Restlessness

[Pharris]

It had been a hard day.

Sawyer had awakened on the floor of the common room, groggy and unrested. Soon after, Altias and Quincy had crossed her path, and Sawyer had pursued her friends on to the Remedium, to visit with Ariane.

From there, the day had gone downhill. Ariane was a bloody wreck, and soon after, she had seen Altias crumple down to the same sickness. Much of the day thereafter was spent huddled on the floor, soothing a nearly delirious Ariane, drenched in vomited blood. Strange, unknown men and a miasma of death and dying had been oppressive. The Remedium was hell.

It was Kanpar.

A tiny piece of Sawyer felt as if it had died in that place. By the time Quincy took over care of Ari and Altias, the ranger was a wreck - emotions felt far away, lost.

Until Darrin's tiny nosebleed offered her new fear, and set her to crying. It was all overwhelming, debilitating. The day had left her hollow, broken.

Once, Sawyer had been a guardian. She had protected people, gave them peace of mind. In the time Before, Sawyer had been big, important. It was selfish of her, she knew - but she longed to feel special, that way, again.

So when Darrin had asked sadly for her company, it had warmed her, just a little. Her hollow heart earned just a spark of refreshment, encouragement.

The elf had slept upon the floor of the ranger's room, restlessly, while her own sleep was relatively undisturbed. However, as dawn broke, a guilty mind would allow no more slumber.

Darrin would next awaken in the ranger's absence, her blanket dragged from the bed and lain over him. The door and window were both closed, and her pillow was pushed against the crack beneath the door.

And Sawyer? She was outside, in the hall, huddled asleep outside of a certain seer's door. Wrapped in her bedsheet and cloak to try and fend off any stray insects, and clutched to her breast was a heavy book for smashing bugs.

[NightSteel]

It was true, the elf had slept fitfully. He'd woken many times, though each one, he'd gotten back to sleep quicky.. thanks to Sawyer. He was still tired enough to sleep through it by the time that she covered him.. but it wasn't too long before he blinked awake again, green eyes focusing for the first time on an empty bed. Well, it was morning, and while he could perhaps use a little more sleep, there would be nothing doing if he was alone.

So, the elf rose, and in returning the blanket to Sawyer's bed, he made it neatly. Then, simply, he exited. Spying the sleeping Sawyer in the hall, he smiled a little, and ensuring that the hall was empty, floated silently to her side, boots a mere inch above the floor. He bent to place a kiss in her hair, ever so soft, not pressing through to her flesh so as not to disturb her, and silently wished her a restful vigil as he floated away again to walk down the stairs.

He wanted to check in on Ariane, Quincy and Altias. Hopefully his loan had come to good use. And, finally, his Moon Drops could be used again. He was sure *that* could come to good use, either for Ariane or Altias.

[Pharris]

It was something of an empty gesture - it seemed the 'plague' was passing, by now, the infected were either dead or recovering, and few to none were coming down fresh with the sickness.

Perhaps those bugs were gone, or had died out, or... goodness only knows. The ranger couldn't claim to have an intuitive understanding of vermin, but by now, she was quite convinced it was the insects Aislinn had spoke of that were the cause - for all the blood she'd been splashed in the day before, Sawyer was certainly no worse for wear. And she, herself, had been stung, after all.

Now she was well, and taking it upon herself to make the gesture of defending her haunted friend, now that all others had been seen to as best as she could. But she was tired, and the gesture was empty - she slumbered so fully, at present, that Darrin's passign presence did not even begin to stir her. All the same - it did make her feel better to huddle there, if nothing else...

[BrokenDreamer]

After so many restless nights of her own -slumber willingly rejected for a physical suffering greatly preferred over that of the mental aggony of watching others in their pain. It had made since, that after the relief of realizing what linked the visions played before her that the ghostly Elf had simply passed out. Slept through the night, and the day after that ... awake briefly before turning to sleep again.

It was now that she would awaken again -rubbing the crust of sleep from moon centered eyes before struggling free from the tangled nest of sheets her bed often became. Bare feet would hit the floor just as a kittenish yawn escaped the soft blossom of lips ..and the morning cycle followed through. The washing of the face and dressing, the fight with the ever long hair that was in much need of a good brushing again.

Only then, after feeling at least slightly presentable was she willing to take the chance of escaping what felt the safety of her room to dare the rest of the world. Or, a small nugget of it within the tavern as she was still too deathly afraid to venture beyond those walls. Fear to the point that she would rather wilt within the closed up room, than crack the window for a breath of fresh air.

The door would creak open, big toe to find the rump of the sleeping form huddled before her door. Offending foot would withdrawl, crimson stained toe curling beneath the hem of the robin's egg gown ... fingers clutching the frame of the door. Unseeing eyes wide, unexpected obstruction .. ears twitching, nose sniffing.. A familar scent. Sweet tang of the forest, earthy and growing things. Sawyer.

How long had the ranger slept there? There was no way that she could tell, but knowing what she knew of her friend .. she had a good guess as to the why.

She would crouch, hunker down to her knees .. scoot in and snuggle, the little sigh of a contented dove who for the moment was free of her torments. A little whispered, "Thank you.." as she curled against, waiting for the other to wake up on her own. The grumblings of a rather empty belly could wait till later.

[Pharris]

Exhausted by the previous day, and the previous night - where worries and dreams had continually roused Sawyer to that restless state between consciousness and its coutnerpart.

So today, she had finally been able to indulge in some good sleep - at least comparatively. She'd not roused for Darrin, and for a long time, not even for Aislinn.

But eventually, Sawyer would open her eyes, just a sliver, conditions right for sleep to release her into the waking world. A small yawn, and a blink of mismatched eyes. Then, she gave the tiniest start - somebody was there...!

When she saw the elven curled against her, though, Sawyer would only smile, relax, and slump back to the door frame. She had soothed Ariane, had offered Darrin asylum. And now the precious seer was seeking comfort with her.

Sawyer felt, just a little, like the guardian of Before.

Her cloak and bedsheet were carefully extended, offered around the elven woman. The usual polite offerings of 'good morning' or even 'hello' were discarded.

On that day, Sawyer's first stammering words would be...

"I di-didn't wa-want the bu-bugs to bo-bother you."

[BrokenDreamer]

Her eyes, be they opened or closed, were not betray whether the seer was indeed awake when Sawyer finally roused ..or if she had fallen again to slumber herself. No, it would be the twitch of those ears -the faintest of flicks as soon as the other female spoke.

Weight would shift -not that there was much of her to move, with the beginning curls of a smile. Expression as sweet and soothing as a gentle summer rain. "Perhaps .. that is why I found myself sleeping so peacefully last night." Sawyer had her own way of fussing and worrying over her so ..but far from any way that would sufficate the Elven seer.

No other words exchanged, just the simple enjoyment of the small bit of calm found in a world gone made. Still, there was the curling dread that this could only be the beginning of something worse. A gnawing fear that made the pit of her stomach sick .. a feeling brushed aside, if only for now.

[Pharris]

Likewise, Sawyer felt no more need to share words. A less delicate body would be turned a little, as well, to curl close to the small-shaped seer. Face was nestled into the blonde locks and, as had become a habit of late, scarred fingers took to drawing soothingly through those long tresses.

Thoughts of a painful future would not haunt the ranger, at least for now. This was all she wanted - simple peace and contentment.

[channe]

Agnieszka did not go home after she returned to the Rememdium; too exhausted for the trek, she handed a shilling to the one barmaid she knew well and collapsed on the hearth by the fire, sleeping until the morning cock-crow. She would have stayed there -- snoozing, one hand dangling towards the floor, alone because the illness kept everyone away -- despite what anyone else would have told her to do, and awakened shortly before anyone came in for breakfast, dragging her dirty bones to a seated position, hearing her stomach rumble. Perhaps Darrin would have passed her; perhaps he hadn't yet come down.

She felt absolutely and completely useless in the face of everything -- of the helplessness of Ariane, Altias, the Linsmore boy and the other sick, Quincy's competence in spite of her lame leg, Darrin's inability to get medical help for himself -- and she, sixteen (or seventeen; her parents didn't know) and -- she remembered her reaction to the Rememdium, the vomit on the floor, and groaned deeply.

She *was* useless. Totally useless.

She needed to go home. To wash. To see her family, and caution them about the bugs (the fantasy of having her father catch the plague had completely dissappated last night with the trip the Rememdium). And her training gear was there. And yet -- she looked towards the door -- she wasn't sure she could bring herself to walk past that house of death -- not in the light --

-- so she sat there for a few moments more, listening to the barmaid whistle one of the more morbid tunes of the age and scuffing the floor with one blood-ruined shoe.

And the next thought came unbidden:

Her mother was going to kill her.