85th Summer 510AV
When Azira had heard tell of the accident, she had immediately begun to fear. It wasn't ever suggested that it was him but when she heard that an apprentice blacksmith had had an accident, the huntress had become instantly convinced that it was him. It was her Lorthen she was sure. There were probably a number of apprentice blacksmiths but he was the only one that she knew and could think of and so she feared.
It wasn't until the evening that she heard about it, having been out hunting with Si'ira for the day, but when she did she found herself running to check places he might be. She checked his rooms, the Kitchens, even the Tisuma baths but all was in vain. Panicking, she ran through the Inner Warrens, barely paying attention to the looks she got or the people she banged into. When she knocked an Avora down, she didn't even look back when he shouted at her so intent was she on getting to the Infirmary to confirm or allay her fears. If he wasn't there that was great but if he was then she hoped that it had just been something minor, a little accident blown out of proportion.
When she arrived in the Infirmary, the girl was sweating and her eyes fervent. Her appearance clearly alarmed the healer who came to her. She must have seemed feverish to the man for he began to fuss over her asking questions as she tried to barge past him to reach the partition that separated the reception area from the patients in their beds. She needed to look around it and find whether or not her gut instinct was true but the man would not let her.
"Please let me go! I need to see! I need to know! Is he here? Is it Lorthen? Was he involved in the accident? The blacksmith, is it him?" she asked in a high pitch, her voice filled with panic. The healer finally seemed to understand what was going on, what was wrong with her. He made soothing sounds in an effort to calm her down but she was far too terrified by what might be behind the partition to pay any attention to him until he spoke.
"Are you connected with him somehow? Yes, the boy is called Lorthen, we got that much out of him while he was still awake. He's sleeping now but maybe you can see him?" the man told her, his last words were part question and part suggestion. His words had shattered her though. The girl could not believe that such a thing could be true, that her fears had been justified. The young woman stopped struggling against the healer then, all the fight gone from her body now that she had to face the horrible truth.
"How bad is he?" she asked in a whisper, staring fixedly at the blanket that hid the patients away. It was as if she was trying to see through it to the other side, to search for him. She still had no idea how he had been injured and so her imagination ran wild as she came up with many horrible possibilities. Scenarios of lost or crushed limbs filled her head and she was also frightened that whatever his injury, whatever it was, would lead to him losing his position, to dropping castes. Even if he became a Dek though, she could still have him, right? There was no reason for the pair of them not being able to stay together, no matter the circumstances.
The healer paused before answering her question. "He'll never have the full use of his right arm again. Some of the muscle was damaged so we know his movement will be restricted we just aren't sure by how much. He'll probably find it difficult to lift things and most likely bending his fingers will be challenging but if he works hard then he might be able to achieve some of his former movement. He'll be left scarred as well of course but that's to be expected," he explained as she felt tears prick her eyes. He wasn't going to be able to go back to smithing, was he? It was true he was going to lose his caste, an event that would be life shattering for him but she intended to be there to help the young man. Poor Lorthen.
When Azira had heard tell of the accident, she had immediately begun to fear. It wasn't ever suggested that it was him but when she heard that an apprentice blacksmith had had an accident, the huntress had become instantly convinced that it was him. It was her Lorthen she was sure. There were probably a number of apprentice blacksmiths but he was the only one that she knew and could think of and so she feared.
It wasn't until the evening that she heard about it, having been out hunting with Si'ira for the day, but when she did she found herself running to check places he might be. She checked his rooms, the Kitchens, even the Tisuma baths but all was in vain. Panicking, she ran through the Inner Warrens, barely paying attention to the looks she got or the people she banged into. When she knocked an Avora down, she didn't even look back when he shouted at her so intent was she on getting to the Infirmary to confirm or allay her fears. If he wasn't there that was great but if he was then she hoped that it had just been something minor, a little accident blown out of proportion.
When she arrived in the Infirmary, the girl was sweating and her eyes fervent. Her appearance clearly alarmed the healer who came to her. She must have seemed feverish to the man for he began to fuss over her asking questions as she tried to barge past him to reach the partition that separated the reception area from the patients in their beds. She needed to look around it and find whether or not her gut instinct was true but the man would not let her.
"Please let me go! I need to see! I need to know! Is he here? Is it Lorthen? Was he involved in the accident? The blacksmith, is it him?" she asked in a high pitch, her voice filled with panic. The healer finally seemed to understand what was going on, what was wrong with her. He made soothing sounds in an effort to calm her down but she was far too terrified by what might be behind the partition to pay any attention to him until he spoke.
"Are you connected with him somehow? Yes, the boy is called Lorthen, we got that much out of him while he was still awake. He's sleeping now but maybe you can see him?" the man told her, his last words were part question and part suggestion. His words had shattered her though. The girl could not believe that such a thing could be true, that her fears had been justified. The young woman stopped struggling against the healer then, all the fight gone from her body now that she had to face the horrible truth.
"How bad is he?" she asked in a whisper, staring fixedly at the blanket that hid the patients away. It was as if she was trying to see through it to the other side, to search for him. She still had no idea how he had been injured and so her imagination ran wild as she came up with many horrible possibilities. Scenarios of lost or crushed limbs filled her head and she was also frightened that whatever his injury, whatever it was, would lead to him losing his position, to dropping castes. Even if he became a Dek though, she could still have him, right? There was no reason for the pair of them not being able to stay together, no matter the circumstances.
The healer paused before answering her question. "He'll never have the full use of his right arm again. Some of the muscle was damaged so we know his movement will be restricted we just aren't sure by how much. He'll probably find it difficult to lift things and most likely bending his fingers will be challenging but if he works hard then he might be able to achieve some of his former movement. He'll be left scarred as well of course but that's to be expected," he explained as she felt tears prick her eyes. He wasn't going to be able to go back to smithing, was he? It was true he was going to lose his caste, an event that would be life shattering for him but she intended to be there to help the young man. Poor Lorthen.
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