| Present day Ortal's home, The Spires The writer scribbles on the parchment but doesn't seem happy. His hands move frantically, as if he's racing against something, writing it down before it gets out of reach. The last words appear on the page as he writes them down. The words stop mid sentence, describing a half finished scene. He would have hit the table, but it had cost him quite a few Mizas and it would only hurt his hand. The only tool he still had left. |
| Fall, 42nd, Year 457 Crone's tent, Undrykas' Pavilion (unknown), Endrykas He was looking at the leaf in his hand. Not his real hand, his spirit hand. It floated in front of his eyes as he turned it around, rolling it between two fingers, causing it to twist in the air in front of him. He had quickly disconnected his hand. The Undrykas always took every chance he could to practice. Lifting the leaf up with his spirit was easy enough. He studied the small leaf in front of him as he turned it around slowly. The leaf started from his fingers and spread out in multiple times from the middle, ending up almost like a miniature tree. "You put squeeze out the oil from them and apply it to cramped muscles. It will help them to relax and eases the pain caused. I'll show you how." The Crone held out a bowl to him. He knew she was holding it out to him, although to his eyes it just floated in front of him. He used his physical hand to hold it and place it in front of him, as his spirit hand wouldn't have been able to hold it. There were lots and lots of little leaves of the plant in the bowl. The Undrykas plucked off the leaves from the example he had been holding and put them in the bowl with the rest. It was a little strange still, to be plucking of small pieces of a plant that was being held by a spirit hand. He put the rest of the plant aside, to be forgotten. The Crone reached for a large piece of wood, seemingly like a miniature club. She held it with her physical hand as she pulled the bowl towards her, floating it through the air. "Mortar and Pestle. Used for grinding things or for getting liquids from them, as we're doing here." The Crone spoke with her cracked and hoarse voice. Often the Undrykas had to focus on it, in order to understand what she was talking about. She didn't talk in Pavi with him, but had always been speaking in common as soon as he had started learning. He watched as the Crone worked on the leaves. She pressured them with the club like object, pushing down on them without stomping on them. The round end of the club rolled over the leaves, flattening them and squeezing the oil out of them. Her wrist moved but the rest of her arm remained still. He watched as she worked for a moment. Then she pushed the bowl towards him and handed him the club. "Mortar and pestle..." The Undrykas muttered as he accepted both. He followed the example as he pushed the club down on the leaves, flattening them underneath it and started to roll it around, creating circular motions with the club, constantly pushing down on it, creating pressure. The smell that rose up from the oil and leaves was overwhelming but not unwanted. He could already see the results the Crone had made. The leaves of the plant, Rosemary it was called, were completely wet and there was a bottom of oil in the bowl. The Undrykas replaced the club, making sure each and every little bit of rosemary looked completely flattened. Don't waste a single leaf. He continued to crush the leaves beneath the club as the Crone watched him. "That should do it, more or less." She took both items from him and placed them to the side for now. She reached for something different. A smaller bowl and a piece of cloth. On closer inspection, the cloth wasn't quite cloth but more of a veil or gaze. She stretched it over the bowl, showed him how to do it. She always did. The Undrykas watched and absorbed. Every moment he spent in this tent learning something new was a moment he wasn't being hated on by others. And a moment well spent towards a better future. He accepted the items from her and spread the gaze over the smaller bowl. Holding it down with one hand so it remained tense over the bowl he grabbed the other bowl and slowly poured the contents onto it. The oileasily moved through the gaze but all of the leaves remained on top. All but one. It slipped between a larger gap in the gaze and into the oil. The Undrykas watched as the leaves dripped oil into the bowl until he was satisfied and lifted the gaze with the leaves off of the bowl, placing them back in the bigger bowl. With his fingers he fished out the one leaf that had slipped through, making sure to shake it off of any oil. The smell of the oil was now on his fingers as well as he wiped them off on his pants. "That's it." That's all the Crone said. "That's it?" The Undrykas tilted his head as he looked at her, confused. He had created a medicine in this short time. "Well, you could grind some Rosemary leaves in there as well, to increase the smell and make it look nicer but it doesn't serve any purpose beside that. This is really it. Just the oil is all that is needed. You just rub into the cramped muscle and give it some time. It'll be better in no time. Now, put that aside and I'll show you how to make tea." "Tea?" He said. "Tea." She replied in Pavi. The Undrykas nodded. She grabbed some fresh leaves, some dried leaves, a small pouch and a pot. She gave him one of the fresh leaves to observe. He always asked at first, to see the leaf so he could check it out from up closer. He held it with one hand and held his hand with the other. The tingling feeling spread out over his hand, from the tips of his fingers to his wrist. He focused for a moment as he detached his spirit more and more. The spiritless fingers dropped dead, hanging from his hand. He softly placed his hand on his knee as the leaf remained floating in the air. Practice while practicing. He turned the leaf around, observed the veins in it, the shape of the three fingered hand, the split in the middle by the stem, where it grew all the way to the three tops of the leaf. "You let the leaves dry, in the sun or by a fire, which ever is available. Make sure they don't burn. Then they turn into this." She pointed at the dried leaves. He looked at them. They did look like a crumpled up looking version of the leaf he was holding. "Then we use the mortar and pestle to grind the leaves down to a powder, for easy storage, or we boil them in water, creating tea. The powder can be mixed later on with water and creates the same tea." She handed him some of the dried leaves. He took them with his spirit hand. The pressure he applies crumpled the leaf into dust. He watched it float to the floor. "Sorry..." He sort of shrugged, lifting his shoulders up slightly. She smiled at him. A menacing, crazy smile. "You need to be gentle with it, it's fragile." The Undrykas smiled back. He never had much reason to smile but in here, every now and then, it was permitted to do so. She gave him another leaf. He let it float on the palm of his spirit, without grasping at it. She handed him the bowl and the club again, dried off of any oils and emptied of leaves. "Normally you'd use a clean one, but it's just practice." The Undrykas dropped the dried leaf in the bowl. Once again, he took his time to carefully attach his spirit back to his hand. Finger by finger, inch by inch he reconnected. The test wiggle at the end showed him that everything was working properly. He took the club and ground the leaf down to powder. Not that he had to do anything. The brittle leaf crushed itself as soon as he let the weight of the club fall on it. He rolled it around a little, to make sure everything was completely crushed. The Crone showed him the pouch. Inside was a lot of the tea powder. "You take the leaf and let it soak in hot water and then you remove it again before drinking the tea or you let the powder dissolve in the water. It creates the same tea." She put two of the leaves in the pot she had prepared and poured some hot water in it, from a kettle near the fire. There was always water boiling in the Crone's tent. Either for some herb or salve she had to boil or create or because she liked the sound of it, the Undrykas wasn't sure. He just enjoyed the slightly sweet but also bitter taste of the cup of tea she had served him. |
| Present day Ortal's home, The Spires The writer finished rereading the parchment. His lips curled up ever so slightly. He hadn't had much memories like this, ones that made him smile. How many times had he read it now? His eyes stared at the scroll as his mind wandered off to some other place, or some other memory or shard of one. Normally he would write it down. Now, he just sipped from his tea. Slightly bitter but sweet, just the way he liked it. |
