenience. I am a healer, and I handle my matters professionally.” Still, he reached up to jerk the scarf away, and his dark hair tumbled over his shoulder. One side was shaved short. He frowned, and bared his neck and ear. “Is this sufficient?” He asked. His blue eyes held all the fierceness of a Drykas warrior. He took his work seriously, and he didn't care for having a mockery made of the thing he loved best. “Now, if you will please take your pants off so that I can treat you properly?” His cheeks were flushed. It was embarrassing, humiliating, even. He wasn't going to be pushed around by some bum-legged warrior, just to save the man some face. This was his place, after all. He didn't want to be the healer everyone came to for their secret issues. He frowned now, and went to tie his scarf back on. His hands shook as he tied the knot. Being mistaken for a girl, being snapped at. He pressed his hand to his brow. “I am sorry, but I was hardly expecting you to come tonight. I thought I'd be...” He shook his head. “Busy.” Or...snuggled up to Sam.

[Bolden Denusk]

Bold let the girl blather in one ear and out the other as he waited for evidence.
'There. No Chevas mark. Sheesh what is -she- so bitchy about? You'd think I--' The Drykas' eyes widened in dawning realization.

'Wait a chime--is that the same neck knot that guys ha-'

Embarrassment and humiliation flushed his face from neck to ears at his colossal gender blunder.

'No wonder the guy's pissed! I called him a filly! Wait that means that I-- when I fell--he--'

To anyone else the situation would be funny but he just wanted to crawl into the floor at yet another dumb move by Bold. Aw hell he'd best just suck it up and let the healer defend his honor in combat. This healer was likely to stab him rather than treat him now anyway. Not that he could blame the guy. Too flustered to remember to sign, he said aloud,

"Man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you--uh--You were--Petching hells man, you looked like a chick in the dark!"

Assuming he'd be called out on the spot by Denen to defend his honor as any Drykas would, Bold struggled painfully to his feet to meet the challenge; he knew he'd brought it down on himself.

Searing agony shot from his leg, to his foot and up to his groin. Air hissed through his clenched teeth as he struggled not to groan like a sissy. Although he'd put almost no weight on it, the leg started to tremble of its own accord. A massive spasm wracked the quad muscle, big enough to be seen through the pants.

Bold's mouth was a grim line, and his eyes darkened in chagrin. He drew his sword, keeping the point down and waited for Denen to call him out. Bold would be one easy hit he knew, but he'd drop with at least an attempt at dignity.

Aching, honey colored eyes met Denen's own.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen's hands were shaking from frustration. He was generally immeasurably patient, but this struck a nerve. Perhaps it was the recent case of self-discovery, or the fact that he had someone who found him desirable, and in that, he found himself worthwhile. Whatever the case was, he wasn't about to allow himself to be walked all over. It became clear to him that Bolden was beginning to understand exactly what was going on here, and he gave a soft sigh, folding his hands in his lap. As such, he let the man have his moment, allowed the embarrassment and the apologies, and waited for the moment to pass so that they could begin treatment. Denen gave an indignant huff. Looked like a woman in the dark. The very idea! He wasn't that feminine, was he? Admittedly, he had a bit more curve to him than most men, and he was rather thin. But he was tall, and there were masculine traits beyond a sleek, soft body. He was willing to forgive the blunder, simply because he knew most of his sex (himself included) thought primarily with... And now he was getting up. Denen's nose wrinkled in confusion and he made a face. Hadn't he just come in here to be healed? Discretely? Why, then, was he making such a fuss? Oh, for the love of gods. Because this couldn't get any more awkward. He brought his palm up to strike it against his brow, shaking his head. He almost had to laugh at the absurdity. He supposed he'd never understand the workings of a warrior's mind. The man stood there, a weak, quivering mess, very sincerely marked by pain, and for a long while, Denen knelt as he was, allowing for Bolden to endure the pain of his stance. Draw a sword in his tent, would he? With his hands both curled into fists, Denen placed them on his hips and looked up to Bolden almost defiantly. After that long moment had passed, the young healer raised both slender hands and spoke. “Sir, in the Opal Clan, we do not jump to our swords when we are offended. I am a healer. I am sworn to help those who need it, regardless of whether or not I like them.” He motioned to the floor before him, a fine brow arched. “Now, will you please remove your trousers so that I might tend to that wound?”