Common | Vani | Others | Winter 37
The days were beginning to wear on the woman.
She was sore and worn and at her wits end – the repairs to the university, her duties to her goddess, and those to her own work had left her a shell of the woman she was a mere month ago.
She wet her lips and rubbed her shoulders, blinking thrice as she forced the world before her into focus. Altaira’s feet carried her without cause or aim. It was another dreadful shift in the infirmary that had just passed, more dead and more suffering that she’d had ever thought that she’d have the displeasure of seeing. She bit her lip as she attempted to wake herself.
There had been another explosion the night before.
Another barrage of dead and injured flooded the halls of the infirmary just chimes after her shift had begun, and she wagered that her heels must have blistered from the constant running and pacing and work she was pushed to complete – so many students had been broken. Little hopefuls that couldn’t stand the sight of so much death, and it was perhaps too often that one of the newer, less confident pupils requested her presence in checkups. It was strange, at first. She was asked to join the room even with the work that she’d brought, entering and exiting rooms while in the midst of grinding or mixing or working away at some salve.
Then it made sense.
Although Lady Dira herself was one who respected none, Altaira respected the act of dying immeasurably, and the rite of passage that was returning to Dira’s side. If any died on her watch, or she came across any whose breath had left them forever, she had no qualms in the closing of eyes should they have been left open, nor did she take a moment’s thought about whether or not they deserved even the shortest prayer of peace in death and loved ones who remained. Neither did she take issue in being the one to pass on news to death to the families, seeing it as an opportunity to speak slight and quiet words to the necessity of death and how the dearly departed is already on their way to a new life, to further Dira's cause through consolation. If further words and worries passed about possibilities that they were indeed not, and bound to the world in ethereal form, then Altaira herself would vow to give them peace.
A cry cut through the late evening air, and a shiver split her spine. With the heat and quick work within the infirmary, the kelvic had taken to the wearing of light clothes, which in itself worked well until the chill of the night’s air bit at her. ‘This is nothing to Avanthal. Lady Morwen could do much worse, I am sure.’ Her gaze slid towards the now much softer sobbing, a small child with others surrounding close by proving to be the source of the interruption of her musings. The child’s hair was a mess, their clothes dirty and their nose running. Had the small, poor little thing not be surrounded by so many others, the kelvic would have had half a mind to see if she could help.
She let a deep breath slip from her lungs, and focused on the road ahead as she pressed herself forward. Then she felt it. Ice slid through her veins, and she knew quite rightly that she was not alone.
She was sore and worn and at her wits end – the repairs to the university, her duties to her goddess, and those to her own work had left her a shell of the woman she was a mere month ago.
She wet her lips and rubbed her shoulders, blinking thrice as she forced the world before her into focus. Altaira’s feet carried her without cause or aim. It was another dreadful shift in the infirmary that had just passed, more dead and more suffering that she’d had ever thought that she’d have the displeasure of seeing. She bit her lip as she attempted to wake herself.
There had been another explosion the night before.
Another barrage of dead and injured flooded the halls of the infirmary just chimes after her shift had begun, and she wagered that her heels must have blistered from the constant running and pacing and work she was pushed to complete – so many students had been broken. Little hopefuls that couldn’t stand the sight of so much death, and it was perhaps too often that one of the newer, less confident pupils requested her presence in checkups. It was strange, at first. She was asked to join the room even with the work that she’d brought, entering and exiting rooms while in the midst of grinding or mixing or working away at some salve.
Then it made sense.
Although Lady Dira herself was one who respected none, Altaira respected the act of dying immeasurably, and the rite of passage that was returning to Dira’s side. If any died on her watch, or she came across any whose breath had left them forever, she had no qualms in the closing of eyes should they have been left open, nor did she take a moment’s thought about whether or not they deserved even the shortest prayer of peace in death and loved ones who remained. Neither did she take issue in being the one to pass on news to death to the families, seeing it as an opportunity to speak slight and quiet words to the necessity of death and how the dearly departed is already on their way to a new life, to further Dira's cause through consolation. If further words and worries passed about possibilities that they were indeed not, and bound to the world in ethereal form, then Altaira herself would vow to give them peace.
A cry cut through the late evening air, and a shiver split her spine. With the heat and quick work within the infirmary, the kelvic had taken to the wearing of light clothes, which in itself worked well until the chill of the night’s air bit at her. ‘This is nothing to Avanthal. Lady Morwen could do much worse, I am sure.’ Her gaze slid towards the now much softer sobbing, a small child with others surrounding close by proving to be the source of the interruption of her musings. The child’s hair was a mess, their clothes dirty and their nose running. Had the small, poor little thing not be surrounded by so many others, the kelvic would have had half a mind to see if she could help.
She let a deep breath slip from her lungs, and focused on the road ahead as she pressed herself forward. Then she felt it. Ice slid through her veins, and she knew quite rightly that she was not alone.
