[Flashback] Of men, blood and flinders [Veldrys]

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

12th day of Fall, 509AV
Home of Velarian Zantedeschia and his son Davariel

"I told you to sit still." Velarian dropped a colorful shard of glass on the small table staying in the middle of the room. Not too long ago it had been part of a delicate vase of windreach glass, a fairing from the man's first journey into the world above. Its sad remains looked far less glorious than what he had gifted to his late wife back in the day.

"It's not that bad," his son proclaimed stubborn, one hand pressing against the bandages loosely wrapped around his lower arm. Red splotched the simple fabric, the boy's face rivaling the threads' ashen color. He had always been pale, but now all blood seemed drained from his skin. He chewed at his lower lip. "Doesn't even hurt."

With a little more force than needed his father closed the empty cage, hanging on the wall next to the boy's bed niche. "Is that so?"

Davariel did not answer. Silence became an almost tangible quality of the room, stretching over the gauze lined floor, up the walls with all its nooks, alcoves and storage holes. In the back of the room Velarian searched the carpet for last wayward flinders. All curtains usually dividing the room into smaller portions were pulled aside, allowing the child to study the entire room. His eyes however always returned to the iron bars of the bird cage. Finally the young Symenestra cleared his throat. "You think he might flew into another building?"

"Eventually." The man's voice rung tired more than angry as he dropped a last shard onto the growing pile of shimmering fragments. Eyes the color of dark rubies came to rest on the child. "It is beyond me, how you though to catch a live bird that size."

"I thought he would like me."

"Is that why you opened the cage?"

Again the youth remained quiet, eyes lowered. Withheld anger was burning in them, yet his passion paled compared to the shame and guilt one might read in them as well. The older Symenestra clicked his tongue, turning. Absently he starred up the wall, to wards the dark opening towards the ceiling. It was the only way to enter. "I wonder. What could keep your aunt so long? And if she had to drag the old Hellebore here, she should be back by now. It-"

"I only did it because it was your favorite," the boy fell into his word. "I... thought you might be angry when you heard he was gone."

Velarian shook his head. "It was just a bird," he said softly. His previous tirade forgotten he gave his son a long look. Davariel's eyes shimmered wet, causing the older man to sigh. "Never do something so stupid again."

A noise from above drew the animators attention. "Seems your aunt finally did find someone. You wait down here and no complains." With that Velarian started to scale the wall towards the opening. He could not imagine his sister had actually got the head medic of the Purging to look after his son's scratch, but there were other – also less vain – individuals serving as healers who might as well come. In a city such as Kalinor it was not always easy to transport the wounded without help.

Reaching the top ledge, Velarian opened the door.

[Veldrys]

Veldrys was in the Place of Purging, working as a healer as he often did. It was an occupation that was unusual for one of his kind. It was not in a Symenestra’s nature to help those that were in need. They sometimes possessed little gentleness amd little understanding for those unfortunate women that they dragged down into their underground city, to condemn them to a painful death. It was simply not their way. Veldrys was quite aware that his attitude, should it ever become known, would potentially make him an outcast among his people, and yet he could not help it. The women that they brought here, they were more than animals, and their last months should at least be as pleasant as possible. And didn’t a race like theirs that numbered less than a thousand have an especially great need of competent healers? While old Hellebore’s bedside manners left something to be desired, the younger healer often had a word of comfort for those that came here, even if they didn’t appreciate it, even if Hellebore himself constantly complained about the growing softness of those that worked under him. At least Veldrys had never willingly let a surrogate escape. He had no interest in breaking all the laws that governed their society, fearing the consequences, but rather faced them with a certain amount of bitterness and secretly wondered if there really was no other way to preserve their race. This day had been especially busy. Several surrogates had decided to give birth at the same time and a few children were suffering from some kind of fever. Old Hellebore himself had been called to the bed of a Syemenstra who was about to give birth as well. There were complications that threatened the life of both mother and child, and they could not afford to lose both. The father was a man of some wealth and of a higher station, and he had insisted that no one but the man that presided over the Place of Purging treat the patient. And of course it was just at this moment that she showed up. Veldrys had just finished treatening one of the children and sat down to drink from a cup of blood that one of his fellow healers had brought to him – there was no time for a proper meal – when a woman entered the Place of Purging. Sighing he put the cup away, knowing that it would have gone bad by the time he was done with whatever work she had for him and stood up to face her. She was about his own age, maybe a little older, he observed, red eyed, white haired, and not unappealing. He could recall seeing her and her family on occasion. In a place like Kalinor most pople knew each other at least by sight. He wondered what she had heard of him and whether she approved or not. „Zantedeschia, is it not?” the healer asked, attempting to give his voice a polite tone, despite the exhaustion that threatened to take him over, as he looked at her. The woman nodded. “What can I do for you?” he asked. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “I’m not, but my nephew is. He hurt his arm, and it is bleeding. My brother asked me to find a competent healer and take him to the boy.” “Hellebore is already treating another patient, I’m afraid”, Veldrys informed her. He doubted that the old man would have agreed to treat such a minor injury, even if he had been present, but he didn’t say it out loud. There was no need for her to know that. “I can come with you however”, he offered. “I just finished my work here.” The woman looked at him for a moment, and then she shrugged her shoulders and decided, “Come with me then.” There was no sign as to whether she was content with a less experienced healer, with a man like him, or not. She simply stepped out of the Place of Purging, gesturing for him to follow her and led him through the city, to the house where his patient was supposedly waiting. “His name is Davariel”, she informed him as they stood in front of the door. “He is eight and my brother’s only child.” There was a vague hint of a threat in her words, that he’d better to do his best, even if the wound was by no means life threatening. Their gazes met again, and then she knocked on the door to let her brother know that she was back. Veldrys was the first to greet Velarian, while the woman stood behind him, watching the exchange between her brother and him. “My name is Veldrys”, the healer introduced himself as he peered into the chamber below, wondering where the boy was. “Your sister came to the Place of Purging. She asked for a healer, claiming that your son was hurt.”

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

"He is." Moments only the older Symenestra studied the healer on his door step. Velarian knew most any man, woman and child dwelling within Kalinor's complex network of webs and cocoons, yet he could not remember to have ever talked with the young man now staying before him. Veldrys. The name woke faint memories, rumors foremost and little else. Hearsay had it that the medic was not one of the harvest's loudest supporters, that he was somewhat soft, an oddball among his own ilk. Whispers also agreed he was loyal to his family, a fact Velarian appreciated. Pale features did not betray the animator's thoughts, but two, three seconds later he stepped back. "Please come on in. It is right down the hallway."

Moving past the other man, Velarian had a quiet exchange with his sister. Over its course the young woman nodded, turning, while her brother proceeded to follow Veldrys inside. The door was closed behind them with a soft thud.

"My name is Velarian. I am glad you could arrange a visit." The half round corridor before them wormed three feet into the building, becoming a steep slope after that mark, too slant for comfortable walking. Velarian resolved to climbing soon after. Floor turned wall as both of them entered the one large room the home consisted of. A glance was cast in the healer's direction. "I hope we did not disturb your work. Or your study."

Bare feet touched soft fabric when the older man dropped the last inches down to the ground. Davariel was still sitting in the hollow niche on the opposite wall, a picture of misery in white. The child looked small in the sparely furnished residence. They had little need for furniture. Goods and possessions could be stored away in nooks along the walls, beds were niches hidden behind thick curtains. A rosewood table stood in the middle of the room, four chairs arranged around it and two large chest sat snug against a wall. In the back of the room stood a workbench, covered in drawings and fabric and other supply the man needed for animation.

"My son, Davariel," the man nodded towards the youth. Like his father he was slender, but unlike him he was rather short, with eyes a few shades paler than Velarian's own. With a shy look at Veldrys, the boy came forward to sit on the chair pulled back for him. Nosy and headstrong when around his family the child lacked the same obstinacy when dealing with strangers. Instead of a greeting he merely nodded his welcome to the healer, thin fingers clenching around his arm a little tighter.

Stepping behind the child, Velarian pulled the adolescent's hand aside with gentle force. "Our cardinal escaped earlier and he tried to catch him. A vase was in the way. More or less," the older Symenestra continued to explained. Uncomfortable he looked down his son's wounds. Two cuts ran over the back of Davariel's arm, almost black against the pallid skin. Only one of them was still bleeding, dark red pooling in the shallow slash.

"They are not deep, I don't think."

Concern lay in the man's voice, weak, yet notice able. When Davariel looked up however, the older man's lips twitched into an encouraging smile. Quietly he ran a black nailed hand through the boy's silken hair. "Is there anything you need?," Velarian asked in the healer's direction. "Water. Some linen...? I should have both, if little else. He is more careful usually."

[Veldrys]

Veldrys made a step back to allow Velarian and his sister a moment of privacy while they talked. He had no interest in spying on the conversations of those around him, but waited patiently. Only as the animator’s sister turned away, did he step into the hallway behind the door, murmurring a soft „thank you“ as he did so. He too decided to climb down the corridor, into the room below rather than walk. „You did not disturb me at all“, he answered. The tone of his voice was still polite and comparatively calm. „I had just finished treating my last patient when your sister arrived, and my studies can wait until the evening.“ He dropped down, on the ground, landing elegantly. Velarian’s home, he observed, was much smaller than the one he shared with his father, stepmother and his two younger sisters, consisting of only one room. But it was a pleasant enough place, and what he could see of it painted a favourable picture of its owner. His gaze lingered on the workbench and the drawings and fabrics that covered it for a moment. „Are you an artist of some sort?“ he wondered with idle curiosity. While he waited for the older man’s answer, he turned to where the boy was sitting. Davariel looked fairly miserable, the healer noticed. He gave him a soft smile to reassure him, to tell him that everything would be alright. „Hello, Davariel“, he spoke as he approached. „I heard that you’ve hurt yourself? How did that happen?“ „A vase?“ He arched an eyebrow as Velarian recounted what had happened. „And what happened to the cardinal? Did you manage to catch it?“ He hoped so. A bird, flying around in the underground city of Kalinor wouldn’t have a particularly long life. Few of the things that such animals needed could be found here. The question had been directed at Davariel who had not said a single word thus far. Veldrys bent down to inspect the boy’s arm and touched it for a moment. The healer’s black nails had been filed very short. It took years to grow a proper set of nails, but they tended to get in the way in an occupation such as this one where everything depended on the fact that you worked carefully. Morphing would have achieved the same result, but it was not without risks and an unnecessary waste of energy, and thus he’d decided to make that small sacrifice. „No, the cuts aren’t particularly deep“, he agreed. „I don’t think they need stitching. Even the deeper cut is hardly more than a few millimetres deep. It will heal quickly. There likely won’t even be a scar.“ He turned to Velarian. „I’ll need a bowl of water, bandages, maybe some alcohol to clean the wound, if you have it.“

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

"Of sorts." Velarian looked towards the work bench, pulling the curtain around it closed. "I am working as an Animator."

Seconds passed, but no explanation followed. Veldrys' host seemed determined to leave it at the the brief remark given. Long ago he might have boasted about his profession, the things he could do, but back then he had been young, careless. He knew better now. Not every one met sorcerers with appreciation or even just indifference. The arcane arts granted powers few could fathom and not all cared to deal with their dangers even tangentially. Madness rarely made itself apparent at first glimpse and not even Velarian could deny that magic played with ones head and mind. He had seen it happen.

Maybe he had found some more words about his work still, had it not been for his son's wounds. The older Symenestra picked up the bandages he had just removed. Later they would be dropped down the cave floor with all the other waste. For now they could wait.

Before the healer Davariel shook his head. "No. Got out of the window." The boys voice was miserable. "Father will look for it later," he added more surely. He seemed unable to look down the cuts Veldrys inspect, instead throwing his father a pleading glance.

Velarian tilt his head to the side. "I am not sure we will find him again," he said honestly, continuing over to a niche in the wall. "But I will have a look around," he added almost too quickly. The animator looked anything but confident when he pulled two carafes from behind a white curtain. Together with a wooden bowl and two cups they were placed on the table. Carefully the man poured water into the bowl and a red liquid into the two cups. The scent of heavy wine started to fill the air, thick and earthy.

"That's the strongest spirit I have to offer I am afraid. I acquired two bottles from a merchant just yesterday." From behind another curtain Velarian produced a few rolls of fabric, picking the softest to cut into stripes for bandages. If there was anything few Symenestra households were missing it was fabric of different sorts and making, too many of their breed understood at least the basics of weaving. It was a way to make money, it was past time, hobby and art. "I hope you will have a cup as well later," the animator continued with a nod towards the offered drink. His eyes flickered to Davariel, when the youth flinched under Veldrys' touch.

"I don't think I would mind a scar," the boy said as he blinked away tears. "I could say I got them in a fight, don't you think?"

In the back of the room Velarian had to suppress a sigh. Ruby eyes came to rest on the young healer once more. Years had past since his last visit at the place of purging and the older man knew few healers better than in mere passing. His newest acquaintance however seemed to know what he was doing. The animator took a sip from his cup of wine. "You are Velveryn's oldest child, are you not?"

[Veldrys]

Veldrys nodded as Velarian explained that he was an animator. He looked at the other man, expecting him to say more, but no further words came, and Veldrys eventually turned away, disappointed that his curiosity hadn’t been satisified, but accepting it. In some way he could understand the older Symenestra’s reluctance to talk about his magic. Veldrys himself mostly conducted his magic studies in secret since few people would understand why he’d chosen the art he did. Morphing was a little strange, and there was always the danger that you’d lose yourself if you advanced in it, if you worked towards achieving the highest rank. „I’m sure that your father will eventually find the bird“, Veldrys remarked to Davariel because it seemed like what the boy wanted to hear, even if Velarian himself didn’t seem to be particularly confident about it. He just wanted to make the child feel a little better. While Velarian looked for the things he had requested, the healer simply stood there and smiled at Davariel. „You’ll feel better soon“, he promised him. He’d noticed how Davariel had flinched under his touch, as if he was in pain or not comfortable in the presence of a stranger. „Thank you“, he said to Velarian and let his hands run across the cloth he had brought, noticing how soft it was. „I’d appreciate a cup later, when I’ve treated your son“, he added, cleaned his hands with the water and poured a bit of alcohol onto a piece of cloth. Davariel had just cut himself on a vase, but as far as Veldrys was concerned it was better to be careful and clean the wound nevertheless. He briefly inspected the deep cut to see if any pieces of glass were stuck in the wound, and then he warned Davariel, „You have to be brave now. This is going to sting a little.“ He quickly cleaned the wound, trying to be gentle at the same time. „That wasn’t too bad, was it?“ he asked. „If you get a scar after all, you can claim that you got it in a fight that you won and pretend that you are a hero“, he agreed with Davariel and handed him a clean piece of cloth. „Press this onto the wound as hard as you can“, he instructed the boy while he inspected the other, shallow cut. He cleaned it as well, but decided that it could otherwise just be left as it was. „I am“, he replied as he heard Velarian’s question. He wasn’t entirely happy about his status as the oldest child of his web. He was quite aware of the things that were associated with it and what he would have to do sooner or later, when his sisters asked for it. He’d never wanted such responsibilities, not since the issue with his younger sister’s surrogate, but unfortunately he hadn’t found a way out so far. „I’m the oldest of three“, he elaborated, pushing the unwelcome memories away. „I have two younger sisters. And you? Do you have any siblings?“

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

Davariel nodded, but looked not all brave doing so. Pale finger's clasped the piece of cloth against the cut the way Veldrys had shown him. Although he had avoided looking at the wound at first the boy was now peering down his arm with near curiosity. "Thanks," he mumbled quietly. He had managed to hold still during the better part of the treatment, only once his father had to step forward to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"You are much nicer than the last healer we had here," the youth confessed. "She was rough. And unfriendly."

"She patched you up well enough though," Velarian threw in, pulling a second chair from the table for the medic. In his earlier concern he had entirely forgotten to offer the man a seat. "I hope you will take it a lesson this time."

"Was not really my fault though."

"You where the only one at home," his father reminded him, before he stepped away, giving the healer room to continue with his work.

"Hm," the boy sulked, looking up to the healer without another word. A moment only it seemed he wanted to say more, but then he didn't. He was the oldest child among the Zantedeschia web and would have been the only one had not been for the girl Velarian's brother had sired some years back with a surrogate. At times he acted like the spoiled child he was. Other times he was well aware of how others perceived him, just keeping quiet then. He knew when he could not win a battle. Beside the table his father tilt the head to the side.

"I have two siblings. An older brother and a younger sister you already met." The older man put his cup down. "My brother left to conduct the harvest just recently however. It has been a while since he last left the city for anything but hunting." Had their father still been alive, the animator was sure his father had complained over the fact they only had a child each. No, the old man would not have been happy with how lazy his brother had grown after his first child, yet Velarian couldn't quite get himself to urge his older sibling on. It was his brother's decision when he picked his next surrogate and Velarian had no strong desire to have one picked for himself either. Not just yet at least.

Falling quiet he watched the younger man. He could not be much older than Velarian himself had been when he had first married. Looking back the sorcerer felt he had been too young, too inexperienced, yet he had done what his family had demanded of him.

"How about you? Do you come to leave the city often?" The young man did not strike him a hunter, yet it was hard to tell with their kin, so lean and slender most of them grew. "I have to admit it has been a long while since I last traveled." He might soon again for a short trip, but the man had not yet told his son or anyone else.

[Veldrys]

„Thank you.“ The hint of a smile was visible on Veldrys‘ pale face as the boy called him nice, and then he looked at Davariel questioningly. „Who was that other healer?“ he wanted to know. „Was her name by chance Hellebore? Old Hellebore's one of the most competent healers I know, but he can be a little rude every once in a while. I doubt his relatives are any different.“ He shrugged his shoulders, deciding that it would be unwise to say more. Hellebore was after all his superior, no matter how many character flaws he had and how often he’d called him soft and criticized the way he treated his patients. Truth to be told, Veldrys hadn’t even noticed that Velarian hadn’t offered him a seat yet. His attention had been almost entirely focused on Davariel and his injuries so far. He’d ignored his surroundings for the most part. As the older Symenestra pulled the chair forward however, the healer inclined his head in a sign of gratitude, and then he turned to face Davariel again. He didn’t comment on the brief exchange between father and son, but rather pretended to be busy cutting a strip off from another piece of cloth. „I’m going to wrap this bandage around your arm now“, he explained to Davariel. „You should leave it where it is for a while, even if it’s a bit uncomfortable and tight. If you want, I’ll stop by on my way to the Purging in a couple of days and check if everything’s fine and if the cut has healed properly.“ He put whatever was left of the cloth away and added, „You’ve been very brave, Davariel. Your father must be proud of you.“ He glanced at Velarian to see how he reacted to that, and then the healer finally grasped the cup he had been offered and took a slow, careful sip, enjoying the taste of the drink. „Will it be your brother’s first child?“ he asked in a neutral tone of voice, knowing that his father expected him to get married and find a surrogate before too long as well. Veldrys was twenty, an adult in every way and the only man in his generation besides a few very distant cousins. It would be up to him to make sure that his web continued since neither of his sisters seemed to be keen on getting pregnant and dying in childbirth like Veldrys‘ mother. „I leave the city every once in a while“, he answered, glad that the topic had been changed. „My father is a merchant and has frequent contact with the traders, and thus he doesn’t entirely disapprove of such things. I intend to visit Denval or Lhavit in winter or maybe in spring, when it’s a little warmer and safer to travel. I find those that dwell on the surface quite fascinating, and I’ve heard that they pray to Viratas in Denval.“ Even if his interest in humans might not meet everybody’s approval, they all appreciated the worship of Viratas. „And you? Where have you been so far?“ he asked.

[Velarian Zantedeschia]

A frown appeared on the boy's face as he tried to recall the name of the healer he had met last. "No, I don't think her name was Hellebore," he said slowly, shaking his head. "She may not have introduced herself at all."

She had mostly muttered under her breath, in a way reminding Velarian about his own sister. Easy angered, quick to please, not an outgoing woman but honest. He had to admit to not recall the medics name either. Although he could rely on his memory most every day and he was good memorizing details there were moments he lost his head. Seeing his son hurt was one of the few occasions. From his place by the table, he watched the other man place new bandages around his son's arm. The child nodded to Veldry's words.

"Thanks, that would be nice." Davariel looked up to him, a sudden realization crossing his face. "Ah, what's your name? I forgot to ask," the boy admit with a smile, fingers tracing his new dressing. Velarian left the other man to answer the question directed at him, however nodded when the medic shot a glance in his direction.

"Very proud," he assured his son with a smirk. If only you were a little more careful, the animator thought sourly. For someone with so little interest learning to hunt and fight the youth had unrivaled talent for bringing himself into trouble.

Pulling himself out under the table the animator sat down. The tension he had felt in his stomach for neigh an hour now started to unravel, his hands starting to play with the cup before him. He had barely touched it. "No, it will be his second child. He also has a daughter some years younger than Davariel. Good girl, albeit quiet. She-"

"My father has been traveling the entire world," the boy pointed out proudly before his father even came to answer the next question. "He brought home a lot of interesting... things."

The animator shook his head. "I did not see all of it," he added quickly to halt his son's enthusiasm.

"Almost."

This time Velarian laughed. "Not even almost. Your uncle has seen much more than me over all." More serious the man turned to Veldys, one hand absently reaching for his son's wrist, who had started to develop a certain explorative interest in his bandages. With a sigh the boy lowered his hand. His father's attention came to settle on the healer. "I have been in Lhavit a few times; to get some supplies for my work. In the two years before Davariel's birth I traveled further east on a few occasions, through Kalea and Taldera. Saw most larger cities on the way, but never came further south than Ravok - a city towards the north eastern shore."

He reached out to take another sip, inclining his head. "If I was you I would wait till spring. The mountains towards the north are vicious in the cold season. The beasts might in general not grow as large as in Taldera, but what's left is dangerous in its own right. Unless you have a certain experience with surviving in the wild it would be safest to wait for the snow to melt." Reaching for the second carafe the man poured himself a second cup, water this time. "I have never been to Denval. When you return from your harvest I would be too curious to hear about it."

[Veldrys]

„It doesn’t matter anyway“, Veldrys decided and shrugged his shoulders as the boy said that the other healer might not have introduced herself at all. A lot of the healers that worked at the Purging weren’t exactly kind and gentle and understanding, but the most important thing was that they did their job well, as far as Veldrys was concerned. Whoever this other healer had been, Velarian seemed to have been content with her work at least. „Oh.“ A bit of blush colored the young healer’s ashen cheeks for a moment as he realized that, while he had introduced himself to Velarian, he had never told the boy his name. „I’m sorry. My name is Veldrys.“ He gave Davariel a mock bow, as if he were introducing himself to an important person, and grinned a little, revealing sharp teeth. He nodded as Velarian said that it would be his brother’s second child. „My youngest sister is only a year or two older than Davariel“, he replied. „Your niece sounds a lot like her.“ He fell silent again as it seemed as if Velarian wanted to say more, but than his son interrupted him, and Veldrys abruptly looked at him. „What did he bring you?“ he wanted to know. „Toys? New clothes? Maybe fruit, like they grow them on the surface?“ He noticed that the boy was playing with his bandage and reminded him, „You shouldn’t touch it. I know that it doesn’t feel good, but it is necessary so that your wound heals properly.“ „I’ve been to Lhavit as well“, he remarked. „And to Alvadas. One day I would like to see Syliras. But it’s far away, and it would take forever to get there. I’m not sure if I can leave my Web and my work at the Purging for such a long amount of time.“ He sighed. There was a hint of regret in his voice as he spoke. „What is Ravok like?“ he wanted to know. „I’ve never been there. My travels so far have been mostly focused around the Kalea Region. Are they accepting of our kind in Ravok?“ As Velarian said that he would wait until spring, he nodded. „That might be for the best. I might wait until next year then. I have to admit, I have very little experience when it comes to surviving in the wilderness, and my knowledge of weapons is sorely lacking as well. I can identify a few herbs, but in winter such a skill is useless. I hope to accompagny one of the traders that visit Kalinor on at least part of the journey. It seems safer to travel in a large group that is well protected. They might appreciate the company of a healer, even if his dietary habits tend to be a little strange.“ „It’s not a harvest“, he corrected Velarian. „This time at least I’m only going there to see what the city has to offer and whether there’ll be any opportunities to trade. It will likely be a while until I take part in a harvest.“ He was rather glad about that, and he hoped that his Web wouldn’t suddenly change their mind. „But when I come back, I will let you know what it was like. I might even bring a gift for your son.“ He turned to Davariel. „Would you like something that the humans of Denval made, Davariel?“