Almalexia. (arithmeticks) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-07-10 09:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, almalexia lliryn, storm kapur |
Who: Almalexia Lliryn and Storm Kapur.
What: Storm returns for healing.
Where: A clinic room in the monastery.
When: Backdated to the day of the Leviathan battle.
Rating: PG, some mention of injuries.
Status: Complete!
After the nasty episode at the docks, Storm found himself unceremoniously thrown into the monastery’s clinics for the second time in a week. Seated on one of the cots with a towel thrown over his head, the squire made for a pathetic sight. Ugly gashes and abrasions covered his limbs, each still stinging because of residual salt. His loose tunic and trousers were ruined, and his dislocated shoulder had been crudely reset. But of all these wounds the one to Storm’s pride stung the most. Had he really been training for so hard and so long, only to be bested by scrap wood? And only last week he thought he’d come so far. Storm raised a hand to swipe at a lock of hair, made stringy and dry by the salt. Even that miniscule action was enough to cause sharp bursts of pain to spread up his arm. Just as the curtain was drawn open, the squire tried and failed to suppress an undignified yelp. "Pardon me," Lex said quickly, her hand lingering on the curtain she'd drawn aside. With relief, it seemed she had found what she was looking for. Having not seen for herself the dramatic battle at the docks, Lex was therefore able to attend to those in need of healing with a brisk amount of efficiency. Once the injured started to wander back to the Cathedral, she found herself quickly following the lead of the other resident mages. It was simply another way of contributing her efforts, and of this she reminded herself whenever the frustration of being disallowed to come and go as she pleased became too much to stomach. Her hesitation to approach the boy lasted only a few moments. Lex had a keen eye for injuries, thanks to no certain individual that could easily be named, and the sight of each scrape and gash caused her natural instincts to come crashing to the forefront. She herself would need to heal Storm, that much was now solidified. Standing a polite distance away, for the moment, Lex continued to assess his wounds and determine her next course of action. "How are you feeling, Storm?" Storm was immediately relieved to see that, of all the Cathedral’s mages, it was Lex who had been on shift. “Poorly,” he said honestly, seeing no need to posture. His voice was just as pathetic and debilitated as he was, he thought with a scowl. “I was helping with the evacuations when a wave came in,” he continued. “I…” And here, miserably, he hesitated. The truth would be embarrassing even to the most prideful of individuals. To someone as self-doubting as Storm, the reality was crushing. “I was caught under some scrap wood.” The squire readied himself for Lex’s inevitable exasperation. How many worthy warriors had she attended to before him? Perhaps a few who’d actually gotten a hit on the serpent. Likely countless who had at the very least gone down fighting. He doubted any of them had been pitiful squires sent to battle monsters only to return defeated by water and debris. “Oh?” Lex wasn't terribly accustomed to such admissions. She expected stubbornness, or even posturing, but not the earnest truth only a young squire such as Storm could provide. There was sympathy for him--but Lex perhaps was not the most well-versed in easily administering comfort or affection, such as a hug or even a gentle pat on the shoulder. Instead, she did what seemed most efficient and useful and moved to grab a basin and cloth from the table nearby. "And how many were you able to provide help to?" She asked calmly, setting the basin beside him. "I assume you were with the Korporal, of course." It was as close as she was likely to approach to asking about Rictor in particular. Carefully her mind stayed focused on the tasks before her. "Give me your shirt, if you would. You'll need to clean these wounds before I use any magic, should any dirt or other soil remain." Dumbstruck, Storm did as she bade. Removing his tunic and handing it to her (an act which revealed large bruises and wounds he had only been peripherally aware of), he pondered her question. He had prepared answers to derision, to mockery, to disappointment. Mentally, he stumbled over a response to calm interest. “I did not really count,” Storm said tentatively. He remembered their faces, but thinking back far enough to tally them all was more effort than he could manage in his present state. “I just wanted to help as many as I could.” At the thought of the prodigious Korporal, his lackluster squire pressed his lips together. “He was.” Lex’s eyebrows raised at the sight of all the injuries now revealed. Concern for the boy increased, and it was tempered only by the fact that she was going see him healed as quickly as possible. Taking his shirt and folding it over her arm, she drenched the clean cloth in the warm water of the basin and wrung it out in both hands. "Go on then, and I'll tend to the bruises first." She warred with herself for a moment on what to do with the shirt, and if the waste bin wouldn't be a more appropriate place for it, but eventually she decided to fold it up carefully and set it aside. Lex gave the boy another look. She really wasn't very adept at reassurance, this she understood by the way Storm's expression had shifted when she'd mentioned Rictor. "I've no doubt you must have helped a great many people," she said, her voice carefully measured as she began to cure the bruises on Storm's shoulder. Lex's hand lingered over the area, and underneath the mottled skin quickly began to return to its natural, healthy color. “And once you’ve healed, I’m certain you will endeavor to help many more.” “Thank you for saying so, Lex,” came immediately, prompted by Storm’s years of etiquette training. And Storm did mean it. Words of encouragement were not often granted the squire. Most members of the Kapur family hit the ground running. While not an outright hostile environment in which to be raised, it was not a forgiving one either. Gradually, the pain of the squire’s shoulder eased. There was more to cover, but it was the most debilitating of Storm’s injuries. The mitigation of his pain, along with the words of encouragement, soothed the boy’s wounded pride enough for him to continue speaking with even greater candor. “It is only frustrating,” he said. “I feel that I invest so great an amount of effort for such meager returns. If I were as strong as I would like to be, I would not have burdened Lille – a knight who was with us – and the Korporal.” "Everything in time," Lex assured as best she could. "I doubt either of them considered you to be such a burden." She shook her head. "Even the Korporal." Not that she could be certain, of course, but that was faith, wasn't it? Lex sighed and concentrated on healing the rest of Storm's wounds, as each ugly scrape and gash disappeared and the skin worked quickly to mend itself with the aid of her curative magic. Surely, with all the experience she was gaining of late, her healing skilled must've been improving by leaps and bounds. Once the task was completed, she assessed him once again, trying to be certain that she hadn't missed anything too serious. "Well?" “Much improved,” he told her, surprised by how truthful the words were. He had said before that hers was the best healing he’d ever received, the overeager words of a teenage boy who would take whatever scraps of validation he could, through whatever means at his disposal. In retrospect, Storm was beginning to find that overeager did not necessarily mean dishonest. And then came the shame of having been so dour throughout the entire session. It was his nature, but, as Conan reminded him time and time again, that was no excuse. “I am very grateful for your help, Lex,” he said, honest though he worried that the words were trite. The monosyllable of her name still left his tongue awkwardly, for want of a ‘Miss’ or a ‘Lady’ to precede it. “This cannot have been an easy day for you either.” On the matter of her own burdens, of which Lex was ready to profess none, there was only a slight shrug in response. "This is what I've been trained for.” Turning attention away from herself, Lex picked up the folded shirt and handed it back to Storm. There would be time later for introspection, but for now, her mind was firmly on healing duties. Administering curative magics, she expected, would take most of the day and likely into the next, and it wouldn't serve for her mind to be clouded with other concerns. "You should rest for the remainder of the day," she suggested. There was a slight pause as if she was considering something else, before Lex continued, "and do seek out the refectory for a meal as well." Storm was putting the shirt back on as she spoke, more for decency than anything else (there was no saving the salt-worn fabric). “I will do so.” He stood, tentatively testing his weight on weak knees. His bones trembled with the effort. Resting as she suggested would be wise, the boy concluded. The injuries themselves might have been cured, but his body still felt the strain of the day’s endeavors. However, though his stomach demanded sustenance, Storm doubted he could hold anything down at present. Rubbing at his eyes, he decided that sleep would come first, food later. A beat as the squire thought over what to say, then, “I hope you do not have to overwork yourself. Even if you are trained to do so.” Perhaps a wasted hope. There was, after all, not far away, the waves furiously buffeting the shoreline, the screech of a serpent as it rose from the sea, the ingress of the wounded, the clamor of a city that would not back down. Nevertheless, the sentiment was sincere. With a tired wave, Storm took his leave. |