Bringing Light To The Night (Min)

by **Razkar** on March 5th, 2013, 7:52 pm

83rd Day of Spring, 512AV
The Garrison
10th Bell

"I don't know why we have to do this."

"They need all the help they can get."

"They have plenty of healers."

"No, they had plenty of healers."

"I don't recall many of them being killed or injured in-"

"Goddess alive, I mean plenty of them for the patients they had! What is your problem, Raz?!"

They didn't lessen their stride as they walked, not wanting to be late even for a reluctant duty, but when Erama stopped and whirled to face Razkar, he skidded to a stop. His face was flushed and his eyes scattered around, not wanting to meet her gaze. She kept glaring down at him, letting him know she was going nowhere.

A clutch of recruits passed them, slowing slightly to gawk... until her head snapped around and trapped them in her glare.

"Petch're you looking at, snake shit?!"

"S-Sorry, mistr-"

"Get gone, now!"

Stunned by such vicious language from so fierce a warrior, the recruits practically ran from the pair. Erama turned back and found Razkar with the ghost of a smile on his face. She exhaled angrily and shook her head.

"Fucking kids... fucking males..."

Razkar smiled wanly and shrugged. "I just... I don't feel... useful, in there, alright? I mean, what do we know about the blind, Era? Did you even know anyone who was blind before the Storm?"

Erama grimaced and had to concede that she did not. Blindness, lameness, deafness, such things were caused in Myrians, by injury or accident, but they were rarely born with them or suffered from them with age. Entropy ground them down like every other race, but when they died of old age, they died able to see, hear, taste and walk to their deaths.

And then came the Storm, and the Garrison had to be re-purposed from the army of Taloba because suddenly, there were two hundred blind Myrians to care for.

"No, but orders are orders, and they need our help."

"Can we help?"

"We help those who can."

Razkar was the one who exhaled angrily now, scratching his head rapidly and wishing it did not have to be this way, but there was no arguing with Erama. Why weren't they out in the Jungle, tracking down more rogue Dhani? He knew damn well they were out there, he could feel them slithering closer to Taloba...

And if what he saw in that monstrous cave was a hint of something to come... Myri would need every available warrior out for the purge.

"I'm not a healer, Erama."

"Nor I, Razkar," she said, but her voice was softer as the two of them resumed their quick walk to the two wings that had been sequestered as an impromptu barracks/healing station for the blinded Myrians, "But you are always so keen to learn. Perhaps we will..."

Razkar did not reply as the arch came closer. Already he could hear the shuffling of slow, cautious, sightless feet. The feeble and plaintive moaning of those who still could not believe, or not adjust. Dozens. Scores. Hundreds.

He girded himself, and trusted to his friend's wisdom.

"Perhaps we will..."

by **Min** on March 6th, 2013, 9:51 pm

It was, in a word, horrific. Each morning, Min awoke with a feeling of terror numbing her entire body. For a second or two, she would lay on her sleeping mat thinking that she was in the middle of that storm, unable to move, unable to do anything of use – for herself…for anyone. Then, slowly, her mind would accept that it had only been more terrible dreams – that she was safe – that the storm had passed, many long days ago. Her eyes would blink open and she would see the familiar outlines of her little one room home, in the dim light of dawn. She would flex her fingers, and her toes, and slowly sit upright, looking around as if she would see them there – the ghosts. But those were just part of her nightmares too – the ones who had been taken, by the storm. And those who had been left as well, the two hundred...

It had been horrific, unthinkable, catastrophic and deadly and unique in its destructive power. A storm like no other seen in her lifetime, or her mother’s, or her grandmother’s. Of course their queen, their goddess, had survived worse, hundreds of years ago. But for those who walked the earth now, it was like nothing else they had ever experienced. And for some, it had been their last experience. Those on the barricade – those of pure blood. For others, it had been not their last experience, but they might have wished it to be so, for it turned out to be their last experience of light. In both groups, Min had had friends. For the former, there had been nothing that she could do to help them. They had just…disappeared. In the latter group, there still was nothing that she could do to restore that which had been lost. Their loss of vision was permanent. Each night her sleep was filled with horrible dreams of running here and there, from one place to another, searching always, though for what, it was never clear. She chased after a will’o’the wisp that she could never hope to catch, and in turn was chased by hundred of faceless, nameless ghosts. But, she knew their names.

For now she worked with them every day. Every morning she awoke from her restless dreams and rose and went to them – those who were now housed in the Garrison. Every night she fell onto her sleeping mat exhausted, but unable to sleep for long hours still, her mind reeling with all that needed to be done. All that could be done – and yet, it would never be enough…

***

Min knelt by the young woman’s side. The former warrior’s body twitched erratically, and a light froth bubbled from between her lips. Her limbs were contorted into tight, clenched angles, and occasionally her neck muscles spasmed, sending her head rocking from side to side. One slim hand reached out to stroke the tangled hair from her friend’s face, though the blind woman would in no way sense or appreciate the gesture. She was beyond appreciating anything ever again. A cup of water was lifted to her lips, but spilled from stiff lips, to trickle down her neck and onto the mat below her poor tortured body. At the sound of voices and the less common footfalls of those who walked without having to think and plan out every step, Min looked up. Just coming through the door were two warriors – she knew them by their garb, their weapons, and the way they carried themselves. Assuming them to be the lucky ones who had been assigned to help out on this day, she beckoned to them. There were other healers here, who would also be in need of their assistance in one way or another. But she hoped that one of the two would make himself or herself available to her. It would only take a minute, for there was so very little that could be done for the pathetic shell of a person that had been Min’s very dear friend.

by **Razkar** on March 6th, 2013, 10:34 pm

Razkar was no mage, could not rad minds or auras, but the sense of... misery that washed over him when he entered the long, tall hall was so choking it was like rotting flesh. All around were camp bed laden with figures, some still, some thrashing in sleep or pain. He heard weeping and moaning, pleading and even the occasional scream that made his teeth clench. Healers moved here and there, haggard and tired with deep shadows under their eyes, powered by sheer willpower.

Some of the... sightless, were walking, too. Or trying to. They shuffled slowly, arms swinging in front of them, and some had tears leaking from their eyes even as they tried to do so. One stumbled over a chair leg as Razkar passed and his arms shot out to catch the female.

"You should have let me fall."

Razkar swallowed. He had never heard... anything like that. The woman pushed herself back up and resumed her walk. Razkar left her to it.

The one person who was looking at them was a tall, chocolate-skinned female with long black hair, definitely of pureblood but with features delicate enough to remind him of his lover, Ayatah, with her Eypharian heritage. She was beautiful but there was nothing soft about her eyes, clinical and perceptive as the two warriors walked up to her.

Both of them bowed lowly in greeting and Erama, of course, spoke for them.

"Mistress healer, I am Erama and this is Razkar, of Rehkuna's Fang. We have been ordered to assist you in whatever capacity you require."

Razkar looked around slowly, taking in the beds, the people... the woman who lay in front of the healer. She was... what was she? Was she a warrior? She might have been. She was not old, but... he shook his head. Sightless white orbs stared outwards and she seemed awake, but her blindness was not only outward, it was...

Nothing powered that body now. She drooled. She moaned and her face did not flicker or twitch. If was as if her soul and spirit had already departed and her body had yet to learn of it. The male closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

Goddess... how many more are like this?

He forced his head to rise, his eyes to open, and met the healer's brown eyes with his own black orbs. Razkar did not want to be here, but he was... and these were his people.

"How can we help?"

by **Min** on March 7th, 2013, 5:50 pm

As the two newcomers approached, in response to Min’s gesture, she waited patiently, observing them neutrally and noting the interaction of the male soldier with one of the hundreds of patients now quartered in the long, stone hall. She had heard the blind woman’s mumbled imprecation, and she saw the puzzled look on the warrior’s face - and the shock - which was better hidden, but still visible, to her. Visible because she had seen it over and over – on the faces and in the eyes of those assigned to help out here, when they came for the first time. For some it was only the one time – they fled and never came back if they could avoid it. For others, the first time was just the beginning – for they would be filled with both alarm and compassion – a trait not overly abundant in the Myrian race. They were a practical people, and death and injury were facts of life. Typically they were nothing to get overly dramatic about. But this – this was not typical. This was suffering on a mass scale, brought about by some malicious intent of…who knew? There were rumors of course – many of them – and all of them frightening and malevolent. Min had heard many explanations for the storm. But all she knew was that Taloba – Falyndar – Myri and her people – had closed their borders and their hearts to strangers, even more than they had in the past. Anyone not of their race caught anywhere in the Jungle was killed on sight. Whatever was going on outside of their isolated world was largely unknown. If there was some truthful explanation about the storms origins, it wasn’t reaching them – or at least it hadn’t reached her ears. And in the end, Min thought, what did it matter – the who and the why and the how? For the answers to those questions were unlikely to alleviate any of the suffering that she dealt with day in and day out.

She remained kneeling by her friend’s bed and when the female soldier introduced herself and her male counter-part, Min directed her attention to Erama.

“I only need one of you. The task is simple. You may both stay though, of course. But there are others in need of help too.” She glanced around in a pointed way, at those who moved about from bed to bed doing what little they could to ease the affliction of their charges.”

Her dark eyes went to Razkar and she saw him looking at her friend – her piteous condition – and she noted the brief moment of dismay that washed over him. But then he too spoke and his question was direct, so she replied simply, “I only need you to lift her, so I can change the bedding under her. I can’t do both by myself.”

Her hand went to stroke the darkly tanned skin of the young woman’s grimacing face, ever so gently. “She is very light. I think it will only take one of you.”

by **Razkar** on March 7th, 2013, 10:12 pm

"I will do it."

Razkar knew he had to conquer this fear, master this... revulsion. Yes, he knew that was what it was now. His fear of admission was as least as bad as far of the facts, and he hated it as a weakness. He was repelled by this thing that used to be a female of his face, for in it he saw his own frailty.

If it could happen to her...

"Forgive me, sister," he said, his voice a barest whisper, sliding his sinewy arms under the unresisting form and lifting her upwards, "This will not take long..."

No response, of course. There was no twitch of movement in her body nor of recognition in her eyes, but Razkar held her all the same so the healer could do her duty. He looked away from those lifeless eyes... and into something for more unpleasent. Or just unhygenic.

"Erama?" He said, tapping the edge of the sloshing bedpan with his sandal. "Since we're here to help..."

The female glowered at him, but knew she was in no position to argue, or shirk her duty. She lifted it up, holding it at arms length and weaved her way through the hallway some convenient spot to dump it. Though Razkar was sure a window would suffice, knowing her as he did.

He watched the healer quickly and efficiently strip the bedding, pulling off the rough sheets and bundling up, pulling clean ones out. The musty smell of inactivity clung tight to it, or so it seemed, but she seemed to ignore it well. She pressed through and did her job.

When she was done, he placed the near-catatonic body back onto the bed. She was so... light. Surely a Myrian should weigh more than she did. But when he placed her back on the spotless sheets, it was the work of mere moments to tuck her arms and legs back into place.

Not a twitch. Not a glimmer. Not even a-

-his hand stayed where it was, for her own was wrapped around it.

Razkar blinked in surprise. The grip was... strong. Vital. Desperate, but vital. He bit back the pain as her fingers squeezed and squeezed and her thumb drew blood from his palm. Her eyes did not move, nor her body twitch. Even the rote suck and exhale of her breathing changed not a jot.

But she was alive. She was alive and knew he was there.

A long, pregnant pause... and Razkar pulled up a chair.

"I will stay." He said quietly, eyes fixed on the staring, comatose female. "She... She needs to know I am here."

The healer walked away; he knew this from her steps, and she was smart enough not to question the clear and decisive tone in his voice. Razkar stayed there for what seemed like bells, as figures glided and fretted and operated around him.

He did not evne know the female's name... but it did not matter.

A twitch. Her hand tightened again. He did not mind the pain. He welcomed it. His touch, the warmth of his skin was light in her darkness, and he would stay as long as he needed to...

by **Traverse** on April 22nd, 2013, 7:50 pm

Healing from the Hands

Razkar :

Additional Notes :

Questions? Concerns? PM me and we'll get to the bottom of it. Safe Travels!

Flashback Bringing Light To The Night (Min)