food police. (heritable) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-07-27 02:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, morgayne falk, storm kapur |
your spine will dissolve, you will fall to the floor.
WHO: Morgayne Falk & Storm Kapur.
WHAT: A brief encounter, as the battle against the undead dies down.
WHERE: Bahamut Hall.
WHEN: Backdated to the night of 7/18, after Storm returns from the caves.
RATING: PG.
STATUS: Complete.
The world was wavering. Like a boat unmoored on troubled waters, it seemed to swing to and fro, to and fro. Or perhaps that was just him, Storm thought. His knees were weak under the weight of injuries that no longer existed. But his body felt them still: the wounds so plentiful his skin may as well have been flayed open, the fractures that must have riddled his bones like the embroidery on his mother’s sari. Head pounding, heart pounding, he made his slow shuffle out of the guildhall. Around him, the mages moved about, buzzing bees flitting from flower to flower, from cot to cot. The hall was, in fact, rather an equilibrium of constant buzzing, punctuated only by the occasional yelp or scream. Dimly, Storm realised there were squires making rounds as well. Some faces were familiar. But they were too caught up in their duties to notice him. Or was it he who was too caught up in his exhaustion to notice them? When Morgayne heard the undead were swarming outside the walls of Emillion, she needed no warning to stay safely within the confines of the city. Earlier, the halls of Shieldwyrm had echoed with the news, and her fellow squires had traded whispers with each other between tasks -- perhaps they would get to fight these dark creatures! Excitement dosed with anxiety ran rampant, surrounding Morgayne like a heavy fog. But she paid the others no heed -- her task (father, brother, mother) in Emillion had yet to be completed, and as far as Morgayne was concerned, glory and first hand battle experience could wait for another day, when she had tied up every loose end. For the time being, she was content to help in a less life threatening way: assisting the mages at Bahamut Hall. Morgayne couldn’t heal, but she was a pair of hands, and there was a critical need for every pair that could be spared. The wounded seemed to come in neverending waves, many of their injuries hastily and poorly set. For much of the night, Morgayne was constantly on her feet, discarding the soiled rags that had served as makeshift tourniquets on the battlefield, fetching buckets of clean water, and helping the mages clean out wounds before they could be healed. It was when the night seemed to be winding down -- the injured were no longer coming in onslaughts, but rather in small, bedraggled groups -- that Morgayne saw Storm, walking through the hall as if in a daze. His clothes were bloody. With one hand holding the bucket of dirty bandages she had been on her way to toss, Morgayne reached out with the other and grabbed Storm’s arm as he walked by her. “What happened to you?” she asked, eyebrows scrunched together in concern. “I mean -- are you alright?” It took the boy a beat to recognize Morgayne. Or to realize that he had been taken aside at all. Blinking, he said, “I have been better.” His voice was hoarse and weak. But it gained strength as he went on, as if by putting his thoughts to word, he was pulling his consciousness out of delirium. “I was stationed outside the caves. It was most gruesome.” He licked dry lips, eying the bucket in her hand. “Have you been here long?” Once he spoke, it was obvious that Storm had been healed already. But despite possessing no more injuries, the squire still looked more weary than Morgayne had ever seen him. She could only imagine what horrors he had faced against the undead, and suppressed a shudder at the thought. “All night,” Morgayne replied, setting the bucket down. She wiped her hands off on her tunic, leaving a trail of grime and drying blood. “They needed help here. I didn’t think I’d be much help at the caves.” “That was wise of you.” And though it set his pride smarting, Storm said, “I don’t think I was much help at all.” All the tasks he’d accomplished could have been done by anyone else on the field. The only especial thing he brought to the fray was his need to be protected. He had been a weak link on a chain that could have done without it. Sagging against the nearest wall, he continued, “It was worse than it was the last time. There were so many of them, everywhere.” A shaky, disbelieving laugh. “I have to wonder if such things happen only in Emillion.” Morgayne shrugged. “Seems like it it does. Nothing like this ever happened when I lived in the Outlands.” In fact, the complete lack of outside stimulation had been haunting in its own way, driving one’s thoughts painfully inward. Trapped in your own mind, you saw more of yourself than you wanted to, and understand none of it. But this, she did not mention. “What is it like, living out there?” Storm asked, happy to move past the thought of half-ravaged cadavers in any way he could. For a moment, he realized he’d never quite heard about Morgayne’s family. Had they moved here with her? “Quiet, mostly.” The words flowed off her tongue without a momentary pause, or a hitch in her breath. Morgayne had practiced them in her head for hours, ‘til she could recite them without giving away the secrets that hid on the other side, just behind the curtain. “Too quiet, at least for my taste. Even the villages were sleepy.” “So you moved here on your own?” “I did.” Morgayne bent her head, idly picking at the dried blood that rusted the palms of her hands. She saw where Storm’s train of thought was leading, and didn’t quite trust her face not to betray her. “I grew up here, so it was like coming home, sort of.” “I am the same,” said Storm, veering off the tenuous course without realizing it. “I do not think I could take up permanent residence anywhere else.” Not that he was given much in the way of choice. He had responsibilities here, responsibilities that would stay with him until his dying day. Well, he supposed it was best not to think about that. Today had been rather close to that day. Another group of wounded fighters was wheeled in. Bending down, Storm picked up the bucket. “I can dispose of these for you.” It was on his way out, and, unlike him, she could be of real assistance in handling the fresh wave. Morgayne, on the other hand, wasn’t sure she could ever stay in Emillion, once she had what she needed from the city and its inhabitants. Though her memories here didn’t overwhelm her like they did in the Outlands, she still saw shadows. Her father’s, long and looming; her brother’s, broad and proud. Still, she simply nodded, and followed Storm’s gaze to the entrance of the guildhall, now buzzing with commotion. With a tired but grateful smile, and a soft thanks to the other squire, Morgayne turned heel and headed back into the fray, grabbing a pail of clean water as she went. |