PM to join [Sunset Orphanage] Just What the Doctor Ordered

[Noven]

Through the slowly receding miasma of agony, he could feel something soft brush the side of his head. Then Kechaiya was talking again, assuring him the hardest part was over and that her new stitches would be far more effective. Nov opened his eyes and blinked a few times in bleary succession. Well, that was a petching relief, at least. He didn't know if he could survive a renewed round of scourging every time he ruined her work and got infected. Which would have been often, had the doctor not come up with this nifty solution.

Krysus knew, he just couldn't keep himself out of trouble.

The healer had also used one of her father's sayings, which was surprising. Noven didn't know much about her life in the Berth, let alone her past, so this glimpse of personal information stuck out and lingered for a while in his pain-addled, sleep-deprived mind.

But then Kechaiya's light brush turned into a tender palm that rested against the side of his face, and suddenly the man found himself transported back in time. Back to when he was still new to the grim life of a Sunberthian and having just met Nona, the only mother he'd ever come to know. He could still remember his first attempt to sleep, how he had stayed up all night fighting tears of confusion and frustration and fear.

And how, later on, without him even making a single peep, Nona had come to his side to lay a gentle hand along his face. Just as Kechaiya was doing now.

"I know you've had a rough start, kid," the former fighter had murmured, her palm warm and dry against his stoic expression. "It's not weak to be afraid or feel pain. It's only weak to let those things stop you from living."

After that he did cry, if only a little. Wept silently under Nona's unjudging, unwavering presence. And when she'd been taken from him by that fucking cunt of a Daggerhand, he shed his very last tear of remorse in her honor. Because from then on, there was no looking back. All of his bridges had been burned for him. Some literally on the night of the fire that had killed old Calyn. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, stopping him from going down that dark, twisted path Krysus had so gleefully aided his travels through. She was honing him to be her perfect little weapon, the fact of which Nov found himself minding less and less as the days wore on.

And yet...he was still here, troublesome as ever, but still relatively unknown in the world of crime and infamy. Noven tried to tell himself it was the practical thing to do to wait. That he had no major leads, nothing to go on, so why risk himself before a plan could be formed? But somewhere inside, he knew it was only a front. The mercenary could have been much, much more ruthless in his hunt for the murderer who took Nona's life. Only one question remained: why was he holding himself back?

Nov looked away for a tick and squeezed his eyes shut. Not from pain or discomfort; the doctor had been right in claiming the hardest part had been over, and her ministrations were was precise and gentle as ever. No...his distress came from an old, well nursed cesspool of hate and obsession. It threatened to consume him even now. Swallow his last, lingering shreds of humanity whole before leaving him with nothing but vengeance to pursue.

But he didn't want to think about all of this. Not in his current, prone state. The cook was too tired, too bone weary and sore. All he wanted to do was rest.

Just one night of peace and forgetting, Noven begged to no one in particular. Having no ancestors to call upon, nor gods or goddesses to pray to, he chose to make use of the now. It was meditative in its own right, or as close to it as he could get.

Nov focused on nothing but his surroundings. The crackle and pop of flames in the hearth, the scents of various salves and herbs and tonics lying about, and the calm but focused lines that made up most of Kechaiya's features as she worked. There was a softness there, too, he noticed idly. Maybe it was in the waves of her earthen hair, or the warm tone of her desert bred skin. He couldn't put finger to it, but there was something decidedly feminine in spite of all her no-nonsense demeanor.

The cook wondered why he was noticing this now. Why he was staring at her at all in the first place. Feeling strangely self-conscious, Nov turned to stare back up at the ceiling, no longer paying much attention to poultice being applied to his wind, nor the needle poking over and over through his skin. It was all just one big stretch of tiny aches and pains now. Part of him wondered if he'd ever know what it felt like not to being in some form of torment or another. Probably never.

The entire process must have taken ages, because by the time the healer was done she almost looked as worn out as her patient. She issued a few more explanations and instructions, and then, with the help of Jillene, managed to re-bandage his torso.

Once this was done, Noven thought it might finally be time for this mammoth trial to be over. But it turned out that the good doctor was not quite finished with him yet. She needed more ingredients for medicine and had even enlisted the help of the Isur to keep him from going anywhere. Nov didn't relish the idea of having those milky pale eyes of his landlady watching over him anymore than they already did, but it wasn't as if he was in a position to argue.

Jillene made her usual, thinly veiled threats as a response to the healer's request. Unpleasant as the thought was of being knocked out--again--by the five foot nothing proprietress, Nov had to admit he could probably use the sleep. That, and he didn't mind all the much thinking about Kechaiya's panties. Better her undergarments than Daggerhands.

"Nov, Nov!" a chorus of shrill voices burst as soon as the doctor opened the door. Oh petch me, the cook inwardly groaned.

Thomas was the first to pop up by his side. "We thought you were dead!" Not half a tick later, Mira's face joined his, shoving Thomas to the side as his colorful protests fell upon deaf ears.

"Y-you....you really are okay, right?" the dark skinned orphan demanded, her eyes grown so big Nov was half afraid she'd turned into a cat.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. "Get out of here and let me rest. I'm too tired to yell at you all...go make some trouble while you still can or...something."

"We're staying right here till you're all better!" Mira insisted, still struggling to keep Thomas away from the table. He managed to get to it anyway, at some point, along with Loy, who'd been sporting a runny nose for the past three years. "Naw," Thomas interjected, "we're just 'ere ta see yer wound. Was it roight disgustin'?"

"Can we touch it?" Loy chimed in.

To Noven's overwhelming relief, Jillene finally put her foot down. "Out, all of you! Yes, even you, Mira. When I come back I better see those floors swept and dishes cleaned, or every last one of you will be cleaning latrines for a year."

'Latrines' was the magic word with these runts. They cleared out faster than a hoard of thieves at dawn, not a trace of them to be seen. Just how Nov liked it.

"Doctor's been treating you well, I take it?" came the Isur's unusually congenial question.

Trap. Definitely trap.

"Eh," Nov answered, "not any better than she does the others, I'd imagine. I bet I'm the only one of her patients who can tear his stitches and get infected in less than a day though. Why d'ya ask?"

Jillene sank into a chair with a tired sigh and folded her arms. "No reason."

The cook grunted and went back to staring. He was so exhausted he could probably fall asleep on this table in five ticks flat. But he found himself reluctant to do so, partly because his landlady was still conspicuously present, and partly because he knew nothing good would come of sleeping right now. His only option was to wait and hope. Hope that Kechaiya would return with something to knock him out clean before he was forced to revisit all those dreaded ghosts, some he worked hard to forget, others he simply couldn't.

There was only so much fight left in him, though. And sooner rather than later, the nightmares came...

oocfun dream times to come after your next post

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya looked up as she finished her cleaning, smiling at the children pestering poor Noven, and him rebuking them in his tough yet secretly caring manner. It was obvious how much Noven meant to them, and vice versa. Moving past him as he made his last comment, she decided to try her hand at a joke in Common, chuckling lightly before saying it, "You not only one. Just only one not dead." Nailed it. All of her equipment packed away, she pulled on her cloak and put her pack on her shoulders. She crouched down bringing her face down to his level. "I be back soon, then we get you sleep like camel."

Jillene guffawed, "Don't you mean 'sleep like baby?'"

Kechaiya looked at her as if she'd said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Baby no sleep good. Cry too much. In Eyktol, camels snore louder than sand storm."

Jillene just laughed, and Kech placed her fingertips against Noven's shoulder, before walking away, dragging them across his skin lightly. The children looked at her in awe as she passed through the orphanage, having kept their patriarch alive. She ruffled Mira's hair as she passed by, then stepped out once more into the dangerous streets of Sunberth. Descending the steps quickly had been a mistake, bringing on a bout of dizziness from the head wound, forcing her to lean against the wall. She was about to take another step before she wrenched over and vomited what little stomach contents she had, mostly liquid, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she continued onward, being more careful and attentive as she wound through the streets, finding herself at the western edge of the city, breaking through the tree line.

She began following the natural trails the land provided, working on adjusting her mental list of the herbs she needed to look for. She couldn't get Tolm here, that was only in the hills to the south and would take far too long. She had to hurry, for Syna was already on her descent and she had no desire to be out after dark. But she could still find the Fauxsil and Chamomile. The Valerian would be no good, as it was only good with the leaves dried. She could probably substitute the tolm with passion flower and the valerian with thyme. Deeper she moved into the woods, seeking out the herbs she needed.

~~~~~~~~~~Almost Three Full Bells Later~~~~~~~~~~~

Kechaiya slumped through the door of the orphanage, soaked, muddies, her skirt in tatters, with small cuts and welts all over her face and arms. She was downright exhausted and looked as if she'd been dragged to Hai and back. There was even a small branch tangled in her hair that was an absolute mess. She didn't even make it to the kitchen, slumping down in a chair in the common area. Her pack was in her lap, as she looked around noticing the children were all gone, probably asleep, night having fallen over a bell ago.

"Doc, you look awful."

Kech mustered what felt like the last of her energy to stand up and walk into the kitchen, noting the table was empty. Jillene had disappeared again, and Kech found herself wondering where Noven had gone. She pulled out a few small sacks, and began sorting the leaves and flowers, after putting a kettle of water on the hearth to boil. For a cup of the tea, she set aside three passionflower petals, one thyme leaf, two chamomile leaves, and three fauxsil leaves. She had a fairly healthy supply of the herbs here, and they would last him a good long while. The chamomile would relax him, the fauxsil would push him to sleep, the thyme would keep him that way, and the passionflower would help stave off the nightmares. She now leaned against the table, waiting on the kettle to whistle, forcing herself to stay awake.

[Noven]

Before the doctor left, she had lingered long enough to respond to his careless comment. And Krysus, what an impression the woman was able to make, with her foreboding chuckle and words unsettling enough to unnerve even the hard bitten likes of Noven. Granted, it was no surprise Kechaiya's humor was so morbid. She was a healer in the City of Slums, after all, and Nov was able to guess not all of her patients could be saved.

But then she lowered herself to eye level with the cook, promising to get him sleeping sounder than a camel. Stars and stones. This time Nov did laugh, though it was more a snort of amusement than Jillene's hearty gale. He knew better than to push his limits; the last time he laughed while wounded it, had hurt like hell, and that was when his cut had been in significantly better shape.

And holy gods above, was she right about babies. Too many of the petching things got left at the orphanage's doorstep these days. And, being without milked up jugs, the only things Nov could do were drink himself to oblivion or attempt rocking one of the damned menaces to get it to shut up and go the hell to sleep. Neither of which left him in a pleasant state the morning after. Sadly, his landlady had made it clear that cooking a couple of them was out of the question.

Once Kechaiya had left to run her errands, it was only a matter of time before Nov lost his grip on wakefulness. And when he did, his torment began anew.

------------------???-----------------

The cook harbored some vague realization that he had been moved. He couldn't quite remember when or how, only that it felt like several people and some form of a crutch had been involved. His head was resting on a thin but clean pillow and his aching body covered beneath a blanket of wool. Both items were nondescript enough to be anyone's, including his. Was he back in his own bed, or someone else's? Noven had no clue. But it was soft--softer than a table, anyway--and warm, and there was nothing to keep him now from drifting down toward true sleep...

------------------???-----------------

It was morning when Nov awoke, but this wasn't his bed...wasn't even his room. Everything was too soft, too clean. And it smelled too much like her. For a moment, he couldn't remember her name. He'd already forgotten what she looked like, except for the curves and red hair, the rest just a blur of faded memories. Funny, how time worked to erase details of things you once found to be so important.

But then it came down on him like an executioner's blade, hard and swift as it pierced straight into his head.

Mae.

Noven had to drag himself through a tangle of oddly heavy and endless amounts of blankets. When he finally freed himself of the sheets, he found himself stumbling about awkwardly like a new born lamb, hands and feet struggling to find purchase. Krysus, he must've drunk more than he remembered that night at Isme's. But there had only been three bottles of wine, hadn't there? And he'd only drunk one. Or was he somehow mistaken...

The man shook his head and looked down in dismay. He was completely naked. And, gods dammit, it was cold. Desperate to protect himself and his boys from the sharp sting of Winter, Nov fumbled through various piles of strange and unidentifiable objects for his clothes. All the while, bit by bit, it started to come back to him. How they'd celebrated in that cramped little room at Happy Ending with Torgen's sealed fate. How the wine had gotten his head swimming so much it left him defenseless against the rise of lust. And how, once they were in front of her apartment door, he had lost all desire to leave.

A gust of icy wind blasted through the open window. Swearing six different shades of wrath, Noven managed to get something resembling pants and a shirt on before marching forward, arms raised as a shield against the swirl of snow and cold. He slammed the window shut, but not before he caught sight of a familiar red headed figure disappearing around the corner of a nearby building, her footprints leaving behind a trail of dots in the fresh snow.

Mae!

Wait, stop! he wanted to shout, but the words refused to come out, no matter how hard he willed them to. Cursing again, the man turned around clumsily in his too-big clothes and burst through the door.

"Wh--where is she? Where has she gone?" he questioned everyone he came in contact with.

But no one--not Jillene, not Mira, not even Nona--was willing to tell him. They all knew where she'd gone, he could see it in their eyes. Yet, the only answer he ever got were judging stares and snide remarks. "What did you think she would do?" some had sneered, while still others suggested, "What, you thought she'd stick around for the likes of you? To what end? Just so she could get her pretty little throat slit one day?"

And every time he heard those words, he could see Nona somewhere in the back, bloodless wound gaping like a macabre grin across her cold, blue neck. "No..." the man tried to deny, shaking his head, "no, no....she wouldn't...I--we...I thought..."

"She didn't want you," came a voice so course and spiteful it sounded like the voice of Hate itself. When Noven looked back, he saw that it was a faceless ghoul with a crimson circle of thorns and a dagger at its center tattooed across his chest. It had only a slit for a mouth, which was stretched in a grisly, toothless grin full of gleeful malice.

"I mean, who would? You're a killer, a murderer, a good for nothing trouble maker. So much blood on your hands, including both your own mother's and your best friend's. Wow, what a feat. Really, I'm impressed."

"Shut up..."

"Who knows, maybe I took Mae for myself. And I mean, come on, who could blame me? The tits on that one..." The ghoul brought his fingers to his lips, as if he'd just feasted on particularly fine meal. "Mm, mm. And you'd never know, would you? She could be dead and you none the wiser. Tsk, tsk. That's what the dumb broad gets for getting close to the likes of you."

Noven could feel something hot trickling down his cheeks, and this time it had nothing to do with physical pain. His body was too consumed with loathing, with fury, to feel much else.

"Oo," the Daggerhand ghoul continued, cackling, "and how about all those people you tortured? You're Krysus's little play thing now, aren't ya? Well, well. Good for you, kid. Good for you. Too bad does shyke all when it comes to finding me, eh? C'mon, don't give up. I'm right here, probably no more than a few walls away, just waiting for the next, scrumptious little whore who gets close to you. And when she does, I'll come back to slit her throat, too. But not before I've had my share of fun with her sweet, sweet--"

The sound that erupted from Noven's mouth was filled with so much rage, so devoid of humanity that he couldn't even recognize it as his own voice. His mind went blank with madness as he lost all sense of who he even was. He was nothing, now. Only a vessel for pain, hate, and vengeance. And he was going to kill everyone and everything that got in his way.

"YOU'RE DEAD YOU COCK SUCKING FUCK!" he bellowed, breaking out into a run to catch the laughing ghoul, "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, BREAK EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY, YOU F--"

"Nov!" a disembodied voice called out, "Nov! Wake up!"

The cook woke with a massive start, breath shuddering as he blinked open his eyes and stared unseeingly into the dim candlelight. Every muscle in his body was tensed and he was shaking from effort, as if he'd been about to tackle something down to the ground.

"Wh...where..." he panted, blood coursing with adrenaline and pupils dilated with fear. "Mae..."

"You're here, at the orphanage, Noven," came the voice again. He recognized it gradually as Jillene's, her iron calm and authority unmistakable. "You're safe. And Mae is gone, as you very well know. Been gone for a whole year. Take a deep breath, then let out it. That's it, just like that."

He relaxed a little at the steadiness of her words, trying his best to obey and slow his frantic breathing into some semblance of normality.

"Right, nice and easy," Jillene coaxed, lowering her hands. "Now, let go of the doctor."

Mind reeling in confusion, Nov looked down to see that he had both arms locked around what appeared to be Kechaiya's frail, muddied form, pressing her face against his chest and rendering her incapable of wriggling free. Had he mistaken her for Mae, or for the Daggerhand? Or Both? Realizing the horror of what he must have just put the healer through, Noven quickly released her and stammered a disjointed mess of an apology. His night terrors almost always ended in violence and this one had been no exception.

"Sh-shit...I'm...Doc, I'm sorry, I didn't--"

"Don't worry, you didn't hurt her," the Isur assured, her voice confident but not without an underlying note of weariness. It had been a long night, for all of them. "I wouldn't have let you."

At this, Nov was able to sink back a little into the pillow and nod in relief. "Th...that's...good..."

With a great heave of effort, he managed to shift his head toward Kechaiya and take a good look at her bedraggled state. The man's brows knit in consternation as he asked, "Bloody hell, Doc. What the petch happened to you? Besides me almost strangling you to death, 'o course."

Noven winced at his own words upon hearing just how bad they sounded. "I'm...fuck, I'm really, really sorry, Kech. I wasn't...I just..." Sighing, he turned away and laid a weary hand over his eyes.

"This shyke never ends well for me," the cook finished lamely.

[Kechaiya]

Kech's head was dipping down, on the verge of nodding off, when Jillene's words startled her to attention. "Doc? We put Noven in one of the beds upstairs, at the end of the hall, while we waited on you. I'm going to warn you now, be careful with him. His night terrors have been a problem for a long time, and they're never good for anyone, but Noven most of all." Kech looked at her, tired, dark eyes scanning her face, finding concern at the forefront, and she nodded in reply. "Father say night terror is two edge knife. It cut deep into self and show what need be forgiven. Only person can forgive is self. If no do that, no go away."

Thunder pounded overhead as the storm that Kechaiya had been gotten caught in finally arrived. She knew many of the orphans were frightened by the loud booming and bright flashes, but they always brought comfort to her. Back home in Eyktol, storms brought new life, made things green and alive again. They were the only thing she had to bring her comfort when she was stowed away in the hulls of those ships for years. There had been nights when she clutched at her knees, rocking in fear and worry, hidden between the potatoes and the salted pork, trying to keep her sobs low so she couldn't be heard. Storms made her feel renewed, reborn, and had let her cry to her heart's content.

A shrill whistled signaled that the tea was ready, and Kech lumbered over and removed it from the hearth. It gave off a really pungent smell, very earthy and strong. Kechaiya hoped, for Noven's sake, that it worked. Sometimes these things were hit or miss. If it didn't, she would try more passionflower petals. But those weren't the easiest of things to come by. Carrying the kettle over to the table, she only now realized that she had tracked mud and water all over the orphanage. But even before she could say anything, "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. You're taking care of this family after all."

Kech could only nod in thanks, grabbing a wooden cup. As she started toward the stairs, Jillene piped up, "But leave your boots at the bottom of the steps. And there's a bed here for you tonight. That storm sound gods awful and you've already been through the ringer." Again, she nodded, slipping her soggy boots off, her feet grateful for the freedom from the binding leather. Cup and kettle in hand, she climbed the creaky stairs, her whole body aching. She could hear Jillene already beginning to clean up her mess, and while she normally would've felt bad for it, she was on the verge of being too tired to care.

Entering the last room in the hall, a much smaller room than the long bunkrooms the children stayed in, she wondered if this was Jillene's. Even as the resident doctor, she rarely needed to come upstairs. Inside she found Noven asleep on his back, murmuring unintelligibly. He seemed to be fine for the most part, still too early to tell if the infection was gone or not. She set the kettle and cup on the bedside table, and scooted over a chair to sit at his side, more so she could rest than to not disturb him. The tea needed to cool a bit anyways.

After several chimes, Jillene made her way into the room, leaning against the wall. Kechaiya half stood as she grabbed the kettle and poured the hot liquid into the cup. She set it back down again, moving back toward her seat, when an hand clasped her wrist, squeezing hard with its steely grip. Kech winced, hissing in surprise and pain, she started trying to pull herself free. But even in his sleep, Noven was far to strong. He was screaming now, threatening to kill her, to break every bone in her body, and Kech found herself going into a panic. She was now struggling to jerk her wrist free, only causing further pain to herself, his grip squeezing tighter. "Aaah," gasping as the pressure increased, like a snake around its prey.

He then pulled her in close, roughly, slamming her bodily into his chest and wrapped his powerful arms around her. She could feel his fists balled up against her spine, pushing the air from her lungs. Her hands were flat against his shoulders, pushing as hard as she could, trying to get free. He was crushing her, and her breath was growing ragged every tick. Kech could see Jillene had hurried over, now yelling for Noven to wake up. Her ears picked him up asking for someone or something named Mae, but her mind was too busy trying to get free to worry about it.

Jillene spoke to him some more, and finally the grip relaxed, though he still had her wrapped up. The Isur had managed to coax him into releasing her, and as he did so, she crumpled into a heap next to the bed, her lungs sucking in air desperately. Her wrist was throbbing and her ribs were on fire. She couldn't hear him apologize over the sound of her wheezing. Focusing on getting her breath back, she pulled herself up with Jillene's help, only now able to wipe the pained tears from her eyes with her sleeve. She slumped in her chair, clutching at her wrist, trying to move it and determine the amount of damage.

She listened as he asked her what happened, in a manner wholly unexpected, considering what just happened. Her Common might be bad, her manners even worse, but that was just downright wrong. She shot him a brief glare, her temper flaring up in retaliation. But he quickly retracted, apologizing a bit more properly, and Kech forced herself to calm down, if only because she knew none of it was purposeful. Deciding to answer his question after all, now trying to rotate her wrist. Shrugging lightly, "It long story. Storm come, turn night quick. Get lost." Moving it sent fire through her arm, but it already wasn't as bad as before. It didn't seem to have any impediment in its range of movement, so she expected that it would just be severely bruised and painful to move for a while. Not the worst injury she'd experienced.

With her good hand, she grabbed the cup she'd poured for him, and offered it, "I find herbs. Passionflower, thyme, fauxsil, and chamomile. Smell awful, but good medicine. Drink. You need good sleep."

As she leaned back in her seat, there was a sharp, shooting pain in her left side ribs, eliciting a hiss from the doctor. Her injured hand shot to her side instinctively. She knew this pain well, it was a fairly common one, by comparison, for her. At least one of her ribs was cracked, possibly broken. It didn't feel especially bad, but there wasn't much one could do aside from sucking it up. Her eyes were weary, but she was not leaving until he had taken his medicine. It wouldn't take long for the tea to kick in, fifteen, twenty chimes tops. But she needed to see first hand if it worked.

Jillene piped in, "Your bed is in the first bunkroom on the left by the door, whenever you're ready. I'm going to go make sure dumbass here didn't wake any of the brats." With that, the Isur woman left. Kech tried to keep her torso straight to keep from aggravating her injury further as she adjusted in her seat, slowly.

She only now remembered the words he'd uttered when trying to squeeze the life out of her, so she decided to ask. "Who Mae? You say 'Mae' when fighting."

[Noven]

Anger flared across the doctor's face for a moment, then seemed to recede a little as Noven offered his hashed up debacle of an apology. He watched as she experimented with rotating her wrist. It was hurt, he realized, on top of gods knew what else she'd endured. The anchors of shame doubled in weight, dragging him back down into those bleak, murky depths of self-loathing that he knew so well.

You're nothing but trouble...nothing but trouble...trouble...trouble...trouble...

And yet, in spite of it all, Kechaiya found it within her patience to offer him the sleep tea she'd promised. Those soul leeching words were still echoing round and round his head, somehow making him feel as if he didn't deserve the medicine. That he ought to be forced to revisit these same, old ghosts as punishment for his failings. But the healer had gone through all that trouble...no doubt braved the streets, alone, and trekked through a budding storm just to make good on her word. Nov would be the biggest asshole in a long, long history of assholes if he didn't drink every last drop.

"Thank you," he accepted in a rare display of genuine gratitude and took the cup in his hands. He had to be careful not to spill it, his arms still unsteady from the adrenaline and knowledge of what he'd just done, but the cook managed to slowly prop himself up to sip at the tea.

It was hot. And somewhat bitter, with a funny smell curling up into his nose. Noven didn't mind either too much; his whole life was built on bitter things. It wasn't quite possible to guzzle it all down just yet, so he blew at the liquid for a bit before taking a second sip. The first had burned his tongue a little--a small price to pay for the end results, should they be what the doctor promised.

As she sat back down, Kechaiya hissed in pain. Both cook and Isur snapped their gazes up at the same time in concern, brows knit with worry. Nov was about to ask if he had hurt her after all and would have dragged his unwilling body out of bed just to make sure he hadn't, but Jillene's voice cut in before he could speak, stating there was an extra bed for the healer to sleep. After which, much to Noven's astonishment, she abruptly left the room. Not before calling him dumbass, of course, and then laying out some excuse about checking on the orphans.

The jibe, he deserved. But why leave Kechaiya in a room alone with him? After what he'd done, he felt he shouldn't even be allowed to sleep overnight in the building, let alone within the same vicinity as the person he had almost strangled.

There wasn't much Nov could do about it, however. He was as bed ridden as a bed ridden person could be. And with a sleeping tea in his hands, to boot. Both doctor and cook would be resting here in the orphanage tonight, whether either of them liked it or not. Feeling a leaden amount of helplessness and shame--two of Noven's most fervently despised emotions--all the man could do at that point was drink his medicine. And drink he did, as quickly and efficiently as he could. The sooner he knocked out and turned dead to the world, the better.

But Kechaiya was still here with seemingly no intention to move until she'd seen if the tea worked or not. And she had an excellent memory, the cook discovered. Because no sooner had Jillene left than the healer chose to ask something Nov had truly, deeply hoped she wouldn't.

She chose to ask who Mae was.

The man leaned back against the rough edge of his bed post, feeling for all the world like hell had swallowed him whole, chewed him up, and spit him back out. He didn't even know how to begin answering Kechaiya at first. What should or could he even say? Over half of his time spent with Amael had been on Scar business. And the other half...it made him feel far more used and abandoned than he would ever care to admit.

"She was an Isur, like Jillene," he responded at last after what felt like an entire chime of silence. "I...um, worked with her, for a time. A very short time. "

Noven deliberated for a tick whether he should tell Kechaiya any more. But he figured if he didn't, someone else would. Every last, sodding soul in Sunset apparently knew of his tryst with the red haired Isur. Maybe if he satisfied the good doctor's curiosity now, she wouldn't be bothered to poke around later. Or so he hoped. Likely in vain.

"I needed to kill someone...and I needed help to do it. So, I asked, and she agreed, for a price." The cook coughed to hide his discomfort. He wasn't lying, not in the least bit. But he wasn't exactly telling her the whole truth, either. "Well it's all in the past and doesn't matter anymore. She's been gone a whole year now, no petching idea where she went. I still see her when I dream sometimes, but then again, I see a lot of people when I sleep. All sorts of folk I don't want to remember, or do want to remember but not in the way they died."

He stayed quiet for a little while after that, only deciding at the very last moment to add, "I was worried, you see...that she'd been taken by the same person I'd tried to kill. That's what most of my nightmares are about when she's involved. My target was a monster...the worst of his kind. He's there in my dreams, too, taunting me, baiting me..."

Nov let loose an angry breath and forced himself to drink more medicine. He shouldn't be talking about this. It would only make it harder for him to sleep.

"But like I said, none of that matters anymore. Old news...bad memories...too much I need to forget..." He was starting to feel a bit drowsy...was the tea working? It must be, because the words he'd just spoken had a suspiciously cotton-like texture to them.

His was wandering more than usual as well. The cook found himself zoning out for an indeterminate amount of time, thinking about wholly irrelevant things, like that soup he had burned just the other day, or the plump little purse of coins he'd won from winning at Tall Johnny's that he'd yet to figure out how to spend. When Nov finally realized he'd been drifting and the healer was still there, probably wondering where on Miz his brain had just gone, he brought the steaming cup back to his lips and took another gulp of medicine. It gave him something to center on and brought back a glimmer of clarity.

Noven looked to Kechaiya, remembering her earlier hiss of pain. "You're hurt, Doc. I can see...probably one of your ribs. Does it...does it hurt to move...body...? Wuh...what was in thuh...this tea again..."

Empty night...what had he just attempted to pass off for actual sentences? It was becoming horribly hard to focus on the things that were coming out of his mouth. Nov could have been mumbling gibberish for all he knew. Struggling to concentrate on shaping the letters, the man pressed on. He had wanted to tell Kechaiya something. Something important. But it was slipping...

"Nuh...not...important, past.....just... He tried to squeeze out those last few syllables. So close. Almost there. Must tell her. "Just wanted....to tell you tha.......I dinn........dinnmeen......hurr.....yyoo........"

And then he was gone.

[Kechaiya]

Kech listened closely as he spoke about Mae, her hopes on the edge, getting ready to leap off and crash. Despite the pain he'd caused, despite the fact that she had absolutely no idea how he felt, her emotions were in turmoil, already jealous of a woman that could be anybody in the world simply by her name being mentioned. Her body tensed waiting, her mind already assuming the worst, getting her ready to run, as she always had when she was hurt. She strained against her language barrier, but was fairly certain that this Mae hadn't been much more than a friend at arms. They had killed together it seemed, though probably for a good reason. She didn't care about killing, she'd done it before, and everyone had their reasons, good or bad.

She listened to him talk of seeing a lot of people when he slept, so perhaps her medicine could help him never think of them, never mention them again. She'd been captured by a monster she'd gathered. Was Mae still alive? What had happened to her? Did he save her? But then he said the best of things she could hope to hear. That none of it mattered any more. This brought her some relief. She then watched as he would just randomly stare off at nothing for stretches of time, and she smiled. The medicine was working.

She listened to his query as to her pain, smiling even broader as his words began to fail him. "I fine Noven, sleep now." His final words before he drifted into sleep made her absolutely beam, for while she didn't quite catch them all, she could sense the intent in them. It solidified her belief that he was truly a good guy, using his final breath to confirm his apology.

She waited a few chimes, watching his chest rise and fall. She wanted to give it enough time to see if his night terrors would kick in or not. Standing up, wincing at the movement, she poured herself some of the tea, and sipped at the pungent concoction. She could use a good night's sleep, and she felt that her rib, and the excitement of what he'd said, would keep her awake. Having waited what she hoped was enough time, she finished the drink, setting it back on the nightstand. He looked so comfortable and at peace, and Kech found a thought creeping into her mind. Something that would please her immensely. She moved to bend down, to press her lips to his, the first time she'd ever attempted to do so with anyone ever. Getting about halfway down, she hissed in severe pain, immediately shooting back up, clutching at her side. It would have to wait.

"Good night Noven."

She turned to leave seeing Jillene standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "I know he hurt you Doc, and I know how much you've done for him and all of us." Then the blind Isur's eyes turned stern, "But if you hurt him, hurt his heart, you will regret it. I will make sure of it." Kechaiya nodded meekly, making her way to the bed set aside for her. She slipped out of her damp skirt and blouse, hanging them over the end of the bed to dry out, and climbed into bed painfully. She laid upon her back and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her as it did Noven. When it finally came, she slipped into unconsciousness with a small grin on her face.

[Amora Jade]

Congratulations, you've been awarded!

 

Noven

Skills

• Unarmed Combat +1
• Weapon: Dagger +1
• Observation +3
• Leadership +1
• Running +1

Lores

• Kechaiya: Doesn't Like Letting People Down
• Kechaiya: Will Make sure her Remedies Work Appropriately
• Kechaiya's Father's Saying: "Is all water in shade from here."
• How to Some-What Comfort a Distressed Woman
• Using a Belt Instead of Pain-Killing Herbs
• Having and Infected Stitched up Wound Cleaned Petching Hurts!

I really enjoyed reading this and I love the flow of your writing! Can't wait to read more.

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to send me a private message! Also, please remember to edit your post requesting the grade as "Graded."

With love,
Miss Jade