There have been several disturbances at The Healing Hand. On the ninth, a man approached on foot then collapsed into the water. When the Ebonstryfe fished him out to question his behavior, they found him without a tongue. The wound was recent but had been cauterized and he had been whipped. On the eighteenth, two women were found in the bottom of a ravosala waiting for the gates to be opened. They, too, were relieved of their speaking muscle and had their wounds sealed by some kind of extreme heat. They were hysterical but weighted down so they could not sit up. Fingers had been broken to prevent them from writing anything if they ever managed to calm down. On the twenty-seventh, a family of three was rushed in with the exact same issues. The little boy was bone white from fear and not moving. The ravosalaman who ferried them had no answers for the questions of the Black Sun agents who arrived almost instantly to ascertain the scene. The poler was taken away for further interrogations elsewhere. Sensing a pattern, people were gathered nearby the Healing Hand on the thirty-sixth when the sun started to rise.
There was much ado about nothing. People from all walks of life in Ravok had turned out in expectation of the gruesome sight that was due to arrive. Every ninth day from the beginning of winter had brought a gory mess of bodies to the shadow of the city’s main clinic for healing and treatment. The day’s first light was cascading in oranges, pinks and every shade of yellow in between as it filtered through the buildings and reflected up from the dark waters of the canals. Average citizens, slaves, business owners and members of the Ravokian families were all in attendance. Some were in Ravosalas, others watched from open windows of nearby buildings and the rest lingered on the small bites of walkway real estate in this part of the docks. So far… it was just another beautiful day in the amazing floating city.
Winter 36, 517 AV
8th Bell
Outside the Healing Hand
8th Bell
Outside the Healing Hand
There was much ado about nothing. People from all walks of life in Ravok had turned out in expectation of the gruesome sight that was due to arrive. Every ninth day from the beginning of winter had brought a gory mess of bodies to the shadow of the city’s main clinic for healing and treatment. The day’s first light was cascading in oranges, pinks and every shade of yellow in between as it filtered through the buildings and reflected up from the dark waters of the canals. Average citizens, slaves, business owners and members of the Ravokian families were all in attendance. Some were in Ravosalas, others watched from open windows of nearby buildings and the rest lingered on the small bites of walkway real estate in this part of the docks. So far… it was just another beautiful day in the amazing floating city.
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