The Great Ones Aftermath - Aid for Elbion

[Kiros Rahnel]

(Thread open to all; other healers welcome)

Out on the very outskirts of the city of Elbion, the afternoon sun bore down on the numerous tents strewn about over the grassy ground. It was a hasty and haphazard construction bustling with activity. Important looking citizens, healers and visible clergy, mostly Celestial, were milling about. The volunteers were busy carrying important items and regents between them and tending to those wounded who, for the time being, resided within. The city itself was a short distance away, it’s presence marring the horizon with its now twisted, chaotic features. Large portions of it were held aloft on stationary, airborne rock. Most of the buildings had been either destroyed or ruined from the destructive event that shaped the land so, and from the disaster came the high numbers of injured patients in need of care.

One of the demolished structures had belonged to him; a shop he had just recently managed to scrounge the finances for. Once immaculate, it too was now ruined and laid in shambles atop trinkets and items rendered smashed and valueless. He had brought what little he could salvage with him in a sack; mostly reagents and a few items that could serve as fuel for magical spells. There were potions at one point and though they would have been very useful to have on hand, they did not survive the journey. That Kiros even did was a small miracle.

Foot traffic between the gathering of tents and the ruined city beside it was constant; teams of volunteers routinely venturing inside in effort to rescue those trapped within. The lucky ones were ferried over to the makeshift hospital, assessed for triage and need of healing. The unlucky ones were handed off, laid in an organized row of lifeless bodies just outside what remained of the city walls. In between periods of checking the wounded Kiros would take a moment to peer over at the city, watching for the distant figures of approaching rescuers that would prompt a flurry of activity within the open makeshift hospital. His visual checks were infrequent, lasting for only a moment before he’d continue checking on the injured.

One might muse that, when done via magic, healing is a simple task. With a disaster of such wide scale however, the demand for healing was far greater than what the group could provide. At an instant Kiros could restore one of the injured to full health – but that would be an inefficient waste of magical power. To do that would leave him with insufficient energy to keep those in critical condition alive to see another day. An ongoing problem shared by all present. This, combined with the lack of space made the group’s task was an arduous one. Beds would never remain empty for long after occupants had either recovered from or succumbed to their injuries. And, though gratefully arriving in fewer numbers now, there were always more wounded incoming.

It would be another who would first to catch glimpse of the oncoming rescuers in their trek back from the city. Kiros noticed their wayward gaze and his own followed suit; as did that of the others nearby.

“How many?” Kiros would ask while he still looked onward at the distant but approaching group; the question addressed to one person in particular. She had already taken her spyglass out by the time he spoke, and was peering through it to count their numbers.

“5...no, 6. It’s 6” came her reply as she collapsed the brass device.

By this point, a few of the others had already gone off scurrying in every which direction in preparation for the burst of activity bound to follow. Some began checking over patients, seeing which ones might easily be brought to full health to vacate needed beds. Some began preparing their healing powers. Kiros began to make his way to the gates, readying himself to assess the conditions of the new arrivals. Triage was a necessary, yet sometimes grim task. Standing at the edge of the gathering of tents he walked on, making his way towards the approaching group that returned from yet another search for survivors.

Sylvian

 

[Sylvian]

The mortal realms had suffered through recent tragedies.

Unspeakable ones, and yet she couldn’t help but hear the whispers. Whispers of dragons, fallen cities, floating castles and the walking dead. Sucked in by the intensity of those stories and intrigued by mysticism of it all, Sylvian Sinderion had travelled to Elbion, where the college still stood but everything else was falling apart. The elf was no empath, but even she could feel a faint tug on her heartstrings when she witnessed the sheer horror the people had gone through – and were still going through – on this day and age.

And so she had decided to offer her help.

Black-clad, the elven woman’s figure left the viewer with nothing to envision and nothing to expect. A long cloak wrapped around her tender frame, and a black veil fell deeply into her face, gently masquerading her elfin features. Sylvian’s wings were cloaked by magic and thus invisible. Only a pair of pale, slender hands peeked out from underneath the onyx cloth and once a while they twitched ever so slightly at the gruesome sight of dying humans.

To them, Sylvian was a simple asset: a healer capable of magic with decades of experience and an excessive mana pool to exhaust. To her, this was yet another grand opportunity to learn more about the people of this continent and how they operated. They were headed towards the outskirts of Elbion, to a camp hosting the injured. When Sylvian spotted the piles of dead bodies she exhaled sharply.

“What a pitiful sight.” She said quietly.

Sylvian traveled with a group of five others, all of which had offered to aid Elbion in these trying times. When they arrived they were approached by a tall figure; a male whom she assumed was here to instruct them. Sylvian’s eyes crept up on the man, inspecting him thoroughly until her sapphire gaze landed on his face; she arched a brow. A sense of familiarity, or so she thought, although the place and timing stopped her from speaking up and mentioning it. Instead, Sylvian gave a polite bow towards the man and offered him a frosty smile.

“My pleasure.” Audible, yet barely a whisper. “Please tell us how we can help.”

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

He gazed on with his hand shielding his eyes from the morning sun, hanging in the cloudless sky above Elbion’s now unrecognizable silhouette. The six grew more distinct as they travelled, until they drew close enough for Kiros to recognize them as newcomers he had not seen before. Beneath the shadow of his hand, his normally steely eyes showed a glimmer of hope more aid had finally arrived. He turned behind and moved his hand to cup his mouth and announced their arrival with a booming shout.

“Healers! More healers have arrived!”

The flurry of activity came to a halt in an instant; only to resume with even greater haste. Healers and caretakers re-prioritized their tasks at the report with enthusiasm driven by sudden hopefulness. Helpers would burst through tents, checking on new patients and taking further inventory. So little healing and so much need for it. The volunteers would see fit that any help they would receive would be used to the best possible benefit.

The Elven woman who would speak forth sparked a sense of familiarity; one fuelled further by her raised eyebrow after her gaze had sized him up. He spent but a moment in attempt to remember himself – but with the situation so dire, there were weights to heavy on his mind to allow deep recollection.

“My pleasure.” Audible, yet barely a whisper. “Please tell us how we can help.”

“I cannot express how thankful I- We all are for your arrival” He answered her with grateful expression in a somber yet hopeful tone, giving a subtle gesture of his staff to guide the group to follow him towards the assortment of tents crowding the field ahead. Amidst the busy rush of volunteers as they walked on, one ducked into a tent with a muffled, barely audible argument emanating from within the tarp. The man rushed back out with an expression that beckoned help and an urgent gesture to match it, towards both Kiros and Sylvian; he certainly wasted no time rushing inside himself.

Inside the tent, the argument would become clear and audible. The lady with the spyglass was in a heated debate with a blonde haired woman clad in Celestial garments, continuing while the man that beckoned them in guided them to one cot in particular.

“We can’t keep treating the easy wounds first!” protested the woman with the spyglass.
“The wounded still arrive in droves! We can’t possibly care for them all unless we vacate the injured from the cots!”
“And now the tents are filled with little else but the gravely injured! We can’t heal those we’ve taken in!”
“We can’t turn any away!”
“Then we only gather future dead!”

The limits of aid present prompted the heated budgeting of what had arrived, and the argument continued over what to prioritize. The group of volunteers was dangerously low on bed space; for the past several days it was a miracle they hadn't needed to reject any victims. In their efforts to keep the cots clear they had healed those with wounds in less need of attention, if only to clear space for the unending series of wounded yet to arrive. Yet this came with consequence, as those remaining bore injuries costly to heal and costly to care for. After days of such a policy, only the gravely injured remained, and the rising cost in energies required their care was growing too high for the group to afford. As the stress bore on them, such arguments had become commonplace; enough that their guide had little problems ignoring the racket.

“Please! They argue and bicker, but this man won’t make it through his first day if we cannot at least bring him to stable condition!” he pleaded towards Sylvian. Kiros looked on with concern before standing back to give her space to do her work. The victim himself was a dire sight, but not a grisly one. Bandages hid his wounds, yet the red stains of blood that soaked through them told of his terrible injuries. With resources stretched too thin to help they’d look to their new arrival, grateful for her presence and assistance.

Sylvian

 

[Sylvian]

Sylvian nodded. Her brows furrowed at the sight of the numerous tents across the area. “It’s quite something,” the elf spoke and sapphire eyes gazed back and forth between people running to bring medical aid to their comrades; it was chaotic, to say the least. “I suppose I’ll be staying for a while.” Sylvian gave Kiros a weak smile. The elf was good at staying calm and she figured that for the rest of the day, and certainly through the night, she would do well in keeping her mind clear and her gaze focused.

For a split moment Sylvian's attention fell on his staff and while he wasn’t looking her smile turned into a smirk. You humans and your little toys, she thought to herself, suddenly amused by the looks of it. Still, there was no time for idle chatter and Sylvian swiftly followed behind Kiros’ lead and as they approached one of the tents, an argumentative conversation could be heard from within.

The sight was heart-wrenching and the cause for their argument an understandable predicament. Sylvian dismissed them and placed a hand on the volunteer’s arm instead. “I promise I’ll do what I can,” said the elf and took a seat by the victim’s cot. The human’s wounds bore a grim sight, but nothing was impossible with the gift of magic. Sylvian Sinderion was high born, blessed with great magical aptitude and a hundred years of experience as a medic. “Please forgive my ignorance, for I am not from these lands,” she spoke and placed a hand on the man’s stomach.

A warm, white light radiated from the palm of her hand and began to pulsate through his body. “What happened to these people?” Perhaps a silly question to ask, but Sylvian was eager to learn the truth. The Avariel had only recently escaped the clutches of her family high up in Thyasari and didn’t know about the ongoings in the continents beneath the sky. Slowly but surely the wound would start closing up. Sylvian placed her other hand on the man’s forehead and cast a weak ice spell to cool his temperatures. Frost covered her fingers and the person under her touch groaned. Was he beginning to feel better already?

“Still feverish, aren’t we?” Her features softened and her smile became gentle. Even though Sylvian never chose this profession, doing good and helping others always put her into a light-hearted mood.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“It’s quite something,”

“Volunteers wasted no time setting up amenities for relief. Those that can have provided what further they could, but still our resources remain ever stretched.” He replied. The rows upon rows of weather worn tents spoke to the sheer scale of the disaster; the field hospital was the size of a modest village. All around them workers continued to hurry about as the two descended onward into the storm of commotion and shouts.

“I suppose I’ll be staying for a while.”

“We’re all grateful for that. I fear these victims may need more aid than we can provide; your arrival and help is a relief to us all.” Kiros added, looking to her with a thankful nod, one shared by many other volunteers.

“I promise I’ll do what I can,”

“Thank you kindly” came the man’s response, and they both stepped back to allow the elf room to work. Kiros watched on as Sylvian invoked her healing magic. Such powers may have the same effect in the end but often took different forms, and he was curious as to how hers would appear. In this case with a glow of radiant light, a bit like his own in appearance. And sure enough, the man’s wounds began to undo themselves until the once grave wound shrank down into non-existance.

“What happened to these people?”

“I still do not fully know; but there was a great noise when it happened; and I heard further tale of a dragon and battle. Whatever forces were unleashed tore and reshaped the city into what you see marring the horizon yonder.” he replied with a sombre gesture towards the direction of Elbion, despite the tent now blocking the view. His tone grew quieter and doleful as he recalled the catastrophe, though his expression remained subdued and stoic.

“A great many were killed or injured when the city shifted....And even more were slain when the dead rose up to set upon the survivors. Many still roam the streets; hence we’ve set our hospital a safe distance away.” he concluded.

Still watching her work her magic as she laid her hand on the patient’s forehead, his curiosity was piqued by the visible frost that formed on her hand. Light was a common effect; ice was certainly more unusual. He spoke nothing, watching on as the man let out a groan and taking it as a sign of health. Kiros looked up at the man who had called them over; he returned his look with an expression of relief.

One strenuous circumstance had been dealt with, but there would hardly be a shortage of such for the volunteers. And still, as Sylvian worked the argument dragged on behind them, filling the otherwise quiet tent with heated words.

 

[Kara Orin]

“Healer!” a woman called out from outside the tents.

The voice carried itself to Kiros Rahnel and Sylvian.

Kara once more reached the field hospital. Yet another visit after so many she previously made. This time, she carried a young boy in her arms. The child kept himself barely upright with his arms around Kara’s neck. Dry lips appeared cracked. Blood stained his forehead.

It had been almost too long since the boy had any water or food.

Behind Kara, three more people followed her. One teenager, two adults. One carried their arm in a sling. The other required the third’s shoulder to walk.

“I have wounded!" Kara yelled out.

 

[Sylvian]

“A dragon?” A gasp fell from her lips and sapphire eyes widened in surprise. A dragon is not something one met with every day and Sylvian herself had never come across one, at least not from such a close distance. A battle, both epic and chaos-fuelled, to have taken place at such a large, human city was truly something Sylvian would have loved to witness.

She did not envy mankind for their losses or their suffering, but her curiosity often overstepped her good conscience and sometimes even reason.

“This exceeds my expectations,” the she-elf gave back quietly and continued to mold the man’s broken flesh and bones anew. Her head lifted, if only for a moment, so her gaze could follow where Kiros gestured and while the city of Elbion was truly a sight to behold, knowing what had caused this made it appear all the more magical. “I suppose this is something many books and songs will be written about,” said Sylvian with a dry voice.

Finally, the first victim had been tended to.

“There’s much more I could do, but I’m afraid I don’t have any more time. Others need my help.” Her words were directed at her patient and while the human was still in severe condition, she didn’t doubt that he would make it through the night.

“Healer!” a woman called out from outside the tents.

A smile formed on her lips. “See? The citizens of Elbion are such fast-paced people,” the elf joked inappropriately (unintentionally so) and rose from her seat. When Sylvian stepped outside, she caught a glimpse of a dark-haired beauty–a mortal woman by the looks of it–in the company of many wounded. She held a dying child in her arms, clearly in distress. Interesting, the white-haired thought and approached with a smile.

“Give this to me,” she said, referring to the kid as she took it from Kara’s arms and gave it a proper look. All children were precious, even the human ones. Thus, Sylvian decided to prioritize this one and carried it back to the tent. While walking back, the elf gave a quick glance over her shoulder, looking at the woman who had brought the wounded with her. She seemed young, even for a human.

“Join me, strangers, and I will tend to your wounds as well.”

OOC: I apologize for the delay, I took a bit of a posting break. Thank you for joining, Kara!

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

"I would not believe it for myself were it not for those many who saw it firsthand. And for the destruction and death; what else could have caused it." He replied, his normally steady tone showing a touch of shock in reflection of what he experienced that fateful day. He looked down in review of his many memories as the elf continued, giving the words that followed a solemn nod.

“I suppose this is something many books and songs will be written about,” said Sylvian with a dry voice.

Kiros looked up in awkward pause, quite unprepared for a observation so candid and blunt.

"...Of no doubt the scale of disaster is historic, yes." came his reply, as awkward as the statement that spurred it.

“There’s much more I could do, but I’m afraid I don’t have any more time. Others need my help.”

“A wise discretion and the truest of statements. Oh thank you so kindly for your much needed assistance." The man replied with gratitude, leaving Sylvian to search for others to heal as he too did the same.

“I have wounded!" Kara yelled out.

The familiar shout of Kara new announcing new patients drew his attention, and that of all other volunteers present. While Kiros and Sylvian remained to help, others were already moving; knowing well what preparations would need to be made to adjust for the new additions patients. But his focused expression turned to one stunned at the elf and her statement – as unreservedly frank as her last. Were it not for the ongoing argument that grew ever more volatile, it would be an awkward silence indeed.

Sylvian tended to the very youngest one on her own, and quite wisely. The child looked to be of grave condition and needed urgent care that Sylvian could best provide. The timing of the healers could not have been better, and Kiros looked to Kara with an expression of relief.

"More healers arrived but moments ago." He spoke to her in dry but joyful explanation. He partly shared the news for sake of morale. They had need for all the they could find. The statement implied something further though; by the looks of the poor child his outlook would've appeared grim when they found him. It truly might have been, were it not for the unexpected additional aid of Sylvian and the other newcomers.

The teenager was the next youngest; but his condition left him well enough to walk. It was the third adult who was unable to that was most in need, and second in line for restorative triage.

"I can mend this one." He stated volunteering himself for the task; barely hidden scoffs from others in the background followed. He was but the lone Annunaki mage present. Most others were Celestialists, of which quite a few were vocal with their opinion of him, his religion, and especially his clunky and ungainly brand of magic; haphazardly crafted with minimal care by his deity. He had learned to ignore it, albeit with difficulty. The situation before them required it, and he wouldn't shy from the greater good.

Reaching into his belt, he withdrew the needed regents to mend the broken leg; a vial of chalk. With it held in hand he pressed it gently into the patient's shins, while one of the scoffing Celestialists gave the ritual a mocking narration.

"His sand magic will save you!"

If Kiros was bothered, he displayed not a sign. With focus on his task he saw it through, mending the broken bones well enough to grant the patient ability to stand unaided again. Whatever peaceful moment he might enjoy however, was spoiled by the debate that had spiralled well out of control – and seemingly in complete ignorance of the arrival of both the healers and Kara's newly brought patients.

"We can have no more of this dead weight upon our shoulders!!"

The newcomers paused with shocked expression, and all eyes were on the spotter who had unwittingly become centre of attention. She seemed unaware however, and the newly arrived victims became ever more visible in their horror and discomfort. He had stilled his frustration with the others, but the reaction of the victims brought it justifiably to surface with the spotter.

"These lost, doomed causes are nothing but a strain-" She continued before her words were cut off by Kiros; quite thankfully so.

"Shut up!"

(No worries - Welcome back and welcome, Kara!)

Sylvian Kara Orin

 

[Kara Orin]

Kara saw Sylvian emerge from a tent. She did not return a smile to the elf. When she asked for the boy, Kara promptly complied and carefully handed him over.

When Kiros Rahnel told Kara of the arrival of additional healers, Kara replied with a sigh of, “Yeah.”

As Kiros began to heal the adult with a broken leg, Kara walked to the tent opening to hold it open to the two others that came with her. She and the two others did not notice the scoffs and off comment by the Celestialist priests.

Covered in dirt and grime and blood, Kara displayed dark rings around her eyes. She felt compelled to enter the tent and get some rest before returning to the city. Magic could only stave off exhaustion and fatigue for so long.

Yet Kiros’ outburst snapped her attention away from the prospect of sleep.

Kara turned her attention to Kiros first. Then to the woman heckling him earlier.

A blink. Some thoughts, assumptions. Then Kara turned toward the woman claiming Kiros to be dead weight.

Just as a battlemage, Kara preferred to use a sword in place of a staff or wand. Looking at the unknown woman, Kara placed a hand on the pommel.

Annunciating each word and with a glare, Kara told the woman, “Please don’t disturb the healers as they work.”

 

[Sylvian]

The sudden shift in the atmosphere surprised Sylvian, who did not expect so much hostility when the priest offered to assist in the healing. The elf placed the dying child into a cot and took a seat by its side; she was focused on the little human, but her long ears perked up when an argument ensued about whether or not Kiros Rahnel was capable of doing much of anything. The Avariel found all of that to be rather amusing.

“What’s wrong with sand magic?” She asked rather innocently, while her magic did its works on the human child. It had sustained some superficial injuries, but most of the damage was internal. She couldn’t see much, but feel the broken bones and wounded organs with the touch of her hand. Fortunately for this one, its small size meant that Sylvian did not require all that much energy to cover the entire body and therefore the healing was, albeit still a slow process, succeeding.

"Or any of the magic he uses, for that matter." The elf glanced upwards, her hood tumbled backwards and strands of long, silver hair framed her small face.

The dark haired maiden who brought the new patients didn't seem particularily bothered by any of this, although she did request the debate to be ended at once. Her stern expression and callous eyes brought a smile to Sylvian's lips, who brushed a strand of sweat-drenched hair out of the little boy's face and began lowering his fever with an ice spell.

"They really are a curious kind," she then said, addressing the priest who didn't stand too far from her. She didn't mind his presence, unlike some of the others present – he seemed genuine, and eager to help. "Your people, I mean. Amidst all of this chaos and suffering, all this death and misfortune, they still find more things to complain about." The elf chortled, both perplexed and entertained by their paradox behavior.

"I think that's why the gods gave you short lives," Sylvian added with a shrug. "Who could bear listening to all that nagging for hundreds of years anyways." It was a brazen statement, perhaps even a rude one, but Sylvian Sinderion wasn't one to mince words. She liked humans, but admittedly they were more annoying and ungrateful than any race she'd ever met.

"No offense, of course." She turned Kara's way and flashed her a dashing smile.

"You are quite lovely."

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

An awkward silence followed Kiros’ bellowing words, and his irritated expression melted into one of regret soon after. The one who had mocked him looked just about ready to interject again; only to hold her tongue at the last moment when Kara let out her verbal protest. The spotter Kiros addressed turned her head towards him with an expression of scorn - soon fading into one of sheepish embarrassment upon seeing the shocked faces of the recently arrived patients.

“Forgive my tone, I-” he spoke out.

“No, no! I didn’t realize-” She interrupted him with reply, now aghast upon realization of exactly whose ears her words fell upon. With a look of fret she turned to the injured, before speaking words of contrition next.

“I'm so sorry; that was a rude misstatement.” She meekly delivered her apology to the new arrivals in their care, before turning to Kiros again.

“Things can get stressful, I know.” She added in dismissal of his concerns; and she spoke words of truth if there ever were any. Hardly the first time for such tone among the group, and unlikely to be the last given the difficult and trying times they were were all in. While they both had their turn in speaking harshly, it was at least out of understandable concern for those in their care.

Sylvian's question would provoke a response, or at least the beginning of one.

“It's magic of fasle g-” the one who mocked the Kaliti's magic began to speak, barely spitting out the words before another glance at Kara gave strong motivation to hold her tongue; if only for the moment. Though her words came to a premature end, they had caught the attention of the other Celestialist whom had formerly been caught up in the argument. She found herself compelled to address it, if only to not let such an attitude stand and stain those of her faith and cloth.

“Nyshia. Creed’s of no relevance right now. We’re here to aid.” she spoke, with a tone more far calm than in her recent debate.

Nyshia herself sighed at the words, remaining silent as she began to depart from their presence with a derisory sneer, now quite content to remove herself from the cold atmosphere she had helped foster. She seemed agitated by the elf’s inquiring words, yet continued on. Yet Nyshia eventually found herself unable to hold her silence and turned to speak over her shoulder once she felt she was a safe distance away.

"Your people, I mean. Amidst all of this chaos and suffering, all this death and misfortune, they still find more things to complain about."

“We worship holy gods. He’s not of us.” she spoke, making her implication clear without resorting to an overt insult that might again catch the attention of Kara; or the other Celestialist present for that matter. Truth be told, Kiros' own opinion of Celestials was hardly better - though he kept quiet about that. After all, better to be judged as pagan by celestialsts than as heretic by his own. While clearly human, he certainly looked different enough from most everyone else. That he did was for the best; gods help him, he would flee in an instant if he saw any other Annuakites present.

With the broken leg tended to and the vial of healing sand still out, Kiros then stood up to hold it near the teenager’s broken arm.

“The movement will be a shock, but I promise painlessness.” He warned before he worked his magic, causing the teen's arm to shift as broken bone righted itself into proper position. Despite his warning, the magic was still met with startled shock at the sensation; the patient holding still for a moment after Kiros had expended the reagents and worked his magic before cautiously moving his mended arm. While the healing was expedient, it was also expensive in energy and regents – and the once full bottle was already nearing depletion.

“Have we any water ready?”

While some gave Sylvian’s speech notice, few others seemed to give much reaction – at least until she reached the part about short lives. That managed to spur a silence that rivalled what Kiros caused previously, continuing on as the elf continued speaking her thoughts aloud, before coyly introducing herself to Kara.

---

(OOC: Yeah...that's an important bit I neglected entirely; made a quick and sheepish edit in italics, ty Kara)

Kara Orin Sylvian

 

[Kara Orin]

Kara continued to glare at the Celestialists. She did nothing more. No reaction to the Celestalists’ nervous glances. No movement. Kiros Rahnel still has not exactly returned to healing.

Yet Kara’s attention was stolen by Sylvian. With Sylvian just in the corner of Kara’s eyes, the mage noticed Sylvian turning to give a compliment.

After hearing that, Kara seemed to just deflate. Her gaze turned into a blank stare after she glanced at Sylvian. A glance to the injured boy followed.

Then, Kara gave an exhausted sigh. She looked toward the Celestialists once more with her usual expression of indifference. She gestured for them to leave with one hand.

 

[Sylvian]

“And what do you worship?”

A bright, sapphire pair of elven eyes diverted towards Kiros Rahnel and while the priest was very apologetic about his earlier loss of patience, Sylvian was much more interested in the other woman’s implications anyways.

“Naughty gods?” She found them interesting and almost funny – those silly humans and their obsession with worship – and although Sylvian did not share their ideas, she was still curious about it and willing to learn. Of course none of that softened the condescending tone of her voice when she spoke.

When he asked for water, the elf took a careful look around and gave a shrug. “I can make some,” she suggested and grabbed the nearest bucket, filling it to the brim with ice and putting it on top of a fireplace. Every now and then her eyes darted over to the black haired woman and when Sylvian noticed her flat expression she almost burst into laughter.

She looked young, but her mental age was far beyond even Sylvian’s own. She was tired and clearly done with all of this. Her gaze returned to the young boy she had been working on and she placed a cooling hand back on his forehead.

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

“And what do you worship?”

Kiros paused at that question, the question, with stoic face. Under no circumstances could he be honest about who he truly followed. He was not unprepared for the inquiry, but even after fifteen years lying about his faith still stirred his soul the wrong way – even if such misdirection was religious requirement. Not that he’d have to resort to weaving fiction yet; as always he’d claim to be Annunaki. Which was true, but that the elf was unlearned about much of Arethil was evident in her manner of inquiry. Such naivety concerned him that the next question was likely to be ‘which god?’ at which point Kiros would need to mention the Six. And as far as he was concerned his lips were unworthy to speak their names aloud. He had already had to do so on introducing himself on arrival. It bothered him then, and he felt quite sure that it would bother him again now.

“Naughty gods?”

The words ushered another silence; this one of horror instead of awkwardness. The sole exception was Nyshia; wearing a devious grin before one of the better-minded Celestialists forcefully shoved the priestess inside. The rest soon wisely followed, well remembering the disapproving glare and dismissive gesture of Kara. One of the other healers quickly ushered the ambient victims a few paces away from the pair; both to guide them away from what she feared would follow, and to relieve Kiros of his healing duties for the moment. He was done healing for now, that much was clear.

Those within earshot wore distraught looks as if she had just laid upon him a most vulgar insult; and upon a healer not known for good temperament. They all had their faults – and the stress and close proximity caused these to become well known for the group. Kiros was known to lose his patience in outbursts of increasing frequency that matched the heightening stresses placed upon them. His proneness to anger was well documented by now, and all waited anxiously in silence for whatever profanity laden response Sylvian had unwittingly provoked.

And waited.

Until finally Kiros had summoned up enough to give his response.

Holding no words for her, he simply began to emit a deep, amused chuckle from the bottom of his diaphragm – to the great confusion of all. With his hand clutched to his stomach, the tall Kaliti priest buckled over and fell onto the soft grass in chortling laughter at the naive elf’s description of his indolent, secretive deity. A struggle to regain composure proved fruitless, and unable to respond to his surroundings he fell back into deep, unrestrained laughter – as if this was the funniest thing the man had ever heard. Worried looks from the crowd turned to relief and then perplexion, but better that he reacted as he did. Yet none were unaware of the context of the inside joke that Kiros, and only Kiros, fully understood. In the entire time there, they hadn’t ever seen the man crack anything so much as a smile.

And here he was laughing his ass off.

It was the happiest and most amused he had been in months.

Kara Orin Sylvian

 

[Kara Orin]

Once again, Kara’s eyes looked toward Sylvian after the Avariel’s words. Then she looked back to Nyshia and the Celestialist’s. Kara’s hand drifted away from her sword when they began to move away with the injured.

Kiros Rahnel cackling like a gnoll stole Kara’s attention. She blinked. Eyes widened.

Looking to Sylvian once more, Kara told her, “It’s... probably better to save this discussion of gods until later.”

Kara's speech grew slower with each minute. Her eyelids felt heavy.

 

[Sylvian]

When Kiros Rahnel burst into laughter, the pale skinned elf joined him for a quick giggle. A smug smile found its way to her lips and Sylvian adjusted her position; with a straight back, lifted shoulders and chin held up high, the beautiful avariel curled a lock of white hair between her long fingers and shot a glance towards Kara.

Her behavior was entirely out of place, but not by simple ill will. Sylvian rarely fit in, not with her people or any other kind of society. Still, the sapphire eyed maiden always found a way to sneak herself into good company and she did so knowing that she meant no harm – she had come here to help after all.

“Oh, I know I’m hilarious, please stop.” She said to Kiros and waved her hand in a dismissive manner. Truth be told, Sylvian was comedic gold at every party gathering, but clearly this wasn’t the type of situation they were in. The poor avariel had simply forgotten about that little fact.

Kara, however, still wasn’t showing much interest and it was then that the angel had her first suspicion. It wasn’t by any chance the fact that her words were spoken so slowly, being slurred almost and that her eyelids were beginning to fall shut. It was the fact that nothing about Sylvian – be it her dashing beauty born of heavenly descent, great personality or whatever magical miracle she’d just performed – could garner her attention for long enough.

And there was only one proper explanation for that: she was ill.

Giving the boy she’d been tending to one final look, Sylvian rose from her chair and seemingly floated over to where Kara stood. “Darling, are you feeling alright? You look don't look well.”

 

[Kiros Rahnel]

Sylvian's giggle only added to his very out of place urge for laughter, and a brief glance up only furthered his unusual fit of hysterics. The elf’s regalness and prideful posture about it seemed to only add to the effect, sending Kiros back fit of unexplainable laughter while he rolled about on the ground. It was a rare event for the steadfast priest to find so much amusement in anything, and despite how completely absurd he appeared he was hesitant to release himself from this moment of mirth. Having abandoned himself to merriment, he ultimately ignored the elf’s gesture.

The spotter with the spyglass, Zefi, continued to look on. It was a relief that he took no offence to Sylvian’s naive question and expressed no ire towards her; but such spontaneous laughter was not a good sign to her. The healing efforts had gone on for a while and that someone would snap eventually was expected; that Kiros was the first one was nothing short of astonishing.

“When was the last time he got any sleep?” she asked aloud as she stepped forth, looking down at the man winding down from his fit of laughter with concern. While he hadn’t seemed terribly tired before, this present behaviour gave her ample cause for concern. The last thing the crew of healers needed was a casualty among their own.

The words of concern from the lips of Sylvian caused her to looking up at Kara next; the concern on Zefi’s expression only deepened upon seeing her tired and sleep-deprived state. Others guided the boy away once Sylvian had completed her healing and checked him over, before guiding the family to the cots that would become temporary home.

“When was the last time Kara got any sleep?” Came the next question, addressed to any and all around much like her first. With her hand on her chin, he continued to ponder the situation in her constant effort to bring order to the everyday chaos. They had pushed themselves, opportunities to rest and sleep had been brief over the past weeks. With the added benefit of the newly arrived volunteers, this was an issue they could now alleviate.

The Kaliti crazed with laughter and the near-catatonic Kara having made it to the top of the list she was mentally cobbling together.

Kara Orin Sylvian

 

[Kara Orin]

“Tired,” was Kara’s response to Sylvian.

Her eyes looked toward the boy before he was guided away.

“Please focus on him instead,” Kara somberly told Sylvian, “His… mother didn’t make it.”

Kara rubbed her eyes. Did she hear her name? She did not immediately recall why this voice knew her name.

Turning back to the tent once more, she told Sylvian in between Kiros Rahnel laughing, “I’ll rest. Wake me if you need the space.”

For patients.

If there was no objection, Kara was going to take one of the empty bedrolls next to a post. She would sleep sitting up with her sword and scabbard held in her arms. And dream…