Troubled Water

Description:

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Troubled Water
« on: February 27, 2020, 11:41:55 AM »
Emile knew the seafloor for miles around the islands. Knew it better than he knew the actual land, maybe even better than he did the back of his own hand. It was a map of familiar dips and dunes. Coral clusters with hidden roots and secret tunnels. The caves and plains had been explored a thousand times over, every canyon adventured through. That didn’t mean it never surprised him, however. Far from the truth. Unusual creatures cut through the water on occasion. A storm would roll through and drag in unexpected trinkets. Or reveal something that had been there all along.

That was the case today. The shake up with the Winds had made Emile nervous. He had not gone out beyond the cove for some months since, rarely even ventured into town. Paon’s sanity had quite nearly been lost in the aftermath and worrisome lava flows on Thure. He stayed close to home to guard and protect and reassure. Now that things had settled some he set out on short swims to check on his favorite oyster and clam beds. A little farther every day until he was sure nothing waited in the kelp forests to harm his family.

He found the ship still half buried in silt a few miles from shore. Seal body sleek in the water he circled it half a dozen times. The shifting of sand and a few storms had revealed an ancient schooner. Probes told him that any memory of who had sailed the vessel had long since passed. Through a large hole in the hull he could see a laden cargo bay full of barrels and boxes. The glint of silver caught his eye, and Emile hurriedly went up for air. A long, hardy gulp of it to fill his broad lungs and give him time to explore. The ship was too far down for most humans to dive, though Emile was sure he could have at least reached the wreckage in his first form. In his second it was child’s play. An easy swim that had him settling his bulk on the slowly decaying wood to peer through the hole.

More silver glinted from inside the hold. Speckles of light filtering down through the waves to play across forgotten treasure. Gold and silver so old it hadn’t been fashioned into marks. Only odd shaped coins without any stamp or heraldry. Books spilled out from an overturned armoire, they looked in tact but Emile knew they would fall apart if brought above the water. He reached with a telekinetic thread for the nearest coins, which sat haphazardly around an upside down barrel. They flicked through the water up to his nose. Definitely gold, he decided, testing the strength with his teeth and putting a hole through the center of the coin. He vanished what he could see, then slowly heaved his body over the side and into the hold to explore more.

There were dozens of matching boxes and chests. Two more cases full of books and scrolls. Bloated barrels and skeletons too. He couldn’t begin to guess what had brought the ship down, but he knew it had been coming from the mainland. Time couldn’t hide the spoils of a raiding ship. Emile’s stomach clenched up tight in anticipation. They could live off just the nearest barrel for decades. If he lived at all.

The pain came quickly. A sharp jab into his fatty side. A sparkle in the shadowed depths blinking at him as it revealed itself to be eyes and not treasure. In the water Emile’s bark was nothing but bubbles. The sharkmen’s cries were like piercing spears, though. Cutting through the water just like their rough hewn weapons. Two of them rose up to tangle with Emile. He blocked with his Opal and lashed out with his Red and dagger teeth. The water turned bloody. Some of it was his own. But the head and arm that fell to join the coins spilled across the floor proved most of it was theirs. In the back of the ship bodies shifted. A dark pile he had been too excited to check rising up into several angry warriors.

Side torn open Emile weighed his options swiftly. The salt water mercilessly burned at his wound. He felt blinded, and thought maybe there was a cut across his eye. There were too many to take alone in this state, he decided. The treasure served no purpose to them, it would still be there when he came back. And he would come back. If he didn’t bleed to death first. They chased him all the way to the shore. Webbed hands reaching for his flippers, and then his ankles as he transformed in the shallows. Their hissing shrieks echoing up the shoreline as Emile stumbled naked onto dry sand. As far as his legs could carry him before they went weak. Body dripping with sea water and blood to turn the golden sand to muck underneath him. He held his shields up until unconsciousness swarmed his senses. Tendrils of weak Jeweled craft battered at his body. Barely out of reach from where they waited in the water. Emile stared at them. Eyes peeking up out of the shallows where they waited. Just a few hours until high tide would bring them close enough to reach.

@kayndred

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #1 on: February 29, 2020, 01:46:38 PM »
Soft and warm, the sand clung to the soles of her feet, a fading path along the border where water gave way to shore. A shallow wicker basket swung at her side, the wind curling around the fabric of her pale yellow sundress, fluttering against her calves. Attention in the middle distance, face turned toward the sea, Solene meandered.

Her mother had been gone just more than two weeks, and an unmoored restlessness had grown in her. The ocean called to her, the lands beyond an idyll even her pragmatic consideration couldn’t shake. Surely any place was better than this. Here, alone, waiting for a hand not her own to guide her fate.

Claude was kind about it, in his own way. He allowed her to continue to manage herself, inasmuch as she ever had. She could still range across the beach and in the water as she saw fit, fishing and foraging for mussels. Not that he knew she fed herself this way, as her mother had. He’d just assumed it was part of their manner, their long lived nature, that had them eating less at home. Never suspicion of the cook, or general wariness of food prepared by someone else. And he was partially right.

She’d felt no love for her second skin that day, and had kept her legs to wander to and fro across the beach, watching crabs and birds and finding nothing to take home. Basket empty, dulled with directionless desire, her eyes and her heart turned out. Beyond the water to some place real but wholly unknown.

But it was the very close and uncertain that drew her attention, a tendon’s snapping abruptness bringing the hair on her arms and nape to attention. Craft, bright-sharp and aggressive. Not across the water but beneath, and dark. As dark as the raiders on their imposing ships. Too far to see if the slack surf had been upset by its source, Solene started took several steps forward, hesitant but curious all the same. A darkness in the water, some ways out, a murky blemish to the otherwise uniform blue. And, if she squinted, perhaps the shadows of mast moving bodies.

A figure - a shape - familiar and foreign, and her heart beat triple time as she stumbled to a halt, mouth dry. Mind blank, racing and uncomprehending in one, Solene watched the form no bigger than her pinky shift and change in the shallows, and she knew her eyes did not betray her.

Another, her heart whispered, aching memories of her mother’s stories gripping her throat. There’s another of us, here. Frozen, the rush of her heart matching the sighing waves, she watched the body drag itself up the sand. The tide seemed to reach after them, and and ugly hissing reached her.

And then they fell, and did not rise.

Basket clutched to her chest, she sprinted down the beach, staggering as it gave beneath her weight.

Blood, dark and heavy in the air. Dark, dark man too, and the weight of a Warlord Prince besides. Muddy emotions, hard to parse over surprise and aggressive awareness. She approached slowly, wary, and kneeled down within his sight but not touching him. Basket aside, scooted as close as she dared, attention already drawn from his face to the bleeding hole in his side.

Not at all any lower, to the long expanse of his sandy legs and the cut of his hip or anything in between. She was not blushing, and she wasn’t leaving him there.

There was a flickering of Craft across her, dragging at her skin. She could only feel it once she was able to get below the layers of the stranger’s Craft. Followed it back to the water and the hungry eyes that lurked there. She startled when they shrieked at her, hissing, grating, and gave an instinctive growling bark, or as close as she could get out of her fur. Not the type of audience she wanted with an injured man to see to.

“Can you hear me, Lord?” She didn’t want to lay hands on someone so obviously above her station and be accused of something untoward later, especially with the state he was in. “I’m going to do my best to keep you from becoming a corpse on this beach, but I want to know that you’re aware of it.” Gaze flickering from the cut that ran from over brow down his temple, she tried to see further the state of him through the blood and sand.

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #2 on: March 01, 2020, 11:22:05 AM »
A bark of alarm roused Emile to a state of heavy torpor. Eyes unwilling to open and senses dull and detached from his actual sense. He couldn’t feel his limbs, only a rhythmic pang in his side. Deep and aching. A hard contrast to the shorter, hotter bursts that flitted across his face to the tune of his own thready pulse. He tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry and chalky. A lump in his throat blocking the sound he tried to make as he fought towards alertness. 

After a moment he realized he was not alone. The sand shifted and a voice drew him closer to wakefulness. Mouth parting he managed to grunt dryly, ”Hm,” His head threatened to split when he tried to nod, but he could see the brightness of the sun through his eyelids now. Pain sharper so that he hissed in a breath and found his hands again. Dragging sand to the wound on his side as he reached to cover it with long, strong fingers caked in sticky blood. ”Aye.” He cracked an eye open to a slit. Not to take in the radiance that hovered over him but to scan the open water beside them.

The tendrils of hungry Craft still skimmed his body. He imagined they reached for the lady too. With someone there to defend his blood managed to pump a little faster. Fog clearing from his head so that he could lift it. Lash out with his Opal towards the ripples and bubbles he knew were waiting mouths. They scattered in the wake of his Craft but they would be back. He tried to rise up on one elbow for a better view but couldn’t get his arm under him. Shoulders trembling with the strain he groaned as he collapsed back flat to the sand. His chest rose and fell heavily. Breathing around the pain that shot up his torso and hissing as the pain increased with contact from the healer. ”Go on, go on. I’m up.” Awake. Sentient. Alive.

He dropped his arms to his sides to let her examine the gap in his side from hip to rib. The blood ran bright red, a good sign that his organs had been missed, but the muscle was torn and bone exposed. Fingers curling into the sand he gripped fistfuls that filtered through their gaps. Drying the blood from his hands but not cleaning them. He looked at her through one eye. The other shut against the burn of blood that tried to leak into it. Dark hair and watchful eyes. She tasted like a healer to his probe. Not as strong as the raiders trained in the art, or even the little island doctor that he visited when he broke a bone. But she was what he had, and he wanted to live. He cracked open a link, tickling her psyche to invite her to use it. Uncaring of the potential danger since death was the alternative anyway. ”You can draw on my Red.”

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #3 on: March 01, 2020, 09:41:17 PM »
Relief prickled her  - conscious, at least for now, and good enough for her. She breathed deep to center herself, staving off the rush of panic that courted her heart by focusing on the task at hand. Even if his pained noises made her ache in sympathy and nerves.

But not that much sympathy. “Ch! No!” She pulled his sandy hand from beside his wound, frowning at it and then his side and then his face. “It’s dirty enough without you packing sand in, don’t make it worse.” Firm, even as she caught the pained sliver of his eye. He could ask for retribution from Claude later, after she’d put him back to rights.

The rush of his Opal at the water was both comforting and concerning by turns. Cognizant enough for mostly accurate Craft direction, but the use had another pulse of blood soaking the sand in his side. And then, attempting to rise? Ridiculous man. Please don’t do that, either,” she groused, laying both hands on his shoulders and giving a little shove of healing Craft. It'd be easier if there were something to transition him to, or anything large enough in her cabinet to support him sitting up, but neither of them really needed the rest of his blood trying to escape.

Which brought her back to the wound at his side.

It was gory, open to the bone, fat and muscle in ragged edges, skin like the peel of a grape. Framing it with her hands she focused on the feel of it, the depth, 'seeing' the scope of it beyond the mangle. Grimacing at her findings she eased threads of her Tiger Eye through it, touching the deep broken vessels, the bruising already taking place. Delicate work that would probably stretch her abilities to their limit if she didn’t want to completely exhaust herself, but with the touch of his Red? Doable, even if the proximity of it was heady and overfull.

“I’m going to have to clean this before we can put skin back over your bone, but once I do we can move away from the water” she said, calling in the little flask of water she kept in her cabinet for whenever she roamed too far on her walks. She had a little extra fabric as well to remove the mess, but maybe not enough for bandages as well. Shoot. She bit her lip. “It’s going to hurt.” Almost definitely.

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #4 on: March 02, 2020, 11:23:19 AM »

She was understandably nervous. Under normal circumstances Emile would have done more to be a comfort, but his words were clogging up between brain and mouth. Pain a buffer that took great effort to overcome. She was also the most polite healer he had ever met. Asking him nicely to give up his attempts to get upright. Even if her tone was short. His head rolled from one side to the other. The Craft he had unleashed dispersed the enemy well enough for him to focus on the healer.

Pretty. Young too. Dark eyes tracing his wound with a stubborn set to her mouth. There was too much pain to be pleased, and no blood to spare for stirring. He did realize he was still naked from his shift, however, and cupped his spear quite belatedly. At least the warm weight of his balls under his fingertips gave him something solid to hold on to. A focal point to keep him conscious as dark edges crept in on his vision again. He promised her the use of his Jewel, and it wouldn’t do to make liar and a corpse of himself all in one fell swoop.

After a silent inspection she perked up again. The wiggling ends of her Craft licking at the root of his wound. Not easing any of the agony, but assuring him that something was at least being done. He tried to wet his lips but found there was no moisture left in his mouth. ”Alright.” He watched her call in a small metal bottle. The sort that stored whiskey in his experience. Hers smelled of fresh water and something flowery too but that came from her skin.

”Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” He reassured her as she hesitated over the task. The warning she gave him the only source he could find. It was natural to expect pain for giving pain. He was strong, though, and he could control himself. Rarely lashing out at anyone that didn’t deserve as much. A healer doing healing was not on that list. Even if he did grit his teeth and growl like a wounded animal when she started. ”Go on.” He encouraged through his clenched jaw after a particularly loud grunt of agony. His hand clamped down around his spear, redirecting some of the discomfort as the water burned across his torn skin. Sand flushed from the wound and dark clots broken free. He bled a little faster in thin bright red streams.

Mouth open to pant through the ordeal he worked his eyes open to peek at the healer again. ”It’s prince, by the way.” He said of her earlier use of lord. It didn’t matter to him, but a girl in Paon could find herself misused for such a slip. Especially a girl like this. The shallowness of her Jewels sending a nagging suspicion of her status down his spine. ”Just call me Emile, though. And call my brother Aramis if I do happen to die. He’ll take the body away.” There were no more secrets to keep in death, but he wanted to be interred to the Darkness properly. In the way the rest of his family had been. Without having to think about exactly what that meant to his brother.

”How bad is it?” He managed to ask once he had caught his breath. It felt bad. If he looked for himself the pain would be worse, so he didn’t. Instead he called in his shirt from his cabinet to lay across his groin to keep from bruising himself with his gripping hands.

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #5 on: March 03, 2020, 01:16:10 AM »
Watching him struggle for consciousness was agonizing, but permission was permission, and having it made Sol considerably more comfortable with laying hands on him. Even as he moved to cover himself and she exhaled a huff that could have been a laugh.

"No one would blame you if you did," she allowed, which was true for both herself and the islands as a whole. It would have been her own disregard that got her injured. Tutting, she ignored his groans as she began sluicing the water into his wound. He hadn't, at least, made it worse by shoving sand into it, as it hadn't had time to cake and dry. "Don't shave yourself to stay awake, either. It'll be much harder to save you if I have to try reattaching your spear." Darkness knew what that would even look like. One hand on his side, the other on his crotch, pulling his Craft through her Yellow to try and keep from exhausting herself and him from bleeding out? Not what she'd been imaging when she'd left the house that morning.

She passed a strip of cloth around the damp skin, clearing the bloody sand away, glancing up as she did. "Prince Emile, then, forgive me." Flask stood up in the sand she placed her hands on the cleaned skin to either side of the wound. "Brace." Breathing deep, centering, she sank into the warmth of her Tiger Eye, into the familiar feeling of of her caste. 

The Craft fed out of her palms, starting deep, washing over bruising and broken blood vessels, creeping over the exposed bone. Muscle slow to follow but following all the same. Eyes on the incremental progress between her fingers, mouth quirked up at what little levity there was to be found in his request. "I suppose it would be too much to ask that you believe I can get you back on your feet." At least there was someone to call if it all went to shit. Although Sol could place no face to an 'Aramis', any better than she had recognized Prince Emile. She'd always considered herself socialized well enough, but if there were others of her kind lurking on the island she regretted every action that had kept her home over the years. Maybe she would have found them already, even if they were just as everyone else on Paon.

She made no comment on the appearance of his shirt, although she was thankful, choosing instead to reply, "Bad enough that I'm considering your offer, Prince, although perhaps not for so much as your Red." It seemed a bit much, and although the idea was tempting, she'd prefer to not damage him further by mishandling something so far from her own jewels in an attempt to skim the top of his power. Jaw working at a particularly reluctant seam of muscle, she asked, "What are your thoughts on stitches?"

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #6 on: March 04, 2020, 11:43:42 PM »

I would blame me,” Emile corrected, his usually gentle tone charged by the gravity of the situation. He could guess as to the pain that would come with cleansing the wound. Even if she only used water. And his guesses were not exaggerated. He clenched one fist in the sand and one on his spear until she chidded him for nearly strangling the thing. ”Don’t worry it’s used to a bit of mishandling.” He said, voice high and pitchy. Throat dry from gulping salt water and the dehydration of blood loss.

His eyes screwed up tight as she wiped away the soil on the outside of the wound. He waited impatiently for the stinging to stop. It didn’t though. So he tried to distract himself. ”Emile. Just Emile.” He insisted. The title was certainly useful in certain situations. It did nothing to ease his pain in this one, though, and so he found it useless. The healer offered him no name in return, which was fine since there were few reasons to address her while she was busy digging her Craft into his open side.

The conversation he did start was not well taken. The implication of his words not thought out. Emile could be short sighted in general, but this time he blamed the pain for his thoughtlessness. ”Not even the best healers can defy the Darkness’ intent. That wasn’t what I meant though. If worse comes to worst then you’ll need solutions I won’t be any use in providing at that point.” He tried to explain. Perhaps he should have just said Aramis was the person to contact if he passed out again and left it at that. Too late for backpedaling he pushed forward.

Without actually moving as her examination turned into his offer for Jewel support. She didn’t outright lay out the damage for him, but he wasn’t sure about healing Craft in general. Perhaps she couldn’t yet say. She did show a bit of skittishness at using his Red. ”Well, there’s the Opal too.” He told her, groaning as a wave of nausea roiled from stomach to chest. It burned wetly between his lungs. Nothing came up, fortunately, so he tried to relax against the sand again.

”Stitches? Like when you patch pants?” He asked with uncertainty. That sounded painful. Or at the very least inconvenient. Not the sort of thing a man stood up and walked away with easily. ”Do your best, healer, and I’ll be grateful.” What else was there to be? Dissatisfaction was for men with options. Not men with their liver a few inches from the outside of their body. "It'll be enough. I know it doesn't look like it, but the Darkness is smiling on me today."

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #7 on: March 05, 2020, 11:20:33 PM »
Her gaze lit on his face for a beat, curious but unwilling to express how the statement phased her. There had been sailors who had paid Claude for her services who felt no such emotion for the idea of hurting her, and had, in some instances. Claude had been compensated, but Sol had had their marks on her until she was free to heal them herself. "Drink," she said instead, tilting her chin toward the flask, trusting his ability to use his hands for something besides hiding himself. It wasn't enough, surely, but better than nothing.

She was distracted from her feelings at his assurance, snorting inelegantly before she could bite her lip to stifle it. At least there was a bit of humor in him. It relaxed her, too, that he was cognizant enough for that "I'm sure," said on a short laugh, looking away again to keep her composure.

Well. "Just Emile, then. Solene Faucheux," she inclined her head, a facsimile of the deference she would have given him in any other setting. "Had we met under other circumstances I would say well met, however..." a brow cocked at their positions. The hum of her Craft was warming her hands, and she flexed her fingers subtly while it worked. The bone, at least, not as exposed as it had been. Its depth, too, was receding, although not at a pace Sol appreciated. She chewed her lip in frustration. "Mother Night is forgiving; she may listen if we are polite about our request." And if we help ourselves, she thought. The Darkness would hopefully turn a kinder eye on her if she used the tools at her disposal to the best of her abilities.

She just hoped her abilities were enough to begin with.

"Both generous offers, Pr-- Emile," she finished lamely. A much more manageable jewel. Lip lifting in silent snarl, both hands came to cup over the jut of bone, focus more acute. Deeper, deeper into her the bright heat of her Tiger Eye. A good enough shove to get his body to respond, a little sigh released at the reply. Some angles just didn't like to cooperate - Sol would add hip bones to the list, right next to thumb joints.

Easier to smile then, and say, "Yes, like patching pants. Neater, generally." Her first stitches hadn't been acceptable for even the most decrepit work clothes. She was much better now, although she hoped not to have to employ that skill with the appropriate application of his Opal. Even just a touch, and even if the layers of him grew stranger and stranger the more he spoke. Seal, grievously wounded, and apparently pleased with it. 

"I can't imagine how anyone would consider this a smile from the Darkness, but you know your circumstances better than I."

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #8 on: March 09, 2020, 11:22:28 PM »
”Solene,” Emile said, simultaneously commiting the name to memory and trying out the sound on his lips. Their dryness alleviated some by the water leftover after flushing out his wound. The pain was still a sharpness in his side. Her Craft no balm, even though he could feel it working. It must have been, since there was time between pangs now to appreciate not just her laugh but the way it softened the tense expression she wore. The Craft poured from her hands differently than he was accustomed too. All the healing he had experienced had been given in quick strikes of healing power to hold a wound together in a fight.  This healer was different. Slower in her work, but it felt like progress instead of patchwork.

There was no smile for the way her brow turned up, but he hummed at her in almost amusement, ”Had we not met under these circumstances I would be dead or near it.” Which went rather well with her opinion of Mother Night’s mercy. Emile had experience with that too. Not just to receive the outcomes of her whimsy, but as the object putting her will into motion. Much as he would rather not believe these were his final moments, the smell of his own blood was thick in the air. He wouldn’t risk leaving his family behind without any knowledge of what had happened to him.

He still could not muster a grin. The hard pucker between his brows rose up as he eyed her, though. A snort lurking at the back of his throat as she stumbled over the absence of his title. ”Should you need them.” He offered again. She was still unwilling, and out of curiosity he distracted himself a while longer by fiddling probes at her psyche. Jewel depth determined in a few sloppy strokes. Not the precise colors, but he could tell that her Webs stopped far above his own in the Abyss. That gave life to other questions, questions that would have to wait. It wouldn’t do to sully the healing by souring her mood.

”If you think it best.” Sewn up shut! Stomach clenching at the thought he closed his eyes against the sun, and so that he wouldn’t be tempted to see what came next. ”Not on my head, though,” He said, tone leaning towards pleading. ”a wound is easier to heal than a scar.” And Pella had enough reasons to reject him. He would not give her another. The blood by his eye had already started to clot, and he was sure that the dizziness he felt was from blood loss- not any serious head injury.

At least the eye was undamaged. He needed them both. It could have very easily gone otherwise, however. Or it could have gone just the way it was going, but ended up worse. ”Of all the beaches to wash up on, I ended up here. At exactly the right time to be noticed by a healer. Imagine if you had passed by already, or if someone else had found me and needed to go for help.” He lifted an eyebrow without opening his eyes. ”If that isn’t the favor of the Darkness I don’t know what is.”

His breathing was more even but a weariness was pulling at his bones. Sleep a shadow looming on the edges of his mind. Solene the sun keeping it at bay. ”Plus I found a treasure today.” He told her, one of the coins he had found in the sunken ship materialized between two of his fingers. Holding it up for her inspection he added, ”Found this too, but that was earlier.”

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #9 on: March 10, 2020, 01:41:05 PM »
Not quite sure how to feel about her name in his mouth, Sol simply didn't reply. It felt strange, soft, incongruous with their situation. Like Emile's blood wasn't on her fingers and clotting in the sand. She could deal with picking through that tangle later, when both of them could walk. If there was a later. Her Tiger Eye, as comforting as it was to use, wasn't exactly built for the long haul. Had he been taken to her as a patient of the house, she would have worked in tandem with another healer or even two, depending on their range. She'd almost certainly be tapping into his Opal before the day was through.

Still, his statement seemed a tad extreme. "Oh, we could have crossed paths at the market just as easily, Id think." Perhaps even more so, depending on which stalls he frequented, if he went into town at all. Some of them men preferred to send their women or their slaves, and had no use of the bustle of the stalls except for those with their imported alcohols. Maybe they had, even. Although Emile was beyond a doubt a raider, and Solene did not keep any particular eye out for faces besides those she'd learned to avoid. Faces she knew better than most.

She could not, however, find herself upset about his reaction to the idea of stitches."Just as the end, I think." Regret colored her. She knew her limitations, from corner to corner between her Birthright and Offering, and knew his wound was beyond them. Too it would have been more of a comfort to draw power from a servant or healer, if only because she knew the scope of them better.

Eyebrows up, mouth flattened into a disbelieving line, Sol glanced at him and then away. "I do, if I can channel neither my Yellow nor your Opal. I would prefer not to undo all my work right at the end." One mishandled slip of Craft and Emile right split right down the seam, especially if Solene were already at a point where she couldn't manage the Yellow. Not that she wanted to get there, nor to lean too heavily on his Opal, but the possibility of applying non-Craft healing methods was not off the table.

His concern over the stitches was endearing, a little. She'd never seen a raider with suture scars, and couldn't imagine it as something particularly efficient when they were on the mainland. She'd only seen a few of the raider healers in action, and never in the heat of it. There was no telling how different their practices could be from her own. Dropping the hum of her power at his side to barely a trickle, Sol took his chin in hand and tilted his face more toward her, eyeing the cut. "Mm." Not terrible, nor deep enough that she suspected it too was hiding any kind of bone damage, but messy. "That we can smooth away now that I don't have a good look at your insides." Which were coming along, and Solene could no longer see the deeper bleeding in him when she focused her sight. The hip muscle had gotten over its initial reluctance and was pulling cleanly, enough so that she felt confident in turning her attention from its epicenter.

Light as she could be while still touching him, Sol laid the tips of her fingers over the slice across his temple. Same weapon, or of similar make that left the edges of the skin the same. Tongue clicking, she redirected her Craft, sloughing away the clotted blood to get to the numerous tiny blood vessels in his face. There was a brief rush of blood, but her fingers followed, knitting the flesh back together and then smoothing the mark of it away with her thumb.

"There," smiling, please with that little bit of progress, she turned back to his hip. "Now all we've got to worry about is the rest of you." Hands together, centering breath taken, Sol went to work on the upper edge of the slice, closest to his ribs. Both to allow his body a moment of respite from the strain of so much new growth as well as herself.

It was narrow at the top at least, the true depth of it centered lower, and easing the muscle and then the skin back together was a smoother process. "There are brews to fade scars, you know," she teased. "How do you think healers have such soft hands?" Not that there were over many who did, but she knew house healers who were firmly encouraged of the practice. Their sale value was higher if they had a gentle touch.

With his eyes closed Sol found it slightly easier to breathe. He had an intense look, even muzzy eyed, and she wasn't terribly partial to an audience for bigger works of healing. Even if that audience was her patient, and that patient looked like Emile.

His reasoning was sound, at least, which was promising for his state of mind. She'd concede the Darkness worked in mysterious ways, at least. "I'm thankful now I did not go swimming earlier myself," she confessed, worried that she moved too quickly. She could leave it there, claim she had no idea about whatever attacked him - which was true. She bit her lip, thankful he wasn't looking at her. Mother Night helps those who help themselves. In for a copper, and all that. She was already wrist deep in his innards. "I might not have had enough energy after the shift to do so much. Darkness be praised." She finished lamely.

The coin flashed in the sun like a silver fish, making Sol blink. And then flush at the compliment, ducking slightly to put her attention firmly on the knitting flesh beneath her hands. "I'm guessing that was part of what landed you here." Opening up her entire world while she fought to keep him in his. 

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #10 on: March 16, 2020, 12:22:00 PM »
”And may have, without even noticing.” He contemplated, unaware that their thoughts were echoing their words. Aligned without knowing. Had they touched the same fruits at the stand overflowing with papaya or passed one another thoughtlessly as one of a dozen faces in the crowd? How many times had they almost met before this moment finally connected their lives?  With his own hanging in the balance. His eyes stayed on her face when he could bring himself to look at all. The sun high in the sky overhead it was nearly blinding. In spite of it he saw the flush that turned her cheeks an unhappy red. What might have been a blush if it weren’t fueled by emotions other than shyness. Her answer to his renewed offer explaining that the emotion was disappointment. Not one that he could relate too, though his empathy was strong. At peace or at war his Red had never been too shallow for his uses.

He would have chuckled if he weren’t holding himself tight against the burning on his hip. A large portion of the pain was beginning to ebb away. He finally managed a pale, tight eyed grin. Humor valiantly trying to rouse itself. The good jokes would have to wait yet. ”I’d prefer not to undo any of your work at any part of the process.” Healing was an art far beyond his abilities. A scrap or scratch he might stop the bleeding on, but that was his limit. He didn’t know what the risks might be. What advantage using medicine over Craft would provide, if any. For this he would have to trust in Solene’s intentions. There was no other choice. The warmth of her Craft had already prevented him from bleeding out on the sand. If she said sutures were better than borrowing his Jewel of rank then so be it. He couldn’t debate facts he didn’t have.

The wound in question went from stabbing to burning. An intense itch racing up the broken skin as it reached to bring itself together again. He could feel a tingle down his leg, as if the nerves had fallen asleep, that promised the muscle damage was on the mend. So much so that his request not to be left scar faced shifted Solene’s attention. A glimmer of something playful flashed in her eyes. Something Emile had no experience in naming. Wives either vicious or naive in their opinions of him. That familiar possessiveness had already started to nag at his heart for this healer, too, but he did his best to put it out of his head. Quite the feat when she was petting the wound away so sweetly. ”Highly appreciated.” He complimented.

There were small calluses on her hands. The sort that came with household chores and usefulness. Slave his heart whispered anxiously. But good women did chores too, and slaves did not usually walk freeling along the beaches. Featherlight her hands skimmed the scrap along his forehead, distracting him from his worries. A wipe of small warm fingers took the pain away. The crusty feel of dried blood broke away too. Squinting to test the healed skin he flashed her the edge of a tooth. Laughter was still out of the question. He nearly risked it though. ”I suppose the rest is fairly important too.” Out of sheer maleness his hand cupped his groin again scattering specks of dry sand across the pale fabric of the shirt covering his waist.

She turned quietly back to the gash in his side. Energy channeled and Craft flowing. This time she put her hands nearer his chest. Leaving Emile to move his from groin to sternum. The instinct to hold a hand so near his center forcibly ignored as not to keep her from her work. Tone gentle she needled him about scar care. ”And scare all the women away in the meantime?” He asked, half seriously. She didn’t need to know that there were in fact a very predetermined set of women. That was just too tricky a topic. On Paon, more than one wife was not unusual. People had been accepting, so far, of two brothers with three women between them. But he wasn’t stupid enough to believe it would always be that way- or that women bound to one body could really share a husband without dark emotions getting involved. ”None of the healers I’ve been mended by have hands soft like yours, though.”

Trying to relax back into the sand. Eyes closed to dizziness and sunlight. Body less tense as the pain narrowed down to a point rather than eating him whole. It was bearable. He could have even dozed off if he tried. He didn’t try though. Peeking through a slit in his eyelids he shrugged one shoulder carefully. ”Rare for them to get so close to shore.” He assured her, tone hollow with the secret implication that she could not have swam out far enough to be threatened by the shark-men. A belief he nearly choked on as she corrected him and praised him all at once. Tongue filling his throat he snorted in surprise, eyes popping open to stare at her again. The coin in his hand fell down into the sand beside them and Emile tried to sit up again.

”You did see… I should have been more worried I guess. Now tell me this isn’t a twist of Mother Night’s cleverness.” Of all the women in Paon! He knew from Pella that there were a few small rookeries in the territory. Hidden and quietly kept much like their own. Island life made keeping such things a secret harder. But he had never in all his time thought that there would be more of them on Rosnay. ”Where is your rookery? Who are your people?” He was curious and eager to make new connections. Perhaps drag up a long lost friend of his angriest wife to make her life more tolerable. The possibilities flooded his mind- but one in particular stood out. She was one of them. She could be one of his.

Coin forgotten he struggled upright. Done with the healing, even if his head swam with the effort. He had questions that needed answers. Or else problems that needed solutions. There was no time to die now!

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #11 on: March 29, 2020, 04:46:49 PM »
"Mayhaps," she murmured. The edges of so many pieces of circumstance, lining up so perfectly. Mother Night, weaving her great masterworks. Who was Solene to question her divine machinations?

An unwitting participant, and a bloody one, she thought blandly.

Her fingers flexed and spread, Tiger-Eye burning along with the muscles in her arms, in her thighs and calves. "Forgive me," she sighed, dropping her hands. She unfolded, sitting cross-legged, pulling the slit in her dress so that fabric didn't strain across her knees. "The whole practice eases if you don't ache in the doing." Now there would be sand across at least one thigh, but better to put more of her energy into his knitting flesh.

Pink and raw, but with the blunted edges of a healing paused rather than a wound fresh, Sol observed his side critically. "I appreciate your care," she grinned, guessing it was due in no small part to the pain that he didn't fidget more than he could have. Most everyone did, when sitting for a healer. Wounds tended to itch no matter how fast one mended, Craft assisted or not. 

She weighed her own power in her mind, the depleted Tiger-Eye and her waiting Yellow, and found her lip between her teeth again. It would be a stretch of both, to heal him unaided, and Solene was not too proud to acknowledge that that scenario was not fit to be Plan A. Collapsing beside him on the sand after mending his would would serve no one, and leave both of them at the mercy of the weather, passers by, or worse. And there was too much left to stitch now, but waiting until it was further along would be detrimental to the steadiness of her hands.

"I know you've offered, and I mean no insult, only to not surprise you," she said, leaning forward to cast her own shade across his face, that he might know her sincerity. "to continue, I'll draw from your Opal now, Emile."

Gently, carefully, she reached out, and the fingertips of one hand moved too. She searched for the edge of him she'd felt against her mind before, and hissed a breath through her teeth at the flare of the Red she found. It made something in her chest balloon and ache, and she drew back. There were layers to him, and the depth of his power reflected a Craft a little closer to her own. Contact with the Opal still felt like a shock, a little fractal of lightning dragged down her spine, but more manageable. She forced herself to narrow her touch to trickle, imagining a dense sieve between their borders. It spiced along her tongue as she fed it through her Tiger-Eye, and she brought both hands back to his wound.

She wasn't quite sure her smile at his antics translated through the tenseness of her jaw. "Many would say so," it came out higher than she'd like, but the filtered power from the Opal was spinning out like the finest gossamer from her fingers and she had to guide it. It was unique, strange, different from her Descent in so many ways, but not wholly foreign. It responded, over-ready, and she clamped down on it more firmly.

"I've heard many a woman claim scars add to a man." There were certainly some very handsome scarred faces among the market crowd, although often the men themselves were not so pretty. His next comment had her huffing a laugh. "No, I can't quite imagine the raider healers being a soft touch." Those Blood were a breed apart in her opinion. It took a special kind of healer to allow some of the hideous patch jobs she'd seen. "Or a woman."

His affirmation made he frown, but she didn't turn her gaze away from the delicate mending taking place in the deepest part of his wound. Framed by the diamond space between pointer fingers and thumbs, the flesh crawled across empty space to meet itself. This far along the blood had mostly eased. Feather light touches of Craft kept it from getting anywhere she didn't want it.

So focused was she - and staunchly ignoring her own guarded nerves - that his snort gave her a start, and she drew back from the flush of his Opal before she lanced through his hip with surprised Craft. Shaking her fingers out, she glanced at him, tutting when he tired to sit.

"It'll be a twist of anyone's cleverness to get you to sit still," she chided, filled with secret relief while she encouraged him to remain flat with the heels of her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers smarted and the pads felt tingly, like they'd been slapped. There was a particular tiredness to filtering through such a difference. His questions should not have been surprising, but they were, and she found herself flushed with nerves at the suddenness of them.

"I have none," she blurted, tilting back slightly, hands palm up in her lap to keep them from the sand. Her gaze went back to his wound, although it did not claim her full attention. "My mother was a slave-prize from the mainland, already with child. Her people - I don't know them. Several died in the raid, she said, and I've never met anyone else." Until him, a strange man on a beach with strange coin. The only familiar thing between them were their second skins. "No one else from my master's household have been from a rookery in a hundred years." At least, she didn't think so. She felt like she might have known, if another had entered her house.

Emile Dupuis

    Blood Opal to Red
  • Warlord Prince
  • Played By: Jones

    King of Pearls
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    37 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #12 on: April 28, 2020, 10:35:37 PM »
Did she always look so determined in deliberation? Emile suspected that his new friend had already made up her mind, but was busily convincing herself it was the right course. The way her lip turned pink between her caught teeth suggested stubbornness rather than hesitation. There was nothing to do but wait. She didn’t leave him to wonder long. ”As you require, lady.” He said, damned near cheerfully. It was hard to seperate them through the distraction of pain. In it’s lessening it had begun to hurt worse. The shock worn away, dulling the fullness of the hurt but also sharpening his ability to focus on it.

When she reached it was the Red she touched first. Her reaction everything he expected at such an accident. Hapless to guide her better Emile passed her a strained smile, ”Back a little into the shallows.” He advised. Solene was figuring out the strength of depths on her own, though. Opal mined for its potency. It made the Craft that began to seep through her fingers more familiar. Took the edge of agony away quicker, too. Leaving him to his unintentional jokes. That she recieved with the same tension as his power. Not ready for a laugh, but not offended either. Sometimes that was the best a man could hope for.

”Mm, that sounds like the sort of thing a lover says to comfort a lover.” He said skeptically. Not yet willing to tell her that he had a very particular wife who would revel in a fresh reason to abuse him. No, no. It wouldn’t do to upset Nora, either. He didn’t want to give Pella another weapon for her arsenal, and he wasn’t sure how big of a scar she would need to start calling him disfigured.  ”Tell you what, if you like the one on my hip I won’t harrass you into smoothing it away.”

He didn’t doubt that she could. Not with those clever fingers. ”Ah yes. The dangerous trade off. Only ever blunt male healers on raids. It’s one of the easier ways to get rich quick, though.” Emile had not been raised like most of the islanders, but he did agree with them on that point. Women were safest at home. There were few male healers, most trained rather than born to the caste. That didn’t make them less successful at keeping patients alive, just not as natural to the arts of healing as their feminine counterparts. The same way plenty of men were good swimmers, but none could compete with Emile even in his first-skin.

There was a hint in Solene’s tone that told him she might not quite agree. He had heard the arguement before. Women deserved the same freedoms as men; but raiding wasn’t freedom the way they dreamed it was. Raiding put a man in a mental cage he could never escape. Turned you into a weapon instead of a living, feeling being. At least a slave had the comfort of justifying their acts as the will of the master. Raiders could only blame themselves and the blood lust inspired by battle for their dark doings.

The topic didn’t live between them long. Dying quickly as she tentatively slipped her secret free. Flabbergasted by the revelation he forgot the situation. It took a sharp pain in his hip and her hands on his shoulders to remind him that sitting up was a bad idea. Ignoring her mild scold he covered the fingertips on his left shoulder with his right hand. Eyes bright in expectation of the answers he needed. Oblivious to the reason she flushed and put space back between them he tried to follow her again, making it up on one elbow without too much strain. ”I’m sorry,” She was upset, he realized belated. But his apology went quietly under her answers as they finally came.

Child of a slave-prize. Raised without a rookery. His heart reached out to her, and his hands too. One finding her heated fingertips in her lap. Focus wholly on the story as she laid it out. An encouraging nod to keep her talking when she seemed to hesitate. Once she finished he gave her hands a squeeze. ”What a lonely way to live.” Not a story unlike their own. Slave mother from the mainland. He wasn’t ready to share the details of her escape, however, so told her nothing of the similiarity.. Focusing instead on what was important. ”Who is your master? Does he treat he respectfully? Are you safe there?” Emile couldn’t keep his voice from betraying his real question: Did she need to be rescued?

He was in no shape for it, he thought anxiously. No shape at all. But he would find a way. She belonged with her own people, no matter what her current living situation did or didn’t provide. He just needed to know if there was time to let Aramis figure it out, or if he had to do something rash.

Solene Faucheux

    Yellow to Tiger Eye
  • Healer
  • Played By: Kayndred

    healerwife
    Ile de Paon Kaeleer
    7 Posts    0 marks
Re: Troubled Water
« Reply #13 on: May 05, 2020, 02:10:46 AM »
Solene resisted a pithy comeback along the lines of no way as the Red echoed along her nerves. It felt like how she imagined a widow's web would feel, if one used her fingers to frame it.

There really wasn't any containing the rest, however. "Oh no, it's something all the island healers are taught to say to patients with unfortunate faces." She teased, foregoing entirely any effort to hide her amusement. Skeptically tilting her head at the view between her hands, she raised a speculative eyebrow. "I'm sure it'll be the best stitched scar on the island, and you'll simply have to keep it. You won't be able to persuade me otherwise."

Her teeth found the inside of her lip as she withheld her words. A barely restrained scoff balked behind her teeth, good humor fighting valiantly against personal prejudice. Solene had opinions, but she was used to having to keep them to herself. She wouldn't air her personal grievances with the system to a man who was part of it. Likely doubly so, as she had little doubt that anyone wearing a Red was without slaves.

The touch to her hand was a surprise even though she was aware of him moving, pinning like a weight despite its relative passivity. A hand was at once so many things, and he had one of hers. When her fingers slid from beneath his and back into her lap she didn't fight his following, although her gaze went to his wound instead of his eyes. It wouldn't due to stretch it and reopen anything while he leaned against his elbow.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she said, placing one hand over his hip to send a feather-light touch of Tiger-Eye over the skin, a thin shield that clung close. A trickle of power to distract her and keep her present as much as to protect him from the sand. It was an ache that had grown with her, after all, and she felt silly for the rush of tightness in her chest at his acknowledgement of it. She couldn't quite get her attempt at a smile to stick.

Her fingers, back beneath his, flexed against his callouses. "I had her, until she was sold." And Darkness, how terrifying and amazing that her mother had left just in time for her to discover how narrow their focus had been. Would it have made her dreams of the mainland and a return to her old life better or worse knowing that someone like them lived on the opposite side of the scale.

The urgency of his questions gave her pause, making her blink. She could almost taste the anxiety of them, and it shocked her. "My master is Claude Faucheux," she said, not quite understanding. Surely she didn't look mistreated? She was out on the beach unsupervised after all. Free to meet any strange man there was. "He treats me as is befitting his station and mine. I am a prize of his house." A good investment, well trained and mostly well tempered. She held his hands more fimrly, brushing the pads of her thumbs over his knuckles. It wouldn't due to have his heart rate jump and send blood through all her hard work any faster than it was already going. "I am safer there than in many other houses. My master values my skills." She'd been allowed learning material leaps above some of the other help, was given leave to mind herself as long as she didn't start or find trouble, or embarrass Claude.

Mouth slightly more accommodating at a second go, Sol gave a gentler smile. "I'm here, aren't I? I'm trusted. There's no need to fret."
 

Welcome to Witchlight

We are an AU Black Jewels RPG that is continuously expanding the world lore to truly make it our own. Come join us and play in our sandbox!

Open since 2017, we have 9 unique races, from birds to wolf-shifters. Feel free to drop into our Discord, lurk our wanted ads, and see if Witchlight is the fantasy site you should always have been looking for.

We have an RPG Rating of:

Timeline

FALL - AW103

The seasons will change on 11/20.

Recent Topics

Home is an Empty Word by Hae-Won Wuxian
[Yesterday at 01:35:00 AM]


Alesia Skye by The Darkness
[September 17, 2020, 05:04:27 PM]


Transactions by The Darkness
[September 16, 2020, 04:46:25 PM]


Wuxian, Hae-Won by The Darkness
[September 16, 2020, 04:45:09 PM]


Boden the OwlBoy by The Darkness
[September 14, 2020, 06:48:01 PM]

Chat

Guest Friendly Discord
login & choose a name, no registration required!

Wanted Spotlight

The Fellowship
Companions | Open Jewels | Kaeleer
Plaguebearers

Rumor Mill

Credits

Witchlight is loosely based upon the Black Jewels Series by Anne Bishop though it has been adapted and expanded by our members. All lore, characters, and writing belongs to the members. Site graphics & custom codes were created by the staff. A special thanks to Wolf & Katarina for all their help with the planning of Witchlight and the writing of the base lore.

Community Awards Winner