A gentle warmth radiated over Siara's ankle and she watched with mild interest as the almost black bruise that had covered it faded away, the swelling deflating to what would be considered a normal size once more. Larrison knew his stuff, clearly, and he worked with a gentleness that Siara had only encountered in one other person. As she regarded the healer, she couldn't help but notice a few other similarities the man shared with Anders. There might have been something in the angle of the nose, possibly in the wrinkles around his eyes as he frowned in concentration while he worked.
"Where did you learn all this?" she asked, motioning at her now almost completely healed ankle. Larrison didn't look up at her, his concentration seemingly completely on the task at hand. For a moment it seemed like he wasn't going to reply.
"Kinloch," he said, sitting back as he regarded his work before nodding to himself. He looked at Siara, that sad compassion once more in his dark eyes as he smiled at her. "How is that feeling now?" he asked.
Siara held his gaze for a bit longer before she looked down at her ankle, wriggling her toes experimentally. Pain didn't immediately shoot up through her leg, so she hesitantly began rotating her foot. It felt almost as good as new.
"Feels good," she said, grinning at Larrison. "Thanks. Almost wouldn't even be able to tell it was ever crushed!"
"Well, you'll still have to take it easy," the mage told her. "I've helped it heal as much as I can, but it will take time to get back to full strength."
"I'll do my best," Siara assured him, but she knew that the Maker might have other plans for her. They were at war, and though Siara was uncertain about her place in that war, she was still a part of it. She eyed Larrison closely for a moment as he collected his small satchel, filled with potions and herbs of which she only knew the names of a few.
"Is there something else I can help you with, Miss Adahlen?"
"Please, please don't call me that," Siara winced, "I'm Siara, not 'Miss Adahlen'."
"My apologies. I meant no offence."
"It's… fine," she sighed, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration as she looked at him. "You don't happen to know a mage called Anders, do you?"
"I've heard of him. I don't believe I ever met him. Why do you ask?"
"You just remind me of him, that's all," Siara shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."
"The most I know about him is that he's responsible for the war we found ourselves in, and that we were at the same Circle for a time. I don't remember our paths crossing particularly often. I hope I don't remind you of him too much."
"Not his biggest fan?" she asked, half smiling.
"I can't say that I am. I'm not sure if I completely disagree with his actions, though, given I was an apostate before the incident."
Siara nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure what exactly this man was saying. He didn't seem to completely know how he felt about the rebellion, himself. Siara had had a long time to think about everything that Anders had done, however, and had started wondering if perhaps he would have done things differently if he hadn't had Justice in him. It also had her wondering if Justice had started returning to how he was before he was forced into the living world. She hoped so. Someone deserved to have a happy ending.
"If there is nothing else, I must be heading off," Larrison told her, heading for the door. Mia bustled out of one of the bedrooms, Rosalie not too far behind but walking at a much more sedate pace.
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Larrison," Mia said, opening the door for him and pressing a small, cloth wrapped parcel into his hand as he stepped up to her. He smiled at her warmly, resting one of his hands on top of hers for a moment.
"It's always my pleasure, Mia."
With those final words, he stepped out the door, disappearing as it closed behind him. Siara raised an eyebrow at Mia, who met her gaze almost defiantly before pointing to the room she and Rosalie had emerged from.
"Go, get that dirt cleaned off you now that you can stand. We've left clean clothes out for you, though they'll certainly be too big. They'll do while we clean what you're currently wearing."
"Goodness, you're bossy," Siara muttered, frowning as she stood up and made her way towards the room.
"I've had to be. I have three younger siblings, all of them as pig-headed as the next."
"I'm starting to think all Rutherfords are bossy…"
"Stop back-talking me and go get cleaned up. I've only put up with the smell of you this long because of everything you've been through. Now you can wash yourself, you had better hurry up and do so."
Siara poked her tongue out at Mia as the door swung shut behind her, but she could see the smirk in the eyes of the eldest Rutherford sibling. Mia had been putting on a lot of the bossy tone, though Siara was sure that she really did smell bad. Frankly, she was looking forward to getting the road dirt off her. She turned to face the tub off to the side of the room, a thin trail of steam wafting from it. It seemed almost too good to be true. Had Mia and Rosalie really been going back and forth with heated water to fill the bath with?
Siara stepped over to it and sighed in contentment as she trailed her fingers in the water. It wasn't hot, but it was better than a freezing cold bath. The Rutherfords really seemed to go above and beyond for their guests. She set about removing her rather filthy clothes, throwing them neatly in a pile off to the side before stepping into the tub and sighing once more.
She didn't stay in the bath for too long, knowing full well that there were other people in the house that would want to use this room at some point during the day. She dragged herself out and set about drying herself, trying not to spend too long examining the markings on her skin. They were now halfway down her forearms, as well as just reaching her knees, twisting and twirling, shimmering red and blue. She was getting more used to them now, but she still didn't like them, and she was terrified that Cullen or any of the other Rutherfords would see them. How would any of them react to these strange things on her body? She didn't want to find out.
The clothes that Mia had promised her were sitting on the back of a chair nearby, and Siara stepped over. Her hair was hanging in loose curls down her back, water dripping from the ends and quietly hitting the floor. She picked up the clothes and looked at them with an unimpressed frown. A dress. Terrific. But at least it was clean, and it was temporary. She set about getting into the dark green dress, using the provided belt to adjust it to the right size before stepping out of the bathroom, bare feet pattering on the wooden floor.
"You didn't have to put all the effort into heating the water," she said, stepping into the main room. "I really appreciate that you did, but it must have been a lot of work. You don't need to go out of your way so much for me."
"Don't be ridiculous," Rosalie said, sitting on a chair with a pile of clothes beside her, a set of breeches in her hands. She was pulling a needle through them, expertly mending holes.
"Your ankle had been crushed, and from what you and Cullen told us last night, it sounds like you've been through a lot the past few days. A warm bath is the least we could do for you," Mia added from where she stood, folding another pile of laundry. Siara wasn't entirely sure what to say to the women.
"Well… thank you."
She was saved from having to say anything else by a young boy running into the room, Nina not too far behind him. The boy paused when he spotted Siara, his golden-brown eyes shining with curiosity.
"Hello!"
"Uh… hi."
"I'm Evan! Mama told me we have guests. Are you Cul's friend?"
"I suppose I -"
"That's great! Do you want to go fishing later? Cul is going to come, too."
"Does 'Cul' know this?" Siara asked, amused by this child with his scruffy strawberry blond hair and high levels of energy.
"Of course he does! We always go fishing when he visits."
"Evan, give Siara a chance to breathe," Nina gently scolded. "Sit down and eat your breakfast."
"She hasn't said if she's coming yet!" Evan wined, but trudged over to the table anyway.
"I'm sorry about my son," Nina watched as her son dolloped some of the leftover porridge into his bowl before plonking himself down in a chair. "He's very energetic when he's only just woken up."
"He's a kid," Siara shrugged, smiling. "I remember I was a nightmare when I was his age." She frowned for a moment. "How old is he, anyway?"
"Eight, if you'd believe it."
"Oh yeah. I was definitely worse than him," Siara winced at the memories that flooded her brain. Memories of her, Jacen, Mara, and -
The door opened, interrupting her thoughts. Cullen and Branson walked in, a bit dirtier than they had been when they left, but the Commander definitely looked more awake than when they had left. His eyes immediately met her's, and Siara found herself uncertain about what she should be doing. The look that crossed his face at the sight of her in a dress gave her all the answer she needed. She folded her arms across her chest and scowled at him.
"Don't get too used to it," she growled.
"It suits you."
Siara wasn't sure how to reply. Thankfully, she didn't have to, as a small ball of energy shot up from the table and threw itself at Cullen, almost sending him tumbling backwards.
"Uncle Cul!"
"Woah! Easy there, Evan!" Cullen laughed, ruffling his nephew's hair as Evan wrapped his arms around Cullen's waist. "Maker, you've grown."
"We're going to go fishing after breakfast, aren't we? Siara said she'll come, too!"
"Did she now?" Cullen looked up again at Siara, amusement shining in his eyes. Siara didn't look at him, just folded her arms across her chest and regarded Evan with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
"I never got the chance to agree or not."
"Well, it seems like you've been volunteered."
"No, it seems like I've got a new commander."
Cullen chuckled, looking back down at the boy still hugging him. Evan was gazing up at his uncle with admiration and hope, now silently begging him that they would go fishing together.
"As long as your father doesn't have any more jobs that need my help, we can go fishing."
"Yes!" Evan turned his gaze to Branson, releasing Cullen and running over to his dad. "Please, Father, please please please?"
"Maybe this afternoon. I still have a couple of jobs for him, but they're jobs that you can tag along for."
It was clear that Evan was a little disappointed, but he was content enough with the answer his father gave. Siara made her way over to where Rosalie and Mia were still working, now determinedly not looking at Cullen. She didn't want to have to deal with a conversation about her attire at that moment, and she was almost certain that it would come up when they went fishing. For now, however, she would help her hosts with whatever tasks they gave her.