Closed Vistors? This early? (Altaira, Marrick)

[Millicent]

5th of Winter 5013

The ground shook and trembled as if a thousands mounted knight charged in full gear. Yet it was all from one man. A mountain of fat and muscle. His footsteps crashed as ocean waves and his laughter crackled like thunder. His approach obscured the sky, and casting the frail girl in his shadow. Her legs trembled and her arms shook, but she stood firm against the monster. Time and time again, she attacked, but was knock back. Despite being battered and having not even slowed the giant, she fought on.

The sky darkened as the sun set, and the girl was driven toward tall cliff. What had been a noble struggle had turned into a fight for survival. The girl slowly shifted, her human appearance peeling off like bark from a tree. Her attacks became more vicious, more feral, but where still thrown back. Taloned hands wrapped around her face and dug deep bloody furrows. She clung to her own face, as her eyes darted to the edge of the cliff. A sure death, but at least one where she would die as herself.

One last time she battled the monster, and one last time she was thrown back. Her human skin was all but gone. Without hesitation, she threw herself over edge, and spread her arms to embrace the ground below. Yet there was no ground, only a spiraling darkness. Forever she tumbled threw the air, till she lost all sense of up and down.

Then darkness split with a blinding light. The girls eyes opened wide as two figures descended cloaked in light. One was clearly a man, and the other a woman. Her hand reached up to grasp them, and they reached down to her. They where no human, but they where not monsters. Her hand hesitated. They where not like her. They where noble and proud creatures, not a savage monster hiding in human skin. Her hand dropped, touching the brilliant creature for just a moment.

A faint knocking caused Millicent to opened her eyes slowly. One saw nothing but darkness, and the other a poorly lit room. Slowly the pains from yesterday began to return. Her head pound particularly under her right eye, and her hand rubbed the bandages over it. The bandaging on her wrist cut slightly into her palm, but when she moved her wrist, it protested. Otherwise her body felt ok.

Shivering, Millicent slowly stood up beside the bed, and turned her head around the room. Her clothes littered the floor around her bed. Groggily, she remembered taking them off the night before. Wood laid littered around a fireplace clogged with dead remains of previous fire. Her whole body retched as she began to cough. Pain in her back spread in flames reminding her of the damaged she took the night before. The knocking on the door grew louder.

Millicent struggled to stand, using the bed as a prop. A toppled over chair, seemed to have been used for a similar purpose. Wrapping her blanket around her, she stumbled toward the door. Her right arm was held close to her chest, the blanket firmly grasped. She moved with a limp in her right leg, and nearly tripped over her discarded cloak. Reaching the door, she pulled open the door, and leaned against it heavily.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others

Altaira walked with a brisk pace and firm form, contantly shifting the position of her pack as she settled herself beneath her cloak. "Please let my memory not fail me," she murmured to herself, entering the hulking section of Syliras that was lined with apartments as she sought the home of Millicent. Everything looked the same to her, at least in Traveler's Row, you could tell which little section you walked through by how worn the stone floor was, how dirty the walls and the distance between doors. Here? No, no. Everything was uniform and identical.

Her breathing slowed as she reached the section she believed to be correct, before finally coming to the door that matched the description Millicent had given all and all. Of course, there was always the chance that Altaira had misheard the younger woman, or she misspoken. Her stomach dropped. She was going to knock on a random denizen's door, wasn't she? And it wasn't going to be just any citizen, it was going to be one she'd run into and parted with on poor terms, and she'd have to splutter an apology and make a break for it.

She gave a slow breath, and mentally slapped herself in her face, before lifting her hand and giving several short knocks, taking two steps back just to be sure. When the door opened with little sound or comment, Altaira was sure for a moment that it wasn't her dear friend that answered, immediately stepping towards the younger woman with a frown and a sharp intake of air. "Millicent? Are you quite alright?" she floundered. "Here- let me help," her words were breathless and actions tender, but unrefined, awkwardly inviting herself into Millicent room as she pulled the girl back to bed, the door remaining ajar for the moment, and the kelvic's hand flat upon Millicent's forehead. "Are you sick? Gods, you look sick. Rest."

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick had been to the market the day before, after he had purchased his new horse Kiter. The big Tieden in tow, he had passed by a stand where a young Eypharian herbalist had offered him a healing salve for his arm. It had worked so well, he had purchased a second jar of it, thinking of the poor girl who had been beaten by Darius the day before. ‘Ahh poor Darius.’ The Kelvic thought sarcastically as he imagined the fat pig hanging from a well tied knot. He was gone permanently, which gave Marrick no end of comfort. The swine had brought along a couple of his thugs to try and kill him, even after the Judicator had released him with heavy fines for assaulting two women and a squire. That scums luck had run out. It had occurred to him that the coward might have tried to harm the girl Marrick had defended, though his hope was that she was alright. The Kelvic had gotten the young ladies address from soothing waters, and geared up for his morning ride out to Mithryn. Not wanting to tire the horse before the trip he lead Kiter to the residence scrawled on his bit of parchment, and tied him off. He had given the big fellow a tender reassuring pat on his neck before his search for the girl. They said her name was Millicent, and the Squire kicked himself for not asking her name when they had first met. Though he had more pressing concerns of arresting Darius and delivering him to the tank at the time, social niceties would have prevented him from feeling so awkward in checking in on her. As he walked casually he pulled the Krolar Poultice from his hip pouch and inspected it. The concoction had been decorated with a purple ribbon, tied up with a bit of bark, and a wildflower. It was incredible as medicines go. His arm felt almost serviceable even with the deep cut, and it was only a day and a half old. Then again, the Squire hadn’t spent his life getting the best medical attention. The Kelvic raised his gaze to see if he was close to Millicent’s home to find he was only a few doors down. Feeling much like a tourist in a strange city, he followed the doors to the one that stood ajar. The Kelvics heart sank into his stomach, and his mind jumped immediately to the worst possible conclusion imaginable. In his mind he could see her poor mangled form on the floor, broken and used. The image spurred him to reach the open doorway in four quick long strides. When his boots skidded to a halt in the doorway, the scene that met him was both relieving and confusing. A petite woman stood stooped over the young girl and seemed much like she was administering to her. The dark haired womans olive skinned hand rested upon Millicent’s forehead, and her behavior reminded the Kelvic of Oriah, though just. Her black hair fell from her head like a curtain, obscuring her face. Though, she was dressed casually and appropriately for the cold. The womans behavior seemed genuinely helpful, though awkward. Not unlike himself. Like air from a bellows he exhaled slowly, glad to know that Millicent lived, and was being cared for. The youg lady didn’t look well, so he addressed her visitor. “Fergive moi intrusion, m’lady. Oi came by teh check on Millicent. It seems, Oi was well toimed, teh meet her physician ” His long appraising look at the young girl told him he had guessed right at her condition which made his brow furrow in frustration. “I knew ye were stubbarn tha moment Oi met ye dear girl.” Marrick said now addressing Millicent. With a guileless movement ,he shut the door behind him, and slowly strode forward introducing himself. “Moi name is Marrick Corvis. Squire teh David Whoitevoine of Mithryn outpost.” He said with a genuine smile. “Oi’m tha lad that defended our dear girl two days prior.” As he kneeled down before the two ladies on what Marrick assumed was Millicent’s bed side, the squire got a closer look at her wounds. “It seems, Oi did nae do well.” He said with a look of concern as he tilted his head, trying to better understand Millicent’s condition. Absentmindedly he offered the medicine to the woman administering to her. “Krolar Poultice. Oi hope it helps.”

[Millicent]

Speech

Light stabbed like knifes piercing the darkness of the room. For a tick, there was only an overwhelming light. Squinting against it, her mouth opened in silent O. The radiant figure in her dreams stood before her. Searing brightness obscured the figures features. Blinding, her hand reach out to touch the person before Am I awake?

Pain blossomed between her eyes. Millicent's hand recoiled as if bitten. Words slipped over her like a river. Their noise crashed like waves, sweeping away their meaning in a flood of pain. A punishment for seeking to touch the divine. Yet she recognized the source as not some golden goddess"Al....Altaira?" Even her own stammering word ripped through her skull like the talon's of a hawk.

Vaguely, Millicent felt Altaira's arms around her. Like a clumsy sheep, Millicent was herded back into the room. Pain loosened her grip on the blanket. Seizing the moment it slipped from her grasp. In revenge it entwined itself between her legs. Backpedaling, she tried to catch herself. In the process slipped from Altaira's arms and into striking range on the enemy. Her cloak sought revenge for being so causally discarded. Seizing its moment, it snared her feet. Millicent felt herself fall backwards. Back past the point of recover. Back further still, her feet had the left the floor and she was laying in the air.

As the ground rose up, her bed caught her with barely a creak. The treacherous blanket and cloak laid defeated on the floor. Her heart pound against her sternum. Then the pain came back. A building pressure in the front of her head exploded. Her teeth ground against each other as the wave of pain passed. A small coughing fit caught her by surprised, followed by a dry heave. Then the pain receded.

More words came flying in like arrows, not letting the pain fade to far. Before the assault was mercifully short, here it continued on, and on. One volley after another, till the air was thick with it. Each word was a spark, a burning brand through Millicent's mind. Worse still, they carried accent like a thick poison. It twisted each words into a unrecognizable shape, a meaningless pile of gibberish. Even if the meaning of the words where lost, they still identified their owner. A young squire that helped what Millicent thought was last night.

The door closed, blocking out most light in the room. Finger of light still reached under the door but where cut short. The darkness proved a blessing. It hide the blood rushing into Millicent's cheeks. Her lips moved to scream protest at the presence of the squire but even the thought of that wrecked her head with pain. Scooting and dragging, she huddled in the far corner of the edge of the bed. She hugged a pillow tight to her body. Through the darkness, she glared daggers at both the intruders. Tears rolled down her eyes as she mouthed a silent scream.

Bending her head down, Millicent buried her face in her pillow. The headache hurt worse now. Even the beating of her heart was to loud. Each breath, each beat almost caused her to whimper. Just go away.... She could barely even form the thought. Her eye lids closed tightly, steaming the flow of tears. Thoughts where being ripped apart as they formed. Her fingers dug into the pillow as if trying to tear into it. A trembling shook her body.

OOCSorry this took so long. I have been sick lately. Also I am great at taking things down the wrong road, so if this post does not work tell me.

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others | oocGah, sorry for my lateness!

Worry flared within Altaira, the look that took place upon her features was sharp and hard. "I beg your pardon?" she questioned, her gaze flitting from the squire who'd barged in and spouted words mostly too quick for her to catch (Marrick, did he say his name was?), and the girl who sat timidly upon her bed.

Too much information hit her in a single go. Whitevine. Squire. Physician. Poultice. Defended her? "What in Dira's name happened?" She shrilled, taking what was given as she turned and shot a stern look to the girl, regret welling her stomach as she bade herself to calm. Millicent looked to fragile, a weak little thing curled up alone and to herself. The kelvic had assumed that she herself was to blame, and was happy to lend a hand in trying to nurse the sweet human in any way she was permitted.

"Can you please explain?" her words were quick and hushed, the folding of her arms and the glare she shot the boy enough to tell her irritation and unease. What had he meant 'defended,' exactly? Bird speak erupted into Altaira's mind, loud and obnoxious and filled with fervor. She always did her most rapid thought in the language of her kin, mind almost immediately flitted to situations both horrible and bland.

First she landed on the most mild conclusions, thinking more of defenses in terms of word and witt, before Millicent's nature and the fact that the man had brought with him a poultice shattered the kinder thought. She almost acted out of ire at the mere thought of what could have transpired. Who did he say had defended who? Why? What happened? What was bad enough that someone felt it was cause to bring medicine along, and how did he fail so utterly in keeping Millicent safe? How did he know where Millicent lived? He was a longtime friend, then. Someone she knew for more than a mere dozen days. She liked that thought the most. That was what set her most at ease. Gods, that probably wasn't it. Why couldn't she have just listened the first time around?

She rocked on her heels for a moment, not even a single tick passing before she decided that she might as well clear an inkling of misunderstanding that came from her own end. "I'm not her physician, I'm her friend." She glared at the medicine she was handed, biting her lip as she contemplated seeking Mistress Blackleaf for words of advice as to how in Gods names she was to use it.

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick’s concern for his rude entrance was forgotten as soon as the situation began to seem worse than he at first thought. “Bloody hell, she’s nae lookin too good.” He said as he let Altaira take the medicine from him. “The krolar Poultice is a paste that ye apply to a wound. Put simply, It’s a soothin balm fer angry wounds. Don’t ask me how it warks, or whats in it. Oi jest know its very noice fer cuts. Oi’ bought some fer me own purposes, an Oi thought that Millicent loikly needed a fresh dose o’ tha stuff.” The more the Kelvic looked Millicent over the more he realized just how bad she was. He removed his gauntlets and laid them out of the way, before he knelt by the bedside. He hovered there at the headboard a moment not unlike a bird in the wind. As Altaira removed her hand, he replaced it with his own, if only to relieve his own worries. A strange calm fell over the Squire as he held his hand to Millicent’s brow. He was no medical professional, but he knew a fever when he saw one. The girl’s forehead felt like a tea cozy about the kettle. He could remember the last time he had been sick with a fever. It had been terrible, and cool water was all he could manage to keep down. With the retreat of his warm hands, he began to fumble through the gear attached to his harness in search of his water skin. Millicent’s companion deserved an explanation. “Moy apologies, Altaira was it?” he said with a voice soft as silk. “Oi’m pleased teh meet a friend o’ Millicents.” His voice was full of genuine fervor, yet he maintained a focus on his task. “Two days afore this morn Milly here decoided she was goin teh take on a man about four toimes her soize, whoilst defendin a few of her fellow employees outside soothin waters.” He said as he fumbled against the icy cold metal of his banded mail and unslung his water skin. Carefully he uncorked the little vessel and took a sip to test its heat. It felt icy cool, which Marrick knew would likely be paradise for his poor wounded friend. Like a concerned parent, he leaned in and spoke softly. “Millicent dear girl, Oi have a bit o’ cold water. I want ye teh take a drink now.” He said with as gentle and firm of a tone as he could manage. With a compassionate hand he held the back of her head and tilted the spout of the water skin to Millicent’s mouth, letting her make the effort to drink the cool water under her own power with a supported tilt of her head. When she had taken a couple of sips, he corked it back up and tried to help her lie down. “Lie down now dear girl. Yer in no shape teh be muckin about.” When at last she began to relax, and use her pillow more appropriately he continued his story. “Two days ago Oi was getting moi gear together fer moi deployment today, and Oi heard a commotion outside of Soothin waters. It seems a trader from Ravok was troyin teh press sexual favors out o’ one o’ the masseuses there.” He regaled them, as he gently laid the water skin full of cold water over Millicents head as one might with hot water to help with a sore back. “Millicent didn’ take koindly teh the man’s way of gettin what he wanted.” The young squire heaved a heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his short hair. He didn’t like to see Millicent struggle with her fever, the worry clear on his face. “She troied teh foight him.” Marrick said with an incredulous sigh. “She moight of won too, with a little more trainin.” He said softly, as he cast a compassionate smile upon the spunky little girl. “A tough little nugget.” He said with a grin, now turning his attention back to Altaira. Though he coughed almost immediately to suppress his smile as it was obvious the woman was not amused. At that moment he tried to take on a persona more befitting a Knight of Syliras, serious and somber. “She took a few hard knocks, and Oi intervened. The fat man dropped loike a sack o’ potatoes in the street, softened up as he was boy Millicent’s attack. When he was securely shackled, Oi took her insoide and the folk there at soothin waters told me they had a herbalist that could take care of her wounds.” He turned his attention back to Millicent a moment and checked her forehead to see if she was doing any better. He felt very much like a mother hen fussing, but he didn’t have time to dwell on his insecurities and self-consciousness. “OI left her in the company of her companions. Somthin Oi’m regrettin at the moment. Oi’m nae certain what Oi could have done. Oi had teh take the thug te the tank. Oi was the only member o’ the order there.” His sigh came slowly, laid heavy with frustration, and regret. “O’ course it didn’ end there. Apparently the scum managed to convince the Judicator that his conduct was worthy of foines only. Oi’m nae sure how he managed that. Needless ta’ say, he came lookin for me that noight along weth a few of his men, oar at the Rearin Stallion.” For a moment he fiddled with a bit of bandage that was poking out from under the canon of his Vambrace. Another little souvenir scar to add to the rest to remind him of his folly. With a sigh of relief he continued. “The danger, though, is at last past. His men are dead, and Oi believe the Fat Man now has a date with the Gallows.” It was then that he recalled his mad dash through Millicent’s open door. “T’was whoy Oi burst through tha door. Oi taught that Millicent had had a visit from them. Oi taught she moight o’…” Marrick couldn’t finish his sentence as his voice caught in his throat. With a quick cough he gathered himself together. “Oi had to be sure she was alroight. Yeh wouldn’ begrudge me that, eh? Bein her friend n’ all.” He said, the edge of his voice sharpened with concern. He didn’t want Millicent’s companion to hate him. Marrick felt as though he’d walked onto thin ice, though this was not a Ravok Slave house. It didn’t serve his purposes to lie about anything, especially not to Millicents friend. Yet, something about her made him uncomfortable. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

[Millicent]

Speech

Fire and needles. Though few, Alaira's words pierced into the girls brain. Millicent looked at Altaira as if she were being scolded by her uncle. She withered under the glare, seeming to sink into her pillow. Unable to find any words, her lips moved vainly. Half formed sentenced were torn apart in her mind by raging pain. A growl of pain and annoyance left her mouth. A growl stifled by her biting into her pillow.

For a brief second the fiery storm raging through her brain, was cooled by an icy hand. Millicent looked up at the owner of the hand. Her cheeks burned red as she looked into the squire's eyes. Her hair shifted around her face like a veil, as she quick turned her head to the side. “Don't “ the word came out as a mumble.

Shaking her head, she turned away from the waterskin. However she was not given much choice. A hand pulled her head back and tilted a water skin in her mouth. Exasperated, Millicent sipped some water just to get him to stop. However the squire did not seem satisfied with just that. “Stop it” Millicent growled as he tried to help her lay down. Her face was deep red that had nothing to do with a fever. There was no where to retreat to, but she refused to let go of the pillow or lay down.

Water helped to quench the raging pain spiraling through her brain. Feeling and throughts other than pain began to return to her. While his talking still caused her some pain, Millicent was able to discern that the squire was explaining what happened to her. It also occurred to her that she might not want Altaira to hear this story. Glancing at him, she made motions to try to get him to stop, but to no avail.
“I did not mean to” She offered in feeble defense. Her eyes where fixed on Altaira as if expecting to be rebuked.

Then came the part she did not know. Her shoulders dropped at the news. Blood faded from her face. “That's horrible.” the words slipped out between the pounding of pain between her ears. What she thought was horrible she was not sure about yet. Was it horrible that Marrick was attacked or that people where dead. The fat man was certainly not a nice person, but did he deserve to die? Her brow wrinkled as she thought.

Blood rushed back to her face as the squire explained his actions. Coughing, she turned away and hugged the pillow tighter. “I did not mean to worry you.” She muttered not sure what to say. The tips of her ears felt like candles, and has forgotten all about the cold of the room. Her eyes glanced back at the squire and the back to looking at the mattress.

Thought about the fat man returned to her mind. “Does he have to be hanged?” Her words fell softly, as she stared at the mattress. Her chin rest firmly against the pillow. Wet drops fell on the matress below her, and she gave a wt snivel. “Sure he did something very bad, but maybe he will learn from his mistake? Do you think he could get hard labor or hefty fines?”

oocI am going to get faster at these replies, school just has me writing alot right now....feel free to yell or get angry at Millicent for her silly ideas

[Altaira Readva]

Bird Speak | Common | Vani | Others | oocLet’s play a game of ‘wait what you’re kelvic?’

Confusion hit her in a solid wave, mind a whirl with bird chatter as she made use of what she could from both what was said, and Millicent’s frail movements beside her.

’Krolor poultice, right. Good for cuts and angry wounds. I’ll need to remember that.’

Altaira had tried not to gawk as the squire went about his business, instead keeping her gaze shifting around the room quite rapidly, perhaps looking no better than she would have if she’d simply stared.

For all intents and purposes, he seemed to be working in a manner to aid Millicent. Although Altaira had some knowledge of herbs, she was no healer or doctor. She knew the younger woman was high in heat, but could think of little more to do than check to see if she had any herbs in her pack that would aid with fever; she’d come thinking that she needed to bring something for aches and pains, not a sickness such as this.

“It’s a pleasure,” she murmured, words dull and monotone, finding that such pleasantries were the least she could afford, lending herself to Marrick’s explanation. Millicent was acting… odd. She pushed and pulled and attempted to refuse help, half of Altaira wishing to lend the girl a hand, the other half knowing quite well that it was for the better. She wouldn’t have her sit and wallow in sickness.

Yes, that was it. Millicent was sick.

Whether or not there was an inkling of truth to the thought, it satisfied the kelvic enough to mediate on Marricks words, her gaze focused then more so on the sick little patient than the one attempting to aid her. She was never good at situations such as this, even as a child she would squirm and stand awkwardly by a treated patient. It was never the blood or gore that got to her – it was hard to have a fear of blood when you’ve seen your own siblings drenched in it a dozen times over – but it was the awkward and tenderness of it, unless it was a dear friend, it was strange to see such gentle words and actions carried out.

She stood shock still as the words continued to come, placing and piecing the information as it was thrown, expression hard as stone as she tried to seek and find the younger girl’s nature. ‘Was such a fight really needed, Millicent?’ she wondered, biting her tongue as not to speak, figuring the timing and what it meant for their own little lesson.

‘She’s resisting… why is she resisting?’

By the end of the tale, Altaira wasn’t sure what she wished to do more. Jump for joy at justice served, pray to her Gods and Goddesses for the path that fate was handing them, give the girl a spot of warm appraisal for such a stance, Marrick a harsh word about not being about intervene sooner, apologising for his own injury, thank Dira that it wasn’t Millicent’s time, or scolding her for taking on a fight she couldn’t handle. Either or any way – she was getting another lesson or two from herself, if not getting a full blown teacher. This wasn’t going to happen again. And on the off chance that it did? She wasn’t going to let the gallows or shackles save the bastard with what she’d do to them.

Her teeth were clenched and hand balled into fists so tight her knuckles whitened. ‘This kind of thing wouldn’t have happened in Avanthal in the first place. But this isn’t my home town. I don’t have older brothers and sister with sharp teeth and claw to give me aid. It’s all on me. I should have taught her more sooner. I should have heard and kept her in health before it came to this.’

She was at the brink of voicing her sheer ire and distress at what had unfolded when the quiet voice of Millicent silenced her, ice sliding through her veins as she dwelt on the sweet words.

“Millicent…” The kelvic’s words came as a sigh, Altaira’ hard expression softening at the sight of tears, falling to her knees by the bed, preferring to be at a height much less than the girl’s, than looming above or leering on level. “He’s already been fined, remember?”

Already she could feel her childhood upbringing rising to the surface. The Ice Watch were a hard bunch, but not without mercy. They did not, however, take kind to those that did not heed or take lessons when served. “If he was to learn, he’d have done so already.” She gave a sharp look Marrick, head gesture quick as she beckoned him to put in a word about about the order. “I’ve met bad men before,” her words were a sorrowful lull, knowing well that she needed to sacrifice her own beliefs to appeal to her. If there was any trait she gained from her base species, it was her unwavering loyalty, if there was anything she gained secondly, it was aggression. “If he wasn’t stopped now, who is to say that another is not hurt, is not assaulted or murdered?”

[Marrick Corvis]

Millicent was indeed sick, though he was beginning to worry that he did not know the cause, or how to fix it. He was no herbalist or doctor after all, he had a limited knowledge of fevers as he’d witnessed the sort of hedge remedies that an old house wife might administer. All he could do was try to make her more comfortable. She struggled against his care like a fussy child, yet for some reason all that did was further soften his heart toward her. She was stubborn to relax, though there was nothing to do about it. Marrick let her dictate the terms of her care, she was old enough to make decisions for herself. “As yeh wish Millicent.” He said stoically. “Understand dear girl, Oi’m only troyin teh help.” He said, with the flat lipped discontented stare of a helpless and frustrated parent. Though, her health seemed to improve measurably. A relief that quenched the burning in his heart to pounce on her and force feed her medicine till she hated him for it. The feeling he held in his breast was palpable. When things turned at last to the fate of the Trader from Ravok, the Kelvic had to admit the slightest of guilty feelings. “Aye, tis a shame that loife be wasted. But Altaira is roight.” He said softly. With his affirmation of her opinion, his gaze travelled casually to Altaira’s form as she sat on the bed beside them. She seemed a buzz of different emotions, and something instinctual about her manner triggered a familiar feeling in him. Yet he could not place it. He let his eyes rest on her face until her eyes found his and he gave her a polite nod of thanks for backing him. His subtle message delivered he turned his attentions back to Millicents condition. “He had an amazin opportunity teh eoither move on, troy teh make back the money he lost in trade, or dwell on what he saw as wrong done teh him by the city.” His smile began to wax now as he remembered how Millicent had stood up to his ilk. With a careful hand he removed his water skin and rested his hand on her head again, evaluating. “Ye were truly brave teh stand up to his loike. Afore last noight, Oi moight of agreed with ye, but the man proved teh me that he very loikly would have killed yer friend at Soothin Waters if ye hadn’t intervened. Yer a heroine dear girl.” A fatherly smile bloomed subtly on the features of his face. “Oi insist though, that next toime ye troy teh do that. Yeh’ve let me train ye a bit in unarmed combat, fairst.” It was after this last statement that Marrick remembered what it was that seemed so familiar in his new acquaintance. It was something animalistic, almost wild. She could have just been a willful human, though the squire suspected strongly that she was a Kelvic like him. The concept brought an immediate comfort, and at the same time, a measure of wariness.

[Millicent]

Speech

Millicent bit down on the corner of her mouth, and nodded her head slowly. Closing her eyes, she was silent. Her shoulders slumped slightly. The pillow fell away from her body, as her hands wrapped around her shoulders. Pressing against her fingers dug red lines into her back. The cold air of the room caused goosebumps to raise on her bare skin.

“Did you always learn your lesson the first time?” Her voice rose as a whisper. Brown pools threatening tears looked at Altaira. Quivering her lips sealed them shut. She winced, closing her left eye and tensing her face. The tips of her fingers pressed deeper into the skin, threatening to pierce the thin barrier. “My uncle had to punish me a lot to get the message across” The words carried a little more strength.

A spike drove it way through her thoughts causing her to grimace. Like leafs in the wind they scattered, leaving her slack jawed. Slowly, she closed her mouth, though she quickly gathered her leaf thoughts. “Are you sure he was a bad man?” She questioned Altaira. To her Ravok was a dot on a map. It might had been a different world. “He was in a strange city, with strange rules. His honor was insulted and perhaps in his home his behavior was acceptable?” The question did not flow nearly as well from her lips as it did from her mind.

A red line rolled slowly from the tips of her fingers down her back. The tears in her eyes dried and her gaze grew hard for a second. “NO....no you are not Tanroa. You cannot see the flow of someones life.” Anger and pain gave strength to her words. “What if he does not? What if he saves someones life? What if his death leads to his family to starving?” Her volume dropped to a whisper.

Her eyes grow big as it dawns on her what she has down. The line of red grows to a small river as her finger dug deeper into her skin. A wet sob escaped her lips. Millicent collapsed in on herself as she turned her back to both of her friends. The sob turned into a cough that wrecked her body.

She shook her head fiercely side to side. “I am no hero. A hero would not say mean things to a friend.” Her eyes turned back to Altaira for a second before turning away again. Her body trembled, and her finger ripped down her back leaving a a bloody trail. Pain from both her back and head fought against her. Thought began to slip again. To her, anger was always a snake destined to eat its own tail.

As her talked more his accent became easier to understand, but with her mind slowly ripping itself apart again, it took her half a chime to understand what he said. “I....Altaira is teaching me,,,,, if she still wants to.” Millicent's words came out choppy and slow like water pushed through a dam. She could bring herself to turn around. The only thing that could be waiting for her was amber pools of hate. “I....am a waste of time anyway.” Fixating on her failures, she thought only of how she failed as kicking and got in the way.

“I think maybe I was wrong” Poisonous words fell from her lips. “I should have given him what he wanted.” They came as something between a bitter crackled and a cough. Clearly she had no real understanding of what it was the trader had intended. “It is simple math three people die or one person suffers? That choice seems easy.” [/b]

oocI think it is my goal to get Millicent slapped