Tourniquet. (Cian)

[Seodai]

56th Summer, 511 A.V. It was incredibly warm. One of the warmest days of the season, Seo thought, as he knelt in freshly turned soil. Sweat trickled across his brow and ran down the nape of his neck, creating muddy trails all along his dusty shirt. He was more accustomed to the cool that so frequently dominated Denval, and these warmest days of the year were a bit uncomfortable, if beautiful. Sitting up against his heels, Seodai lifted his hand to wipe at his wet brow and glanced out over the small parcel that was the farm. Theo had been Seodai's boyhood hero for as long as he could remember. From the first time he had been allowed to step foot on the farm, perhaps. From the first moment he had watched his Uncle nurture earth and life with his hands, with his spirit. The essence that lived inside of Theo was so very different from the critical, nervous energy that both of his parents seemed to possess. It was soothing, healing, life-giving. And as the years passed and he was brought into life on the farm, Seodai only became more attached, more connected. Both with his beloved Uncle, with whom he felt he had more in common than any other living soul, and with Bala, of whom the mere thought filled him with a warm sort of reverence. Creating and cultivating life and life-giving sustenance had become his existence. Not only because he was especially good at it, and not only because he loved doing it, but because he was good at terribly little else. Seo, having finished the menial tasks he had set out for himself, primarily removing the weeds from a long row of parsnips. Once he had extolled the nutritional superiority of the parsnip to that of it's cousin, the carrot, and explained how relatively simple it should be to grow this root vegetable, Theo had been swayed. Seo had taken for granted that their temperatures were typically on the cooler side, and so this beautiful day wasn't especially good for his experiment, but he wasn't overly concerned. Things just had a way of working themselves out on Theo's Farm, and Seo was confident that this would be no different. The younger caretaker carefully peeled away the protective gloves he had been wearing, to check on the row of blisters lining one side of his arm. While the vegetable itself was honeyed and sweet when cooked, the shoots and leaves contained a vicious chemical that irritated the skin. Seo, who seemed unfortunate enough to be medically fragile in most conceivable ways, had blistered within hours of contact. The pain was a mere annoyance, though, and Seo knew that time would heal those wounds. With nothing left to do out of doors, Seodai gathered his things and made his way back towards the small house he and his Uncle occupied. A snack sounded appealing, as did the basin of cool water he knew would be waiting upon the small stand Theo had helped him build in the summer of his twelfth year. It was unevenly measured, crooked at best, but he had done most of the work himself, and even painted poppies up along the side to honor the grandmother he had never known, but sorely wished he did. Theo insisted on keeping the ugly thing, perhaps for sentimental reasons, and though Seodai fully realized what an eyesore it was, he couldn't help but feel a measure of pride that his uncle cared enough to insist upon something so trivial. It had always been Theo, though, who had nurtured Seodai's spirit, his heart. His parents had suffocated him with a resentful sort of concern. They had fallen into panic with every injury he acquired, with every dangerous brush with death. When, building that stand, Seo had managed to catch his calf on a sharp nail and bled for days, and days, and days more, Theo had patiently tended to the stubborn wound. Theo had distracted Seodai with pleasant stories, weaving more strands into the tapestry of the past he could not know, into his heritage. And, eventually, when all seemed well again, Theo did not hover. He did not insist that Seodai avoid contact with the world at large, nor complain about the wasted days caring for his nephew. He had smiled, touseled Seo's hair, and led him back out to the greenhouse so that they could catch up on all that had gotten away from them in the days that had passed. "Uncle?" Seo called as he stepped into the house. The echo of his own voice was all that met him. He carried on with his routine, washing the soil from his hands and face before preparing a small, modest meal. Perhaps he would walk up once he was finished, to check on the peach trees Theo had taken a renewed interest in. Before Seo could plan much more of his day, though, he heard the plaintive cry of a beast out of doors. Knowing (coddling, as Theo said) the animals as well as he did, Seo instantly recognized his favorite heifer. As moody as he imagined any real girl might be, she was prettier than any of the others they had ever owned. And, for Seo at least, more interested in the affection he offered. Seodai neglected his meal, and all else, to follow her cry, her appeal. His first stop was the barn, which left him puzzled. Her stall had not been broken or damaged in any way, but instead the gate had been unlatched from the outside, opened that she had free reign to escape. He had checked on the animals only hours before and was certain that he had locked it securely. He always made certain that he double checked her stall because, as strong willed as any bull, he knew she would exploit vulnerability. "Bells, how have you managed this?" he murmured to himself as he hurried out to follow after her. A well-timed cry led him in the right direction and soon he found her, tangled helplessly in the barbed fencing that lined one side of the property. "What the hell, Bells?" It seemed, again, impossible for an animal as simple as a cow to have managed such a feat. It also was irrelevant, at least for the moment, how she'd managed to become so entangled with a typically straight, taut piece of wire. The important part was to get her free, to try to patch up the wounds she was only making worse with her writhing. Seo began to soothe her, to speak softly to her as his fingers tested the bindings she had somehow created for herself. He had a passing thought that he should find Theo to help with this, or at least get gloves, but as he grew older it became more frustrating to need help with such menial tasks. And so he overlooked the menacing barbs and began to, carefully, unwrap his beloved animal. All things considered, it went fairly well. A few minor scratches that would ooze longer than they should, but no real injuries on his part. And he had her nearly extricated, except for a bow encircling her throat. "Now, let's be easy, mm? Don't want you or I to get hurt worse than we ought with this, yeah, Bells? That's a girl..." he cooed softly as he set about pulling the burrows which had dug into her flesh out. Without any warning, though, she became frightened, and fell into the throes of panic. Seo managed to shove the entrapment up over the crown of her head just in time to prevent her from slicing her own throat, but the thrashing of her body managed to both throw him into the fence himself, and to pin him there with the weight of her body. His struggle to get free didn't help much and, by the time she trotted off, scared half to death and bleeding towards the barn, Seo wasn't in much better shape. He could feel the hissing pain of a deep cut the full length of his back. The real concern, though, was the fact that said cut began at the side of his throat, and it felt deep. Murmuring colorful curses, he found his feet again and started after his heifer. He was only half-way to the barn when the blood flowing over his clavicle and down his chest caught his attention and his fingers found the source. Blood, especially his own, was not something Seodai favored. It made him feel a queasy dread. This wouldn't be comfortable, he knew. More than that, though. For him, it could be deadly. With Theo unavailable, he was on his own to find the solution. Jaret had taken care of his injuries and wounds for as long as he could remember, so that was his first stop. Seodai felt weak by the time he arrived to find Master Jaret out. It didn't matter why, only that he couldn't find help here. He thought, at once, of Cian Noc. Theo had been delivering foodstuffs to the healer for a while, and everyone in Denval seemed to think highly of the man. Seo, who hated meeting new people on principle, had little choice in the matter. It took the last measure of his strength to find the Clinic, to stumble into the doors, and to lean against a counter erected, behind which a pretty girl (who would have normally unnerved Seodai) sat. He spat out a rushed, confusing explanation of what he needed and, probably understanding very little, the girl was apparently bright enough to recognize that, with all the blood he was sporting, Seodai needed help. Badly. She scurried off, hopefully to fetch the healer, and in her absence Seo sank ungracefully to the floor, leaning against that same divide. The room was spinning just a little, and he just felt sleepy. So very sleepy.

[Caelum]

“This is a bit of a mess now, isn’t it?” A stranger’s voice slid insidiously through the fog crowding Seodai’s consciousness. It drawled in a fashion belonged vaguely to more southerly cities and was even enamored of a Symenos elegance though the speaker was clearly human. The accent was ultimately irrelevant, hinting at any place Not Here even as it was trapped by the fluency of Denvali uttered words. A breath of green things and carbolic, warm starlight and astringent came with Cian Noc as the air stirred with his crouching. When Seodai opened his eyes he would find a perfectly normal face save that it was both entirely too pale and unmistakably claimed in golden design by a goddess. Cian’s pallor was due to the misfortune befallen him, ironically, when Seodai’s own uncle had delivered the last food stores. It seemed he was a few steps past recovery’s turn when he reached for the young man, immediately clamping a wad of sterile muslin against the wound in his throat. “Don’t fret,” he went on conversationally. They might have been speaking on the weather or whether or not the next out bound tide would leave any starfish behind. “It’s a mess I can clean. Nothing at all like my office, but that’s different, isn’t it? My office doesn’t bleed, after all. If it did, I might could sell tickets. Make a little extra silver, eh? Come on, lad. Up now. Never mind the twisty-tilting room. You’ll be alright. I’ve you, don’t I?” Rangy arms were coiling around Seodai, the muscles in them tightening as Cian got his legs beneath them. The world shifted and Seodai would find himself on his feet but with the vast majority of his weight being supported by the talkative stranger.

[Seodai]

The words all blurred together, each constantant melding into the vowel beside of it until Cian Noc could have been humming to Seodai, for all the fading youth understood. But the words really didn't matter, did they? And perhaps the healer was wise enough to know this. To understand that the calm assurance in his voice, the gentle reverbation against the head that lolled into his throat was all that the sick young man really needed. The comfort of humanity, the end to his waning solitude. Because Seodai had been here, flirting with death from far too close of a distance, and more than once. Too many times, given his young age, and though he was hardly terrified as those less familiar with the sensation of life oozing out of their bodies might have been, it was hardly a pleasant experience. And so Noc was comforting, with the lullaby of his speech that made his patient feel all the more sleepy, the more content to close his eyes, to slip into the darkness that seduced him so. "Mmm." Seodai could manage little more, given that the very last vestiges of his strength were now invested to clinging as much as he was able to this new support system. And then there was something beneath him. A bed, perhaps? A table? It could have been a bed of nails, for all Seodai would have known the difference. His head dropped unceremoniously to the surface beneath, rolling with the momentum to one side. And as his would be Savior turned away, the light shining through the small window behind him illuminated that too pale face. Seodai, of course, didn't notice the pallor. Instead he noticed the beautiful, gold lines that danced along the handsome lines of the healers face. It made him think of vines, of the earth, and of his beloved Bala. It made him feel peace. Peace enough to close his eyes with the faintest smile upon his face.

[Caelum]

"Enough of that," the healer snapped. The words sharpened against the air, dropping like stones weighed as they were by firm instruction. A hand caught Seodai's cheek, calloused but gentle, and turned his face while Cian demanded, "Open your eyes, lad. Look at me." He was stretched across the padded, sheet covered table upon which he had physically labored to lay his latest patient upon. Cian was not especially tall and if he were a sword then he would be a rapier before he would ever be a broadsword. There was strength in his muscles, but it was nothing compared to the fortitude that dwelt within. Yet he found strength of body when he needed it, didn't he? Or rather when the world around him required it of him, he was rarely surprised and ever ready. When Seodai opened his eyes he would find his healer's face terribly close to his. Cian's eyebrows were riddled with consternation, thick lashes narrowly veiling the determination in his gaze. One would imagine a Priest of Rak'keli would need no especial hope, no particular resource of courage or reassurance to plunder the healing blessings bestowed upon him and fence them through the mortal world into the benefit of another. Only Denval had something inside of it that had crawled out of corners thought safe to maliciously attack without warning. It had taken Cian down once already, and in doing so bruised the man's certainty. But Cian Noc's faith was far, far from fragile and it would take more than sickness and backfiring gnosii to shatter the magics that chained his gods to him, keeping him cradled carefully on his knees. The opalescent mark staining his face seemed to shift and glint before dripping into the healer's eyes, spreading an eldrich light through the warm dark. Of course, that it could have been Seodai's blood loss. playing tricks on the eyes and mind. All the same, Seodai's pain began to ebb and dull, a breath of power crawling over his skin with needling feet.

[Seodai]

It was like being nudged awake from a comfortable nap. The throbbing pain of his wound had turned to numbness and that made it seem so simple to just rest. The healer wouldn't have that, though, prodding at the blanket of ease that had settled over Seodai. The young farmer parted his dry lips to complain, but no sound came out. Everything seemed a bit topsy turvy, and so when the pretty lines started to move, it fit in quite well. He didn't question it. Until the healing began, that is. Those little pinpricks of sensation that rejuvinated his body enough that it could feel pain once more. Seo groaned in complaint, harnessing his newfound strength to roll to his side a bit, the instinctual desire to form a fetal position against the misery. Mercifully it didn't stop there, though. It was only a passing phase on the road to wellness and, with every thud of his heart and with each inhalation Seodai could feel the damage being undone. The imminent pain disappeared first, the open wounds. And then, more subtly but perhaps most importantly, the effects of bloodloss began to wane. He felt whole again, connected to his body, grounded in Denval once more. Seodai had never gotten well so quickly. It was almost dizzying, and despite his sudden recovery, his limbs still trembled, the shock of the whole thing less willing to abate so easily. Seodai made another groaning noise and, rolling to his back, lifted one arm to drop over his tired eyes. "You'd think I'd get used to this," he complained, though his tone imbued the words with a soft hint of appreciation. A pause, and then his head lolled to the side, his gaze peeking out from beneath his arm. "You're Noc?"

[Caelum]

"The one and only," Cian drawled from where he was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the shelf cabinets. Sunlight puddled on the floor surrounding him, spilling over his patient and the examination table he laid upon. This was where the channeling of the divine power loaned him by the goddess Rak'keli had sunk him, forearms resting on his knees and velvet eyes rolled up through tangles of hair at Theo's nephew. He looked a little worse for wear. He was, of course, not wearing the white robes of the Opal Order. There was a running bet at the Stranger's Welcome on how long it would be and what it would take to get their wayward healer into uniform. There was an entirely different pool over whether or not Cian actually owned any robes and maybe he had been lying about that whole Opal Order thing to begin with? Not that any of the Denvali would care one way or the other. He was one of them now. A hand lifted to scrub down a too pale face, scraping back through his hair. He looked thinned and exhausted, Sedodai's blood smeared over his sleeves and on the front of his shirt. The corners of his mouth poked out in a smile all the same. "You're Theo's lad, eh?" It bore mention that Cian also had a habit of knowing way too much for his own good.

[Seodai]

"Yeah." Seodai only wished he had been Theo's in the truest sense of the word. Sitting up, the sudden rush of renewed blood to his head gave Seo the distinct sensation of vertigo, and so he laid back down somewhat quickly. This time he was, essentially, sprawled on his stomach across the table. One leg and one arm draped haphazardly off the side, and it made him look younger. Almost playful in a sloppy, teenage sort of way, had the situation not been so dire for the pair of them. Though he had grown past that classification a few years before, Seodai seemed to embody a sleepy boy who couldn't quite peel himself away from his rest. "You look like shit," he observed after a moment. "Fixin' me didn't do that, did it?" Seodai, always willing to create and absorb guilt. To fix, if he could, too. "You need somethin'?" The idea that he had somehow ruined a healer who had become more than a little important to the people of Denval wasn't one that settled well with Seodai, who pushed against the sensation that his limbs were made of jelly, trying to rouse the energy to get up. Still, he didn't get far, his messy hair all in his eyes, his lean frame all smeared with dried blood and dirt. Quite the pair, they made.

[Caelum]

"Charming as your uncle, I see," he drawled wryly. A self conscious rub was given his face before he let his head fall back against the cabinets with a faint thunk. Through the thick of his lashes he peered up at his latest patient. Boneless, he thought with amusement, but then young men Seodai's age often were. The regard was critical, attempting to make a visual examination of the results of Rak'keli work through his hands as, for the moment, he feared he was incapable of crawling off the floor. "There's not an easy answer to that," he confessed. The smile that rose in an effort to reassure Seodai had the surprising effect of stealing all attention to his face away from the goddess marks and to that curve of his lips. It was a smile that addressed the entire world but somehow his patient all at once, emanating a shield between the shadows and Seodai. That smile said he was not going anywhere, that Seodai was safe with him and that wasn't that wonderful? As he thought Seodai was a pretty amazing individual, viewed in only the best slants of light and believed in despite the worst. Once seen, that smile left no doubt why the gods seemed to love this strange man so. "But no, not really. Things have been pretty whacked around here. It's not your fault, Seodai. I'm just going to sit here for another minute, though, if its all right with you."

[Seodai]

Seo smiled, too. Just a little. A transfixed sort of expression. How could one feel the weight of such an expression and not respond to it, after all? He simply watched the paltry looking healer for a long moment, reveling in the sensation of renewed strength in his limbs. He still felt a bit odd, even light headed, but given how close he had come to death, it was a small price to pay for sudden healing. After a moment of simply staring at his savior, Seodai forced himself up again. He was careful to balance on the edge of the table for a long moment, to gain his bearings, before he found his feet. "Sure," he agreed, as if it were that simple. As if he weren't milling about the unfamiliar room, looking for something specific. It took only a moment to gather what he needed, though, and soon the younger version of Theo had sat himself cross legged at Cian Noc's hip. In the curve of his thighs sat a small basin filled with cool, clean water. "Blood makes me feel sick, just to look at it..." he said conversationally, as he dipped a soft, worn cloth into the water. "Not so bad dry, though," he continued, as he lifted the damp cloth and began to wipe at the mess he had made on the stranger who had given him life again. "Guess the damage is all done by then." Seodai swiped at the blood along the base of Noc's throat, but his shirt was saturated with it, quickly crusting and stiffening beneath it's load. The recovered youth, filthy himself, tugged the hem of that shirt free and coaxed it up over the weak healer's head. "I've gotten good at washing it out of clothes, though. I can fix this up," he said, dropping it to his side. He was able, then, to smooth away his blood from the torso of his healer. He dipped it into the basin again and again, turning the once clear water pink, then a more vibrant red as he went along. Eventually he found his way to Noc's face, where he was just as gentle in removing his blood. With the scruffy jaw still wet from the wake of his cloth, Seo paused to trace a single line with his bare fingertip, above the curve of a lip and down until it swirled beneath Noc's chin. Seo smiled a little, meeting his gaze more fully then. "Who heals a healer, healer?"

[Caelum]

"I would be in a shit ton of trouble if blood made me sick," Cian remarked. The healer sounded a bit dazed and it was not entirely due to physical or even spiritual limitations. Bemusement at Seodai's meandering through the examination room -- giving him ample opportunity to continue his visual check-up of the younger man -- grew colored with surprise when Seodai sank to a seat on the floor beside him. He said nothing, eyelids falling heavily in a series of slow blinks, as his patient carefully maneuvered him out of his shirt. Amazement kept him silent through the kind administrations, breath drawing in against the feel of the cool water against flesh that had fluctuated in and out of fever for weeks. There was another one coming on, he knew, and the terror that flailed in him at that remained well hidden as did so much else. His smiles and easy going mannerisms were no lie, but they were mere pieces. Lips parted of their own accord when Seodai traced the opalescent line of Rak'keli's favor down his jaw. Shirtless, even more kisses of gods were visible. Rak'keli had painted his shoulder and right hand in the same swirling gold dust as was existent on his face. Bala had laid hands upon him with a mark rich and glimmering evergreen crawling down his rib cage like ivy to disappear into the waistband of his trousers at his hip. "I, uh," Cian sort of stuttered, trying to pull his mind out of a fog. The fingers of his left hand stretched, shifting the stains of Ennervism on that hand; but he dared not lean too heavily on Yahal's shoulder. Not now. "Well, the gods," he answered at last. It was a truth in his history, at least.