Wounded but will Heal

Just because Seldan spends much of his time in the shelter these days, when he is in the Alexandros area, does not mean that he sits around idly. Far from it- when he is not doing chores, or teleporting to Tashraan to take care of shopping, personal time, or other things, he spends a great deal of time working out. Today is no different, and he is stripped down to trousers and boots, sweat glistening off fair skin in the firelight as he runs through a complex drill with a sword that is shaped exactly like Reunion, but hewn from solid granite. He has been at this for some time, judging by sweat-soaked hair and body, but lays aside the sword in a corner near his sleeping gear, and instead picks up another rock, this one with handles hewn into it.

It as this moment that a knock comes at the door, followed by the entrance of Zeke. Himself a familiar if less present given recent events, occupant of this residence. He looks weary at first glance, but more notable than his weariness are the marks on his neck. A few discolored scales, and one that is peeling away, half broken. The sith looks at Seldan and blinks, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Peassssce on your nessst kin." The rote words sound half-hearted even to his own ears and he rubs at the discolored scales idly as he makes his way into the small space.

Seldan immediately looks up at the knock, and sets aside the large stone as carefully as he can on the stone floor, immediately going for a shirt, but Zeke is quicker. The smell in the place says that Seldan has most likely been at this for the better part of the afternoon, but he stops at once. "Her light upon your path, Zeke, for from the look of you, there is precious little peace in you." The smile that had started, fades at once. "You are hurt." Not wishing to spend the time with a spell, he wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers and immediately strides towards the makari, offering hands. "Will you permit me to aid you?"

Zeke rubs at his neck a second time, as if touching it before hadn't actually reminded him that the injury was there. He seems to consider the words that Seldan says, the offer of healing that comes with and his mood worsens. "Thisss one doess not dessserve your kindnesss kin. The wound isss not sso bad, and it ssservesss asss a reminder." He huffs and yet doesn't move toward the tea.

"Misfortune does not render one unworthy of simple kindness," Seldan counters, and turns towards the teapot and its cups. "I shall make tea, and we will share words." He hands the box of tea, freshly refilled and with a few new and exotic varieties added to it, to Zeke to select a tea to be brewed. The teakettle had been set aside at the edge of the hearth, for use when Zeke arrived, but he casts a quick spell to mage hand it to the hook above the fire, and adds another log to the fire to encourage the water to warm quickly.

He does not speak further until he has assembled pot and cups, but then turns towards Zeke, motioning the lizard to make himself comfortable by removing the massive rock he'd set down and placing it to the side of the hearth. "Something troubles your heart, kin, that you speak so. Share words with me."

Zeke does not argue the point with Seldan. It is enough that for the moment the wound remains. He takes the tea and for a long moment simply stares at the box. How does one choose tea for such a time? The large blue-scaled sith sits down where he is encouraged to do so, and sifts through the tea choosing one that he drinks very rarely. For while he normally favors strongly-scented teas this one is more subtle. A white tea with rose hips. The tea is set to steep and the subtle scent that begins to rise from it can not dull the smell of Seldan through the house.

"Sssaa." He begins with a sigh, with an exhalation of woe and starts to explain. "Firssstly, you ssshould know that there isss good newsss in all thisss. Kol, isss done. He isss no more. Thisss one hass ssseen hisss asshesss and hiss sspirit taken by a sservant of the Death-sssinging dragon."

Seldan settles down across from Zeke once he is done, where he can keep an eye on the water as it heats, and then on the tea as it steeps. Thankfully, Zeke has chosen a tea that requires neither hot water or long steeping, and Seldan turns his whole focus to Zeke. "Truly? A blessing upon this day. And yet does your tone lie heavier than such news should warrant. There is more to this tale. Say on."

"We met him in the market dissstrict." Zeke says, his eyes on the tea and not his kin. "Thisss one sssaw him embrassce thisss onesss patient - the one who thisss one ssspoke of before and who wasss releassed from care the other day. Kol injured him, and tried to take him. That, thisss one could not allow!" He rumbles a small sound in the back of his throat, a warning sound for the memory of Kol.

"Thisss one thought to catch him up with a prayer of healing, but he caught thissss one insstead. Thisss one wasss in hisss grasssp... And..." Zeke shudders, remembering the terror and the discomfort, the pain. "Kira, sshe traded plasces with thisss one and othersss urged thiss one to run. To leave her behind. Thiss one ssshould not have! Thisss one sshould have sstayed and offered aid but they had a plan and thisss one..." He covers his eyes with his claws. "Ssshe isss dead."

Not one word does Seldan say, during the entire explanation. He merely listens, reaching out to offer hands as the explanation goes on. Only when he is done does he lower his eyes in grief at the news. "She sacrificed herself for you, then, kin, and for the others with your patient. Have you the body? It may be that we may yet call her back from the Halls." His eyes remain lowered, as one in mourning. "Again does that one exact a heavy price indeed, even in his death."

Zeke lowers his claws, finally sees Seldan's hands offered to him and he lets out a little mournful sound before accepting. Before carefully as ever taking Seldan's hands in his. The paladin might notice then a small cut on Zeke's claw. A small injury to be sure. Already beginning to heal. "He... musst have infected her with hisss undeath. Ssshe was asssh." There was no knowing what she had suffered before that. No bringing her back. "There isss no bringing her back."

Again, Seldan's eyes lower, this time in horror. He swallows hard before looking up again. "Her suffering was then short, at the least. May Telmentar lead her soul to the grace it deserves." He squeezes the claws in his hand, gently. "The victory then has a price indeed, and a heavy one. But - it is not in my mind that she would have wished you to stay, and suffer with her. Too much did she take upon herself, that none need suffer."

"That wasss her way." Zeke murmurs sadly. His voice holds the edge of tears that he can not weep. His eyes nictate and he looks at the soft hands in his. "We had only jussst come to termsss, come to a plassce where thisss one might know her again. Ssshe sssacrifisced her-ssself for thisss one. It ssseeemsss wrong Sseldan, that thessse woundssss ssshould heal sso quickly or ssso easssily. Sssshe sssaved thisss one from much worssse."

"And yet did you come to terms, that you knew peace between you ere she was taken," Seldan offers quietly, sadness tinging his own tone. "She would have none save herself suffer, and would likely tap you admonishingly with a bread basket, did she know that you had left yourself to suffer, out of penitence. Allow me to aid you, kin." His lips curve in a sad smile. "For much did she give us, and I shall not forget her aid, for all that I would have liked to beat sense into her a few times."

Zeke sighs again, looking up at his kin. "You are right asss alwaysss Sseldan. Ssshe never liked to ssee thisss one in pain." How it hurts to say. He wishes that he had something of hers. Something to remember her by. But they'd left so quickly for Dolan's sake and everything had been left behind. He waits for the other man to heal his wounds before he speaks up again. "Sseldan. Could you return to the camp? Retrieve her clothess for thisss one? Thisss one... would like to offer her resst, it doess not feel right to leave her things there."

"That shall I do." Seldan frees his hands gently, but only long enough to place them over Zeke's hurts, murmuring rote prayers until silver light forms beneath his hand, restoring color, mending scales, and washing pain away. When it is done, he lets his hands fall, nodding satisfaction. "That shall I do, kin. If Kol is no more, then we must move swiftly, ere the camp discovers his destruction. You yet have a hole, but only until they learn of his fate. When they do, that hole shall close and be safe no more to use. I would thus have you drink tea, and I shall return." With that, he stands and strides in the direction of his clothing.

Zeke watches Seldan move toward his clothes. "Sssshould thisss one not come with?" He inquires gently, not knowing if he could be of aid to Seldan or not. He touches his throat gently with his claw, but lets the limb fall after only a moment. He is healed quite well, but that is not surprising. For all that Zeke thinks of his kin as being more a warrior than anything else, Seldan is a fine healer too.

A padded shirt and shirt of mail links fine enough to appear as cloth to the sharpest of eyes in his hands, Seldan turns. "Of course you can come, if you will. I thought you perhaps weary, but if it is your will, in no way shall I deny you the right." In truth is the paladin mostly a warrior - his skill in the craft of healing far outstrips his enthusiasm for the practice. "We must move swiftly and silently. I shall be prepared presently." Padding, mail shirt, and a loose, blousy poet's shirt later, all of this tucked into trousers, he adds his robe, and magical accouterments, the things that strengthen him in the field.

The blue-scale rises ponderously to his feet, nodding to Seldan's words. "Thisss one will come then. To watch your back asss isss sssaid." He offers. He will not lose another. Not if it costs him his life. Kira's sacrifice is the last, and already more than is tolerable. "Thisss one will be asss sssilent asss can be."

When all is prepared, Seldan looks at the teakettle on the fire and the pot prepared for steeping, and sighs. "I fear our tea shall wait, kin." This does not sound like a terrible tragedy, but he draws a sigil in the air, and removes with a gesture of a mage-hand the kettle from the fire, setting it again on the hearth.

Then, he turns and slings twin cloaks over his shoulders, and straps on Reunion's weapon belt. "Swiftly and silently, grab that which we seek and be gone. Are you prepared?"

-End