[Flashback] Happy Birthday (Duvalyon)

[Navisya Curare]

Spring 9th, 509 AV "One would think," Navisya muttered, her lean form propped against the side of a polished, slate wall, "that a mother would be at least present for the birth of her own child." There was little response from Reverin Safou, seated nearby with his chin cupped in both hands. His scarlet eyes moved a fraction, toward his wife's sister, indicating a desire to reply or say something useful, but worry kept him paralyzed. Navisya gave him an apologetic look, trying a smile and eventually averting her eyes. The Purging's waiting area was much nicer—and cleaner—than the rest of the structure's rooms. Opalgloams lit the area through yellow stained glass, which worked with golden and jewel toned silk drapes and decorative seating and tables. There was even a small tray of refreshments in the center, attended to by a young Dra who Navisya assumed wasn't allowed into the further corridors. It was some sort of compensation, perhaps, to have this place furnished so elegantly. The Place of Purging was a general infirmary, but it was primarily known as Kalinor's only birthing center. Birth in general was historically a very ungraceful thing, and Symenestra births were by far the messiest. The hunter was still hoping that she wouldn't be asked to see the surrogate for herself. That was Kelswyn's business. Reverin's too. Navisya spared him another look, traced with sympathy. He had much to worry about. His wife's whereabouts were unknown, though last anyone heard, she was with her mother running some errand. Tevander was out looking for them, taking it upon himself to be the messenger. Kelswyn's surrogate was in labor, and she'd be a mother soon. These things would be important to anyone, but they weren't Reverin's main concern. He'd gone through this once before, the worry and anticipation. When his child was found to be stillborn, the expectation that he'd become a father had been shattered. There was the question, too, of whether the defect had been with him, his surrogate, or marvelously bad luck. The poor man was wrapped in a cocoon of difficult emotions, which of course made him absolutely useless. It was a mercy that Navisya was here in his wife's place. It had been Tevander's idea. Someone emerged from the nearby corridor, carrying some trivial items in one arm. He was clearly preoccupied, and not here for Reverin, but his detached sort of presence defined him clearly as a doctor. Navisya realized belatedly that it was the Hellebores' eldest son, just a few years older than her. She knew him from lessons as a child, but had never attempted a friendship. It was oddly inspiring, in their young adulthood, seeing him further down life's path than she remembered. Knowing Reverin wouldn't have the sense or the wherewithal to speak up, Navisya did it for him. "Pardon us. We received news that the Curare surrogate is in labor. Have you any idea when the baby is expected?"

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon had been known to profess that anyone who went to bed by tenth bell suffered from a lack of imagination. However, this morning was beginning to make him a coward in his philosophy. It was fifth bell and he had just crept from drunk into hungover the bell before. The transition was cruel enough to make him wish he had gone to bed early and forgone the last glasses of the evening. After the third cup, wine began to drink him. Those Akalak bastards likely brewed it to be painful on purpose. They probably beat their chests and relished hangovers like a daily rite of passage. Svorador was quick to challenge him when they first crossed paths at the Purging. "What became of you last night?" "I fell asleep in Melia's room." "That was passing out, not falling asleep, Duvalyon!" "I detect a bit of judgment in that differentiation, Father." "Your mother had company she wanted you to impress." "Precisely," the young Symenestra muttered. "Be glad your brother managed to entertain them while you were in your cups," Svorador's face drew together. He was all nose and forehead when scolding, "Remember to thank him." "I won’t have to remember. He's very good about those sorts of reminders." Svorador scowled and Duvalyon put on the most guileless smile he could wear without the gods striking him down. The younger man was saved by the tyranny of the urgent. Someone needed Svorador immediately. Duvalyon's punishment was being relegated to menial tasks like changing bandages and checking pulses. Perhaps a blessing, his head felt like a bat had hollowed it out while he slept and shyked in it. He was on the brink of swearing he would never drink that much again, but realized he couldn't extract a promise from his mother that she would never invite tedious guests over again. Blood was sacred, but easier to revere in theory; not when directly met with its screeching, insipid countenance. Ideally, his debauched evenings would be spent in the company of pretty creatures, not slinking from the Hunter's Gather and into the Hellebore pantry. At least he had made an appearance at the family home. Duvalyon continued to justify his behavior as he reviewed another patient. While his hands poured careful doses of medicine, his thoughts were elsewhere. His parents should have been grateful for his hiding. If forced to participate, he would have been irritable and clipped. They didn't understand a bit of scandal with mysterious comings and goings were good for a young man. It didn't matter if he was stepping out to study at the Cribellum, if he never confessed where he was people would insert a far more interesting narrative. No girl wanted to be forced on the local scholar. Better they think he was off marauding again than researching new tonics for his little sister. Speaking of tonics, what they were giving this patient was as bad as gorge water. He suspected Davinia's work. Duvalyon would remedy this. Some mumio, mountain basalm, might help if integrated into the patient's treatment. Chances are Davinia wouldn't notice, and if he did, Duvalyon would remind him the excellent change was Davinia's idea in the first place. The elder medic's pride would make him devour this explanation. It was in the midst of gathering the tools to prep the draught that Duvalyon was stopped by the Curare daughter. He almost didn't hear her over the ongoing thud in his head. "The Curare birth?" Likely her sister's child, this one didn't have a mate, "No idea." Because it was Duvalyon and he was in a sour mood he added sardonically, "Why? Do you have pressing fifth bell plans?"

[Navisya Curare]

Oh, how very helpful. And such warm bedside manner! Surprised by young medic's snideness, Navisya looked down and sighed through her nose in a controlled show of disappointment. Restraining her frustration, nerves already frayed by the hour and her brother-in-law's implacable silence, was less a mark of her maturity and more a learned hunter's reflex. When an arrow missed its mark, cursing aloud or throwing down one's bow would only give away the hunter's position. "Why yes, it's this marvelous new thing. I call it sleeping." The young doctor looked like he could use a nap himself. He looked pale, which was a feat among Symenestra. "I'm excited to become an aunt, make no mistake. But if it's going to be another eighteen bells, then at least everyone least get some rest before all our lives change." Navisya glanced over her shoulder at Reverin, who hadn't moved an inch. She would have been surprised if he'd so much as lifted his head to watch her exchange with the doctor. Where was his family, anyway? His father or brother (brothers? Did he have any siblings?) should have been here, telling him perfect words and easing the tension in shoulders. The young huntress was absolutely useless here. Zlynge would have made better company for Reverin. The dog would simply lay his head in Reverin's lap and wag his tail. Not exactly something Navisya could duplicate. The hunter realized she knew little about Reverin's family. She'd never really thought about it before, not being especially involved in her older sister's life. Perhaps there was a reason Lissith had registered Kelswyn's surrogate under the Curare name, instead of her daughter's married name, Safou. Navisya could only speculate. "Leaves me to wonder what my sister is doing, at this hour. Wherever she is." Navisya turned back to the doctor, who looked like he very much wished to be left alone. "Do you know anything, at least, about the birth mother's condition? Something to comfort that poor creature over there. This is his second. The first didn't survive." That came out a little too quickly, perhaps in a poorly cobbled attempt to appeal to the doctor's sympathy. She blamed her fatigue. "If not, I suppose I could find and ask someone a little more… learned." Well, he was barely older than she was.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon had been banished from the rooms with pending births by his father's ingenious punishment of grunt work. The Curare surrogate could already be plummeting to the bottom of the gorge and he wouldn't know. Navisya's petition fell on useless and indifferent ears. When she flung her brother-in-law's misfortune into the air, Duvalyon's burgundy eyes quickly passed over the bowed Reverin. It seemed more a way to avoid looking at Navisya than actual concern. Sympathy was not among Duvalyon's most popular reactions, especially not when he was miserable himself. Viratas, the Purging seemed excessively lit, a damnable sea of opalgloams. He needed the dim pantry of supplies. Where he could either privately vomit his ill-advised evening into a bucket or brood in the dark. "Yes, do find someone else," he said easily, Navisya's subtle jab absorbed without reaction. Though he doubted anyone with knowledge would be passing by this way. They were clever enough to keep hidden and manifest only with good, brief news. Almost immediately, he turned briskly and moved towards the locked chambers of supplies where she could not easily follow. He had used the same route before to escape "dissatisfied" family members. Behind him he heard the footfall of the young woman. It eventually tapered and was diverted to other targets. The supply pantry would have baffled any but a Symenestra with its high nooks and empty patches of wall space. Medicines and herbs in glass jars and silk pouches were categorized alphabetically within stone niches that were cool to the touch. In the center of the space was a small table with tools for preparation. As Duvalyon diluted the mountain basalm in water, he was able to let his thoughts come to order. Most importantly, he had established he was not going to expel his guts in the corner. After this dire revelation, he was able to consider the morning as a whole. The longer Duavlyon had alone with his thoughts, the greater danger they posed to his persistent indifference. Half a bell later Navisya was trying to flag down a medic in the halls. She had forsaken the waiting room and all the patience it implied. A mild commotion behind one of the locked doors near her was gathering mild attention. At first, only brash male volume was discerned amidst feminine yells, but the sound began to take shape the nearer it came the door. "Out! You'll pollute the room! I told you…!" Duvalyon emerged with a shade of a wince, but the moment the door shut behind him, his humbled facade dissipated replaced by smug triumph. Navisya's unexpected presence in the hallway made him blink, but it made his work easier. "Within the bell," he announced.

[Navisya Curare]

The young medic fled the room, leaving Navisya mildly dumbfounded as he gradually disappeared into the corridor. Glancing downward, she clicked her tongue and sighed. Tapered black claws scratched at the top of her forehead before she ran her fingers through her ashen white hair. Her frustration and growing impatience were slowly climbing out of the cage she had so meticulously tried to lock. Navisya didn't have to be here, putting up with Reverin's panic attacks and some boy's childish attitude. Kelswyn owed her for this. "Yes, thank you, goodbye," she muttered under her breath, tossing up her hand in Duvalyon's general direction. Turning on her heel, the young hunter returned to Reverin's side and propped herself against the wall next to his chair. She crossed her arms and began a staring contest with the hall entrances on the far side of the waiting room. The diminutive Dra passed through her vision, keeping herself busy by tidying what was already clean. A chime or two passed until the silence became unbearably thick with Navisya's own thoughts. Damnit—where was everyone? She pushed herself from the wall. "I'll be back, Reverin. Don't you dare move from that spot." And then the waiting room was a colorful patch of light behind her. The corridors of the Place of Purging were far from cheerful, but the lighting was less garish. The silence was different here—muffled noises could be heard beyond the walls, but their meaning could not be identified. Every closed door gave off an eerie sense of foreboding, giving Navisya the distinct feeling that she was breaking some important rule by wandering here alone. Not so long ago, Navisya had been here once before when Father had broken his leg, but then she'd been flanked by her sisters and Mother. Lissith had intimidated someone into answering her every whim, who later managed to escape the moment wife and husband were reunited. Deeper into the bowels of the infirmary and still not a soul to be found. Just when Navisya was considering turning back, the shouting ahead caught her attention. By happy chance, the very same Duvalyon appeared in the hall before her. The sounds escaping the room before the door closed again were disconcerting, but only momentarily startling. By the time the two young Symenestra crossed eyes, the corridor was quiet again. Mostly. Within the bell. Navisya's heart fluttered in her chest and she smiled before she could stop herself. Too late, she turned to hide her face from the young medic, who she was still annoyed with. Another hour and there would be a new child in the world. Kelswyn's child. Tevander and Lissith's first grandchild. The Curare girls were becoming Curare women, though Aessila was still a runt. Suddenly this was all happening too fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that Kelswyn and Navisya were boldly exploring the far reaches of Kalinor and playing games inside the empty structures on the edge of the city? Where had those days gone? Unable to word her gratitude in a way that would preserve her pride, Navisya nodded her thanks to the medic, golden eyes cast downward at the floor. A moment later, an eyebrow quirked. One could almost see the thoughts churning in her head. "Did you just get yourself in trouble, doing that?" Her eyes flicked upward, but she appeared to be studying Duvalyon's clothing, rather than trying to make eye contact. Her smile was still in the process of escaping her face. "I thought your father ran this place; one would expect preferential treatment." She tilted her head. "Then again, I suppose I would be miffed too if my son showed up for work with a massive hangover." So she estimated. Heavy drinking was not uncommon with members of her Web. A sense of urgency tugged at Navisya's conscience. She knew she should have returned to the waiting room to give Reverin the good news, but Kelswyn had not shown up yet. The poor man might panic if he thought his wife wouldn't get here in time. She'd give it another half bell at most.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

Duvalyon looked down on Navisya as she searched the ground for Viratas knew what. He couldn't recall her particularly from parties, dinners or drinks with his peers. Not even as a tangential guest. Possibly a homebody who he recognized only from formal holidays when all were dragged from their webs to the Clade. At this proximity, he caught himself enjoying the evergreen smell of her hair and the taper of her legs. The pleasure was short lived. She had to open her mouth and ruin his happy thought life. Did he smell that strongly of spirits? Probably. It let the entire Purging know he'd had a rough night. Knowing who his father was, they'd likely forgive him. Svorador could drive men to drink even with limited exposure. "He's not especially pleased," he observed aridly, "The sins of youth are only forgivable when they're your own." She was attentive as a pillar, only sparing him half her gold eyes. The avoidance couldn't be shyness, she had been annoyingly forthright. "His scorn is wasted," he muttered, "Being awake right now is punishment enough." Duvalyon fluidly stepped around Navisya, her body an obstacle between him and the rest of what he needed to do.

[Navisya Curare]

Duvalyon began to remove himself from Navisya's company, and she watched him passively as he walked by her and onwards to more pressing matters. He gave her the back of his head, and finally she lifted her eyes to study his hair, realizing that the hall was becoming alarmingly empty. Suddenly there was no one left to listen to her moan and complain. She was used to Zlynge always being ready to listen. There was an azo woman in the nearby room, dying in childbirth, while a supposed team of doctors and medics worked to bring her newborn niece or nephew into the world. A world which, really, didn't seem to have much real need of Navisya at the moment. Why was she even out here in the corridor? Damn it all, Kel. "So I was right," Navisya began to follow the only soul present to listen to her. Reverin was a poor sport. At least this one spoke back. Still, Navisya could only be so cruel, and she had every intention of freeing Duvalyon from her company once their paths parted again. She began in his direction, as it was the way back to the waiting room, but remained behind him. "How terrible for you." She glanced off to the side, threading an off-white lock of cobweb hair behind her ear. There was a thread of sympathy in her voice, and perhaps then some--or it might have been sarcasm. "I do appreciate you asking on my behalf. You veil your better ambitions with a curtain of cynicism; that's interesting. Do you suppose young women find that charming?" It was little wonder he was shooed out of the room. What person in her right mind would trust her child to a medic who couldn't manage a clear head even in an infirmary? Still, suppose he was still in training.

[Duvalyon Hellebore]

The thread of sarcasm easily found Duvalyon's ear. He had wielded the tone enough to be familiar with it. How terrible for you. Duvalyon didn't bother replying to that arrow in look or word, but kept walking. Navisya was enjoying the little rope of truth she had just found and didn't seem keen on releasing him from the noose just yet. They were in forced company until either of them found a diverging path. Her subsequent gratitude and any good feeling it would muster was quickly overcome by the criticism affixed to it. "No," he answered quickly, "Do you suppose young men find brazen nags refreshing?" The speed of his reply proved his lack of forethought and ease with insults. "Or perhaps neither of us see anything worth impressing." It was the nearest to graciousness he was going to come. The open arch to the waiting room was ahead on the right. It was thirty paces away, but Tanroa was exerting a strange influence over the hallway, turning the river of time into creeping tar. Duvalyon felt the walk would never end.

[Navisya Curare]

Navisya sniffed. "How droll." She turned her head to study the sides of the hall as they passed and gave herself a moment to allow her annoyance to vent, lest an affronted tone slip into her speech. She had no intention of allowing the medic to know he was capable of chipping away at her armor—she was not accustomed to being spurned. "If your skill medicine were half as sharp as your wit, I dare say you'd be running this place." That was almost a compliment. It was difficult to be proper angry when Navisya was still worried and quietly elated all at once. This long night was buckling under the weight of meaningful circumstances, a fact which Navisya thought was in itself frustrating. She just wanted all of this to be over. Tomorrow she could be patiently waiting for her turn to hold the baby. "Why must you be so unpleasant?" Navisya hissed, true irritation showing through. Duvalyon was more frustrating than her sister. At least she usually had decent reasons for being out of sorts. "All I did was ask you a bloody question. Was your pride so slighted? Pardon me for expecting Purging staff to be dignified and helpful."