Gilia Medical Center, 1'st of Spring 339
The twentieth bell died down with a last decisive ring. Nythis rose from his cot, stuffed two extra cushions under his blankets in what he hoped looked like someone sleeping, closed his remaining eye and stood still in the small white room and listened. He could hear the faint cries of a newborn from above and the even fainter clatter of what may have been a food trolley. After a few moments he slid open the door as quietly as he could and peeked around the frame. Nothing. No unwelcome tapping of shoes on the marble floors. Just as he had hoped. The unburnt side of his mouth curled into a smile.
Both Nythis and Sithyn Drawne were unbearably bored. Having a second person in his head was still very much new to Nythis and he still couldn't decide if he liked his new companion. He talked too much and kept on telling Nythis what he should do. Still, Nythis was glad he had someone to talk to in his mind during the long days when he was stuck in bed, hurting too much to do anything but stare at the ceiling. For the first few weeks after it happened he hadn't even been able to speak. He had been worried that his voice had gone away forever, but the nurses had told him that it was the hot smoke that had hurt his throat and his voice would return eventually. And it did. He hadn't believed them until then. There was a look on their faces as they talked to him that he couldn't place, but with a child's intuition he knew that something was wrong. Sithyn seemed sure it was his burns that caused the strange expressions. They had told him that he would have scars, but he didn't mind. His friends and he used to show each other their scars, telling each other stories about how they had gotten them and when a grown Akalak with a particularly impressive scar would walk by they would look on in awe. Sithyn told him that their scars were different. They would not be the type of scars he would ever want to tell the story of. The kind of scars that made you ugly, not proud.
Nythis was too afraid to consider the possibility that Sithyn might be right.
He was definitely right about getting out, however. There was very little to do in the small white room except listen and even listening was harder since... since Sithyn woke up. He had been doing a lot of that over the last three months. It felt like he had caught a hundred different little bits of people's lives scattered through the air like autumn leaves.
He listened and learned that the healer who helped him had a little boy around his age as she spoke about how well he had been doing at the Valkalah Academy.
He listened and heard that that one of the mothers had not wanted her boy to be taken away... And then he had understood why there had been so much screaming that night. He knew why the lady who had been moved down to the first floor across from his room and cried in the night while he could not sleep from the incessant itching. He knew why they carried her out beneath a blanket as white as the spotless walls a few days later.
He listened and found that the healers were concerned about the reception desk being unattended for a few minutes due to the change in shifts and the two handsome, well handsome to the healer that that had mentioned them at least, who guarded the entrance. That bit of information had given Sithyn an idea, which Nythis had agreed to instantaneously. After some consideration they had decided to ask one of the healers taking care of them why they had a different healer during the day and night. They knew the answer, but the healer responded to the rasped question with the information that the needed. She worked until the twentieth bell, when the healers who worked the night shift arrived for work.
Nythis scratched at the strange, tight clothes they made him wear. He had pulled a simple shirt and a pair of pants over them and combed his hair over the burnt side of his head before leaving. The floor was cold beneath his feet as he walked down the hall. He almost stopped in his tracks when a door in front of him. ''Wait. Try to pretend that you are where you should be. Like... Like you're on your way to to do something important.'
There wasn't time to debate the point. Nythis started walking again just as an Akalak with a bad limp entered the hallway. Nythis sped up his pace from his silent, cautious walk. He looked straight ahead like his goal was in sight, only giving the other Akalak a nod that he hoped came off as dignified. The frown he received made his heart beat faster, but he continued on, determined to get outside.
It was only when he entered the lobby when he realised that his plan had failed. Two guards were standing close to the reception desk, their voices echoing in the empty room as they talked.
The receptionist may have been late, but the guards weren't. He took a step back, hoping that the shadow of the doorway would hide him. Hopefully the two Akalak hadn't decides to use their infravision.
Nythis lingered, knowing that he should turn back. Disappointment tightened his throat. He should have asked more questions. Been more specific. All because he was to stupidly shy to speak because of his stupid voice.
The receptionist entered in a flurry. The Akalak greeted her and made a joke about the dishevelled state of her clothing that Nythis couldn't quite understand. Their conversation was interrupted however when a man entered. He was speaking loudly, demanding to see somebody. The guards asked him to calm down and hand over his weapon. He refused.
Nythis hesitated, knowing that this was his only chance to get out, slim as the possibility of success was. Taking a deep breath he entered the lobby as the guards attempted to calm the man down, walking slowly to avoid drawing their attention, his steps growing unintentionally faster as the door got closer. He payed close attention to the heated conversation going on behind him, half expecting someone to stop him.The man had left it open in his emotional state and Nythis slipped through quietly, the cool evening air refreshing on his face.
Unbeknownst to him, there had been eyes following him as he crossed the lobby and even as he laughed at the heady sense of freedom as he ran down the quiet street, the conflict inside the medical center was dying down already.