[Citywide Storyline] Your Gods Can't Help You Now [Closed]

[Tabarnac]

42nd Summer, 511 A.V. There were certain people who had settled in Denval for whom the whole population was grateful, the mysterious Cian Noc being one of them. The healer was often paid in kind, apparently content not to acquire the wealth his skill and gnosis might avail him, but to live rather simply with those deceptively simple folk. Farmer Theo was no strange sight to behold within the settlement proper, often selling the fruit of his land in the Raster Market, nor was he a stranger to several people within the community who had their weekly boxes delivered in person. He knew about the care and feeding of plants and animals, but even he had learned a thing or two from the Opal Order's local man. With respect came produce. Knocking on the door of the Clinic to warn Noc of his presence, he nudged the door open with his hip, then walked in, reslinging the box over said hip and calling out. "Noc? Food's here!" He was dirty and sweaty from work and hadn't cleaned himself off, because there was no point. He would dally for a moment to share news and seek treatment, and then he would return. His gift and that of Bala made him indispensable to the people of Denval, whose diet could not come entirely from the sea. But dirty and sweaty, at least he had kicked the dirt off his boots before he came in. Finding the kitchen, he set down the box and began laying out what he had brought, figuring it was best to let the man arrange his own larder, or have one of his pretty assistants. Generally the prettier of his assistants had the least skill at healing and needed tasks to keep them busy when Noc wasn't getting busy with them. A jar of honey. Various greens. Tomatoes, potatoes, herbs. Succulents. Fruit. A bit of goat cheese. A mason jar of degtine. The people of Denval were split down the middle on the topic of preference, some extolling the virtues of Oleg's degtine down at the Stranger's Welcome versus that of Theo's from his farm. He had the luxury of fresh additives; honey, herbs, fruit blossoms from his orchards. He winced and rubbed his bandaged hand.

[Caelum]

"You need a bath," the Opal Order Healer announced from where he appeared in the doorway leading to the hall. Chestnut hair was still wet, drying in impossible disarray as he rocked forward on bare feet. Theo was shot a lynx smile, sharp and beguiling, and he crossed the interior threshold to take a gander at his goodies. "What's wrong with your hand?" He asked though he had not even glanced at the farmer's sore rubbing. The interminable tide of Rak'keli's blessing crashed against the shores of his senses even when sleeping, most especially drawn by the magnetic moons of close quarters and relations. "Oh, degtine. You do love me," Cian chuckled while lifting the bottle. It sharpened the line of his smile until it stole across his eyes. "Your charity is remarkable. The gods will sing your praises unto eternity. Well, at least I will." Sunlight gleamed off the copper bottomed pots hanging from wracks fashioned for him by a local carpenter. It made merry of the cheerful, worn kitchen with its potted herbs lining the window sills and the bright sea green color washed in paint along all of the walls. Cian had surrounded himself with happy color, mismatched patterns and pleasant messes. It turned what could have been sterile into shoe-taking-off welcome. The depth of sorrow hidden in the fertile earth of Theo's eyes always called to Cian, so it left the healer bumping a companionable shoulder against his and gesturing with the bottle of degtine. "Let me see to that hand of yours, eh? Then you can tell me what I'm to do with these bloody seedlings that won't sprout for me, eh?"

[Tabarnac]

"I'll just get dirty again," he said with a creaky smile. "Or was that an offer, you old flirt?" He laughed and shook his head, wondering if perhaps he shouldn't go get a bath and a little something from the Temple. They were a source of comfort, but ultimately his soul-deep wounds had not healed yet. Perhaps because he usually only thought about their comforts rather than taking them. "Bees got angry," he said, rubbing the bandage again. "Queerest thing. They know me so well now that I don't even need to wear netting unless I'm going to do something that'll really upset them. Well, no accounting for bees..." He smiled again for Noc's wit. The man had a bedside manner, it couldn't be denied, even when one had no intention of being his patient. He unwrapped the bandage for the healer and frowned a the swelling that should not have been there. He was not allergic, and they hadn't stung him all that bad. In fact, it had only been a couple of bees that had followed him into the greenhouse that had gone all rabid on him for no apparent reason. "Huh." He held it out to the man who had gone native. "Doesn't even look like a sting anymore."

[Caelum]

"You could be so lucky," Cian cast his eyes ceiling-ward as if in search of divine intervention. It was a dramatic gesture that ended when he sagged a lean hip against the curve of the counter, setting the bottle of degtine down. It was to free up his hands so that he might rifle through his farm booty, immeasurably pleased by the variety and quality of offerings. "Can you do peaches?" He was curious to know. "There's this doe-eyed little girl, no higher than my knee, who won't let me bandage her knees unless she's got an orange. Me? I want to introduce her to peaches. Doubt she's ever had one... The crap, mate?" That was as he blinked at Theo's hand, attention instantly diverted from his ramblings on about little girls with pretty mothers or papas. "Are you allergic?" The healer reached out, sliding a hand palm up beneath Theo's to lift it towards the bar of daylight thrusting through the windows from the back gardens. "How many bees stung you anyway?" A beat and narrowing eyes transferred their regard to the farmer's face. "Flushed or cold? Dizzy at all? Throat dry?"

[Tabarnac]

"Not allergic, no. Two bees I saw, so two stings unless one managed to rip its stinger out of me before stinging again. Wasn't even near the hives. Was just working in the greenhouse. And ah, I'm a bit warm and could stand a drink of water, but it's summer time and I've been working so that's not unusual..." When Noc began to examine him, he let go and let the expert handle things, letting himself be somewhat manhandled for light and whatnot. "Peaches are difficult this far north, but I have a few trees I've managed to acclimate better to our climate up here. They can handle the winter, but spring frosts can ruin them for a whole year, and we need a hot enough summer to mature the fruit, but I can always... cheat. Take a clipping into the greenhouse, feed it, and ask Bala for a little help..."

[Caelum]

Cian’s smile was quiet, special for the mention of Bala and softening the hard set of his expression that came from inspecting the swelling of Theo’s flesh too closely. The tips of his fingers smoothed across the farmer’s work calloused palms, splaying strong fingers in the light. “Not a bad idea, but I wouldn’t call it cheating so much as,” he gave a thoughtful pause. “Divine inspiration.” That smile of his flipped into a grin as he slid his right hand over Theo’s, thereby sandwiching his friend’s hand. Rak’keli’s first kiss spread in opalescent light through his veins, shining up through his flesh to haze their hands in a soft golden glow that smeared away and faded as rapidly as did the burn and swelling of Theo’s bee sting. “Good as new,” Cian announced, releasing Theo to turn towards the counter and locate a cup. He planned on retrieving that suggested glass of water. “I don’t think you’re allergic. Just got irritated. In the future, however, try to be careful and if you ever get dizzy, wheezing or a rash from a sting, send for me immediately, yeah?” Spots flickered before his eyes of a sudden. He blinked them back, shaking his head lightly while bringing a clay mug down from a cabinent.

[Tabarnac]

"Yeah," he agreed with a weathered smile, rubbing the offending hand on his clothes to get a bit more of the dirt off, and because that healing business itched a little and made him... "Mind if I sit down?" he asked. "I think your goddess wooj turned some things around inside and I just need to... sit for a moment." Not waiting for permission, he hooked a stool out with his foot and sat down on it, careful not to fall over with his balance rolling. He blinked several times, trying to keep his vision from swimming so. He didn't think anything was the matter, but he surely didn't want to vomit on Noc's kitchen floor. That would be common. "Divine inspiration," he said, chuckling. "I inspire the shit out of things or else they wouldn't grow out here." He was, of course, being somewhat modest. His work in the greenhouse, with hydroponics, and the bees, those all required skill and wisdom, and he was not a novice farmer by any stretch of the imagination. Bala didn't mark him for nothing.

[Caelum]

"Yeah, sure," Cian said absently when Denval's favorite farmer asked to sit down. Bare feet shuffled a stretch down the counter, leaving him reaching for a cloth covered bucket that had been filled from the garden well not an hour ago. It was meant to be used for dish washing, but in typical Cian fashion he had procrastinated that unwanted chore, thereby leaving the water safe for drinking. "Inspire poop," he went on, chiding jokingly. His free hand lifted to rub absently at an ache in his throat, rapidly risen like an emotional lump. "Language, language. There's.. What do mean," and he was turning, mug full of well water in hand to blink with confusion at Theo. "Rak'keli's blessing doesn't do that." He cleared his throat, hacking breath around the lump in his throat. Without warning, soot-ringed eyes began to water and heat flashed over him like a sun socked haze. He heard the clatter from a distance, not yet realizing the sound was the mug he had been holding clunking to the clean swept floor and spilling water out in a spray pattern. The very hand kissed by the goddess of healing groped behind him for the counter top as he sagged. Thoughts flickered and flew through the queer fog surprise had settled over his mind. "Theo," he wheezed. "Petch. Theo," and he choked on the word, all the air in his lungs rasping up through his chest, shoving itself out with a hacking sound. "Still room. B-blue bottle," and the words thinned into an oxygen starved whisper. Gingerly, he tried to lower himself down to the floor, fear of falling and cracking open his skull suddenly all too real. His empty hand jolted up with three fingers raised. "..shelf. Blue.. Fast."

[Tabarnac]

Theo had reflexes as fast as any guardsman in Denval, and he was murder with a bow. Whatever was going on with his body just then, he was quick to lurch over and catch Cian, helping him lower himself to the floor. Nodding, he ran, his hands reaching out to touch counters and walls along the way just in case his balance went. The healed hand began to feel funny, as if with pressure from inside, but he paid that no mind now. The healer needed healing, or he'd not be healing again. Crashing into a stool in the stillroom sent it sliding into the wall where it shattered into firewood, but he immediately went through the well organized shelves and found the blue bottle, trying not to drop it with his suddenly swollen hand. Cradling it in his good hand, he hurried back, unstoppering it with his teeth to crash down to his knees beside Noc who was starting to turn a bit blue himself. He lifted the Opal healer's head and poured the potion down, then laid him out on the kitchen floor, watching his throat for the telltale movement that he had swallowed, whereupon he pinched Noc's nose and locked lips to share breath, fearful that their blessing of a healer would die while he was the only one present. "Breathe, you nancy bastard!" he muttered between series of shared breaths.

[Caelum]

The universe had upended for Cian Noc, spilling all of the guiding lights of his life out onto the kitchen floor to pop and fizzle, blowing out like stars as one by one every glance given him by a goddess or a god failed him. It ought to have been so small a thing, channeling Rak'keli's kindness toward the healing of a bee sting. When held up alongside the great disasters, the gore slathered catastrophes he had fought and triumphed throughout his life, it was nearly nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all until what he had leeched from Theo turned itself upon him, sliding up through his veins vicious and fleet to sink fangs of extreme anaphylaxis deep into the tissues of his throat, into his bloodstream that had never known it until now. Ultimately, the shock of Rak'keli's divine blessing corrupted into an offensive mechanism was of far greater concern to the priest than the threat of his imminent death. He choked on the bitter concoction, fiery on his tongue, and in sucking in his first, rasping breath stole all of the air out of Theo. A bare heel dug into the floorboards and his hands clutched at the fabric of his friend's shirt; but he managed to turn his head to spit out a nasty mixture of bile, blood and medicine. It was doubtless not the way he intended a first kiss with anyone to go. "Nancy.. Mmphle," his chest jerked, but at least he was talking. If he could talk, he could breathe.