Albtraum (Elf Dreams) (Day 4)
Didn't get /any/ writing in yesterday. Essh!. So I need to make up for it in a double daily word count. Here it goes!
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((Prompt))
Hexer moaned and sighed with a soft smile forming slowly on his features. Idonea and Mara looked at each other and then back to him in concern. His eyes fluttered shut. Mara's heart skipped a beat, but it settled as she felt his mind drift into sleep instead of the cold freedom of death. Idonea shook as fear coursed through her body. She glanced up at Mara with terror in her eyes; but instead of claming the healer, the relaxed state of the sibling made Idonea more fearful.
"He sleeps, Idonea." Mara-doi said softly just to her.
"H-How do you know?" Idonea's hands shook, disbelief on her features.
"I would know, he is my twin after all. His death will take a part of my soul with him to Svartálfaheimr and freedom." Mara commented dryly. Idonea fainted with relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hexer slowly regained consciousness, as his mind swam upward and outward once more through the hazed brain-fog. His senses were dulled, and fear twisted his heart into tight knots. He knew he had been poisoned as it wasn't the first time such a thing was attempted. However he never felt so horrible, so distant from his senses, and so weak in limb and mind. He likened it to being an infant not able to crawl, walk, talk, or move. The sheets against his body felt like leaden weight meant to hold him in place. The urge to fight against them and kick them off rose very strongly in his heart and mind, however his muscles didn't respond but for the slightest twitch. Regaining contorl of his body and mind felt like swimming through thick sludge, and his chest hitched as he instinctively gulped for a breath of air.
He sensed someone nearby, but was unable to make out just who it was. The sound of their movement grated on his nerves and a sense of nausea rose violently to the forfront of his senses. He fought it down with all of his will. No need to make things worse after all, to have a healer or worse his own sister clean him as if he were an infant. Such a thought sent electric chills down his spine in revulsion. Some of this negative emotion helped him to further combat the sluggsih rise to conciousness.
His mind was slow and feeble, he was extremely physically tired, his body ached in places he never knew existed, and his vision blurry beyond any measure he understood. Slowly, at a slug's pace, some minor recognition lit his mind and brought him some relief to the horrible feelings developing within his heart. There was a white-gray softness above him he recognized as a tent cloth. Blinking his eyes he forced himself to concentrate harder. Squinting he made out the poles and supports of an inner-tent structure. His brain rolled around with this concept and decided it was the roof of a tent in fact. It took a few mroe heartbeats for his mind to decipher that he was in fact laying down. Suddenly, a wave of vertigo swept over him and he moaned softly as his whole world twisted around. The nausea rose again at this realization, suddenly and violently. This time he felt the bile as it too rose in the back of his throat. It took a force of will to swallow it back down and keep it down.
A feminine shape appeared next to him and softly placed hands on his face, neck, and hands. The texture was soft and somewhat pleasant, but the pressure applied was too much for him to handle. He reasoned to the best of his ability, that the touch was soft for the sensation was that of a healer checking him over. However such a soft touch sent waves of pain through his body the likes of which he knew only when being lashed for disobedience. He moaned again, and the sound of it grated on his alreayd raw nervous system.
When he blinked his eyes again, he made out a familar shape that sent waves of revulsion down his spine and into his stomach. It was Idonea. It must be Idonea if he was this ill, because his sister never let anyone else near either of them excpet that infuriating and flightly healer and by the All-Mother did he hate her. The idea of him so weak under her care, no matter her skill or understanding, made him feel all the worse. For a brief moment he entertained the idea of asking the All-Mother to just let him die. But that was a freedom he was not blessed to obtain. Not yet anyway.
The healer, Idonea, showed up quickly by his side when he first utter adn breath of motion and sound. She was fretful and uncertain. The Fungi her assistant found was one she didn't know, though it had simialr compounds as a more well known fungi back in the city. She checked his vitals. His heartbeat was stronger, and his breathign less ragged. She relaxed a little bit knowing that his immune system and body were working together to process the poison out. Even so, she still seemed fearful and ill-at-ease to any outside observer. Idonea knew her fluttering hands made the Priestess' brother feel further nauseous as the poison seemed to heighten the senses and over sensitize the nervous system. That was the major difference between the forms of fungi though, as this one attacked the nervous system. The poisioning was severe enough she feared it may cause a mass amounts of internal damage to his mind, heart, or general body functions.
"Mara-Doi, my lady, he is conscious now." The healer spoke in a soft whisper as she stood and moved to one side quickly, making room for Mara-Doi's approach.
'BROTHER!'
He winced at his sibling's soft mind-touch. The contact, though gentle, felt as though she were screaming at him. It felt as though hot coals raked across his brain and left their searing trails as sparks before his eyes. He moaned softly again and frowned as even both the sound of his own voice and the feel of his raw throat pained him greatly.
'...don't yell...'
She barely heard his mind-touch, as if it were but a whispered half-thought and mostly emotional in response rather then speech. She could feel the boil of raw emotions and shared briefly the sense of revulsion and nausea in his mind before she shut down her own sensitivity to him. What ever he was suffering through now was worse then anything he suffered through as a youth in "training".
'I'M NOT YELLING, BROTHER!'
He screwed his eyes shut, turned, and no longer able to control the urge he thenvomited on the floor at her feet. Calmly she took two steps back to avoid the splattered mess that hit the floor. A look of disgust briefly touched her facial features just before she managed to smooth them out and regained a measure of outward impassiveness. Idonea quickly went to make one of her conccotions, ever the busy healer was she. The sound of the glass and clay containers shifting around was also too much for him to handle, and he vommited again.
"Speak, softly. Anything else is a dagger in my mind." He whispered, gritted his teeth against another bout of sickness, and lost the fight. However this time nothing more but a litlte bit of stomach bile came up and out. He shivered with the effort and pain.
Mara-Doi looked over towards Idonea with a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. Idonea turned in time to catch this look as she walked towards the heating stones near the cot. Her forehead wrinkled in concern, and she just shook her head negatively to indicate she wouldn't dare speak at all. Instead, after she set down the tool of her trade, she signed to the Priestess.
The silent language of (the People) was rarely used, as much of it required a form of touch or sight. In the darkness of the caverns sight often was an impossibility, and few of (the people) dared to let another touch them without permission.
'Priestess, this one begs of you forgiveness. This one seeks a cure. It is a brain-illness born of fungi-poison. Fast in action. It not distilled, so not fatal. Not well known fact. Will heal quickly now brother awake.' The signs were quick, disjointed, and obviously not often used by the healer.
Mara-Doi nodded, looked stern for a moment, then her features blanked out into an impassive stone coutneance. Her signs were more fluid, and some of the words the healer didn't understand right away. This made the (entourage's) leader annoyed and twitchy.
'Healer, continue to seek a cure. He needs to be able-bodied so we can find his poisoner. We have a duty to uphold to the Holy High Seat.'
Idonea bowed and immediately went back to work. Mara-Doi left the two in the tent alone, and walked off into the heart of the encampment. Duties to the (entourage) were more important, and Idonea did not envy her such a lofty position. Such was the weight of responsibility and leadership that Idonea thanked the All-Mother for not "blessing" her with such a high level of birth. After the short moment of musing, Idonea then quickly but effeienctly focused on finding a remedy to bring Hexer back to full strength and health.
She placed a ceramic bowl of water on one of the heating stones, and as she waited for it to steam she gathered together the various herbs to combat the nausea. Hexer still clung to the side of and hanging half out of the cot, dry heaving. She shook her head as his body's strength. Most others didn't survive a fungi-poison of the level he was given. Mara found the bowl what had prepared the fungus, as well as the fungi from which the portion of the fungi was harvested. It was determined that at least 2 doses of the raw fungus was added to hexer's meal prior to his receiving it. The thrall and the poisoner were quickly located and punished. They were made to dig through the solid rock of the cavern with minimal tools to plant the post from which the currently hung. Their hair was brained together and used as the strand what supported them from the post they themselves put in the ground. Bound tightly, their hands then cut off and fed to the (hunting dog things), they hung outside of the Priestess' personal tent bleeding out. If it was the All-Mother's will, they'd die quickly. If they managed to survive, they would heal and become handless thralls good for only a small selection of duties to (the people). Idonea shivered at the thought of such a fate and prayed they went swiftly to the Mother for their freedom.
She knew why they had attempted it, and glanced furtivly at Hexer. Idonea had spoken with them before and knew their poltical stance was not of the healthy sort for this particular (entourage). She thought with trepidtation, that she had also taught them the basics of the healing arts.., which included poisons and how to cure them. Posioning was all to common an affliction in the (Delves), especially fungal poisoning. So, she feared being associated with them, more importantly being named the one who gave them their weapon - knowledge. She feared this more then she did failing to heal Hexer. Such a fate as a (conspiritor) was worse then failing one's duties. Far, far worse. An old childhood teaching-ballad, the Song of the Weaponsmith, suddenly came to mind and she shuddered involuntarily.
As soon the bowl of water started to steam, she added the mix of pungent herbs in it to soak. The scent as the essential oils released into the air soon filled the tent. The steam laced with this pungant herbal aroma rose softly in the still air of the tent, and soon also started to fill the air outside of the tent as the cloth absorbed the steam. As it sat, she took a small folded fan, opened it up, and began to fan the herbal steam in Hexer's direction.
Hexer moaned again as he breathed the strong scent of the herbal infused steam. At first the nasueua rose once again, however the combination of herbs seemed to almost immediately lessen and reduce the urge to vomit. He wasn't sure if it was just the scent of the herbs, or something in them that helped to combat the urge to vomit. Now, with the threat of vomitting under control, he rolled back over, leaned back into his pillow, and laid back down flat in the cot. He forced himself to relax, thinking about each muscel group and concentrating on releasing the tension in each in turn. The pounding headache in his temples throbbed incessantly and made it difficult to focus. All he wanted to do was curl up and die, but the All-Mother never allowed that without just cause. He drapped an arm over his eyes, and tried to then concentrate on his heartbeat and breathing instead.
Idonea, watching his reaction, mused over his response to the herbs. She pursed her lips together in thought, then took a small ceramic tea pot and set it nearby to the bowl on a different heating stone. In this she added a different infusion of herbs then patiently waited for it to steep. She added a few minerals to the infusion, mostly (insert stuff here) and a dash of charcoal to help remove the toxin from his system. She sweetened it slightly, to cover most of the bitterness. Then Idonea poured some into a closed topp cup and walked over to Hexer's side. As she knelt down she check his vitals once more, sighed, and gently brushed his hair from his forehead.
She modulated her tones carefully, watching his reactions to how she spoke.
"Hexer, mi' lord." She breathed softly into his ear. "I have something here for you to help with the sickness. You must drink it to get better."
He sighed, looked at her through narrowed eyes, and gingerly turned onto his side so he might drink the foul-smelling concoction.
(( Taking a break: Current count: 2245))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
((Prompt))
Hexer moaned and sighed with a soft smile forming slowly on his features. Idonea and Mara looked at each other and then back to him in concern. His eyes fluttered shut. Mara's heart skipped a beat, but it settled as she felt his mind drift into sleep instead of the cold freedom of death. Idonea shook as fear coursed through her body. She glanced up at Mara with terror in her eyes; but instead of claming the healer, the relaxed state of the sibling made Idonea more fearful.
"He sleeps, Idonea." Mara-doi said softly just to her.
"H-How do you know?" Idonea's hands shook, disbelief on her features.
"I would know, he is my twin after all. His death will take a part of my soul with him to Svartálfaheimr and freedom." Mara commented dryly. Idonea fainted with relief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hexer slowly regained consciousness, as his mind swam upward and outward once more through the hazed brain-fog. His senses were dulled, and fear twisted his heart into tight knots. He knew he had been poisoned as it wasn't the first time such a thing was attempted. However he never felt so horrible, so distant from his senses, and so weak in limb and mind. He likened it to being an infant not able to crawl, walk, talk, or move. The sheets against his body felt like leaden weight meant to hold him in place. The urge to fight against them and kick them off rose very strongly in his heart and mind, however his muscles didn't respond but for the slightest twitch. Regaining contorl of his body and mind felt like swimming through thick sludge, and his chest hitched as he instinctively gulped for a breath of air.
He sensed someone nearby, but was unable to make out just who it was. The sound of their movement grated on his nerves and a sense of nausea rose violently to the forfront of his senses. He fought it down with all of his will. No need to make things worse after all, to have a healer or worse his own sister clean him as if he were an infant. Such a thought sent electric chills down his spine in revulsion. Some of this negative emotion helped him to further combat the sluggsih rise to conciousness.
His mind was slow and feeble, he was extremely physically tired, his body ached in places he never knew existed, and his vision blurry beyond any measure he understood. Slowly, at a slug's pace, some minor recognition lit his mind and brought him some relief to the horrible feelings developing within his heart. There was a white-gray softness above him he recognized as a tent cloth. Blinking his eyes he forced himself to concentrate harder. Squinting he made out the poles and supports of an inner-tent structure. His brain rolled around with this concept and decided it was the roof of a tent in fact. It took a few mroe heartbeats for his mind to decipher that he was in fact laying down. Suddenly, a wave of vertigo swept over him and he moaned softly as his whole world twisted around. The nausea rose again at this realization, suddenly and violently. This time he felt the bile as it too rose in the back of his throat. It took a force of will to swallow it back down and keep it down.
A feminine shape appeared next to him and softly placed hands on his face, neck, and hands. The texture was soft and somewhat pleasant, but the pressure applied was too much for him to handle. He reasoned to the best of his ability, that the touch was soft for the sensation was that of a healer checking him over. However such a soft touch sent waves of pain through his body the likes of which he knew only when being lashed for disobedience. He moaned again, and the sound of it grated on his alreayd raw nervous system.
When he blinked his eyes again, he made out a familar shape that sent waves of revulsion down his spine and into his stomach. It was Idonea. It must be Idonea if he was this ill, because his sister never let anyone else near either of them excpet that infuriating and flightly healer and by the All-Mother did he hate her. The idea of him so weak under her care, no matter her skill or understanding, made him feel all the worse. For a brief moment he entertained the idea of asking the All-Mother to just let him die. But that was a freedom he was not blessed to obtain. Not yet anyway.
The healer, Idonea, showed up quickly by his side when he first utter adn breath of motion and sound. She was fretful and uncertain. The Fungi her assistant found was one she didn't know, though it had simialr compounds as a more well known fungi back in the city. She checked his vitals. His heartbeat was stronger, and his breathign less ragged. She relaxed a little bit knowing that his immune system and body were working together to process the poison out. Even so, she still seemed fearful and ill-at-ease to any outside observer. Idonea knew her fluttering hands made the Priestess' brother feel further nauseous as the poison seemed to heighten the senses and over sensitize the nervous system. That was the major difference between the forms of fungi though, as this one attacked the nervous system. The poisioning was severe enough she feared it may cause a mass amounts of internal damage to his mind, heart, or general body functions.
"Mara-Doi, my lady, he is conscious now." The healer spoke in a soft whisper as she stood and moved to one side quickly, making room for Mara-Doi's approach.
'BROTHER!'
He winced at his sibling's soft mind-touch. The contact, though gentle, felt as though she were screaming at him. It felt as though hot coals raked across his brain and left their searing trails as sparks before his eyes. He moaned softly again and frowned as even both the sound of his own voice and the feel of his raw throat pained him greatly.
'...don't yell...'
She barely heard his mind-touch, as if it were but a whispered half-thought and mostly emotional in response rather then speech. She could feel the boil of raw emotions and shared briefly the sense of revulsion and nausea in his mind before she shut down her own sensitivity to him. What ever he was suffering through now was worse then anything he suffered through as a youth in "training".
'I'M NOT YELLING, BROTHER!'
He screwed his eyes shut, turned, and no longer able to control the urge he thenvomited on the floor at her feet. Calmly she took two steps back to avoid the splattered mess that hit the floor. A look of disgust briefly touched her facial features just before she managed to smooth them out and regained a measure of outward impassiveness. Idonea quickly went to make one of her conccotions, ever the busy healer was she. The sound of the glass and clay containers shifting around was also too much for him to handle, and he vommited again.
"Speak, softly. Anything else is a dagger in my mind." He whispered, gritted his teeth against another bout of sickness, and lost the fight. However this time nothing more but a litlte bit of stomach bile came up and out. He shivered with the effort and pain.
Mara-Doi looked over towards Idonea with a questioning look and a raised eyebrow. Idonea turned in time to catch this look as she walked towards the heating stones near the cot. Her forehead wrinkled in concern, and she just shook her head negatively to indicate she wouldn't dare speak at all. Instead, after she set down the tool of her trade, she signed to the Priestess.
The silent language of (the People) was rarely used, as much of it required a form of touch or sight. In the darkness of the caverns sight often was an impossibility, and few of (the people) dared to let another touch them without permission.
'Priestess, this one begs of you forgiveness. This one seeks a cure. It is a brain-illness born of fungi-poison. Fast in action. It not distilled, so not fatal. Not well known fact. Will heal quickly now brother awake.' The signs were quick, disjointed, and obviously not often used by the healer.
Mara-Doi nodded, looked stern for a moment, then her features blanked out into an impassive stone coutneance. Her signs were more fluid, and some of the words the healer didn't understand right away. This made the (entourage's) leader annoyed and twitchy.
'Healer, continue to seek a cure. He needs to be able-bodied so we can find his poisoner. We have a duty to uphold to the Holy High Seat.'
Idonea bowed and immediately went back to work. Mara-Doi left the two in the tent alone, and walked off into the heart of the encampment. Duties to the (entourage) were more important, and Idonea did not envy her such a lofty position. Such was the weight of responsibility and leadership that Idonea thanked the All-Mother for not "blessing" her with such a high level of birth. After the short moment of musing, Idonea then quickly but effeienctly focused on finding a remedy to bring Hexer back to full strength and health.
She placed a ceramic bowl of water on one of the heating stones, and as she waited for it to steam she gathered together the various herbs to combat the nausea. Hexer still clung to the side of and hanging half out of the cot, dry heaving. She shook her head as his body's strength. Most others didn't survive a fungi-poison of the level he was given. Mara found the bowl what had prepared the fungus, as well as the fungi from which the portion of the fungi was harvested. It was determined that at least 2 doses of the raw fungus was added to hexer's meal prior to his receiving it. The thrall and the poisoner were quickly located and punished. They were made to dig through the solid rock of the cavern with minimal tools to plant the post from which the currently hung. Their hair was brained together and used as the strand what supported them from the post they themselves put in the ground. Bound tightly, their hands then cut off and fed to the (hunting dog things), they hung outside of the Priestess' personal tent bleeding out. If it was the All-Mother's will, they'd die quickly. If they managed to survive, they would heal and become handless thralls good for only a small selection of duties to (the people). Idonea shivered at the thought of such a fate and prayed they went swiftly to the Mother for their freedom.
She knew why they had attempted it, and glanced furtivly at Hexer. Idonea had spoken with them before and knew their poltical stance was not of the healthy sort for this particular (entourage). She thought with trepidtation, that she had also taught them the basics of the healing arts.., which included poisons and how to cure them. Posioning was all to common an affliction in the (Delves), especially fungal poisoning. So, she feared being associated with them, more importantly being named the one who gave them their weapon - knowledge. She feared this more then she did failing to heal Hexer. Such a fate as a (conspiritor) was worse then failing one's duties. Far, far worse. An old childhood teaching-ballad, the Song of the Weaponsmith, suddenly came to mind and she shuddered involuntarily.
As soon the bowl of water started to steam, she added the mix of pungent herbs in it to soak. The scent as the essential oils released into the air soon filled the tent. The steam laced with this pungant herbal aroma rose softly in the still air of the tent, and soon also started to fill the air outside of the tent as the cloth absorbed the steam. As it sat, she took a small folded fan, opened it up, and began to fan the herbal steam in Hexer's direction.
Hexer moaned again as he breathed the strong scent of the herbal infused steam. At first the nasueua rose once again, however the combination of herbs seemed to almost immediately lessen and reduce the urge to vomit. He wasn't sure if it was just the scent of the herbs, or something in them that helped to combat the urge to vomit. Now, with the threat of vomitting under control, he rolled back over, leaned back into his pillow, and laid back down flat in the cot. He forced himself to relax, thinking about each muscel group and concentrating on releasing the tension in each in turn. The pounding headache in his temples throbbed incessantly and made it difficult to focus. All he wanted to do was curl up and die, but the All-Mother never allowed that without just cause. He drapped an arm over his eyes, and tried to then concentrate on his heartbeat and breathing instead.
Idonea, watching his reaction, mused over his response to the herbs. She pursed her lips together in thought, then took a small ceramic tea pot and set it nearby to the bowl on a different heating stone. In this she added a different infusion of herbs then patiently waited for it to steep. She added a few minerals to the infusion, mostly (insert stuff here) and a dash of charcoal to help remove the toxin from his system. She sweetened it slightly, to cover most of the bitterness. Then Idonea poured some into a closed topp cup and walked over to Hexer's side. As she knelt down she check his vitals once more, sighed, and gently brushed his hair from his forehead.
She modulated her tones carefully, watching his reactions to how she spoke.
"Hexer, mi' lord." She breathed softly into his ear. "I have something here for you to help with the sickness. You must drink it to get better."
He sighed, looked at her through narrowed eyes, and gingerly turned onto his side so he might drink the foul-smelling concoction.
(( Taking a break: Current count: 2245))