Completed When the Heart Breaks

[Azira]

21st Spring, 502 AV The girl was sitting on her bed with her ocarina, her forehead creased in concentration. Her fingers pressed over the right holes and she blew gently into the mouthpiece. The sound was a little off so she repositioned her fingers and tried again, determined to get it right. Her mother had told her that she had to practice to get better at playing it. Mama had been giving her lessons every market day since her seventh birthday, teaching her new notes and simple tunes and ordering her to practice. It was deeply frustrating trying to get it right but it was worth it when her mother smiled and praised her for being such a smart girl. Azira could never get enough praise from her mother and the girl really enjoyed spending the time with her mother. Mama always made time for ocarina lessons on market day even though she was busy every other day, doing whatever she did as a glassworker. Ocarina playing was how they bonded. A hammering on the door to their room made Azira jump in fright and she froze wondering who it was. Placing the glass ocarina down carefully so that it wouldn’t fall and shatter, the girl rose and skipped happily towards the door. She tugged it open to reveal her mother’s friend, Rysinna. The woman’s face was dusty, her russet red hair dusted with something crystalline. Glass the little girl realised. The woman was staring at her, her expression pitying, her blue eyes brimming with tears. Tear tracks were clear on her cheeks. The little girl cocked her head, her little fiery red braids falling across her face as she looked at the woman in confusion. “What’s wrong, Rysinna? Why are you upset?” she asked, her voice trembling. There was something wrong; the girl knew it and she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Did Mama send you?” She gazed up at the woman with soulful eyes. The woman shook her head slowly, tears spilling from her eyes and she said something that Azira didn’t want to hear, couldn’t comprehend. ”No, Azira, she didn’t send me. There was an accident and she... she was working with the liquid glass... the hot glass...and the vat tipped onto her. We pulled her out but... but she’s burned, badly burned and they don’t think...they don’t think she’ll make it,” Rysinna whispered, her tears falling freely now The girl shook her vigorously as if trying to clear her ears. The woman must be wrong; her Mama was too clever to get herself hurt. She’d be fine, she’d walk down the corridor now smiling, telling her that everything would be alright. But the girl wasn’t stupid, she knew that what the woman was saying must be right even if Azira didn’t want her to be. Her lip trembled and she began to cry hysterically. ”I h-have to s-see Mama! W-where’s Mama?” she wailed, clutching at the woman’s bryda, her vinati her arm, anything that Azira could grab. ”I h-have to see her, pl-please let me see her. Please b-bring me to her,” she begged, sniffling pitifully. Rysinna shook her head. Azira stamped her foot. ”I want to see her! I don’t care how she looks or how bad she is, I have to see her,” she screamed, the woman’s eyes widening at her ferocity. The older woman expression became resigned. Sighing, she nodded and extended her hand to the girl to take. She ignored her, instead stepping out and shutting the door behind her. ”Alright then, come on. I’ll bring you to her,” the glassworker murmured and led the girl to the infirmary.

[Azira]

   

Azira had never been in the infirmary. It was used for treating Avora and Endal so it was no surprise that the girl had never been there, being neither, and she'd never known anyone who'd spent time their either. Her mother was there now but nobody knew how long she'd be there. 

The young girl hadn't seen her yet so she couldn't believe that her mother was going to die. Her mother was the other side of the curtain that separated the waiting area and the sick bay. The glassworker, Rysinna, and a healer were having a quiet but heated debate that the Yasi learned from overheard snatches of conversation was about her. She tried to block them out as she waited impatiently to see her mother. The Avora wouldn't be as badly injured as they'd said and the girl would know that when she saw her. They just didn't want her thinking that she'd definitely live. They were saying that so that she'd feel relief when she survived, that was all. 

Her thoughts weren't making sense.

Everything in the room seemed to draw her attention, I training details into her brain. The hooks by the door for hanging things up. The bed in the waiting area for visitors who wanted to stay with loved ones. The reading material on the stone coffee table. The very smell of the place would stick in her mind there after, the scent of medicine and medicinal plants, as well as the sounds of coughing and moaning, constant moaning like an animal in pain. It was unbearable. 

The Yasi covered her ears and closed her eyes, hoping that the rest of her senses would shut down too, block it all out. Maybe it was all a dream, a surreal and horrible dream. It couldn't be real but yet everything was so vivid, so detailed, and Azira knew there was no way that it could be a dream. 

A voice calling her name seemed to beckon her to return to the harsh reality of what was happening and she was reluctant to open her eyes, admit that it was real. A comforting hand on her shoulder forced her to open her eyes as she was guided in the direction of the curtain. A Chiet nurse smiled sympathetically, a stone bowl in her hands as she pulled back the curtain and ushered them through to the sick bay. 

The stone bowl stuck in the girl's thoughts as she tried to work out why the nurse was holding it. She needn't have bothered as the answer presented itself. The bed she was steered towards contained a bandaged figure with scarlet flesh visible through the gaps, the bandages stained a dirty colour. The thing was moaning endlessly, the sound she'd heard from the other room. Azira gazed at the thing not understanding until the head turned slowly and with obvious effort, blue eyes met hers and blistered, bleeding lips mouthed her name.

Nausea came with comprehension and she promptly vomited into the stone bowl thrust in front of her.

x

[Azira]

   

They left her alone for the most part. The healers would come in to check on her mother and they'd watch Azira closely, uncertain what to make of her. Since she'd gotten sick, she'd been fine, perfectly fine. There had  been no tears, no praying, no reaction at all. She just sat by her mother's bedside gripping her hand gently and staring. The girl had just gone totally numb.

Her mother was truly a horrible sight. She was almost completely covered in bandages and a kind healer had told her that there was burn salve underneath them. The bandages were yellow in places, others were stained a rust colour. The rust coloured bandages would be changed soon and they knew better than to try to make the woman's daughter leave now. She had screamed so hysterically and at such a terribly high pitch when they'd tried to remove her that they'd decided it was better to leave her where she was.

Her mother drifted in and out of consciousness, depending on when she'd last had something for the pain. When she was medicated she only occasionally struggled into consciousness but at least she was coherent. When she woke up in pain she only ever spoke nonsense. The woman only recognised her daughter sometimes when the pain was somewhat at bay but that didn't happen often. The pain wasn't going to go away.

Azira had heard some of the Chiet whispering that the woman wouldn't ever heal and that it'd be kinder to let her die. The girl didn't want to think about that. She didn't want her to die but she didn't want her to be in pain either. It wasn't fair. Surely there was something the healers could do for her Mama so that she wouldn't die. They were supposed to heal her not leave her like this.

Azira found herself staring at her mother's hands. Bandages crisscrossed them but there were gaps, showing the suppurating and peeling flesh beneath. The flesh was red raw underneath, cracked and oozing. It was horrible. Her mother's face wasn't as bandaged, more of the flesh exposed to show the little girl the damage her mother had sustained. There was nothing she could do for her though.

x

[Azira]

Sitting by her mother’s side, Azira noticed everything that went on around her. Healers moved back and forth, checking on other patients. None of them were as badly off as her mother but they were checked on far more often. The girl had a feeling that either they didn’t think her mother was worth the time or they were worried by her steady, unwavering gaze that bored into them whenever they came near. It obviously disconcerted them having the youth stare at them so intently. When they were checking on others, her gaze wasn’t quite as...intense.

One woman nearby seemed to have broken her leg. Her left leg had been propped up and they seemed to have wrapped many layers of bandages around it so that the limb looked thicker than it ought to be. Azira only saw it when they took the blanket off to check on it, to poke and to prod and make her hiss and gasp in pain. The woman glanced over to where the matron lay motionless with her daughter at her side. Her gaze always darted away if the girl met her eye and there was something about the situation that seemed to make her nervous.

There was another man who seemed only to spend his time coughing and spluttering. When the healers moved away from him, they always carried away bloody cloths with them. The man didn’t seem to be injured in anyway; there were no wounds to be treated and so no bandages to change. The youth figured out that he must have been coughing the blood up. The girl didn’t think that that was a very healthy sign at all.

When one of the healers next came over to check her mother, the youth watched as the woman took the matron’s hand, pressing two fingers to her wrist and seeming to talk to herself under her breath as she did so. Azira had seen this done quite a few times but she’d never asked about it before, never been able to find her voice.

”Why do you do that all the time?” she asked quietly. The healer jumped, staring at her in shock. Perhaps they had begun to think that she was a mute, she had not made one sound since she had been here. They probably didn’t think that a girl her age could suffer such an ordeal in silence.

”I...I’m checking her pulse. That’s um...the way her heart beats, the speed...” the woman mumbled, looking uncertain about what to say in this situation. Azira stared up at her, blinking slowly as she processed the information. She cocked her head to the side, staring at the woman lying beside her, her breathing raspy and her chest moving up and down slowly, shallowly.

”Could you show me what you mean?” she asked her, watching her reaction closely. Alarm flashed in her eyes for a second and then she smiled nervously, her eyes tight. She shook her head and let out a nervous little laugh looking at the woman’s daughter as if there was something wrong with the youth’s head.

”You don’t want to do something like that. You seem like a smart girl so I’m sure you know that that wouldn’t be a good thing to learn.” Azira stared up at her blankly, her head still to one side. A crease appeared between her brows then as she regarded the woman.

”Why not? Mama has always said that learning new things is good. She wouldn’t mind.” The healer’s eyes flickered to the prone matron and then back to the young girl. Her eyes revealed her uncertainty but she seemed to decide that there was no harm in it.

”Okay then. Turn over her hand so that the palm is up. Use two fingers, not your thumb and press your fingers just below where her hand starts. You should feel a movement. If you don’t then move your fingers,” the woman explained, showing the girl what to do. Azira copied the woman’s movements and gasped when she felt the rhythmic beat beneath her fingers. She stared in wonder at her fingers, amazed by what she was feeling. The woman moved away, leaving the girl checking her own wrists in curiosity.

x

[Azira]

The girl sat there quietly, amusing herself by taking her pulse. From observing and asking questions, she had discovered that she could take her pulse at her neck as well. So there the girl sat, one moment her hand at her neck and the next moment at her wrist. When her mother’s eyes fluttered open, Azira would tell her that everything would be all right and would tell her the new things that she had learned from the healers. The woman’s eyes were always filled with a preoccupied look but her daughter never noticed, always too happy to have a chance to talk to the woman at all even if she was in too much pain to pay attention.

Three days the youth had sat at her side, only sleeping in one of the infirmary beds when she forced to do so. The healers didn’t want her to be there; she knew because she’d overheard them talking. They didn’t want her to be there when her mother died. It wasn’t a question of if the woman died as they knew that it was only a matter of time. It was clear though that they were surprised to find every time someone came to check on her that she was still alive. Azira on the other hand felt a strange fierce pride that her mother seemed to be fighting to remain with the living. She had begun to hope that the woman would pull through when the worst happened.

The child always sat with one hand in her mother’s grasp. She was surprised when her mother clenched her hand tightly, almost painfully. The girl was startled to find the woman awake but she was also amazed at the strength of the frail creature. The woman’s lips moved soundlessly and the girl had to put her ear close to her mouth in order to hear the whispered words, ”Be strong.” After that, her hold on her daughter’s hand loosened and the girl was able to pull it free to massage life back into her fingers.

A glance upwards revealed that her mother had gone back to sleep. Her face was peaceful, at least the youth thought so though it was hard to tell considering the damage. She gazed thoughtfully at the woman as she took her raspy breaths. She thought her mother’s words were strange and she had no idea what they were supposed to mean. They hadn’t sounded like nonsense but had had the tone of a command.

After a few chimes, the child noticed that the infirmary was strangely quiet. The man wasn’t coughing, the woman with the broken leg was asleep and the healers were nowhere to be seen. It took her a moment or two to realise that there was a sound missing, the rasping had stopped. Focusing on her mother’s chest, she could no longer see it rising or falling. That didn’t mean anything. Her breathing was hard to see anyway but the girl began to panic. She grasped her mother’s arm, seeking the one sign of life that she could never fail to find. Her movements became frantic when she couldn’t find it, her hands shaking.

Her mother wasn’t dead. She wouldn’t just die like that but some part of the girl knew that it was true, the part that was making the keening sound coming from her lips. It was then that a healer appeared, staring at the wild eyed child. The woman took the patient’s pulse, put her hand in front of the woman’s mouth and then her expression became grim. Smiling kindly, she tried to lead the girl away, suggesting that she go somewhere else, maybe to get some food.

It was then that Azira began to scream, throwing herself over her mother’s body, holding it for dear life as the healer tried to pull her away. She didn’t notice the running footsteps as she rained tears and shrieked. The girl never heard the call of “give her something”. She was so wrapped up in her own grief that she knew nothing else until they pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth and the smell of some plant filled her nose. She thrashed against the hand but her movements became slower, weaker until everything went black.

x

[Azira]

   

When the girl came to her senses, she was confused. She remembered her mother dying but yet it seemed surreal like a dream. It hadn't actually happened, she'd imagined it. She'd go to her bed in the Infirmary and she'd find the woman lying there, or better yet everything had been a dream and the accident had never really happened. After all she was lying in her own bed so why couldn't it be true?

Hopping out of the bed, she ran out of her room and into the main sitting area calling her mother's name as she came skidding in. There was a woman sitting in a chair there but she wasn't her mother. She recognised her as one of the healers from the Infirmary and fell to her knees, all her hopes crashing down with her. The woman approached her and crouched beside her, hugging her awkwardly.

The woman began to stroke her hair gently, murmuring soothing words as Azira sobbed against her breast. It was all real! Everything had changed! Her life had been turned upside down in just a few days, the one person who she'd known all her life was gone forever.

The healer let her sob for awhile and then pulled away from her carefully. The youth looked up at her with red puffy eyes, scrutinising her face. She'd never realised before that the girl was young. She'd just thought of her before as being older than her as most people were but now she seemed to really see the young woman. She could only just be out of her teens. Strange that she'd think of that.

"Can I see her one last time?" the girl asked, tears brimming in her eyes once more as the healer shook her head. "I know that she's d...de...dead but-" The woman cut off her choked words.

"She's gone. Body and spirit. They put her in the Tomb of the Fallen," the young healer replied. "You'll be going to the nurseries soon because you can't stay here anymore. The city will look after you." The youth's face went blank with surprise. Her mother's body was gone and now she had to leave her home too. The girl just wanted to curl into a ball and make everything go away. It wasn't fair. Life just wasn't fair.

x

[Harrier]

Skills	Amount
Ocarina	1
Observation	5
Medicine	2

Lore

Rysinna: Barer of bad news

Glassworking: The cause of Mothers Death

Bandages hide the horror

How to check a pulse on the hand and neck

Mothers Final words: Be Strong

Additional Comments: Not much in terms of skill, but a very beautiful little thread that highlights the trauma one can go through with a family members death.

(c) abstract