Not all those who wander can be found (Gideon)

[Shiva]

Shiva was already past patience with Gideon, he did not have time to make his way to the next nearest healer before he collapsed unconscious due to the nature of his wounds. She watched him try to meander his way apart from her, then raised her glittering hand and screamed SOMEONE Her little form contained the ability for great volume, and most of the clatter on the streets turned it's attention toward her as she pointed a finger towards Gideon, her words still loud as she continued This man is in dire need of a healer, and in his delerium, does not believe I will take him to the nearest one, only a block from here on the right, will someone kindly escort the injured man? There was silence, people looking concerned at the amount of blood being shed on cobblestones. Then two Akalaks, who were dressed in uniform walked over to either side of Gideon, lending an arm for his support. They looked to the young Konti, the right most figure recognizing her for what she was and giving an inviting smile. Shiva returned the gesture as the left guard spoke up Just lead the way ma'am, we'll make sure he gets there at a brisk pace. And with a little help from the two well muscled soldiers, that is indeed where they made their way

[Gideon Linvaille]

Gods, Gideon spat, the hands of two powerful Akalak on his arms, detaining him with grips he could not break, especially in his current state, why do you bother me so?

The two Akalaks looked at the man, deciding not to get angry with him because of the alleged delirium, instead exchanging glances and shaking their heads. Gideon scowled, knowing the woman was coming along with them to escort him. He glared at her angrily, though his entire body was weakening by the moment. Blood leaked out of him onto the ground, and he winced.

Don't you get it, he coughed, spitting out the crimson liquid that was welling up in his mouth as his wound worsened, it doesn't matter what happens to me. And I most certainly want nothing to do with you. I don't care if they leave me here to die, I just want to be rid of you, cheater of fate!

His vision blurring, he began to mutter. All you do is give people false hope with your sight of the future. You can't change it. You never even ask permission. I loathe your kind. There is no honor in this...

Gideon's eyes closed as he passed out in the grip of the two guards, who's eyes widened as they grabbed him tighter and quickened their pace.

"He needs attention now," they shouted, "Clear a path!"

[Shiva]

The Konti's expression flipped from determined anger to fear for the mans life as he collapsed in the Akalaks' arms. She made to go near him, but realized that this would help little, and turned with her back to the unconscious man striding down the street as people moved towards the walls. With the help of the two brawny soldiers, they were able to move faster, though now Gideon was like a dead weight in their arms, but every step seemed as if it was take much too long, time Linvaille didn't have. One small hand was balled into a worried fist by the time the party of four reached the small swinging sign hanging above the doorway to a healer's bay, though Shiva had run ahead to tell the healer of the man heading their way, so that as soon as the Akalaks crossed the door frame, able bodied hands were removing him from their grasp. Healers and hands lay him on a stretcher and applied bandages to his wound while others grabbed forms of antiseptic and cloth bandages. Shiva watched the proceedings, one hand placed under her cloak on the wound on her shoulder, a bit of relief sinking in that the man would be taken care of. It was at that moment she felt a surge of dizziness, but she had heard the man's words. I just want to be rid of you, cheater of fate! I loathe your kind. The Konti stumbled out of the doorway, and the nurse who was just about to ask her if she had any injuries as well, found there was no one to ask.

[Gideon Linvaille]

Gideon writhed in his pain-induced slumber. There were warmth and cold waging eternal war within his chest, and he was finding trouble even in his dreams. Hellish burning licked all around within his mind, searing upward from his gut; his blood began to run cold in his veins as his body worked overtime to regulate it's internal temperature.

The healers quickly worked to stabilize him, carefully removing his cloak and armor in order to get to the wound do disinfect and clean it. As they took off the plates and leather, they were horrified at the extent of his injuries, long healed as they were. Lacerations, bruises, tweaked blood vessels and even poorly sewn up wounds that had closed and marred his otherwise fair skin were visible, and many of the hardened clerics blanched at the sight.

Discipline came at a heavy cost, and any warrior knew it. Gideon more than anyone, for he had beaten himself up both physically and mentally since the day his parents were taken from him. He wheezed in his sleep, fitful though it was, and his face contorted in agony as they attempted to both reopen old wounds to clean them up and resew them, and control the bleeding all at once.

The lead healer looked over him sagely, directing the precession and having what little pain killing methods they had administered every now and again, though she could see it was having little effect. Gideon was groaning loudly through the entire ordeal.

His dreams were haunted, more so than his waking thoughts could have ever been. Sweat beaded on the knightly Gideon's brow, his breathing growing ragged and quick, though his body was slowly becoming stable as the bleeding was being stopped and his temperature was lowering to normal levels.

Mother! Father! No! Gideon howled out in his sleep, and whatever he was dreaming was beginning to overcome his entire being. The healers held him down to keep him from hurting himself further, desperately trying to awaken him.

[Shiva]

Dr. Harrison was checking on his overnight patients, the nurses tending them, and just going about his rounds. He was a respected man for his healing knowledge, but liked the title Doctor as opposed to healer. Healers made it seem as if there was some magic about what he did, and all he did was science. He was a firm believer in knowledge over magicks, and none of his understudies and employees were ever allowed to forget it. Tonight was a good night, and was even proving to let him leave early, and the doctor was quite pleased, even pulling out a pipe as he stepped outside to light it. Of course, that was when he saw her. Oh he didn't know she was a she at first, by the gods, dressed in that cloak. He suspected it was a local drunk had one too many tankards of ale, but the form twitch and let out a low, and quite feminine moan, and the doctor emptied his pipe and hurried over. The first sensation he felt was the dampness of the velvet cloak, and bringing his callused palm to his nose, he identified the wet as blood. He called out then, pulling back the girl's hood and recognizing her Konti blood from the glittering scales on the back of her neck. He found the wound and with the help of his aids, carried her into the building, thoughts of an early night long forgotten.

[Gideon Linvaille]

Gideon's attempts at rest were foul in such days. The concept of a comfortable sleep had long since been stolen from him and his dreams had been plagued with death from the time he was very young. Vigilance was Gideon's anthem, and he marched in time with it for fear that sleep might overcome him.

In this place, this den of healing, his greatest fears had been confirmed. "Woe betide a sleeping Gideon," he had once said, "for he shall never know true sleep, and the day he does will be the day the gods claim him."

It was no less true now than it had been then. Gideon's 'sleep,' or masochistic mockery thereof, was little more than a coma ridden with agony. He was swathed in a cocoon of healers working overtime to stabilize him and still he called out with no abandon.

Mother! No, please, no! Don't take her from me! He gasped outright, powerless to act in dreams or waking. When his hand outstretched, it took three of the Akalak men on duty to force it back down to his side. When he kicked out, one woman had to step back for fear of losing her jaw to his iron boot. There seemed to be no placating the tragically wounded Gideon.

And father... oh, dear father... not you too? Don't leave me... Gideon sobbed in his sleep, anguish leaking out into the material world from his dreams. Father, I am alone... your blood paints my hands freshly, and I find no solace in my solidarity...

He tried to turn, but he found himself restrained. He tried to fight, but he felt as if drowning. He screamed as one who were dying, sweat dripping down his face, and in that moment...

Gideon awoke.

Where... where is this place...? What is this pain...? He gasped, then winced, unable to think at all. Where ever Gideon was, it was akin to hell, for his body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

[Shiva]

A slender hand grabs her wrist, it was such a frail spidery looking hand, yet it held such strength beneath it's grasp Come here dear...it will only take a moment, see how she rests so peacefully? Shiva's eyelids fluttered rapidly as she lay on the bed, clean bandages wrapped around her injured shoulder, though they were already soaked with blood, and the Dr., who had gone home for the night, had realized the woman was anemic, something that would later spur him to research if this was a genetic Konti trait, or simply a isolated situation. You do not receive our gifts sister, without penalty. There are many who see us as having an easy life, being able to know the future before it comes, but the gods do not dole out marks such as ours without price. Your sleep is troubled, no? He drags her into the sleeping quarters. In one hand is her wrist, in the other...an ivory needle. She knew what the needle was for, had seen it used once before, and she had hoped never to see it again. She is a troublesome little insect, your mother. Wouldn't you agree? She tried to scream through the gag, but it came out a muffled choked sound, and the needle holding hand, backhanded her, sending the young Konti sprawling You don't? Well, I suppose you wouldn't... Then she saw his face. Blood spurting out of his mouth, eyes enraged. I loathe your kind. Violet eyes flew open and the Konti gasped for air, then lay back. Her movement woke a resting nurse in the corner, but Shiva did not notice as she came over to tend her. She had done that to him, the injury, the blood. Might as well have stabbed him herself. As her pale lids closed she knew she had done the right thing, but something churned in her gut as she lay awake on the pallet.

[Gideon Linvaille]

It felt like hours passing in the span of a single minute. Gideon's eyes were open wide and moving freely though his body was prostrate and tied down. The healers pumped him full of the best temporary paralytics they had access to in order to keep him from budging, and they had him under close watch.

The night was a painful one for the now unarmored Gideon as he listened to the sound of his retractable sheild being wound back into place in his gauntlet, though that metal was no longer covering his wrist where it sat on a table opposite him. Gideon strained to see the person who was touching his armor, the person who was cleaning it and mending it for him, but all he could make out was the sound of chattering voices just beyond a haze. The metal scraping just barely outclassed that, and it was a chaotic orchestra of both pain and confusion.

Life for Gideon, right now, was an inferno. Nothing short of a hell on earth, and yet, the Purist fought against his body. All Gideon had were the depths of his mind, and in that solace he found his center.

Though the pain poured like a river through his being, Gideon directed his focus elsewhere: it was supremely difficult to press his mind away, and there was by no means any lasting comfort, but his meditation gave him the ability to be stoic. There was no screaming from him, at least on the outside, for his temperance gave him that luxury, but his brow was still heavy laden with sweat and his throat drier than the desert.

He saw those days like a man staring into a mirror that refelected not his face, but his life. Looking backward through time was horrific, and yet it was necessary. It was almost a certainty, to live a painful life in a world fighting desperately to piece itself together, but Gideon felt vindictive whenever the subject was broached. Fate had been a torturer to him, and someone who could look at that, laugh at it but ultimately do nothing was, in Gideon's mind, nothing short of a fool.

But how much of a fool could she possibly be? She could have seen the attack coming, could have taken measures to protect herself... possibly even tried to avoid it... did not that make her the same as Gideon?

I... sorry... damn...

Gideon could not bring the words to fruition outside his mind. His body stung with the heat of medicine at work and in his lapse of concentration he gasped, convulsing slightly, which caused the guards to jump into action holding him down.