Once she had finished her meat she began to eat the rest of her vegetables. At least she had something in her stomach. Hunger had started to attack her stomach a few nights ago, and it didn’t let up. Sure, she had gotten a few bites of bread down, but the bread was stale and small and didn’t fill her belly at all. The only water she had was the remaining drops in her water pouch, and that was about it. It was rare that she suffer from hunger, even in these times, but then again, they were marching across a barren land. There were lizards and snakes, of course, but there were no deer or large enough fish to properly feed a hungry lot as themselves. That was why she eagerly finished her greens and then went to the russet fruit that laid on the bed. She knew the name of it, but it escaped her at the moment. It was an interesting fruit with bright red skin.
Ambra took the fruit and slit it in half with her knife, wincing as the juice spilled out and made a mess. The juice of the fruit was just as red as the seeds inside of it, which were meant to be eaten and not disposed of. Lining the outside ring of the middle of the fruit, and traveling to the middle and hiding the seeds in comb shaped cavities, was the yellow pulp that was not meant to be eaten at all. She dug her fingers into the openings and brushed the seeds out onto the plate. That was a messy process as well, and made her fingers and clothes become stained with a rosy red color. She had seen the color too much lately. But she had gotten herself into the situation, for she was a Shepherd, and Shepherds were to tend to their sheep. Even if it meant spilling the blood of the wolves and other evil things that attacked the flock…
Someone came into the room, and her face hardened for a moment. She hoped that it wasn’t that bandit again. Ambra didn’t mean to be hostile, but the thought of having someone so sneaky and shady sent shivers up her spine. The actual thought of that person actually traveling with them terrified her to no ends. But instead of a pair of blue eyes looking at her, she saw a glimpse of red hair and relaxed. Ah, it was that woman. The woman that wanted to help the thief. She chewed on some of the seeds and relished their taste before swallowing and beginning to speak.
”I’m a healer, it’s what I do.” she told her, offering her a smile. ”I mend bones and stitch shut wounds, but I’ve never been one for being on the front lines. Leave that to the others. I have to admit, it does get tiring every so often, but every time I see the people who were once injured fighting with all of their might, I feel proud. I know I did that, and I know that I can help in my own way.”
Lumara listened to what Tihlas said, looking down at the floor. Perhaps what he said was right. Perhaps what he said was how she was supposed to act. But she personally felt like an empty shell at the moment. Lumara wasn’t one for bonds or caring. The one that she cared about the most was her wyvern, Caius, and even he couldn’t talk to her. He was an animal, not a human being to laugh with and squeeze when she was afraid. Not that she would. That was when she was a noble, all donned in her silk dresses from foreign lands and set on display for men to see. She felt as if she were for sale, then. She felt like her mother and father didn’t love her, even though they said they did. She felt as if her father were hungry for power, even though he wasn’t. All he would care about was marrying her off to some foreign man that she didn’t even know.
Her grip tightened on her mug and she glowered down at her reflection in the liquid. Leaving was the best thing she had done. She was young back then, and she didn’t know where to go, but at least she was free. She could run barefoot and play with boys in the street. She could eat and steal and fight and frolic in dirty puddles. And there would be no one to yell at her, to take her by the wrist and drag her back home. Back then, her hands were filled with dirty plates and clothes. But when she had finally grown up, when she was finally old, the plates and clothes were ripped away and replaced with a weapons of her choice. It was then that she became a Wyvern Rider with her new mount, Caius.
Yet, the Riders of Dawn were killed shortly after. Lumara turned to liquor and prostitution, depressed. Even Caius was almost taken away at one point, due to the fact that she did not have enough money to pay for the damages that he had caused. The Ylissean officials threatened to “put him down”. Never did three words frighten her so. She swore that, if Caius was killed, she would throw herself off from the highest mountain. He was all she had left, even if he was some drooling, growling beast. Thankfully, she found herself joining the Shepherds, but even they were mostly killed off. At least there were some left, like this guy and those other people.
”Huh?” Lumara realized that she had blanked out, and shook her head. Maybe she should stop drinking. The alcohol was bringing back unhappy memories. Or maybe she could keep drinking and drown herself in a stupor. The pale haired man had raised the mug toward her, and she blinked before pressing her mug against his. ”Yeah, whatever.” she mumbled out, before taking the rest of the drink and tipping her head back, swallowing what was left of the rum.
Pain.
It was all that he felt for what seemed like decades on end. When he had fallen, he had crashed against the water as if he had jumped off a cliff to a canyon floor. He knew that he couldn’t move, for when he had tried to swim, he was overcome with severe pain and began to slip into unconsciousness. Fear washed over him as well, that is, until someone fished him out of the water and began to speak to him. Who the person was, what gender they were… it was all a blur to him as he finally gave into the darkness that overcame him.
Talbot felt like he was out of it for days at a time. He would wake up, feel someone moving him, and then pass out again. There was never enough time to fully deduce where he was or how he had gotten there, or even their mode of travel. Pain would still split down his body like a current of thunder when he moved, but it began to slowly ebb away after a few days. This did not mean that he was not currently in pain. Or that he knew where he was and his spurts of unconsciousness ended.
This time he woke up in a soft bed, staring at a roof that hung lowly over him. He breathed, but harshly, roughly. The pain still tormented him, razing across his ribs like a wildfire, clawing at his left leg like an angry lion. He screwed his eyes shut and ground his teeth, groaning as the pain inched its way into his head. Talbot tried to make sense of what had happened, how he had fallen. Never did he know that water felt so much like a sheet of rock. It felt much different when one waded in and swam. Maybe one of the Ylissean soldiers had cast a spell, making the water turn into stone until he slammed into it. He groaned again, trying to raise a hand to his head, but wincing and grunting as soon as he lifted it a bit. He felt like a corpse, wrapped in terse bandages that prevented limbs from moving. He could move them a little bit, but they did not feel like they were split or shattered. The only way that bones could mend like that was via magic spells. Was his savior a cleric, then?
Someone opened the door, and he felt as if he was being stared at. ”Who’s… there?” he wheezed out, trying to focus on the person. But his vision was still blurry, and craning his head made his shoulders and neck hurt. ”Hello..?” panic started in him, and his head was aflutter with horrible thoughts. Was… he captured by the Ylisseans? Was he to be tortured? Were they expecting him to speak? ”Answer me!”
Ambra took the fruit and slit it in half with her knife, wincing as the juice spilled out and made a mess. The juice of the fruit was just as red as the seeds inside of it, which were meant to be eaten and not disposed of. Lining the outside ring of the middle of the fruit, and traveling to the middle and hiding the seeds in comb shaped cavities, was the yellow pulp that was not meant to be eaten at all. She dug her fingers into the openings and brushed the seeds out onto the plate. That was a messy process as well, and made her fingers and clothes become stained with a rosy red color. She had seen the color too much lately. But she had gotten herself into the situation, for she was a Shepherd, and Shepherds were to tend to their sheep. Even if it meant spilling the blood of the wolves and other evil things that attacked the flock…
Someone came into the room, and her face hardened for a moment. She hoped that it wasn’t that bandit again. Ambra didn’t mean to be hostile, but the thought of having someone so sneaky and shady sent shivers up her spine. The actual thought of that person actually traveling with them terrified her to no ends. But instead of a pair of blue eyes looking at her, she saw a glimpse of red hair and relaxed. Ah, it was that woman. The woman that wanted to help the thief. She chewed on some of the seeds and relished their taste before swallowing and beginning to speak.
”I’m a healer, it’s what I do.” she told her, offering her a smile. ”I mend bones and stitch shut wounds, but I’ve never been one for being on the front lines. Leave that to the others. I have to admit, it does get tiring every so often, but every time I see the people who were once injured fighting with all of their might, I feel proud. I know I did that, and I know that I can help in my own way.”
Lumara listened to what Tihlas said, looking down at the floor. Perhaps what he said was right. Perhaps what he said was how she was supposed to act. But she personally felt like an empty shell at the moment. Lumara wasn’t one for bonds or caring. The one that she cared about the most was her wyvern, Caius, and even he couldn’t talk to her. He was an animal, not a human being to laugh with and squeeze when she was afraid. Not that she would. That was when she was a noble, all donned in her silk dresses from foreign lands and set on display for men to see. She felt as if she were for sale, then. She felt like her mother and father didn’t love her, even though they said they did. She felt as if her father were hungry for power, even though he wasn’t. All he would care about was marrying her off to some foreign man that she didn’t even know.
Her grip tightened on her mug and she glowered down at her reflection in the liquid. Leaving was the best thing she had done. She was young back then, and she didn’t know where to go, but at least she was free. She could run barefoot and play with boys in the street. She could eat and steal and fight and frolic in dirty puddles. And there would be no one to yell at her, to take her by the wrist and drag her back home. Back then, her hands were filled with dirty plates and clothes. But when she had finally grown up, when she was finally old, the plates and clothes were ripped away and replaced with a weapons of her choice. It was then that she became a Wyvern Rider with her new mount, Caius.
Yet, the Riders of Dawn were killed shortly after. Lumara turned to liquor and prostitution, depressed. Even Caius was almost taken away at one point, due to the fact that she did not have enough money to pay for the damages that he had caused. The Ylissean officials threatened to “put him down”. Never did three words frighten her so. She swore that, if Caius was killed, she would throw herself off from the highest mountain. He was all she had left, even if he was some drooling, growling beast. Thankfully, she found herself joining the Shepherds, but even they were mostly killed off. At least there were some left, like this guy and those other people.
”Huh?” Lumara realized that she had blanked out, and shook her head. Maybe she should stop drinking. The alcohol was bringing back unhappy memories. Or maybe she could keep drinking and drown herself in a stupor. The pale haired man had raised the mug toward her, and she blinked before pressing her mug against his. ”Yeah, whatever.” she mumbled out, before taking the rest of the drink and tipping her head back, swallowing what was left of the rum.
Pain.
It was all that he felt for what seemed like decades on end. When he had fallen, he had crashed against the water as if he had jumped off a cliff to a canyon floor. He knew that he couldn’t move, for when he had tried to swim, he was overcome with severe pain and began to slip into unconsciousness. Fear washed over him as well, that is, until someone fished him out of the water and began to speak to him. Who the person was, what gender they were… it was all a blur to him as he finally gave into the darkness that overcame him.
Talbot felt like he was out of it for days at a time. He would wake up, feel someone moving him, and then pass out again. There was never enough time to fully deduce where he was or how he had gotten there, or even their mode of travel. Pain would still split down his body like a current of thunder when he moved, but it began to slowly ebb away after a few days. This did not mean that he was not currently in pain. Or that he knew where he was and his spurts of unconsciousness ended.
This time he woke up in a soft bed, staring at a roof that hung lowly over him. He breathed, but harshly, roughly. The pain still tormented him, razing across his ribs like a wildfire, clawing at his left leg like an angry lion. He screwed his eyes shut and ground his teeth, groaning as the pain inched its way into his head. Talbot tried to make sense of what had happened, how he had fallen. Never did he know that water felt so much like a sheet of rock. It felt much different when one waded in and swam. Maybe one of the Ylissean soldiers had cast a spell, making the water turn into stone until he slammed into it. He groaned again, trying to raise a hand to his head, but wincing and grunting as soon as he lifted it a bit. He felt like a corpse, wrapped in terse bandages that prevented limbs from moving. He could move them a little bit, but they did not feel like they were split or shattered. The only way that bones could mend like that was via magic spells. Was his savior a cleric, then?
Someone opened the door, and he felt as if he was being stared at. ”Who’s… there?” he wheezed out, trying to focus on the person. But his vision was still blurry, and craning his head made his shoulders and neck hurt. ”Hello..?” panic started in him, and his head was aflutter with horrible thoughts. Was… he captured by the Ylisseans? Was he to be tortured? Were they expecting him to speak? ”Answer me!”
