Summer 10, 513 AV
Grimacing, Novus pulled his arm protectively to his stomach. Careless of it, forgetting about the laceration that he’d inflicted upon himself several days before, he was immediately put in mind of the shallow cut when a passing city-dweller jostled into him in the busy thoroughfare. The sharp pain brought his brows together in a deep frown. It was one of those injuries that had come about in quite a stupid way and he chastised himself anew for it, as he came to a halt in the midst of all the humanity flowing past him – something like a craggy rock poking out of the current of a sluggish stream. Garnering a few black looks and a mutter here and there, he pulled up his sleeve and gingerly drew back the hasty, homemade bandaging that he’d used to secure a protective pad of cloth to the jagged tear. With the semblance of a lightning bolt, it raced down the underside of his forearm, to a length of several inches. Novus had tried to keep an eye on it, as the sailor who had helped patch him up had warned him about some old sea tale about how he’d come by the wound and that it might indeed play up on him. That morning – his first in the city that would be his new home for an indefinite time – he’d plucked back the cloth and had a little look. It hadn’t been pretty, but he hadn’t thought it appeared so exceptionally gruesome. Now, in the hours of late afternoon, under a clear, hot sky, even the tiny peep he took of the damned thing made him gasp, just a bit.
From a frown of irritation, his brows shot up to an expression of alarm. Hastily he pulled his sleeve back down and looked about, as if what he sought might be right there on the corner nearest to him. This city was a veritable warren of small streets and a thousand tunnel-like passageways, and though he’d already heard tell of a place that might fit his needs – for another reason unrelated to his immediate need – he really didn’t have a clue where it was. A sense of urgency now filling his mind, the image of the ugly festering wound fixed firmly before his dismayed eyes, he turned to the next person who came abreast of him and asked anxiously – his mastery of the Common tongue far from perfect and his sibilant accent noticeable - “Pardon me. Where might I find the Soothing Waters.”
He was fortunate to have caught a patient soul, who was willing to pause long enough to impart directions to the bath that was also a spa and massage parlor, but, most importantly, was where residents of the city could find a healer. He thanked the kindly matron and hurried away, but within five chimes was lost. Cursing quietly, he stopped another denizen of the stone city, and this time got a sour look before curt words informed him he was going entirely the wrong way. With growing frustration, Novus tried to carry out the second set of less explicit directions, and took only one wrong turning, before somehow, miraculously, he was stood before the entrance to the establishment he sought.
Hurrying inside, he waited impatiently for a comely young woman to finish up a conversation with a patron who was leaving. Finally the pair parted and Novus approached the reception desk to explain that he was in need of seeing the first available healer. The girl looked sufficiently sympathetic, which mollified the newcomer, and he agreed to have a seat as she checked to see if the one on duty was free. Novus took a seat in the entrance area, as directed, but only waited five chimes or so, before the young woman returned with instructions to follow her back into the examination area. Novus did do, most willingly, and she took him to a room where she bade him to sit again, to await the arrival of the healer – giving a name that sounded outlandish to the mixed breed’s ears, but, then again, most non-Symenetra names sounded odd to him, still.
Thinking to be proactive, and worried more than a little, Novus rolled his shirt sleeve up. But he was reluctant to remove the bandage, knowing what he’d see underneath. With that small feat accomplished, he sat back in the chair, and waited…
OOCthe wound is a shallow laceration, about 3 inches long, with jagged edges and looking very red and angry/infected, but no signs of blood poisoning - yet |
|
