Private Tales Upside Down

[Brenna]

Damnit.

Brenna frowned as the deer she had been hunting moved at the last moment and her arrow thudded into the tree behind its head. It turned sharply towards her position and then bounded off back to the comforts of the forest thicket instead of the large open frozen meadow she had been enjoying having to herself. The Nordenfiir gritted her teeth and curled her hand into a fist then thumped it on her knee. It seemed the Pale King would not let her have her kill today. First the rabbits had escaped her and now this. She waited for a moment longer to see if by some miracle it might return before giving up and standing to go and retrieve her arrow.

The snow amongst the meadow was beginning to thaw as spring stretched her warm arms around the Tundra and pulled it towards the embrace of summer. Here and there fallen branches or patches of grass which had been forgotten for the longer winter months were finally breaking free of the snow to reveal themselves once more. Life was beginning. It would never be as green as the Summerlands but as she skirted a small mound of snow and dirt she suspected was the entrance to some still hibernating creature, Brenna thought that it still held its own beauty.

A gentle breeze blew across the open field and the blades of grass and more hardly spring flowers swayed with it. As it blew her hair across her face it also taunted her with the smell of the deer she had lost and her stomach groaned in sympathy. She was debating whether or not to go after it as she approached the arrow at last and reached out to tug it free when suddenly the earth beneath her feet shifted. For a moment panic seized her and she lunged for a branch of the tree but it was too late. The tunnel entrance opened beneath her feet and with a sharp yell it swallowed her whole.

Unlike the ground above, beneath the surface spring had yet to thaw it out and the narrow tunnel she found herself sliding down was almost entirely made of ice which only added to her speed. The tunnel spat her out into another, wider, one and she scrambled to try and get a purchase on one of the walls to slow her descent but nothing worked. All it resulted in was her going down an almost vertical drop feet first and on her stomach. Her screams no doubt echoed through the warren. Not for the first time she cursed her slender and slight form in comparison to other Nordenfiir who she doubted would have even fit down a place like this when suddenly the ice tunnel spat her out into dirt a good 10 foot drop below. She landed awkwardly, her leg from the knee down twisting at the wrong angle and she groaned in agony as the pain spiked through her.

For a moment she lay on her back staring at the hole in the ceiling she had fallen through which had the audacity to drip on to her upturned face and silently said a series of curses in her head. How on Artehil was she going to get out of here?

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

The caves of the deep, in their twisting and ancient pathways, were often a source of much folklore and talk in the deeplands, and one didn't have to venture far within them to understand why they struck the imagination of the mystic people. It was easy to view them as far too specific in nature to be by chance, too many labyrinthian passageways that argued its own direction incessantly to be by any natural process. Only fae or some ancient, wispy spirit could have made rhyme or reason out of the unmappable depths. Some, who felt themselves close to the spirits and their echoes could traverse without fear through endless caverns that seemed far too perfectly shaped to be natural.

Juno, however, was much more cautious. Though spirits and wisps traced her mind and her own form, the direction was not innate, and so she was quite cautious in her expeditions to find more of what lurked within the deeplands. Many sounds and passing shapes eluded even the library minds of the elders, but she prided herself on recognizing at least the nature of the distant beasts she either saw or heard.

That is why it stirred her heart into fear and action to hear the frantic cry of a person.

In the upper crusts of the caverns, much was ice still, frozen over and lovingly smothered by the cold winter that never truly thawed. Nearest to the tired sun, and the harsh winds that had in ages past driven them to the depths in the first place. She had been to the surface on many occasions, and only in the coming months did conditions favor such activities, before the aching frost lingered like a blanket over life once more.

With a fitful start, she gathered her satchel and slung it snugly over her shoulder, nearly stumbling over herself as she broke into a run towards the sound as it echoed towards it. A cry, be it surprise or it in, was never a sound to leave alone. Small, sharp teeth angled downward from the bottoms of her boots, giving just enough grip to the ice as she found herself going upwards, towards an unfamiliar beacon of light that shined down on a collapsed woman.

Juno froze, keeping her body low as her ice-hued eyes inspected the unfamiliar woman, strange in both appearance and clothing. Other kinds had tread these depths before, but such clothes were foreign to her, and regardless this did not seem the kind of person to find themselves here on purpose.

"Excuse me! Are you quite alright?" She called out in a tongue that dripped with a strange cadence. Juno stood slowly, the elf dressed in refined and cleverly patched and stitched pelts. No single animal could be determined by a glance, but the warm, intricate patterns of mixing fabrics and swirling colors were still far more of-the-land than most people would care to dress. The heavily painted skull-mask that she wore was perhaps the most alien of her attire, a hand pressed cautiously forward, though she held herself at a distance, the other tucked behind her back.

 

[Brenna]

Valthar is going to kill me...

There was no way she could see that she would be able to get back up to the surface through that tunnel. It was too big a gap from here to the entrance, even in her Svalen form and then there was the next question of how she would even manage to scale the pure ice all the way back up with a broken leg. At least, she feared it was broken. She couldn't move her toes and the pain was enough to bring out tears in the corner of her eyes. Carefully she sat up and attempted to examine it though the angle made bile rise in the back of her throat before she managed to steel herself enough to peel up her leggings. If she took off her boot she was fairly certain she would never get it back on but it would be better to ice it if she could. Brenna was about to take a breath and do just that when the smell of an unusual scent hit her nostrils. Her eyes snapped up and her head turned sharply in the direction of the person. Her hand went for her bow on instinct and that was when she discovered it had broken in the fall too. Her heart sunk; her father had given her that bow. Brenna cursed herself for not coming armed with something more as her eyes took in the person that approached.

An... elf? Of course she knew they existed in the Tundra but her people very rarely came in contract with them. The shared histories between elves and Nordenfiir had not been a pleasant one and both peoples had taken to keeping to themselves, though of course they did occasionally trade with one another. She hadn't thought there were any colonies this close to Faarin though. And what was she doing underground? The questions swirled in her mind as the girl stepped forward with her hand raised but grimaced when she saw her lips moving.

"I... cannot..." she motioned to her ears and blew out a frustrated breath through her teeth. Gods she hated talking out loud when she couldn't hear whether or not she was even pronouncing the words correctly and had to rely on the memory of how it had felt to use those words as an eight year old. She doubted that the girl would be able to speak Signs though. "Broken..." Brenna pointed to her leg then looked up at the tunnel above her head to indicate exactly how she had done that.

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

Language barriers had rarely been confronted by Juno before, and the few scarce times were typically by disability or in communication with more otherworldly things, who found difficulty in limiting their speech to the words of common tongues. She was sharp, however, and the familiar drawl of a tongue practicing unheard syllables that it could neither verify nor sharpen was something unilateral. Some were born deaf, and some fell that way through some event, and no amount of magic nor herbology could fix that, at least in the span of understanding she held.

She slowly approached, a hand removing the mask she wore, better revealing her face, and her lips. She knew little of signs, but now she wished to have learned them better than simple phrases. Lips were important to those who could read them, but not all held that talent. Were signs universal? She did not know, at the time she did not care to ask, and a hot flush of shame ran through her cheeks.

Still, her hands, holding an uncertain, and unconfident posture came to her chest level and angled them towards the woman as she approached.

'Hello, not fluent signs, let me help?'

Body language was indescribably important in meaning, that much she knew, and that much she emphasized, likely to an unnatural or uncertain degree. Still, she approached, placing her satchel down as she neared the side of the woman, icy eyes scanning the injured leg. Fallen from a drop like that, it could be anything from a small sprain to a major fracture. Removing the clothing would allow better access, but so far from other help, leaving it exposed like that could have unforeseen consequences.

Unfortunately, as she weighed the options, seeing the skin was perhaps the only way to tell if there was a fracture unless it was obtusely external, and in such a situation they would have far more worrying problems than simple exposure. 'Can I?' She slowly signed, motioning to the leg.

 

[Brenna]

The Nordenfiir watched as the other woman approached, her body half tensed and ready to run or fight should the need arise. Without her bow her only option would be her Svalen form. Even with the broken leg probably transferring through to her bear form at least she would have her teeth and claws to keep her at bay should she need to. Even an injured grizzly bear was more dangerous than a girl with no weapon. However, as the elf approached and removed her mask Brenna relaxed a little more. Facial expressions were everything for someone who couldn't hear a tone of voice. What was even more curious was the fact she knew Signs. At least, a little of them. The Nordenfiir had their own version geared towards their language but Brenna had learnt the Common Signs too for comparison and to be able to talk to the scant few travellers that passed through.

Brenna shifted slightly to sit in a more comfortable position and nodded at the offer for help, a mix of relief and gratefulness washing across her beautiful sky blue eyes. She wasn't trained in the art of healing beyond the basics of field medicine to stop herself or a fellow cadet bleeding out in the middle of a battle. Elf's had magic. She was curious as to whether this one had any gifts that would help her here.

The ground broke beneath me and I fell for a good 20ft down tunnels before ending up here.

She attempted to stretch her leg out but let out a sharp hiss and shook her head. After a moment of cursing she tugged the dagger out of her boot and passed it to the elf.

Cut the breeches off. The leg is too swollen.

"Brenna," she then spoke aloud, pointing to herself.

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

As the knife was pulled and kindly handed towards Juno, there was a momentary pause of near-alarm from the face of the elf, who quickly, and strangely, motioned for the Nordenfiir to keep her own blade, and moved to pull her own dagger of a strange design. It was a pale tan, clearly of bleached and refined boned, sharp and pointed, forged together with a handle of a different beast, or perhaps of simply another kind of bone wrapped with tight, secure, thin leather that fit the elf's hand far too well. The blade, a sturdy straight-edged thing that ended in a fine, lethal point, was laced with intricate, animalistic runes and sigils.

She held the knife flat to her own chest for a moment, as if pulling it were part of some ceremony. "Juno." She spoke normally, unsure of how to sign her own name, but knowing well enough to speak smoothly, clearly, and normally. Her eyes went back to the leg, taking a fistful of loose cloth from the knee down, slowly, and carefully cutting downwards, only separating and spreading the cloth once it had been fully cut vertically, exposing the flesh underneath. Tapping the blade flat to her chest once more, she sheathed it back into a tight pouch horizontal on the back of her waist.

Before she deeply inspected the leg, she moved to the boot, undoing any binds, ties, or anything else that could keep it tight. Though she didn't yet remove it, pressure had to be released, particularly if it was a swollen extremity.

Once she had good sight over the lower leg, the obvious first thing she scanned for was deformation from beneath the skin. Her fingers, tough and calloused, applied very light pressure as they moved up and down, feeling for deformation, of bone that was supposed to lay straight poking out. If it was an external fracture, she could see the bone, and there would be blood, but if it was internal, all she would see is the darkened sign of internal bruising and bleeding from a jagged bone tearing its own muscle.

"Tap the ground where it hurts the worst." She spoke clearly, waiting for confirmation as she slowly ran her fingers up and down the limb, trying to determine where the injury lay, eyeing the covered foot with some suspicion.

 

[Brenna]

Brenna flinched when Juno drew her blade and eyed it with some suspicion, especially the runes towards the tip. She wondered for a horrifying moment whether she had accidentally implied to the girl to cut her leg off rather than just the material of her breeches. Biting on her bottom lip hard enough to cause it to go white she watched with trepidation as the elf moved the blade to her leg. Her whole body was rigid now and her heart hammered so loud against her chest she wouldn't be surprised if the elf's sensitive ears could pick it up. Her anxiety eased somewhat when Juno didn't actually just cleave her leg off and very slowly she relaxed again by taking a few big gulps of air.

As the elf inspected her leg, Brenna craned to get a look herself whilst trying to keep her leg relatively still. A sharp growl came from deep within her throat when the prodding began. It was the growl of a bear and definitely not an ordinary human in distress. For a moment she wrestled with the instinctive urge to shift forms to protect herself from the pain. It would do her no good. There was no blood which was what she had been expecting, at least not beyond a few scrapes from where she had caught herself against some sharper edges of ice on her way down the tunnels. Bruising was already appearing around the top of her boot, however, turning her fair skin into a good reflection of a night sky. The intricate mix of black, purple and blue faded the closer it got to her calf. It was definitely her foot. Brenna wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Juno's hand started at her knee and worked down with efficiency but as it grew lower her small whimper turned into a growl until, just as her fingers began to probe beneath the lip of her boot she grabbed the elf's arm and gave a sharp cry. The young girl threw her an apologetic look before biting down on her sleeve and indicating for the elf to take her boot off.

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

Juno paused at the ground, cautious eyes scanning the woman briefly as she processed the odd sound. She knew many who could utilize magic to mimic beasts and various tongues, but such a situation seemed an ill-chosen place to exercise such a power. She couldn't make assumptions, but clearly some bestial power resided within the woman, one she was altogether unfamiliar with to make any grand assumptions or leaps of logic, so she waited for the sound to subside before cautious continuing.

At this point, the pressure test was one of formality, as she could see the bruising, and what it indicated. Such rapid swelling of darkened, offended flesh could only indicate a fracture, a bone that did not hold together as it should, and instead carved outward against its surrounding muscle and flesh. Dangerous, but blood and swelling often painted a more morbid picture than reality, but sometimes still the slightest injury left one lame for extensive periods of time.

The folly of biology, its paradoxical nature of robust durability, and innate situational fragileness.

She knew many herbs and mixtures that could help treat the wound, but she wasn't one to carry her whole apothecary inventory with her on every venture. She was underdeveloped when it came to magic, but she still held the ability to help.

The boot had to come off, that much was obvious. Swelling under constrain would lead to further damage, and more pain when it did have to be removed, but sliding it off now was likely going to a painful and unpleasant experience, even with all its constraints loosened. Medicine was the best option, and the one she was most well versed with.

She didn't know the signs for 'internal fracture of bones in the foot,' and she decided that mimicking the harsh motion of a bone snapping was far too gruesome to leave up to the imagination, so she simply reached into her satchel, and began to lay out its contents in peculiar order in front of her as she sat diligently on her knees. Bags of neatly packed leaves and sprouted plants, some full of nothing but roots, others sealed more tightly held glassy vials of various colored powders, some of which held a faint glow.

Painkiller and mixtures that aided in healing, often in magical ways were a favorite among alchemists, and ones she was all too familiar with mixing. Unfortunately, she had no fine mortar and pestle nor a burner system, only the raw ingredients, and some water. It would have to do.

One larger vial held a decent mouthful of clear water, which she quickly removed the top from, deft and trained hands taking pinches of this and that. Roots and picked leaves mixing with clumps of purple-black powder that more resembled ash than any recognizable content. A swirl of the vial in one hand, a flat palm to her chest with the other, and a few passing words of strange vernacular met with a pulse of brief willpower met with a final touch of a hand, and the mixture swirled and melded into itself. A less-than-watery, purple haze of a liquid that continued to idly swirl like a whirlpool long after the brief ritual had been made.

She carefully offered it to Brenna. "Drink first, for the pain."

 

[Brenna]

A small tremor began to wrack her body as the adrenaline finally began to wear off and shock set in. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she slumped back to the ground to contemplate how exactly her brother was going to kill her this time. It was a good distraction for she didn't growl anymore at the elf who was still conducting her careful assessment and was now rummaging in her satchel. It also kept her mind off the worrying question as to whether it was so badly broken that Juno was going to recommend taking it off altogether: she had only just started to get her life back on track, she didn't want to lose something else. Even if she went home with a broken foot she was 90% certain that Valthar wouldn't let her leave the house again.

Her eyes had drifted shut as she lay with her head resting in the small pillow of snow, focusing on getting her breathing more controlled and less ragged. Yet, when Juno gently tapped at her arm and held something out to her she opened them and sat up slowly, her deep blue eyes focusing on the concoction in front of her. Bre sniffed it and then recoiled a little, nose scrunching up in distaste. It didn't smell like anything she knew which was the main reason for her reaction. Nordenfiir usually just drank through the pain.

She watched the woman's lips move intently before looking back to the thing in her outstretched hand. For a moment she stared at it then, hesitantly, reached out and took it from her. Sniffed it again like a distrusting animal might then downed it all in one with a grimace.

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

The strange concoction likely smelled just about as bitter as it actually tasted, riling and offending any tastebuds unfortunate enough to parse it. The effects of it, however, were nearly immediate, spreading like a hot flame from her gut, a tingling numbness that flowed through her veins on the trail behind the heat. A squeezed hand could still feel itself, but with an odd filter over it, like strained water impeding the flow of touch.

There were further things that could be done to help the limb heal, but none could be done with the boot on, so carefully Juno set about adjusting the loose footwear, and slowly sliding it off, trying her best to avoid twisting or moving the foot any more than absolutely necessary, placing it down beside the duo before she returned her gaze to the source of the spreading bruising.

She took a handful of snow and gently padded it to the bruise, hoping to limit the swelling with the presence of the finely powdered ice. She presumed that she could largely treat and begin initial adjustments with normal herbology, but if more dire work had to be done, she may be forced to utilize more conjuration based rituals and methods.

Magic was not her forte, but she knew certain ways it could be influenced in a dialogue. "You will be fine." She tried to reassure, but felt odd knowing that the meaning only traveled as far as her lips, should they not be seen. With keen, practiced eyes and traveling hands, she inspected the foot, trying to find the extent of the damage.

 

[Brenna]

The potion made her want to gag and it took physical effort not to throw it back up. Nordenfiir had particularly heightened senses and Brenna's were at the top end of the scale. When she had lost her hearing it was as if her other four had attempted to make up for the loss by pushing themselves to the extreme. Sometimes it meant that her surroundings could be overwhelming, especially when there was a strong smell or taste in the air, others times it apparently meant her stomach tried to reject the thing that would apparently most help it in the situation. She carefully laid back down and put her hands over her stomach as it grumbled and swirled uncomfortably, but it didn't take long for the numb feeling to suddenly appear.

For a moment she panicked. It was almost like she were fighting through a strong current or thick mud every time she wanted to move her limbs. Then it turned into barely feeling anything. Even the cold wasn't bothering her much and she raised her hands curiously to touch at her face with this odd sensation coursing through her nerves. She could feel that. It was somehow reassuring, but it felt like they were someone else's hands in a detached and odd manner.

Brenna began to giggle as she moved her fingers across her face some more. At the very least it distracted her as Juno removed her boot.

She had been staring at her hands held out in front of her when Juno had spoken so she did catch the words and then sluggishly attempted to sign a question. It failed. She shook her hands a little as if that might help then tried again.

Broken?

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

The numbness was necessary, a needed distraction to pull one's sense of pain and self a bit further back from screaming nerves that might otherwise bother or frustrate you. Sluggishness, however, was something she tried quite deftly to avoid, knowing that in a dire situation, further inability to move could prove quite troublesome. Unfortunately, the roots and incandescent herbs that managed numbness without causing slowness were not very pleasing to one's sense of taste or smell.

She'd go without mentioning their greater value.

"Broken, but fixable." She spoke clearly, making sure that it was understood before moving on. Nimble but firm hands kneaded the wounded flesh, adjusting it as she procured more materials from her bag, most curiously of them, a strange, ebony bone that had been whittled and carved into the sturdy shape of an ornate pen, complete with elaborate, expansive, and far too finely printed markings and symbols, many looked like beasts, many more still appeared as creatures that seemed to defy their very appearance.

Along with the strange pen, came two vials of finely crushed powder, one an inky black that almost seemed to behave as frictionless as a liquid within its container, and another, a cyan pigment that sat quite still. Slowly, and ever so delicately, she would tap the end of the pen into the pigments, before gently tapping them across the offending flesh. It was a peculiar, sharp feeling, thankfully masked by the potent numbness that spread through her limbs.

The pattern she made was a bizarre one as if she was painting a great work of art. Black and blue mixed and swirled, independent dots swirling with one another into tangible lines and forms, shapes, and images taking arm together. At a passing glance, it could be compared to the pattern on the knife she had pulled or the mask she had worn, but something felt more primal about these. Images of bones, patterns of scars and stitches, sticks, and twigs held together by vine and root.

An old revered art, bleeding into flesh and spiraling downwards as the symbols, almost like words, took shape and form beneath the thin bruise of flesh. It was not slow, it was something that took time and great concentration, though Juno seemed to be more absorbed into it like a trance.

After the vials visibly diminished, and the image grew fuller, it seemed like little more could be added. As if an enclosed box had been crafted carefully all around the foot, containing dozens if not more of symbols and images that blended like a language that couldn't be spoken. Then, all at once, Juno pulled her hands back, tapping the base of the pen to her chest twice. Smothering the remains of the powder into the nearby snow, she quickly repackaged her gear and turned her eyes to the wound once more.

 

[Brenna]

Brenna couldn't see what was happening exactly with the odd pen. To watch would mean to sit up and she wasn't sure she had command enough of her body nor senses for that. So instead she chose to shut her eyes and simply feel the sensations crossing over her numb skin in that odd abstract way. It was relatively pleasant, like a feather tickling over her skin. At least it was to begin with. The longer the lines stayed on her skin the deeper they seemed to sink. Beneath the bruised muscle right to the bone, which was when it started to get uncomfortable. She imagined that without the drink she had taken it would be agony and skin to fire blazing over her foot rather than the irritating scratch that it felt like currently.

The bone slowly shifted itself back into place and knitted the ligaments back into their rightful positions. Bre's nose screwed up as the sensations grew more uncomfortable but nothing that she couldn't at least grimace through.

The bruising stayed and it was still tender to the touch but the ugliness had at least worn off. It looked now as though the wound were actually an old one rather than fresh and as the uncomfortable feeling subsided she was even able to wriggle her toes again, albeit slowly.

Thank you.

Her fingers were sluggish as she Signed before she let out a long held breath.

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

The trouble of invoking such medicinal magic was that they weren't always effective. On some people, intricate rituals could be committed and bones could mend and fix themselves together as if nothing had broken at all. In others, it seemed the workings did little more than paint blistered skin. The magic rejecting the purpose, or the body rejecting the magic, some odd twist of divinity that kept things damaged. Some saw it as an act of some higher, perhaps negligent providence. Others, like Juno herself, believed it to mean that not all things could be fixed, and magic was no tool to mend what was not destined to be restored.

Fate was not benevolent, it sometimes left some mortally wounded with no recourse. Sometimes, however, she could feel that odd twist of luck in her favor as the wound slowly lessened, leaving the bruised and sore muscle in the wake of what was perhaps once a permanent wound. A soft smile grew, as she turned to Brenna, she considered offering something to quicken the fading of numbness but decided to let it run its short-lived life through her system. Instead, she offered two brief signs in an awkward manner, a clear question to test the result of her work.

"You, walk?"

 

[Brenna]

Walking. Could she walk? Whatever drugs the elf had given her were still coursing through her hyper sensitive body and even as she sat up it felt like the world swayed in slow motion. Still, she would give it a go. Nodded wearily she put her hands either side of her and pushed herself up. Brenna was careful as she put weight on her injured foot and favoured her other leg until she was actually standing. Only then did she apply a bit of pressure resulting in quite a bad limp.

A hiss of pain but mainly frustration escaped her clenched teeth.

Won't be running any races anytime soon.

But at least she wouldn't be crippled. The shock of standing seemed to have sobered her up a little more and she ran a hand through her braid which was slowly unravelling after her ordeal. It also meant that she gave her first thoughts to where exactly she was. Her eyes wandered over the ice walls and ceiling.

What is this place?

 

[Juno Ahrrick]

The pain was present, sometimes that was better than a complete lack of it. It meant the nerves still worked, or that the drugs weren't allowing her to walk of crippled tendons and furthering injuring them. Pain was often difficult, but it served its purpose to fill that balance.

Having readjusted her thinks, Juno retreated a good arms-distance away from Brenna, quickly slinging her pack back onto her person, standing as well. Juno was silent for a moment as the question was asked, icy eyes scanning the alcove that connected that shaft of light to the surface. It was brighter than most caverns as a result, but it lacked the touches of life that she was often used to.

How did she describe it? She tried despite her clear hesitance in each sign.

"Caves, near top."

The motions she gave were vaguer then, a slow, cautious, and uncomfortable shape. Clearly meant to convey the shape of the caves, like a rocky pyramid, spiraling downward and expanding outward. The signals she gave as she motioned near the middle and bottom were odd, indiscernible as if she was trying to convey something that couldn't really be put into words, much less signs when she could barely use them.

She then paused, her body shifting as if she were about to move. though uncertain of her own intent. "I can take you up? Or come with me?" The simple signs she made conveyed, the strange split implying that they were very different destinations.