The #Broken_Dagger Forum

It was not often that she was given reason to venture far from her home now-a-days but for the sweet pleading of another, the petite woman would dare the cold Myrken air. It was to the Rememdium that feet would carry her, the woman smelling of roses sweeping into the building almost as if she owned it herself. It was not in a smug fashion but this one certainly knew how to carry herself with confidence.

An employee asked for what she came for and directions gotten for the room she wished to find. The very quarters that Bromn had been given...

It was that gentle scent that would announce her arrival, the delicate taint of roses that mixed with the smells of the hospice. The woman stood no more than five feet in height and dressed in clothing not of Myrken. Of full skirt that fell just below the knees with the fluff of full legged pants worn beneath and tucked into short boots lined for the winter months. All of various shades of grays and lavenders, same for the vest worn over white blouse.

Amethyst eyes made short work of surveying the room before she was crossing it, small hand seizing a chair to drag along behind her before it was situated near the bed. There she would sit, prim and proper with fingers brushing aside some of the short cropping of raven's wing locks across pale brow, tucked behind tiny point of ear. If the grate of chair legs had not disturbed the man from what rest he may have been in the mist of, the lift of voice with it's silvery tones may. "Sir. The small Elf has sent me to see to you. She has been very concerned for your state, Aislinn has."

((OOC NOte: This post will take place the night before Ariane's most recent post. Just so everyone understands that Altias is not in two places at once ))

The days which had passed since their flight from the Priory had been little more than a series of nightmares, punctuated by pain upon waking for healing and treatments. Conversation had become nearly impossible once they had reached the Rememdium and had drugged him into a very deep sleep.

When the voice drifted into what was another ugly revisitation of his torture at the hands of Thadius Dhrin, it became a part of the dream for a short time. A figure, though it had no real shape, appeared and recieved the blows in his place. It was only as the pain was intercepted that Altias began to surface to the waking world once more.

"Aislinn?"

It would hardly be recognizable as Altias' voice, so dry his tongue, thick with lack of use. Violet eyes would open, to look upon a face so obviously not that of Aislinn, nor Ariane for that matter. Not even the throng of nurses and healers who had been in and out over this great expanse of time.

"Who...are you?"

Despite his injuries, Altias was doing his best to bolt from the bed, mistrustful of this unknown being who carried the name of a trusted friend upon her lips. No blade, hells, no clothes for that matter. Damn. So it was a naked, broken, angry Bromn which fell to the floor in a useless heap, tangled in his sweat soaked sheet.

"If you've come to finish the job, I swear I will take you with me."

The look of rage in his eyes belied his weakness. Let there be no doubt that he would kill anyone who tried to hurt him, or his, again, even if it meant tearing out their throat with his own teeth.

"Honestly ... you are in no condition to be taking anyone anywhere." She sat so neatly upon her chair, even at the govenor did bolt and stumble rather ungracefully from his bed. Upon that seat she would twist, stare down at the pile of man upon the floor before giving a small click of her tongue.

"You could let me answer your questions before jumping to conclusions... I'm a friend of Aislinn's. She's asked me to help you get back and onto your feet a little quicker."

Only then did she rise, squatting upon the floor next to the man -- even so bold as to even reach out a small hand to brush aside some of those red locks of his. "A frightful mess .. I can take the pain away, if you let me. No harm. I promise. Aislinn would never forgive me if I did. Poor thing, she was all a-twitter." A hand was offered, those slim digits calloused from hard work. "Come now, let's see you back into bed and heal the rest of these injuries."

The man could shoot as many daggers as he wished from his eyes upon the creature even smaller than the Elf who's name she speaks again. All she would do was give a sweet and tender smile that did soften the sharp that her tongue could sometimes be.

"Magick then, is it?"

The words were a low growl, as he righted himself on to wobbly legs, settling on the edge of the bed before grasping for the sheet on the floor.

"I trust Aislinn, but if you use her name to bring me harm, I swear to you I will find you even after death."

Big talk for a man who can barely force the words from his mouth, but it is apparent that he means every word.

"Do what you will. If you are speaking truth, you will have my thanks when this is over. If not..."

He smiled then, a slow thing which spread almost menacingly from his lips to those dark violet eyes.

"...I will see you dead."

There was the delicate arch of a black brow as the man spat out yet another threat and she still the perfect picture of calm. Though, as he refused her help to rise -- he would be left to struggle on his own as she merely took her own seat again. That the man was in the buff till sheet had been recovered, she seemed not to have noticed in the slightest.

Scrap of chair legs, she was scooting in a bit closer. "You will have to forgive me for not shaking with fear ... I have seem much more threatening things than how you present yourself now." Finally, a single lashing of that tongue. Though, she did not blame him too overly much. She a stranger and all asking him to trust her with only the name of a mutual friend upon upon her lips.

"I am doing this for Aislinn. She feels she owes you, after that night you let her cry on your shoulder. That one has been through a lot, it's rare that she finds any she can trust with the knowledge of her gift."

"Now then ... Shall we simply get this over with then? Do not worry about apologizing when it is all over. It's quite all right." There, that smile would slip back into place -- the one of soft sweetness, eyes that would crinkle just faintly about the corners.

Hands that had by now warmed from the chill outside would present themselves, palm up. "Just show me a little bit of trust right now, for I am placing a great deal of trust in you with this." It may not make any sense now but it will later on. "And I promise ... the only one I ever bite is my betrothed."

Altias continued to stare at her with a look which was almost feral. It would seem strange, if she had known him before.

"Aislinn is to be cherished. She is gifted by the sight and it is a terrible burden. So many do not understand such things."

It was as close to civil as he was going to get. With a great drawing in of breath, he turned on his stomach, presenting his mangled back to her. D'Zir had done what he could, after Renne had stitched what remained of his flesh back together. Still, a mass of scars, his back a series of long angry red welts from shoulder to the middle of his thighs, was a horrible sight.

"They have done what they can. I do not believe much more can be done."

The damage had been healed, for the most part, but the scars remained, as did the weakness and pain. There was most certainly one thing this tiny creature could not heal, regardless of her abilities.

He had suffered a great blow to his trust in humanity, one he doubted would ever heal.

"Yes. She is. I would willingly die for her."

Or any other innocent -- nearly had once already. She bore her own scars upon pale back for such a thing. A shame that the man may never understand that, his trust ruined.

Not another word though, as the man turned over to present the bare of his back she was rising from her chair to hover over the bed. The light presence of hands against flesh, touch so soft those fingers could have been feathers.

Breath drawn in slowly, released ... repeated, even as her mind was nudging at that nestled gift within her. Waking it, uncurling it from it's dormant state. He would not see it, that faint glow that began at the very tips of fingers -- that amethyst light that slowly creeped up hands and harmlessly spread across his own back.

All he would feel was a drowning sensation of the pleasant sort -- falling into a pool of amethyst and roses, warmth and flood of comfort that a child must feel when still within the safety of mother's womb.

She herself was seeking out what damage had lingered still, what the others had missed and from the inside out - a knitting of the flesh. It would be slow going, taxing ... His back turned, he could not see the sweat that beaded upon brow like tiny glistening diamonds or how her skin did grow more pale. It was a giving with only pain for her to take away in return.