A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Tolleson » Sat Aug 31, 2013 5:09 pm

It must have been an ominous sight to some, the carriage summoned by the High Inquisitor, sent by Rhaena, come to a stop outside the Rememdium. The carriage doors burst open before the footman could attend, followed by the emergence of the tall mess of wavy, red, hair.

Clad entirely in black, but hardly as imposing as Giuseppe had once been in these clothes, Genny barely resembled her former self. A belt on its tightest setting holds the bunched waistline over her hips. The pants are rolled to just above her ankles. The shirt, while appropriately tall, has shoulder seams that sit halfway down her biceps and cuffs cover down to her knuckles.

A clumsy trip and few curses are muttered under her breath as she dusts off her clothes, goes to the door and enters with purpose. Perhaps it’s the color black or wearing pants for the first time that has lent her some sense of confidence.

She had come before with Elliot’s entourage, so finding him is no trouble. A few nurses might whisper or scatter out of her way as she goes directly to him, the driver and footman at her back to take the unconscious boy and load him up.

Before they begin, Genny smiles meekly to the pretty young nurse, nearest the young knight’s bed. “P-please… would you tell… inform the doctor that we… I will take care of Ser Elliot.”
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Guppy » Sun Sep 01, 2013 2:03 am

The girl sits beside him still. The wildling, the whelp, Noura. Ever-vigilant at his side. Her hand clutched his tightly, hoping to awaken him by sheer will alone. She wore her uniform of harvest colors, Rhaena colors. Gloria had brought her from the lake - Noura had asked the nurses and had been informed of her caretaker. The seamstress had gently changed her clothes, set her beside Elliot to rest. The nurses spoke of the other woman's kindness with smiles. The kindness did not ease the fury in her heart. She had gone back to the tavern and collected her uniform, changing into it with set jaw and stern chin.

Genny, the woman who arrived too late, spoke to the nearest nurse and was watched closely by the wildling. Eyes roamed her blackened clothing and her jaw tightened with mistrust. "Where do you take him?," she asked - demanded - of the other woman. Protective. Her voice was low and eyes were bright. There was an ugly purple bruise at her throat. Another was hidden under her sleeve, around her bicep. Stark reminders of those who claimed to care for her.
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Tolleson » Sun Sep 01, 2013 6:32 am

An Inquisitor who works for the Man in White, who must serve The Lady, who had stopped Catch from beating Elliot to a pulp and who had stayed by Elliot’s side for the better part of the morning should leave little room for mistrust, especially for anyone in Rhaena’s colors. Albeit, Genny does wear an ill fitting uniform quite unlike Noura’s, she too had been a part of the fray.

Turning her attention to the whelp from the nurse, it might become clear that half her face is kaleidoscope of misery. Sickly yellows, deep purples and blue, a badge of loyalty to the mangled, sleeping Knight. It was damage from Catch’s fist, meant for Elliot’s face. Yet, the parts that could still express were kind and understanding towards the mistrust. One eye is patched, but she looks to the girl so vigilantly watching over the Knight.

The nurse would know Genny, she had been here many times before for her own injuries or to watch over the people no one else watched over. They would likely all know her, even if she looks out of sorts. It was to be expected given the chaos of the evening prior. So, it should be unsurprising that she offers a small smile and a nod before leaving them. A long thin arm is held out to her side, gently, to stay the impatient men who have followed her in now ready to begin their task.

“T-to a healer,” a glance is given to the motionless knight, the boy. Earnest concern is heavy in her eye and tone, it is passive, harmless and disarming. The very sight of her is pathetic, surely the string bean of a woman is no threat to anyone but herself.

“N-no one should… I c-cannot suffer another death,” Niall’s had been enough. And her words were not spoken with an alliance to Rhaena or Catch or anyone, there are her own and truthful. True beyond what she had even meant to say aloud, if Elliot died as well, despite how little she had cared for his antics it would be the last straw, the final piece that proved it was all her fault. She'd failed to stop it. Rhaena would win, madness would grip her and the slipping hope would be gone entirely.
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Guppy » Sun Sep 01, 2013 6:54 am

The mistrust would have been leveled on anyone. The girl had been scorned by friend and foe alike. Abandoned my mother and sister both. She stood alone, loyal to the fallen Knight and to he alone. The only one who dared to show her kindness in these uncertain, unhappy times.

Shrewd gaze swept over the other woman's features, taking in the bruises that marred her features and the gentle expression. Outswept arm kept the two gentleman at bay and shifted the wildling's stance to something more curious rather than wary. At once, she went from stalwart protector to the lost, troubled girl she really was. Hanging on to her sanity by her fingernails alone. Lower lip was captured between her teeth as she watched them through teary, immense eyes. When the nibbled skin was released, there were marks from her teeth. "Will he -- will he be alright? Will he ... awaken?," she questioned, her voice small and pleading in the white, sterile-feeling Rememdium room.

Eyes fluttered down to the comatose boy and she attempted to reach to his ruined face, to stroke the pad of her thumb feather-light against a bruised cheek. The three of them matched nicely - Genny with her multicolored cheek, Noura with the pale column of her throat, and Elliot with his ravaged face. "Can I go with him? I know that you won't harm him, I just..." She paused, quieted until the lump in her throat dissolved and allowed her the ability to speak, again. "I just don't want him to think that he is alone. That no one cares for him."
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Tolleson » Sun Sep 01, 2013 1:54 pm

“If he stays here… I, the doctors say he will… e-eventually.” Though who knew what damage had been done internally, he certainly would never look the part of Myrken’s handsome young knight again.

The three of them, they were quite the little group. Upon the girl’s lowered defenses or acceptance of Genny as someone she might be able to trust, at least in some small capacity, her arm is lowered. The men will nod and go forward to gather Elliot, with great care of course, especially so they didn’t cause further injury.

“It… I will be with him, you’ve… there is no reason to worry,” it wasn’t necessarily a ‘no’. But what she needed to do would be so much easier without an audience. Plus, Zilliah was not going to appreciate all the company.

Zilliah? Zilliah… I am coming, there are people with me. Elliot… he’s badly hurt.

A warning, it was the least she could do, though it was the furthest she’d ever tried to reach her mind so he may never see them coming.
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Guppy » Sun Sep 01, 2013 2:15 pm

The whelp swallowed thickly and nodded, averting her eyes to the young Knight stretched out within the hospital bed. His looks did not greatly matter to the wildling - they had never been particularly important. His kindness, his patience - those were what had drawn her.

Genny did not say no and Noura's features set stubbornly. "I want to be there. For him," she insisted. Her look was stubborn and she would trail after them without further argument.
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Re: A Fae, A Face and Further Folly

Postby Tolleson » Sun Sep 01, 2013 8:00 pm

((This is the entire log, the important bits regarding where Elliot, Noura and Cherny are have been colored so it's easier to find -- sorry, we went on for quite a while after most everyone called it a night))

[Zilliah] Time seems to pass differently in the haven of his home. He spends hours tending to his home, to his garden, and of course himself. If he is lonely in these long, chore filled days, it doesn't show. Has Clayton been watching? Has he been in the shadows lurking? It is doubtful the man could even do such a thing anymore; something is awakening inside the fae and he would most certainly know his presence now. The flesh of his forehead is painted with the sigil of a third eye in glittering gold paint to hide the deformation of his brow where bone has thinned to make room for the new organ developing there. He is sitting there tending to his lovely face and hair when the thought comes to him, sudden and shocking. Genny. His eyes widen and his hands still and he just stares into one of dozens of mirrors before him in disbelief. He had not imagined it at all, it was too real. His makeup is dropped onto his bedding and he scrambles out of his home. He half runs, half flies towards the woods, intending on meeting the carriage at the edge of the woods. He wants badly to warn her not to come, to tell her to keep him away, but the connection at this distance in his shape is painfully one way. The trek for the carriage is not an easy one and at some point they will have to risk putting him on horse back and walk the last mile or so through underbrush void of roads or pathways. They would have to rely solely on Genny and trust her to get them where they need to be. The fae will be waiting for them, perched in a sole brave oak left untouched on the outskirts of his glen, well out of range of the massive ent's grasp.


[Genny] The carriage doesn’t make it far, the road ended a good distance from the thick of the woods. But this was why she had needed help, men carrying the board with Elliot carefully bundled. Calling them thugs wasn’t quite right, they were good men, helpful certainly, entirely loyal to Rhaena. It meant being careful on so many counts, not saying a word to them, not tripping on the brush and fallen trees, and of course, for all their sakes, not getting lost. The glen, however secret, was easily lost and then found again. Each time before it had been an accident, a bumbling tumble into brush and mud that left her looking up to find Zilliah, somehow, miraculously there. Now she knew how to hear it, how to feel it, where to go. Every time now further ingrained the path into her memory. “Zilliah?” He had found them before she had anticipated, there is a look of concern on her face, apology of course. Though she might feel the worry from him, or at least see it as they near. “I’m sorry Zilliah… I had to…” Her gait is enormous as she approaches, her steps over the fallen branches and tangled carpet of the wood’s floor are immensely exaggerated, but necessary; even as the men with Elliot follow her easily without tripping.


[Whelp] The wildling had stubbornly followed the Inquisitor, presuming that Genny felt badly enough for her to let her tag along. Besides, time was of the essence and arguing with the young woman would not do Elliot any favors. Clad in a uniform that was a bright shock against the green brambles and thick, brown underbrush, the girl trailed after the procession as quietly as she was able. Her hunter's skills were deeply embedded within her and steps were near-silent on well-made leather footwear. She disappeared behind the larger men with their burden, only appearing when they stopped before Zilliah and she stepped clear of them to gaze upon the fae with large, pale eyes - curious and quiet. Peering unabashedly at the otherworldly creature.


[Zilliah] The trip would not take very long via carriage and with the proper knowledge of where, it would only take them a few hours. Just when the other would begin to get antsy and worried that Genny really has lost her mind, they are there. Which was more impressive? The glen and the massive ent residing in it, or it's master, there waiting for the entourage when they arrive? The tree is innocuous, sitting there like any other tree. The fae, however, is all movement and annoyed faces. He is dressed in very little and very little adds up to just a pair of loose silk pants in a dark emerald green. His wings are out, all ten of them, spread and twitching in agitation. The others are given a half sneer when he hops out of the tree to greet his Genny. No words are spoken aloud her her but the moment his hands meet her shoulder and her face, she would feel his anger and disappointment and worry for her all at once. He turns the bruised visage over in his hands, his shared thoughts with the young woman turning to Elliot. The knowledge that Catch has done this is clear in Genny's mind and it causes him to frown deeper. He inhales Giuseppe's scent on the strange clothing and his lips pull away from his teeth with a hiss. Genny would feel reluctance in the fae and the desire from him for them all to be gone. He lets go of her face and steps backwards.


[Genny] Genny gave a heavy sigh and a sidelong glance back to the bruised girl and the gurney carrying men just as the fae’s hands embrace her face. It might have been startling, but it is Zilliah and the touch, while surprising, is welcome. Her one eye finding his before finding that bit on his forehead. It is worrisome and as he steps back, she braces for the storm that would be Zilliah’s rage. Words aren’t necessarily needed and for a few moments she is silent. The sight is impressive, but her focus is on the beautiful man with his otherworldly features and fantastic wings. A painful half turn of her head, her unruly and loose flame colored waves snapping around. “S-set him down… a-a-and leave us... p-please” the instruction is given to the men that carry Elliot. They might look at her suspiciously, but this long day, she is corse and stern, and tired. They will set the boy down and turn to leave.


[Whelp] Fingers twitched as those gossamer wings fluttered, eyes wide and awed. There was a desire to touch, but of course he was much too far for such temptations to be realized. The young woman was simply a face among strangers to the fae, but when Genny told them to leave, she stood fast and watched them go. She glanced down at the unconscious boy at her side and shifted to stand slightly nearer. Protective of the young man. This woman, this wildling, was not all she seemed to be. There was a deep and foul magic present, but dormant. There was the feeling of wrong about her that could not be shaken. She gazed upon those that stood before her, hoping that she would not be asked to leave as well. There was very little obvious communication between the two beings in front of her, but she suspected that she was missing quite a bit of it. Even so, she was not here to gawk, but to keep Elliot safe. She waited, eyes on the Knight.


[Zilliah] He stays back, lingering with a nervous energy that is only just palpable to the others now. Cherny is familiar to him, but Whelp is not. He look at he for the longest time, listening to Genny's secret words. His decision has not been made, not yet and it shows on his flawless features. Was there still doubt that the face could be fixed when laying eyes on the embodiment of beauty itself? He gives in to Genny's wants and needs and he flushes a bright red at her thoughts of Giuseppe. His bare feet find him quickly filling the space he had put between himself and the human girl and he takes Genny up into his arms in a much needed embrace. He is gentle with her and spares Cherny and Whelp nothing when he gives the girl his affection. A kiss is placed on her forehead and he hugs her tight against him. They stand there in the weird, silent embrace for a few moments and then he is off, ignoring the broken boy and his two brave watchers in favor of trying to lead Genny off towards the ominous veil of willow whips hiding the bulk of his home.


[Genny] She allows and even reciprocates the embrace, her head seeking to rest against his chest if even just a moment. So tired. Zilliah offered the only quiet, the stillness to her mind. So gladly she would take his hand and go with him, but instead she is stiff, standing solid and holding her ground. There is more between them than she shows outwardly, even though she had practiced dividing her attention between the physical and mental worlds. It was more a matter of convincing the fae. A glance is given to Elliot, the same she had given him in the infirmary.


[Whelp] The wildling and the squire stood as sentinels against danger, solid and silent despite their slight frames. The fae tried to tug the Inquisitor away, but she held stubborn. Sighing, tiring of the silent exchange, the wildling moved to drop to a crouch at the Knight's side. Her hand dropped, seeking to pluck a fallen leaf from the ground to consider, instead. Her eyes remained on Elliot, watching his chest as he took in breath, seeking the merest flutter of eyelashes for hope of his survival. If only he would awaken.


[Zilliah] His wings snap down, closing so that ten becomes two and in a flash they are gone from his form in a flare of light. Left in the blinding light are two fist sized faceted emeralds protruding from his flesh. His grip around her loosens as she seems ready to follow at his side but then stops. Stubborn. The corners of his stained ocher lips tug up in amusement. The is a coldness to the fae when he turns to look at Elliot, following Genny's own green eyes as they search for him. He sighs deeply and finally speaks a loud for the benefit of all present members. "This boy is not worth spilling so much of my own blood." He looks to Cherny as he helps the girl tend to Elliot and he just shakes his head in disappointment. "You should let him die. Even if he can withstand the pain of it, I doubt these two have the will to let me do what I must."


[Genny] For the time she can’t even feel bad for having their conversation completely aside from Noura and as for Cherny, she hadn’t even seen him come. He must have followed them, no wonder Zilliah was so agitated. Already looking to Elliot she will go to the opposite side of him, a small glance spared for the girl that wanted so desperately to be by his side. Surely this was not what she had anticipated. Genny was clumsy, had little foresight in somethings and misguided intentions, always. But her hand is gentle as she picks a few stray hairs from where they come over his face before setting her hand upon his. Its almost motherly though their age might suggest she were merely his older sister. There relationship is nothing of the sort. “H-he will be… he will live either way, the doctors say it is … it is only a matter of time b-before he wakes,” who the assurance is for is lost, perhaps the words are for herself.


[Whelp] The girl's head snapped up, startled, when the fae spoke. The silence shattered around them with foul words and superior tones. Her eyes narrowed, even as Genny happened closer to them and stroked at the boy's forehead. He is. She remarked, those pale eyes upon Zilliah - almost glaring, but not quite. She knew that she had to be respectful, but she was finding it difficult. He is worth every drop. Insisted, chin jutting in stubborn refusal. She grit her teeth when the fae told them that they should let the boy die - swallowing her tongue lest she say something that might dissuade him. She would let Genny handle things, but she could not help but implore him. Please. She requested, the pleading of a young woman in love with the Knight. Please help. She requested. We can. We will stay outside, if we can not handle what you must do. Gaze slanted to Genny, pointedly. Silently demanding her protection, without needing to.


[Zilliah] They both plead to him in their own ways, though the wrong little girl at Elliot's side does so openly. Genny already knows that he will do it; she wants it badly enough that he cannot refuse her, even if he tries. He felt something from the girl, and it has his head cocking to the side like a dog listening to a far off whistle. His smile turns vicious and he laughs, actually laughs at the girl begging him. Had he really come off as condescending or cruel? Probably. "It is not natural for him to live. He is a broken shell, inside and out. You do not see the kindness of death? To free him of being a mindless tool? You will hate me if I do this thing, HE would hate me."


[Genny] Her protection? Had anyone, ever, needed her protection? Elliot, just the night before. Catch, constantly. It was a strange thought to have, Noura had come of her own volition and certainly wasn’t her responsibility. But Genny wasn’t really the sort of person to abandon someone just because they weren’t important to her. Obviously, here she was at Elliot Brown’s side, the thief-knight who had made fun of her, been a thorn in her side, and was generally disliked. Yes, she would protect her, what little or whatever that meant. Zilliah has answered the girl before Genny can, instead she simply answers. “Perhaps… t-that may be best,” no need to make her feel worse. Poor Elliot, he was the real victim in this. Well, aside from Niall who wouldn’t live, hallow or otherwise. Now was just a matter of getting him somewhere the fae could do whatever it was he needed, a process she wasn’t entirely clear on.


[Zilliah] Orders are given for Elliot to be carried off to the makeshift stable up against the bulk of his tree. Cherny and Whelp are given blankets and pillows but are not allowed in the house. The carriage is ordered off and he just ushers Genny inside with unspoken promises of helping. This is not something he can rightly do tonight, unprepared and all. It feels wrong to him but Genny is a welcome distraction from the chaos that has descending into his home. A basket of wine and vegetables from his garden is left outside the door, as if Cherny and Whelp are pets in a dog house. Inside, he heads for the kitchen to fetch a large wash basin and some towels. -I do not think I can heal him easily. It looks like there are many broken bones and they are not as easy as flesh to mend. Please, let me fix your face first, if anything it will give them confidence that I can do it to Elliot as well.-


[Genny] There is some regret leaving the two children outside, but if there is anywhere in the world now that is safe, it is here. At least that is her perception of Zilliah’s home, not that she felt entirely comfortable simply coming in so unannounced and demanding. She is still reserved and as polite as she can manage given things, standing awkwardly in the center of the room, away from furniture, holding her hands to herself before a silent, reluctant nod is given and the eyepatch is untied. Underneath her vibrant green iris is ringed with a band of red, on her brow a deep gash from where the majority of the bruising radiates. Catch had hit her twice, in the face, that had been the pain that stung, but it had hurt worse when he’d simply spit on her. Cruel words about her failure a more lingering and constant blade to her mind, doing more damage than the hulking man’s fists. ‘Thank you. I’m fine though. It doesn’t hurt,’ it was a paper thin lie, perhaps he even felt the dull ache that swelled with ever heartbeat. ‘I know this must all be upsetting,’ it wasn’t quite the right word, there wasn’t one for the feeling of guilt, of not wanting to get him involved, invade his home, ask this monumental favor from him. ‘I am sorry. Especially with your eye, are you alright?’


[Zilliah] She tries to deflect, even in her mind as she always does and it makes him smile at her stubbornness. The basin is placed on a very low table and he kneels down next to it, holding a free hand up to help her lower herself to the carpet and blanket strewn room that passes as a living space. -You should not be sorry. I am the one who had Catch here and let him go. He told me he had beaten your brother and I tried to convince him to leave his horn with me, to stay away. Instead, he took my blood when I offered it and ran.- He begins to remove the many rings from his fine fingers. -I am healing your face. Sit.-


[Genny] His hand is taken and she lowers to sit as if she wears a skirt, smoothing out the fabric of the baggy, black pants. Knees facing him she smiles weakly, it isn’t an attractive thing. Half her face won’t even move. ‘I heard a similar story...’ there is a pause in her mind, she was worried and it was not a feeling she generally associated with her brother. Zilliah knew better than most the affection and simultaneous dislike she had for him, the conflict of emotion left to fester. ‘I am worried, Rhaena has his mind.’ It wasn’t speculation, it was a statement of fact, her mind confident. ‘Still, none of it is your fault,’ no it was Rhaena’s – it was whatever had infected her mind, whatever had made her think this was all rational, acceptable. ‘Did he hurt you?’


[Zilliah] A wet cloth is given to her to clean her face with as he prepares himself for the bloodletting. -He is dangerous, but you know that more than most.- He shakes his head when she asks if he was hurt. -He did not.- Emotions rile in him, just below what might have otherwise been a calm outward demeanor; Genny shares the space in his mind and he finds some comfort in it. –What good will come of me healing him, Genny? The moment he wakes, he is likely to try and run us all through with a sword anyway.- Was he looking to her for hope? His hands find her face and begin manipulating the swollen ruin around her eye. -There is a blade on the shelf behind you. Hand it to me.-


[Genny] Bloodletting. It was much safer to just let things be, painful as they were. Preparing her face, there is building trepidation about the whole process. The doctors had done a good job of cleaning her up, but blood still smears onto the cloth. ‘More now than before I think,’ Catch’s threat level had increased immensely since this whole ordeal began. His emotions rile but her own are not dissimilar, only calmer, for the moment. Made calm by purpose. ‘He will live.’ That is the obvious answer, and she feels ashamed by the other. She means to use him and it wasn’t a thought she even wanted to voice in this space, no matter how safe it was. It just brought her back to the moment she took tea with Calomel, a conversation about Catch, did the means justify the ends? Lost in this thought a moment she is brought back by the sudden pain in her face, it is blinding for a second and she recoils. But she’ll return, knowing it’s all for the best, getting the knife as he has asked. ‘Actually, that hurts quite a lot.’


[Zilliah] It does not please him to cause her pain but neither does he shy from it once he has done so. -It is not fair for you to ask Elliot to endure something you are not willing to feel yourself. What I must do to you is nothing compared to what he will suffer.- He spares her no pity now and the blade is taken unceremoniously and his grip falls away from her face so that he can splay his own palm wide open. His nerves scream out in pain but in his mind it is nothing. He doesn't even flinch. -Do not scream. It will hurt even more.- Did she not see? He will not do this unless she can manage to suffer but a taste of it on her own.


[Genny] Even just knowing the knife’s intent begins to make her stomach turn. But she nods all the same, understanding what it is she has asked him to do and what she will have to endure. Still, her mind is not so calm. Terrible memories flashing, the fading vision, Dulcie’s screams, the scars on her wrists. The sensation is vivid: her heart throbbing wildly against the supernatural pull, small rivers forced to flow against their natural direction; blood being taken from her body. Scars are now on her wrists, where in the nightmares there are gapping wounds, and so much blood. An impossible amount, pouring out, endlessly it seems and she lies in it, frozen. Its sticky and thick in her throat, dried on her lips, the smell of it iron and biting, permeating the air. It was the making of many nightmares, even now though it had happened so long ago, a lifetime ago, and not so far from here. A shiver runs down her spine and but smiles unconvincingly against it, a reaction meant to put people who weren’t inside her head, at ease. The thoughts can’t be helped, but there are no more words of protest. 'I won't.' Though she tries to push away the memories, the fear, and brace herself for it.


[Zilliah] He knows that outside, Cherny is likely telling the other young girl just exactly how horrifying Zilliah's help truly is; the boy has suffered it first hand. Genny though, she would be able to share the burden with the fae and he can hold her, sooth her when the pain comes. And that is exactly what he does after the blood is smeared over her face and the runes traced along her swollen, brutalized flesh. Immediately, the fragile capillaries begin to reach out and suck in the crimson swath as the magic takes hold and changes the hue to through the spectrum until it is shining brilliantly gold. The pain can be felt as nerve endings spring to life and begin to knit and grow, her face throbbing with each new tiny blood vessel reforming and worming back through the muscle and tissue that had been beaten to a purple pulp.


[Genny] And she hadn’t even wanted the help for herself. It ought to have been Giuseppe or Rhaena that suffered it, though she didn’t wish it, even on them. It is horrifying, not as horrifying as her own blood had been, though the pain that accompanies it is worse. It isn’t the numb pain that faded in from the initial blows Catch had landed on her, it was like fire. It spread, it popped, it was nerves that had been dull becoming sharp. Oh how she wants to scream, her mind already does so, all the other thoughts, the shadows, they are obliterated by the searing light of it. Her breath becomes almost ragged as it works through her, her muscles tense, knuckles white and fingers tangled almost tearing into the extra fabric of the pants.


[Zilliah] It is a swift healing, if you can call it such. He molds her flesh, reworks every freckle that he had memorized. Would it startle her to see and know that he had done such a thing? She is strong and it is only a physical pain, a short lived one leaving her face and neck feeling prickly and tingly as is someone had just slapped her roughly. The damage, at least to her body, is gone. His palm is then healed and he draws away from her, falling back amongst the mounds of pillows with exasperation. He head spins and he finds he has to close his eyes. "You smell like Giuseppe..."


[Genny] Her eyes had been closed, tight against the blood, against the pain and when she opens them, well she can’t see her own face, but she does see Zilliah’s hand. It is closed up and healed, he flops back and she gropes her own brow blindly and with the gentlest of touches in case it’s still bruised. The tingling sensation makes it a little strange, but there is no cut, no bruise. She was thankful, it didn’t really need to be said, he would feel it in her. Balance, it wasn’t something Genny had much practice with even when she was in perfect health and free of pain and troubles, it was an interesting sensation, dizzying. She begins to sway and catches herself with her right arm, leaning on a locked elbow, her legs sliding out just a little. Flinching at the unexpected comment she pinches a piece of the incredibly loose shirt and brings it to her nose. Of course, she can’t really smell the difference. “Is it bad?”


[Zilliah] He lets out a disgruntled groan as his senses ring in the emptiness left after the magic begins to settle and fade away. He cannot even make the effort to form words in his mind for her and uses his tongue instead, "Take them off and find something up in my bedroom." He just needed her away from him more than anything and he even begins to tremble and shake just a bit.


[Genny] So, that was a ‘yes’ then. He had just helped her, better to appease him. “Oh, uh.. a-all right,” her words almost seem difficult to form, they had been silent in reality for quite some time. Dizzily pushing to her feet she stumbles at first, careening backward a few steps until she regains balance. Of course, she’ll find Zilliah’s room and the enormous wardrobe at her disposal before removing, and neatly folding Giuseppe’s black garments. There was every intention to return them, even if he had no intention of ever being anything but the Man in White. What was there for her to wear? She didn’t want to go digging through his silks and scarves and choose something she might ruin by falling. And all the clothes of the last week were ruined by blood, so there was also that possibility. In the end she finds a pair of those silky pants, he so rarely wore shirts, but one is found, it doesn’t really bear resemblance to anything she’d seen Zilliah wear but anything will do. She has no eye for fashion, so again she is in an ill-fitting shirt but at least some pants that felt amazing and fit rather well all things considered. Zilliah was a much closer match in build that she and Giuseppe. “Are you... all right... is t-this Better?” The words marked her return, her red hair still a fluffy mess over little better than two piece pajamas.


[Zilliah] He sits up after she scales the little ladder up to the personal chambers. The basin is found on the low table and he cleans his own hands of smeared golden crusts. He feels her, their connection even without having to touch her and he allows himself to bask in it for a few silent moments before she descends down once more to join him. He drops the cloth into the red tinged water and turns his face up to look at her in the dim light. He nods and offers his now clean hands up to her again, to draw her down into his arms.


[Genny] She will take his hands, turn them over gently in her own and examine how changed they are from just a few minutes ago. “I-it must hurt,” she is frowning slightly before allowing herself to be pulled in. Zilliah is no threat to her, even the strange clothes feel safe. Much more so than the black blur that had been thrown at her earlier in the day. What a day. Beyond exhaustion, at the end of her wits and back again. At least there was this, safety, comfort, almost as if the suffering comatose boy that lay just paces away from the house were a far and distant memory.


[Zilliah] One would expect the hands of someone who mutilated himself so much to be crossed with raised scars, to be worn and lined with the story of his many years. Instead, they are soft, supple and graceful. "Your worries are misplaced." Is it easier for her to deflect to him? His brow furrows and his long arms fold around her, tugging her down to rest against his chest. His hands escape her scrutiny and he reaches back to turn off the lamp making their shadows dance along the walls.


[Genny] Expectations are different with these hands, where she expected men to have scars it didn’t seem so strange, all things considered, that the fae did not. He tugs her down and she nearly falls into him, immediately pushing back in case she’s hurt him, as was her standard reaction when she tripped or fell. It doesn’t seem she’d hurt him, but still she is apologetic, her eyes closed tight and her forehead falls, presses to his sternum. If anyone could keep the nightmares at bay, it was Zilliah. “Thank you,” perhaps she couldn’t even look him in the eye for the kindness he’d done, if he even knew how much it had meant to her to be here. To feel safe for the first time in the weeks since she'd last seen him.
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Tolleson
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