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[Noven]

Fall, Day 10, 514AV

"Dammit Jillene, I'm dying here. Can't you just...throw me a bone, for once? It fucking hurts."

The proprietress of Sunset Quarters and matron of its neighboring orphanage remained unmoved in the dimly lit hallway, feet planted firmly apart and arms crossed in visible annoyance across her chest. Her colorless eyes were somehow trained on Noven's hunched over, bleeding figure with unnerving accuracy, and even though her hair was mussed and her five foot frame covered in nothing but a bath robe, neither did diddly squat to diminish the absolute authority with which she spoke.

"Bones aren't thrown around here, they're earned," she intoned, her voice cold as stone. "And you're not dying."

Nov wanted to argue. He really, really did. It just didn't seem doable at the moment, what with the room starting to spin woozily before his eyes, which were growing harder to keep open by the tick, and the steady drip drip dripping of his blood onto the old floorboards setting off every alarm still functioning in his body. The knife wound wasn't too deep and stretched about a handspan across his abdomen, but he'd been losing blood for quite some time now, on top of sporting several cuts and bruises from both fighting Errol and his sister's goons. The adrenaline, mixed with his cockiness from winning both fights, had kept him from noticing just how much blood he'd lost.

Until now, that is. The half-inch deep cut had turned into a proper concern, given how he'd failed to clean it and stop the bleeding for almost a full bell.

"Please, Jillene..."

"Tell me why you ended up this way. Then maybe, just maybe, I might consider divulging to you where this healer lives."

He watched Jillene's tiny foot as it tapped impatiently on the ground. Didn't she get splinters walking around like that? Or was her skin as hard as her head right now? Either way, it wasn't much of a choice. He had to tell her, or risk bleeding out here in the middle of the hallway.

"I was..." Nov finally conceded, wincing as he shifted to confess his story. Blood seeped through his clothes and fingers in thin, crimson rivulets. He wasn't entirely sure how much longer he had before he lost consciousness. "...at Tall Johnny's. "

The deepening of her frown gave away Jillene's disapproval long before her scathing words. "So you did go back there. Again. Knowing what you risk every time you start a fight outside these walls, sanctioned or not. Just because Calyn is dead, it doesn't mean your follies can't still cut her. Her legacy, her charges. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Or are you still just a trouble making child, waiting for the day someone else you care is wiped permanently from this world because of your stupid, juvenile actions? Do you?! Answer me!"

Noven stared at her in shock. He'd never, ever heard her speak that way. What was the woman going on about anyways? Sanctioned fights, juvenile actions? Bloody, sodding hell. How many times had she paid him to go off some fiend or other for her? It didn't even make sense. She'd never had issues with him and violence before. Not to mention those bits about Calyn and allusions to Nona's death, they just plain petching hurt.

"I just...wanted a clean fight, for once. To see if I'd gotten stronger. That's all," he tried to explain, as confused as he was irritated and, well, dying. "I didn't mean to...to bring any trouble...through your doors. I swear it...fuck..."

Nov slid down the wall, hand still gripped tightly against his wound, and just sat there for half a chime, trying to remember how to breathe. "If I don't make it, " he wheezed, unsure of whether he could even get back up at this point, "tell Mira...she can have Nona's crock pot..."

The Isur cursed up and down seven different shades of wrath before she stomped off, muttering something about men and their severe lack of intellect. For a while, Nov was sure she had left him to die. But moments later he heard a knock, some muffled exchanges, then the return of Jillene's bare feet slapping against rotting wood. It had to say something about his condition that the merc didn't even fight when two strong, mismatched arms hooked under his armpits and started dragging him across the hallway, leaving a grisly trail of red in his wake.

It did, however, hurt like radiant hell. Nov clamped his teeth shut, but groans of pains still made their way past his throat.

At some point the pain lessened as Jillene released him to lie like some pitiful corpse on the ground. "He's all yours, healer," she announced, breath hardly even labored from dragging someone twice her size through who knew how many halls. "And don't worry about the coin. He'll pay more than enough. Isn't that right, dearest cook?"

"You're..."

"Welcome?"

"...fucking crazy--ahh," Noven chortled and grimaced at the same time. Mental note to self: don't laugh when cut on stomach.

"Do your best," Jillene seethed, presumably to this fabled healer she had mysteriously summoned, "but if he grows too irritating, just cut him into little pieces and toss them out your window. He'll make good food for the dogs."

Then she spun on a single, bare heel and left.

"Krysus..." Noven panted. Then he shifted--very, very slowly--to wobble back onto his feet and look around him for the person who was supposed to save his life. Or turn him into dog food. Whichever came first. He wasn't in as bad a way as he'd led Jillene to believe, knowing if he mentioned the crock pot she would finally take him seriously. But he was getting there fast.

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya had had a long and exhausting day. Many of the smaller gangs had exploded into a shykestorm of violence that spilled out into the streets. Kechaiya had both witnessed, and been on the receiving end, of this pain spreading through the city. The side of her face was bruised heavily, her body adorning several similar wounds. She wanted nothing more than to be in her bed, to rest and recuperate, to continue her work for another day. But she decided that she would need to make another stop, one she made on a fairly constant basis. She did not want to break her schedule. She'd known Jillene in passing ever since she arrive in Sunberth three years ago, having received housing from her, when she was a young, dumb foreigner in a strange city. As a way of thanking her, Kechaiya constantly stopped by the many orphanages, seeing if medical help was required, which she would provide free of charge. It was her one and only charity. It was growing dark as she arrived at the finally arrived at her destination. She spotted a younger boy sitting in the doorway, a newcomer that she didn't recognize. She approached him, her broken Common and heavy accent coming out, "Hello little one. Where Jillene? I healer." The boy looked up at her defiantly, rebelliously, as many newly orphaned children do, particularly the boys. "I dun hafta tell you nuffin'" Kechaiya knew had been quite similar when her own parents were enslaved and she was left for herself. Crouching down, she dug into her cloak, quietly pulling a silver miza from her coin pouch. Holding it between two fingers, she presented it before the boy, "I give you miza if tell me." The boy looked at her suspiciously, then nodded curtly. She handed over the silver, while he talked. "Jilli is yellin' at da cook fo' gettin' stabbed. Dey both inside, Jilli tol' me to not let anyone in until she was done." Kechaiya thanked him, and waited, wondering how long ago this cook was stabbed. It wasn't long before another boy came out to let her in. He escorted her through the ramshackle building, and knocked on a door. Jillene let them inside. Jillene then dragged the stabbed cook into a more well lit and open position, resting him on his back. Just looking at the trail he left, she knew that he'd lost a lot of blood. Kechaiya silently listened to the proprietor's words and the cook's retorts. When they finished, she was left to her work. The man, much to Kechaiya's surprise, got to his feet, looking for someone, likely her. An injured patient was never thinking clearly, so it was now time to take charge. "Remove shirt, lay on table. I examine wound, tell cost, you pay, I fix. If no fix, then die, bleed to death, maybe infection. Understand?" With her standard agreement laid out before her patient, she set her pack on an empty chair, reaching in and grabbing a jar of grain alcohol. She splashed some on her hands, rubbing until dry. She moved around to the side of the table she wished him to lay upon, waiting.

[Noven]

Nov stood there for what felt like an entire chime. Staring. Confused as petch.

At first, the merc thought Jillene had asked a child to tend to his wounds. But then he mulled over it some more and came to the conclusion that that was a stupid idea. If the Isur wanted him dead, she would have done it herself; she had more than enough chances to do so within the past fifteen chimes. And even on a good day he was no match for the blind, fight foot nothing proprietress. Plus, no child he knew ordered him around with enough curtness to do the Boss Lady proud.

She was hardly taller than Jillene, too. Dark hair, distrusting, ink black eyes with no pupils, and the lean frame characteristic of those who spent too long in the Berth. He tried to place where he might have seen such eyes before, but lost his train of thought before an answer could be found.

Must be the blood loss...makin' it hard to think...Noven shook his head in an attempt to focus and decided it would be best to do as the pint sized healer said. The lass had wasted no time setting straight to work. She'd already disinfected her hands and stood expectantly beside the table he was supposed to be lying on.

Well, this was gonna hurt. Nov braced himself and took a step forward.

Half a dozen waves of dizzying pain later, the merc found himself bumping into the edge of the wooden table. He managed to slam his right hand down for purchase just before he ricocheted backwards, barely preventing himself from falling on his ass. Bleeding hell, he mentally swore as he panted from both effort and agony...a table had almost got the best of him. Best take things more carefully from here on out.

"Alright," Nov rasped, left hand still clutching at his stomach, "here comes the hard part."

With the speed and grace of a wounded whale, he managed to get his bloodied fingers underneath the hem of his even more bloodied shirt and started to peel the fabric away from his body. Nov clenched his teeth shut as inch by inch the shirt came free. Stars and stones. He was starting to forget what not being in pain for three ticks in a row felt like.

The cloth was almost completely removed, except for a small section around his cut where the blood had dried, bled, and dried again several times. Nov lost count of how many times he had re-opened his wound in the last bell.

Holding his breath, the merc tightened his grip around the fistful of cloth and pulled. The fabric didn't budge. He pulled harder, stretching the attached skin beneath as he did. Still nothing. Noven gave up, letting go of his breath in a great big woosh and leaning against the table as he trembled.

"I think..." he croaked, voice shaky from enduring so much pain, "we'll need to cut the rest off." Which was a real shame, given how few shirts he owned to begin with. But beggars couldn't be choosers.

Holding up the loose ends of his shirt in one hand, he leaned his weight on the other and half-rolled half-hopped onto the table. How much that hurt wasn't even worth mentioning at that point. The man just wanted this done and over with, the sooner the better, so he could lock himself in his room and try his best not to dream of things long past.

Nov adjusted himself on top of the table, bruised muscles crying in protest as he somehow managed to lay relatively straight. He turned his head to get a good look at the healer before the real fun started.

Nov gave a weak grin and shot for a bit of levity. "Ready when you are, doc."

[Kechaiya]

Well it seemed her new patient still had some sense about him. That was a good sign. She could already tell that he'd be fine, barring infection. But there was still work to be done, and he might be out of Dira's clutches, his water wasn't in his belly yet. His shirt stuck to him almost comically, courtesy of the dried blood, and possibly the beginning of the healing process. She would not have to cut away the shirt as he suggested, though he would not be thrilled by her method. "No cut shirt. But this hurt, bad. Hold still." She grabbed her jar of grain alcohol, and gestured that she would be pouring it over the wound, so he could prepare himself. This would burn something fierce, a blinding, white hot pain. The alcohol would loosen the hold the blood and wound would have on the shirt. She looked him in the eye, to share some resolve, if only so he wouldn't attack her in reaction. She then looked down, and tipped the jar, letting a small, steady stream pour over the shirt and wound. She kept it controlled, using her other hand to gently tug at the shirt. She didn't want to waste her alcohol unduly. Eventually, the shirt managed to separate from his skin. Kechaiya set it off to the side, to get a good, proper look at his wound. It was a bit longer than her hand, not real thick either. Much of the bleeding had stopped or slowed, which was a good sign. But she would still need to get in there, to feel around, make sure it hadn't hit anything vital beneath. Once again, she cleaned her hands, giving him a moment's reprieve to get over the previous pain. "I need to feel inside wound. Make sure no organs hit. If none hit, two golds. If hit, four golds, but no promise heal. Understand? Ready? Will hurt."

[Noven]

She told him to hold still. That's when Nov knew everything he'd endured up until then would feel like child's play in comparison.

The good doctor held up a bottle of at first appeared to be water. But water would neither kill an infection nor bring ungodly amounts pain...it had to be alcohol. To Noven's mild surprise, she showed the courtesy of warning him ahead of time what she was going to do before actually doing it. That was a bit of a first. Most healers he'd known in the past just stitched him up as fast as possible, with a "ready or not here I come okay time to pay" sort of mentality.

Then again, most healers he'd known were horse doctors or something equally ghastly. Maybe that was why he hardly ever bothered to visit one.

Nov nodded at the mere slip of a girl who was treating him and took a few deep breaths to brace himself. Though her eyes possessed no pupils, he could sense that she was directing her gaze at him. Some intrinsic part of his hazy consciousness knew to stare back, that she was offering as close of a thing as she could to holding his hand. Her real hands, of course, were currently preoccupied. The merc tried his best not to think about that.

Then the healer looked down to tip her jar, and the world went white.

Noven's eyes shot up toward the ceiling as flames of immeasurable pain erupted on his stomach. His muscles strained and clamped down on the wound of their own accord, further intensifying the agony. For a moment, he thought he'd forgotten how to breathe. His mind went blank and knew nothing but unending torment that seemed to burn straight through bone and flesh. Maybe this is how my victims feel, he wondered distantly, far, far away from himself. Maybe it's only fair that I'm forced to feel it, too.

By the time it was over, he was red faced and panting, the veins along his neck traceable in full definition. Nov barely even registered when the shirt had been pulled free; he had a hard enough time remembering his own name.

The healer was speaking again. Nov thought he picked up something about organs and gold. For a single, ludicrous tick, he thought the lass was suggesting she'd find coin in his stomach. That made him want to bark with laughter, but he forced himself not to, on account of him having hurt enough for one night.

The one thing he did understand, however, was that there would be pain. Again. But the worst of it was over, he hoped. He'd had a few petty enemies in the past dig a finger or two in his wounds before. It didn't feel nearly as bad as the alcohol.

"Under...s-stand...re...ready," Nov managed to croak in response.

[Kechaiya]

Given the go ahead, Kechaiya was pleased that her patient had managed to keep himself in control. She placed her fingers gently against the the outside of the wound, at one end of it. She moved an inch down so that she didn't tear the flesh more. She then slipped a single finger into the wound. She always found the strange warmth of the inside of a body comforting. It was a little wet, but she had to ignore that. She was feeling with her finger tip at the absolute depth of the wound. Thankfully she always kept her nails short so that she didn't cause further damage. Her finger was feeling the firmness of the muscle, following it down, a hair's breadth at a time. Eventually her finger bottomed out, not even a full knuckle deep. The bottom definitely had the same firm, striated texture of the surrounding muscle. She then moved it slowly along the length of a wound, looking for any change in the texture. It was agonizingly slow work, and while not mind numbingly painful for the patient, or at least it shouldn't be, it would certainly be uncomfortable and strange. She eventually reached the end, certain it was only muscle and skin damage. She removed her finger from the wound, "Feel no organ damage. Put two golds on table. I clean wound, stitch you up, then done. Pay first, treat second, understand?" She cleaned her hands, and pulled her healer's kit out fully, as well as her sewing kit. She pulled out a jar, a salve of honey, alfalfa, and coneflower. It would promote healing and help prevent infection. She then pulled out a suture needle and threaded it. She was prepared to sew him up once she'd received proper payment.

[Noven]

Nov shuddered a little as the doctor began probing around his insides. It hurt, though not as fiercely as the alcohol had. Mostly it just felt damned strange to have someone's finger digging around in his flesh.

The deeper she went, the more uncomfortable it began to feel. The eerie squishing, wet sounds that accompanied her inspection didn't help either. Nov tried hard not to think about it too much. Pain and discomfort weren't even house guests in a life like his. They were roommates, through and through. Eating his food, leaving behind messes, and imposing on his every chance at privacy. And also, somehow, hard to imagine life without.

He wouldn't be caught dead admitting he liked them, but for some reason couldn't bring himself to move out.

Strange thoughts for a stranger situation, the merc mused to himself. And he wasn't the only one it seemed to feel a little...off. Strange things were brewing afoot in Sunberth, from stolen food supplies that ended up abandoned alleyways or bobbing uselessly in the Bay to snake people walking out of water. As a result, aggression toward Dhani's were at an all time high now, with bounties and slaves constantly in the making.

But snake people weren't the only ones involved in violence. The gangs had all but declared open war on the streets, and anyone crazy or foolish enough to linger around when the fights broke out would be caught in the middle of it. Most mobsters just mowed down ordinary locals if any got in their way.

That was partly why it had taken Nov so long to get back to Sunset. When She-Errol and her goons chased him right out of Tall Johnny's secure walls, it was chaos out on the streets.

An undiscernible amount of time later, the healer was done. No organ damage, she'd deemed, which would still somehow cost him two gold. She was a demanding little thing, wasn't she? The merc scowled for a tick, then dug around gingerly in the pouch at his belt to fish out two coins.
He laid them flat on the table, one at a time, and pushed them towards her.

Nov eyed the new jar in the doctor's hand with suspicion. "Alright, then. There's your payment. Do what ya hafta do."

As she set to work once more, the merc felt a rare compulsion to fill the void of silence. Maybe it was because he felt just a little bit indebted to her. Or maybe it was because he didn't want to hear the sound of his own flesh being sewn shut. Whatever it was, it got him to clear his throat and attempt something akin to conversation.

"The name's Noven, by the way," he began awkwardly out of the blue. "So, uh, how long you been doin' this, doc?"

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya watched as her patient placed her payment on the table. She saw him eyeballing her jar of salve, which brought a rare, possibly slightly sadistic laugh bubbling out of her. "This not hurt as bad." She didn't tell him that she still needed to put the grain alcohol on it again, to get the inside cleaner. But perhaps it wouldn't be nearly as bad this time, maybe he'd gotten used to it. He then told her his name, Noven. It was a boring name in her mind, especially being someone that was foreign, to her, though he was likely a Sunberthian native. She decided to humor him before hurting him. "My father teach me healing when I little girl, in Eyktol." While she was telling him this, her hand was placed against his chest, pushing firmly, indicating that he was to lay down. She would be very insistent about this, and wouldn't continue until he did. No one had ever accused her of having good bedside manner. Her other hand snaked around and grabbed her jar of alcohol. "No move, understand?" Using her free hand, she made sure the wound was properly spread open, and once more poured the clear liquid into it. She made sure to use a slow, steady, small stream, so none was wasted, especially if he started to buck. When she was done, she grabbed one of her clean bandages, dabbing the excess liquid and blood from the wound. Peering inside, she inspected the wound, mainly looking for anything suspect, she'd been surprised in the past about how many knife points she'd found in wounds. Finding nothing, she grabbed her jar of salve. She gathered a large dollop on her finger, and worked it in the wound at one end. This was slower work, as she was trying to ensure that the salve covered all of the interior surfaces. This would slow or stop most of the bleeding, and promote the healing from within. Her finger continued along, spreading the salve throughout the rest of the wound. When she was done, she cleaned her hands up. "Just need stitch now. No move during this." Grabbing her threaded suture needle, she would start at the far left of the wound. She pinched a little bit of skin, and pressed the needle into it. It sank in with ease, and she bridged the gap, and pulled the string through. She brought it back over, piercing the skin once more. This would continue for a while, the bridge slowly growing along his wound, pulling, forcing the skin to come together. She made sure to not pull it too tight, for when the body healed, it forced toxins out. Reaching the end, she tied of both ends of her stitches. She then applied a healthy layer of the salve to the outside of the stitches. "Sit up." She wanted to make sure the stitches stayed as he moved, and needed to bandage him up now. Looking in his eyes, "Near done. Just bandages." She folded a long bandage and pressed it against the stitches. "Hold." She then grabbed another long bandage, and pressed it against the folded bandages as well, to serve as an anchor point. When her patient held the two, she would walk around the table, wrapping the bandages around his torso. She started above the wound, and slowly worked her way down, working to keep it firm, but not too tight. When she finished her rotations, she tucked the bandage in on itself. She stick two fingers beneath the bandage, satisfied with her work. "All fixed. Want supply for changing and cleaning wound? Help stop infection. Infection kill. Two more gold, you get bandages and salve to last long enough til heal." Kechaiya was ever the business woman, always trying to get more gold from her patients. She hoped her successful work would give him enough confidence in her to buy her offer. It was a decent deal, for he would need to clean and change the dressings anyways. Kechaiya, awaiting his reply, began cleaning her equipment and packing up, ensure she pocketed the two gold that he'd already paid.

[Noven]

The healer laughed. It was as surprising as it was unnerving, and Nov did his best to show he felt neither.

She assured it wouldn't hurt as bad before answering his question. Turned out her father taught her the art of healing at a young age, and that she had originally come from the southern deserts. That explained her thick accent and no-nonsense manner. Nov had begun to wonder if the doctor shared ancestry with the Isur.

As she revealed this tiny glimpse of her history, the healer placed a small but insistent hand upon his bare chest to push him back down. The merc obliged without much of a fight. It hurt like hell to move, let alone remain propped up on his elbows, staring at the gaping cut stretched across his stomach. No, he definitely wasn't going to argue against lying down and not hurting. He'd done enough of that for one night.

Heh, Nov punned to himself, she's a pushy one. He would have thought up something more flippant, like how it wasn't everyday one found himself being domineered by a female midget. But it wouldn't have been funny, given that the cook did find himself being domineered by a female midget. Several, in fact, including Jillene herself. Every single day without fail.

The healer told him not to move again. Seeing her hand reach around for the alcohol jar again, Nov cursed the air and braced himself. It didn't hurt nearly as much the second time around but it was still damned painful. The man focused on breathing in and out of his nose as his wound was thoroughly re-cleaned and the healer dabbed any excess fluid away. After that, it was time for the salve. He felt a bit like a potato being stuffed with cheese as glob after glob of salve was applied to his knife wound.

Once this was finished, the stitching began. The doctor warned him of this like she did of every other step she'd completed thus far, and he was starting to understand why. It lent him a small peace of mind to know what she was about to do ahead of time. Noven had to limp out of a clinic once because he caught sight of the physician, quiet and ill-boding as a crypt, dousing a hand-saw with ale. Suffice it to say, he was grateful.

The stitches were a piece of cake in comparison. All of that alcohol had numbed his flesh with pain, so the needle felt like nothing more a dozen or so pricks against his skin. Nov assumed the salve was helping too, though he had no way of even guessing what the stuff was made of.

One of the last steps of the process was to sit up. The merc did as he was told, very, very slowly. The healer made him hold down one end of the bandage as she wrapped it round and round his waist. Ever thorough and pragmatic, she was careful not to make it too tight or too loose. This part, at least, seemed familiar enough to Nov. Nona had patched up most of his scrapes the same way when she had still been alive.

The doctor was talking to him again. A true opportunist, eh? He didn't exactly blame her for trying to squeeze out a couple more mizas from his pockets. People had to eat around here and Fall was proving most unkind to Sunberth's citizens.

"Aye, I'll take it," Nov nodded, too tired to argue. He fished around in his pouch and slapped down two more gold mizas on the wooden table. Poking a bit at the bandages, he gave a few experimental movements before pushing his legs over the table and settling his feet back onto the ground. The man wobbled a little at first, but so far so good.

He looked toward the healer, who was busying herself with packing away supplies. "So uh...I still don't know your name, doc, but thanks all the same. For patching me up, that is."

Nov made to move towards the door. Until, that is, he started thinking about how undoubtedly wretched his dreams would be tonight and balked. The merc shuffled back around to face the doctor and scratched at his neck. "By the way, got anything that might help me sleep? I get these nightmares, and after tonight..."

Noven trailed off, not entirely sure was he was trying to say. Asking for help was difficult enough on its own.

[Kechaiya]

She smiled as her patient agreed to purchase the additional supplies. Pocketing the additional two golds he put on the table, she grabbed one of her empty sacks. She tossed in several clean bandages, and the rest of the jar of salve she'd used. She placed the sack on the table. "Boil bandages in salt water before use. Put then layer of salve on stitches. Change bandage once per day. If wound seeps a little yellow, it fine. If lot of yellow, bad. Come back to me, mean it infected. If infect, I fix for no mizas. When no more yellow come out, no need bandages any more. Take easy for long while, no rip wound open." She watched as the man stood up, a little weak in the knees, but otherwise, seemingly fine. "I Kechaiya. You welcome. Thank for paying. You good patient." He then asked her for something to help him sleep. She knew of several things that could help with that, but didn't have any of them with her. [b]"I can make medicine to help sleep, but no have herbs now. Can get easy outside city, but take time, streets dangerous. I gather them next couple days. Find you here for deliver?"[/b] She had finished packing her things, when she spotted one of the orphans had been peeking on them through a cracked door. She waved the child in, seeing it was a young girl. "Want help clean?" The little girl nodded, "What name? I Kechaiya." In a small voice, "Leania." "Can find us rags and hot water to clean Leania?" The little girl nodded, eyes bright and smile wide, just to be included in something that wasn't starving. She dashed off to get the supplies. "Try no fight. If tear open stitches, I fix, for mizas. Understand?" The little girl returned with a pot of water and several rags. Kechaiya smiled at her and nodded, taking them from her. She set the pot down, dunked the rags in the water, squeeze the excess out, and passed her one. The two passed many chimes on their hands and knees, washing Noven's blood out of the table, floors, walls. They couldn't do much about the stain, but at least the blood wouldn't contaminate anything else. Kechaiya and Leania talked about silly things, mostly answering the young girl's questions. When they finished, Kechaiya took her leave, ruffling the little girl's hair. Her home wasn't too far away, and she managed to get there without running into any more violence or injured folks. Sleep came quickly for her that night. OOC : I figured you can do one more post to finish and turn in for grading? Perhaps start another so I can get him those sleep aid herbs. I have... the 15th and 17th open as the nearest dates to this one if you'd like