Solo A Healing Touch

[Ayatah]

A Healing Touch

|| 13th Fall 514AV || Fearson Home ||

Ayatah watched the patroness of the orphanage leave. Turning towards Mary, she stole a few glances around the room they stood in. The paint was cracked and peeling in places, and in other patches it was discoloured with aged creamy stains. The half-Eypharian did not need to look below her feet to guess that the carpet was frayed and ripped at the corners.

"It's a little run down, isn't it?" The question was not pointed or snappy, but simply a fellow observer of the orphanage's tired state. "We do what we can, but it's... difficult." The girl gave a little smile, but it did not hide the exhaustion that framed her dark eyes.

Ayatah waved a hand, as if to disregard the importance of aesthetic beauty or structural soundness. "No-one can judge this building, given the significance of the work inside." she extended a hand, returning the other woman's smile with one of her own.

Mary blushed and slipped her tiny hand into the Myrian's, given it a meek little shake. "Thank you -- Ayetar?" She grimaced as her Common tongue stumbled over the foreign name.

"Aya-tah, but don't worry about it. Aya is fine." The half-breed smiled to reassure the other woman, who still a looked a distraught at her mispronunciation. Keen to change the subject, Aya nodded towards the closest occupied bed. "What is the matter with the children?" Given the number of youngsters in the room with them, it was very quiet. Silent children were usually ill children.

"Ah! Yes." With a guiding hand, Mary led Ayatah to the nearest bed. A small girl, pale and clammy, stared up with huge blue eyes. When the woman spoke again, she did so in a gentle, high voice suitable for young children. "Ashae here is feeling a bit poorly, aren't you?" The little girl nodded solemnly. "She's got stomach pains, and her muscles also hurt." The mysterious symptoms meant nothing to Ayatah, who had more practise in dealing with physical injuries rather than illnesses. Mary clearly saw her confusion and gave a reassuring smile. With a nod of her head, she signalled for the Myrian to follow her away from the bedside. "Don't worry, we usually give the children some basic pain killer and a good night's sleep. After a couple of days they're normally back on track."

She has no official medical training, Aya realised slowly. She had expected to be working under the supervision of a doctor, or at least a nurse. It was the setup with which she was most comfortable; having someone more familiar with medicine to double-check her work and decisions. Without such a person, a child would be relying on Ayatah's decision and skill alone.

"I... am not professionally trained." She said unhelpfully, shrugging her shoulders. "I wouldn't know what to do if a child was truly sick."

Mary gave a sad smile, "neither would any of us, Aya. Fortunately, such cases are extremely rare, and with each one, we learn a little more."

Ayatah knew the other words that silently hung to the end of that sentence: and with each one, we lose a child.

She eventually nodded, begrudgingly convinced that even her low level of medical training was indeed more helpful than none. "Where shall I start?"

.

[Ayatah]

Mary briefly showed Ayatah where the medicines were kept, in neat little labelled jars. There were a couple that Aya recognised from her medical training in Taloba, though it took her a while to realise that the jar labelled 'Rugberry Tea' contained the warming tea her clan used to deal with all manner of aches and pains. She slipped a hand into the small satchel hanging on her left shoulder; "I have bought something," she revealed her own small vial of poultice, half-full with dried green and brown leaves and stems. "It is Myrian salts," she explained, using the traditional Myrian name first and then repeating it in common, "we use it for lots of things. Like... parasites, or aches."

Mary nodded slowly, watching the small glass bottle warily. Her brown eyes snapped up to Ayatah's face, trying to conceal her concern and distrust. "How kind of you... but what if-" she licked her lips nervously, "what if one of the children were allergic?" It was a painfully weak excuse, and Mary winced as soon as her argument was out in the air. She hated offending others - it just wasn't in her nature - but she wanted to avoid unknown and foreign healing products all the same. "Maybe we should stick to what we know suits and works."

The Myrian nodded tightly, placing the bottle quietly inside her bag. Such comments should not longer effect her, and yet she found herself flustering at the other woman's comment regardless. I came here to help, she thought miserably, feeling somewhat like a keen child whom nobody wanted to play with. "Where shall I start?" She asked again.

The girl nodded towards the row of beds on the left hand side of the wall. "The bed on the far end is our latest patient. You may start there."

Giving a final nod and taut smile, Ayatah made her way toward the selected bed. She did not see the little body beneath the covers until she stood at its side. And then she almost gasped.

A small, dark-skinned boy was peeping over the cover, with large brown eyes that were very, very dark. His forehead was broad, and already the beginnings of a strong jaw outlined the bottom half of his face. Despite being young, he was already showing signs of being built stocky and strong.

He was so... Myrian-like!

Ayatah remained frozen for another tick, heart palpitations sending her body into a flurry of hot panic. She had not seen another Myrian since arriving in Zeltiva, and suddenly images flashed through her mind, of her home and her clan and her friends and her lover--

And other things that could have been, had the djed storm not hit and destroyed tiny things that had not yet began to live.

She was suddenly very aware of the child's silent gaze. Though his face gave no indication of it, Aya knew he was judging her warily. She put on a brave, if not extremely awkward, smile. "Hello. I am Ayatah."

The boy cocked his head and frowned deeply. "Wha-?"

With horror she realised she had spoken in Myrian, and not even realised it. Her hands flurried about in panic and she cleared her throat noisily. She tried again, this time speaking in pointed Common. "Hello. I am Aya. What's your name?"

The boy was unconvinced. He frowned again and pushed himself upright onto his elbows. "What did you say before?"

"Sorry about that. I was speaking in my mother tongue." She stooped low, crouching beside the boy's bed to get a clear look at him. He looked fierce, even though his frown had now subsided into a curious smile. Ayatah imagined him in Taloba, running with all the other Myrian children weilding toy swords and axes. He was not out of place in that image. "What's your name?"

Again, he completely ignored her question. "What language was it? You talk funny."

She actually smiled. Yep, pig-headed. He's Myrian, alright.

"I was speaking Myrian. Are you going to tell me your name, or not?"

"Kuame."The boy flopped back upon his pillow, only partially satisfied that his query was answered. A tick later, and he was sitting up again, demanding further explanation. "Are you really a Myrian? Does that mean you eat children? You don't look like a Myrian."

Can't say the same about you.

"Yes I am. And no, I don't. And what is a Myrian meant to look like?" The question was attached to her primary statement carefully. It was likely that the boy was completely unaware of his own heritage, and whether or not he had any Myrian blood in him at all. She did not want to upset the boy over his lack of parents.

Kuame frowned yet again, pursing his lips in deep thought. Finally, he came to an answer: "Dangerous. You don't look dangerous, you look-" he waved a hand towards Ayatah's dress, face and hair. "Normal."

She actually laughed aloud. Oh, how she had always wished to be 'normal' by Zeltivan standards! But nobody had ever called her as such; her interactions were all with adults, who were quick to spot her foreignness and Myrian-esque qualities. "Oh, I'm not, don't worry. I wasn't normal in Taloba, and I'm certainly not normal here." All too aware that Mary kept glancing in their direction, Aya finally set to business. "Now, Kuawme. What's the matter?"

.

[Ayatah]

His demeanour instantly changed, becoming defensive and self-conscious. The boy drew his knees upwards, resting his chin upon them and staring at his covered feet moodily. He remained silent, avoiding Ayatah's eyes at all cost.

Her smile only deepened as she recognised that fear of weakness found in all Myrian people. "Kuame. I want to help you."

No reaction.

"If you're in pain, you need to tell me."

He blinked.

"Kuame, please."

A gentle hand on Ayatah's back almost made her jump, but she managed to maintain her cool and turned to Mary, who had appeared at her side. The woman spoke quietly and directly into Aya's ear, "sometimes children will come here more for some peace and quiet, especially if they're being bullied. In such cases there's very often nothing wrong with them. In which case..." she trailed off and rose, sauntering slowly back to her own charge.

Aya looked at Kuame sadly. The idea of this boy being bullied made her feel sick and enraged in equal measure. She wanted to help him, to draw him close and keep him protected from any vile child or Dhani who would harm him.

Such protectiveness struck Aya as uncomfortably odd, until:

He is like the child you would have had.

That thought racketeered around her mind, creating a chaotic state of fear and pain and hurt. She usually managed to avoid that topic as much as possible, but sometimes it inevitably popped up, and on each occasion she would freeze and grit her teeth, as if to prepare for some horrid impact. Aya managed to swallow, bringing herself back to the real world to a degree, but her thoughts remained misted.

"Are you ill, Kuame?" She spoke in a low voice, whispering to the lad despite his apparent determination to ignore her. "Because if so, I can help you. But if not, I think you're supposed to go back with the other children."

Those big eyes shifted towards her face slowly, begrudgingly. He looked fearful, but Aya was still unsure as to whether that was due to pain, illness or something else. Her fingers jiggled the glass vial in her satchel. As a child, she had pretended to be ill countless times to avoid socialising with other children. They had bullied her mercilessly for being a half-breed, but her clan mates would not give into her fear. Instead, her mother and Grandmother had rubbed Myrian salts onto her skin, the grainy harsh pieces rubbing off any excess dead skin and making the young Aya gleam and shine even more gold than before. The message was clear, beautifully proud and Myrian: take pride in what you are, and shine, Aya.

The young woman smiled distantly at those memories. Her childhood had been wonderful, in truth. When it came to her leaving Taloba, she had felt the need to almost thank the horrid children (now horrid adults) who had been so cruel to her. Their threats and curses had not broken her, but made Aya secretly embrace the Eypharian within her - even if she hid this from public eye. Without them, she wouldn't have realised her love of learning and writing; she would be without the very characteristic that made her Ayatah of the Scattered Bones.

.

[Ayatah]

"My leg hurts." The young lad muttered lowly, once again glaring in the empty space at the foot of his bed.

His grumpy tone made Ayatah smile, despite Kuame's painful situation. The child had a clear stubborn streak, one that Aya recognised from all those she loved back in Taloba. Was it possible that parental race - whom the child may not even know about - could appear in the form of certain personality traits?

With a tut and shake of her head, Aya realised how stupidly obvious the answer was. Of course they can, she told herself impatiently as she thought of books balanced atop a Myrian war blade.

She reached to peel away the covers hiding Kuame's legs, but the boy shook his head feverishly and waves his arms. "No!" His desperate voice was so loud that it echoed around the near-empty room. Several other faces look in their direction, including Mary's. "It hurts."

He doesn't trust strangers. Aya realised sadly. She hesitated, knowing that she should probably move on, to help another child, but completely unable to do so. "I am only half-Myrian." She said softly, restarting their earlier conversation. "My father was Eypharian." Perhaps she could win him over with stories...

Slowly the boy came round, and his childish interest was sparked once more. "Efrian?" His mispronunciation was almost too adorable, "don't they have more than two arms?"

"Apparently so."

"That's strange." He mulled this over for a tick, before turning to Ayatah with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "What'd you mean he was Eypharian?"

A pause. Ayatah glanced up to Mary, who was far too busy with a little girl to pay either her or Kuame any real attention. "I don't know who my father is." Aya said simply, shrugging, trying to portray the image of not caring about her parentage. After all, she did not want to upset the boy about his own lack of parent.

Fortunately, Kuame was completely unfazed. "Me neither. That's why I'm here. I don't know my mother either." He scratched his left ear before continuing, "but she had very green eyes." At this, he fell quiet, watching his feet wiggle under the thin blanket. When he spoke again, Aya barely heard: "I remember her eyes."

She almost felt her heart pysically ache, but Aya managed to keep her face as plain as possible. "I'm sure she was very beautiful." The reassurance seemed a stupid thing to say to a young boy who was some years away from appreciating a woman's appearance. Nevertheless, she needed to say something to him.

.

[Ayatah]

"Did you live the jungle, then?" His question snapped Ayatah out of her thoughts, and she blinked for a tick before finally answering him.

"Yes. I did."

"Why'd you leave?" Kuame asked instantly, intrigue rekindled tenfold. "Don't you miss it?"

She answered without thinking, a little breathless, "Oh, yes. Yes, I do." The mere thought of the jungle, with its headiness and thick overgrowth, wildlife and that constant smell of damp and pollen... "I miss it all the time." She did not realise, in fact, quite how painful it was to be apart from her home until, but now those floodgates had been opened. Ayatah had gotten too familiar to the Zeltiva way of living: not quite fitting in, but being there all the same.

But was that really any different to her life in Taloba?

She rested her hands on the bed, fingertips brushing the scratchy cover. "But I chose to leave to come here. To learn."

Her answer was clearly unsatisfactory again. Kuame rolled his dark eyes and lay back, dejected and uninspired. "I wish I could leave here."

A chime passed, and Ayatah sighed. What could she say to alleviate the boy's frustration? "Why? Zeltiva is a great city. There's so many opporunities here." A meek, pointless statement that hardly applied to a six-year old boy.

"Not for me." He retorted hopelessly. "Not for orphans."

Oh, Myri...

She needed to change the subject, before she scooped up this boy in her arms and took him straight back to the jungle with her. "Now, Kuame. Are you going to let me look at your leg? I'll tell you some stories of the jungle if you do."

The child considered this offer, and then nodded slowly. He sat up, peeled the covers from his leg and revealed a dark red mark that wrapped around his calf. A rash: bumpy and bloody from being scratched. Ayatah winced at the soreness of it. "What did you do at the jungle? Were you a doctor?"

"Sort of..." She was distracted. Carefully, Ayatah placed a hand either side of the rash, keeping the boy's skin taut as she leaned closer to the redness. It did not feel hot; which was good. That meant there was no infection in the flesh. "How did you get this, Kuame?"

"Bite. From a flea, I think." He replied briskly, then repeated his earlier question. "So were you a doctor?"

"Sort of, yes." Aya said slowly, setting about her task. Fleabites were common everywhere, though it appeared that Kuame had had a bad reaction to the initial bite. His left leg - the reddened one - was also inflamed. "Let me get some bandages, and I'll tell you."

After she retrieved the necessary tools, Ayatah crouched back down beside Kuame's bed and began to explain her medical history: "In Taloba, Myrians have to be part of the army for three years. I did my service a few years ago, and after that I helped out at the infirmary." It was not entirely true; Ayatah started to volunteer at the medical centre after the djed storm wrecked through Falyndar. After she lost her baby, and the idea of returning to the jungle where the child had been ripped from her womb was too great a challenge for her. Instead, she had set about the task in saving as many lives as she could, with her complete and utter lack of medical training. Anything to keep her mind off what she had lost.

.

[Ayatah]

She investigated the rash one final time before her decision was made. With a final nod, Ayatah twisted the lid to the jar she had bought with her. Myrian salts may not have met Mary's approval, but she knew well enough that they worked with practically any ailment. Bug bites were common in Taloba; the salts would work a treat on them. From the Orphanage's selection of poultices and medicines, she had taken a vial of antiseptic cream, and she mixed this wth a small pinch of the salts."This may sting a little. Ask me some more questions to keep your mind off it."

Kuame obliged, his voice taking on a nervous little waver at the prospect of oncoming discomfort. "Urm... are there really Myrian tigers?"

Aya grinned, "I can see their reputation proceeds them." The young lad's dark eyes widened with excitement, and Aya took the opportunity to apply the cream-salt mixture to his knee. Kuame winced, and Aya spoke hurriedly to keep him distracted. "So yes, there are Myrian tigers. They're huge, and are ridden by Myrian warriors." She rubbed at the cream gently, spreading it well across the redness of his knee and making sure the red dot in the middle - the suspected fleabite - was well and truly covered. "Only the best and strongest warriors get to ride a tiger." Now she lent in, voice dropping to a tantalising low whisper. Kuame also leaned towards her, mouth hanging slack in intruige. "But I rode one once."

She wiped her hands on the front of her cotton shirt, and then began to dress the boy's leg. Ayatah had also taken a roll of bandage from the medicine cabinet of the Orphanage, and now she began wrapping it around Kuame's knee. Three times she looped the bandage, and then a fourth just for luck. "How do that feel?"

"I don't believe you."

It took her a tick or so to realise what the young boy was referring to, but eventually Ayatah cottoned on. Once again, she smiled warmly. "It was during the djed storm. My fang, uh --" She stumbled over the Common equivalent of the Myrian word, and then explained, "my group of warriors, I should say -- were on a patrol of the jungle. When the storm hit, the pureblooded Myrians disappeared. Us half-breeds were left to defend ourselves. Some of us returned to Taloba on the back of the leftover tigers." The memory had once caused huge amounts of pain for the half-Eypharian to retell, but now the words tumbled out of her mouth easily enough. In fact, she was rather enjoying how Kuame appeared to hang onto every word she said. "It was... terrifying but amazing, as well." The feeling of riding atop of a Myrian tiger would never leave Ayatah; somehow, she knew that for an undeniable fact.

.

[Ayatah]

Kuame remained silent, clearly gobsmacked at Ayatah's tale. The Myrian, by contrast, watched his shocked little face with a grin. She enjoyed telling stories of her life in Taloba, though far and few people in between wanted to hear it. Children, however, were curious and not yet scared. They wanted to know about the Savages in the jungle, no matter how hard their mother might tug them away from Ayatah.

"I have plenty more similar stories," she offered casually, hoping the young boy would accept her proposal, "should you want to hear them?"

He nodded, still a little fazed. Kaume's mind was overrun with giant tigers, and fearless warriors riding them. The animals leapt backwards and forwards, roaring loudly whilst their riders shot arrows and wielded axes. Of course he wanted to hear more!

Aya lent back on her haunches, considering what story to tell him. The boy was still young, so it was hardly acceptable to tell him the tales of blood and guts and eating Dhani flesh. But some other stories were less... gruesome.

"My clan is called the Scattered Bones. Now, in the Myrian culture, clans are made of huge families. Some are over two hundred members strong. My clan is has around one hundred members, and my great-Grandmother Quinneth heads my family.

"The Scattered Bones is very old, and we have some... unique traditions." Kuame smiled at the very thought, his imagination going wild. Ayatah returned his grin. "They all related to bones - for obvious reasons. So... when a family member dies, we bury their bones at the clan site, and then also around Taloba. So the dead can wander the city in the after life.

"Another tradition is--" She considered which one to share with the boy, and eventually made her decision. "-- when a baby girl is born, her parents give her a birth weapon. It's usually made from the bone of another, long dead, clansmen, and it should represent the young girl in some way. So mine is a double-bladed dagger - because I have both Myrian and Eypharian blood in me."

Kuame had said nothing for the entirety of Ayatah's speech, but now he had endless questions! One thing in particular had truly blown his mind: "you have one hundred relatives? I've never seen that many people before!" For an orphan in particular, the idea of having such a large family was incredibly foreign and amazing. "Do you have any brothers or sisters? Where do you live in the jungle? Do you have pet monkies? How many bones are there in your clan? Will you be the head of your clan one day?" His voice broke and Kuame had to take a deep breath to stop him from suffocating on his own words. One final question: "Can I see your dagger?"

Ayatah had been grinning, encouraging Kuame's questions as feverishly as they tumbled out of his mouth. Those final words, however, knocked the eagerness straight out of her.

No, Kuame could not see her birth weapon. Ayatah had not seen it herself for a long time. She, as part of yet another clan tradition, had given it to the man she loved many years before she departed for Zeltiva. But she had not seen nor heard from Razkar since she arrived in the port city. The distance between them, both geographical and emotional, had caused her much heartache over the years. But now she knew: everything changed between us when I lost our child in the storm. Some wounds could never heal, and neither could some relationships. Their chosen paths - she to go to Zeltiva in order to learn and he to roam the lands in the name of Myri - had seemed nothing more than temporary decisions, a slight inconvenience. We will find each other again they had promised. But somewhere along the way, Ayatah had stopped looking for him, and she had stopped trying to be found as well. It was an uncomfortable fact to accept, but unavoidable none the less.

She opened her mouth to explain this to Kuame (in less emotional terms, of course), when Mary appeared at her side once again. The brunette was wearing a strange smile. "I think it's time we see to our other charges, yes?"

Aya received the sharp message concealed under the politeness: you've spent too much time with this child. Move on.

"Of course." She said brightly, feeling sick to the stomach. Mary nodded curtly and left Kuame's beside, and Aya turned to the boy. He smiled eagerly to her, as if unaware that they would not see each other again. "Kaume. I hope you feel better."

Her throat tickled. She felt like crying. Myri, what's wrong with me?!

Kuame, by contrast, seemed completely unbothered, and it broke Aya's heart. He was still grinning up at Ayatah, toes wiggling happily under the blanket, as if he expected more fun stories. A moment passed, and Ayatah stood and turned to leave the child when--

"Can you come visit me some time? I like you. You tell good stories."

The Myrian thanked the Gods, each and every one of them. "Of course I will. I like you too, Kuame."

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[Perplexity]

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Ayatah :

Skills:

• Persuasion | +3 EXP
  Investigation | +2 EXP
  Philosophy | +1 EXP
  Childcare | +3 EXP
  Medicine | +2 EXP
  Storytelling | +3 EXP

Lores:

• Mary: Nursemaid of the Farson Home
  Kuame: Myrian Orphan
  Kuame: Bullied By Other Children
  Philosophy: Be Who You Are
  Medicine: The Many Uses of Myrian Salts
  Medicine: Bandaging A Leg Wound

Comments :

I think Ayatah made a friend! Contact me if you have questions or concerns.