H'aanit remembered an intense pain ripping her body apart and a loud voice overtaking her mind. And then, she felt a warm light bathing her, soothing her... She saw Ophilia there, in a visage of light... The embrace of warmth...
It must be how it's like when a child is held by their mother for the first time...
"M... mother...?"
The huntress opens her eyes. A wood rafter ceiling stares back at her. She blinks a few times and sits up, feeling the bed under her. There is a sting from one of the many bandaged spots on her body, and she winces. However, she didn't feel as bad as it looked... She quickly tries to gather her bearings.
Where is she? A house of some kind... The curtains by the window are drawn. The room is dim, but not entirely dark. Her eyes adjust and she sees the shapes in the room slowly. Rafters, a chest... the bed... another bed... a doorway out to the hall...
The huntress moves slowly to move her legs over the bedside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she feels her feet press on the wood without pain. She looks down at her injuries that were dressed by someone. She's wearing an unfamiliar cotton shirt and pants over the bandaging.
A pang of pain ripples through her head and she makes a small noise, clutching her forehead. She recalls...
That's right... she was fighting... She was looking for the herb and was fighting a dragon... the beast was so immense that she and Linde were at its mercy no matter how they wounded it. In her last moments, she'd tried a desperate gambit... and then the memory falls apart a little there.
"Ugh..." She pants, feeling some sweat bead her brow. Her mouth is dry.
How did she get here? Where is she? Did someone rescue her? Who?
Most importantly, did she get the herb?
"..." The huntress holds fast to the bedpost and stands, using it as support. Her body feels a little stiff, but not fatigued, despite the violent fighting from yesterday... How did that happen, she wondered. Usually, after a hard hunt, she needed to stretch and exercise a few hours to get herself back into proper shape, not including rest. Linde, in particular, enjoyed resting after hunts and would often take longer than possibly necessary. The huntress is impatient, as Z'aanta would scold her sometimes.
Z'aanta...
She didn't have time to rest. If she doesn't have that herb, she must go back. Z'aanta is counting on her...
She makes a few steps towards the door, passing by the front of the other bed in the room. As she nears, she sees there is someone in that bed. Looking a little closer, she is surprised to see a familiar head of blonde hair peeking out under the covers of the blanket.
"Ophilia...?" The huntress whispers.
She moves to get a better look at the cleric. Ophilia's face is paler than usual. Her breathing is so quiet that H'aanit almost didn't hear it. The huntress looks a bit confused. Why is Ophilia here...
Her fingers lightly brush Ophilia's cheek. The cleric feels so lukewarm and looks so still. It worried her.
Another memory strikes like a flash of lightning. She sees a visage of Ophilia standing before her, pleading... her vision is blurry and tinged with red. The cleric's voice is just barely piercing the mad voices swirling about in her head, demanding blood and destruction...
And then, she tasted blood in her mouth... it wasn't her own. Somehow, she knew... it was Ophilia's.
A pang of nausea rises and she clutches her mouth in realization.
What happened?
H'aanit shakes her head a little, feeling the beginnings of a headache when she tries to probe more for that lost memory.
There is a soft thump of wood on wood by the doorway. Turning to look, H'aanit sees the familiar old woman seer standing by the threshold with her cane and a water bucket. Susanna looks surprised at first, but quickly masks it.
"... ah, you're awake."
"Susanna..." H'aanit rasps, a little hoarse, "This is... we be'en in your home?"
"But of course. Why else would I be here?" Susanna sighs, "Come on, you sound parched. There's warm milk downstairs."
The seer turns to go back down the stairs. H'aanit takes one more look at Ophilia's sleeping face before following the seer.
Back in the first floor, H'aanit is ushered to sit at the dining table while Susanna ladles her some warm milk in a cup. The huntress sees that, on one of the couches, is Alfyn. The apothecary seems to be having a rather pleasant dream, just snoozing away. Alaic is sitting on the other couch, arms folded and eyes closed.
To the huntress' relief, Linde is resting nearby on some bedding provided on the floor. The large cat seems to be asleep, but immediately opens her eyes when H'aanit passes by. The huntress sighs a little and bends down, raking her hand along that furry jowl with familiarity. Linde purrs and her tail flicks in pleasure.
"Thou aren alright..." H'aanit manages a small smile.
"Rr..."
"It weren Alfyn that helped, hm..." The huntress glances over the extensive bandages along Linde's body, "Thou musten rest."
"Says the one that couldn't even stay in bed an extra minute," Susanna scoffs and taps the table, "Come on, sit. Your milk will be cold."
"..." H'aanit takes her seat obediently.
"He was a rather rowdy doctor," Susanna sits at the table across from H'aanit with her own cup of tea and points a thumb at Alfyn nearby, "Stayed up all the wee hours caring for you lot of misfits."
"..." H'aanit moistens her throat a little and looks down with some guilt and confusion on her face at the swirls of wood grains on the table, "What... hath happened...?"
"You pushed yourself too hard, silly child," Susanna sighs, hands cupped about her warm mug, "Caused quite a bit of worry."
"... Pardonen this... Sureth I am thou hath been greatly inconvenienced..." H'aanit bows her head.
"Well, it wasn't all for nothing, at least," The seer glances in the direction of her kitchen, "The lot of you managed to procure the herb of grace. The potion is bubbling away as we speak. T'will be ready for when you are recovered enough to return to the road... which I am sure you are dying to do."
"Thanken thee..." The huntress says with relief. She had the mind to go and find the monster known as Redeye as soon as possible.
"Came in a sorry sight you did, so you had best stay put. Your injuries do not seem to ail you too much, which is fortunate."
"... what of Ophilia," H'aanit was almost afraid to ask at last. She remembers that taste in her mouth, even as she tries to forget...
Susanna pauses, sipping her tea before she answers, "She saved your life."
"..." H'aanit's eyes widen just a little bit more, almost appearing helpless as she waits for Susanna to elaborate.
"From what the lot of them said, you had tried taming a dragon, did you not?" Susanna raises an eyebrow at her, "What do you recall?"
"... I hath the herb found but... there weren a dragon there," H'aanit grips her cup, "T'weren a powerful beast... We were but mere specks afore it. I... I hath tried to use the Darkwood lore to tame it... But I... I knowe not whatten occurreth after."
"Hm, sounds about right. They say you became the dragon when they found you," Susanna looks at the huntress pointedly, "You were rather feral. No reason would reach your ears. You attacked the lot that went to find you."
H'aanit pales, not meeting the seer's gaze. Her hand on the milk shakes a little as she puts the pieces together.
"Became the… dragon?" H'aanit swallows thickly.
"Yes. You know the limits of the beast lores. What you used in desperation likely allowed the beast to take over your mind in the transformation… it is a mistake made often by those of the Greenwood."
She ... was the one that hurt Ophilia, wasn't she...
"I know not how they undid your transformation, but they did. However, you were on the brink of death. The cleric used part of her own life to heal you," The old woman says quietly.
"Her... life?" The huntress feels a twinge of fear and dread.
"It is lost on me how but ... it is a dangerous healing art to use one's own life. She was almost a corpse as a result... as reckless as you," The old woman shakes her head.
Ophilia used her own life to heal her...
"..." H'aanit takes a shaky breath and exhales, looking a bit overwhelmed at the news. She now kept seeing the cleric's pale, unmoving face upstairs...
"... Now, now, fretting won't do you any good," Susanna sighs, "You both are alive right now, so thank the Gods for that."
"Willen she... waken?" H'aanit asks almost fearfully.
"Only time will tell. Your doctor friend has done all he can for now."
H'aanit barely touched her milk. She stands from the table.
"I... will be'en upstairs," H'aanit says in a quiet voice.
Susanna doesn't stop her, merely dismissing her with a wave of her hand. The old woman sighs once H'aanit returns upstairs.
Alaic opens one eye at the seer silently, "..."
"She deserves the courtesy of knowing what happened," Susanna says in response to what was unsaid, "You know I never mince my words."
"..." Alaic says nothing and stands, going to the door. He returns to his patrolling outside without a word, leaving Susanna inside.
Linde opens one eye lazily at the seer as Susanna sips her tea. Her tail flicks lazily.
"... Don't look at me like that, you youngster," Susanna sighs. She finishes her tea and goes to the kitchen. Alfyn lets out a loud snore from the couch.
Back upstairs, H'aanit walks back over to Ophilia's bedside. She looks the cleric over guiltily, more so than before.
The memory returns, just as vivid as before. She could feel the cleric's flesh in her teeth... the taste of blood on her tongue... such a fragile body against her jaw... She could have well killed her.
The huntress clenches her fist and grits her teeth bitterly.
She had found the herb of grace, but she would never have been able to bring it back alone. She would have been dead if not for her companions... and even though she had avoided letting them come with her, they still ended up hurt... and it was her doing, nonetheless. What folly.
"..." She sits down on the floor by the bedside. She is tall enough that her head still pokes over the bed. From this angle, she looks at the sleeping cleric in silence.
How many times hath thou saven me now...
Her green eyes are pensive, remorseful. She gingerly touches that soft, pale cheek. Again, the temperature is rather low.
"..." H'aaniit sighs and bows her head a little, resting her head on the edge of the bed.
She didn't know for how long she stayed there. The thought of the herb, of Z'aanta, momentarily had dissipated. All she can think about right now is the cleric before her that gave her own life to save her. The slight nausea she feels at the memory of the taste of blood in her mouth runs up against the other memories of the cleric smiling at her or being particularly stubborn or even vulnerable...
There is a twinge of something in her chest. It's a feeling similar to when she thought Z'aanta was gone forever, locked in stone for eternity. But it feels somehow... like a different pain.
The pain thinking of Ophilia never waking up again...
H'aanit allows herself to sit on the bedside by the cleric's torso. She bends her head over Ophilia's head, making sure her hair isn't drooping down on that face.
She might have wanted to do this before, but had no occasion to do so. However, knowing what happened, and thinking back on everything they had gone through on their journey together so far...
"... Thou musten waken, Ophilia..." H'aanit mutters softly.
She did not pray often. She had not thought to pray while locked in battle against the dragon for her life, even. But right now, she finds herself asking for someone to help Ophilia wake up.
"..."
Perhaps in the most impulsive moment of her life, she lowers her head and softly presses her lips against the cleric's cool forehead.
I... musten ask for thine forgiveness...
And Ophilia remained still.
...
Olberic and Therion return to the house by the river to find Simeon and Cyrus downstairs with the other women like Arianna. Some more had left by now following the fall of the Parlor. They decided it would be better to get out of town and go looking for new work than wait in this house.
"Ah, welcome back!" Arianna looks to the two of them with a small smile.
"Good morning," Simeon waves, "Lady Primrose is upstairs and she doesn't wish to be disturbed..."
"Ah, very well. We have ingredients for some food... perhaps for all of us," Olberic nods, "Could you lend us a pot over the fire?"
"Of course!" Arianna hurries to help out as Therion and Olberic unload their products. They did not have an actual kitchen here to work with, since the workers of the Parlor usually ate at the Parlor and only slept in this house.
"We can just throw this into a pot and make soup to go with bread," Therion remarks as they look over their ingredients, "Saves on effort."
"Alright. I will just cut some of these then..."
Cyrus slowly seems to be coming around and blinks, rubbing his face, "Ooh dear... I feel so ... stiff..."
"Happy waking, mister scholar," Jura chuckles at the professor.
"Ah, good morning!" Cyrus stands, eliciting several cracks along his body as he stretches, "Oof..."
"Tis not morning anymore," Arianna chuckles as she stokes the fire.
"It is already past noon," Simeon chuckles.
"Ah, well, that certainly explains the... hunger," Cyrus clutches his stomach, "Oh, is food already underway?"
"Yeah, no thanks to you," Therion sits down by the door while Olberic does the knifework.
"Hmm, it seems the numbers in the room have also dwindled some," Cyrus glances around obliviously.
"... Without the Parlor, the future here for us is too unstable," Arianna says with a sad smile as she watches the fire lick the bottom of the black cauldron, "This house... Who knows if we may even be able to stay here? The local headman was an advocate for the Parlor..."
"Ah, yes... I imagine they might seek to reclaim this property, hm?" Cyrus rubs his chin, "Considering there might be some sort of rental agreement or such on the land and-"
"Prim actually proposed a wonderful idea," Simeon interrupts the mouthy scholar, "What if the workers here tried to recreate the Parlor business, but in their own image?"
"Eh? Hum... reviving that kind of a business? But why?" Cyrus blinks obliviously, "Surely, they can go and find better pursuits than selling their own bodies!"
Therion and Simeon sort of fall over a little at the scholar's bluntness, which also earns some reproachful glances from the women in the room.
"... We don't exactly have the training nor money to go to an Academy..." Arianna says softly by the crackling fire, "This was the life we chose because we couldn't go anywhere else... Well, ended up choosing..."
"Ah, I see... it is true that tuition or apprenticeship to retool for a new trade is no small price..." Cyrus acknowledges that and seems to think, "That is unfortunate! There should be more scholarships and opportunities, especially for those in your circumstances!"
"What kind of a rosy world does this handsome ditz live in?" One of the former Parlor workers points at Cyrus like he's a spectacle.
"You get used to it," Therion sighs.
"The fire is ready," Arianna lets Olberic know.
The warrior nods and brings over the cuts of meat, depositing them into the pot with a lump of salt he had among his rations. The water simmers and the smell of boiling meat begins to permeate through the building.
"... Is Primrose alright?" Olberic looks to Simeon.
"She is just tired, I believe. She had a rather rough night with the rest of us, after all."
"And what of Tressa? Has she regained consciousness at least?"
"I'm not sure..." Simeon scratches his cheek, "She seemed to be asleep still."
"... I worry for that injury. She seemed to have sustained a blow to the head," Olberic folds his arms, "She is still young so... it may be alright but... we were far too reckless last night. She and Primrose should not have faced those men alone."
"Like she would've listened," Therion mumbles.
"Such injuries can decide how one will live for the rest of their life," Olberic sighs, "I recall some comrades that were struck too hard in the head and developed many issues even after discharge."
"That is... unfortunate..." Arianna sighs, at a bit of a loss for words, "She should not have come with us to that place..."
"Like you could've stopped her..." Therion grumbles under his breath.
"Well, I for one am confident in sir Alfyn's abilities," Simeon tries to be optimistic, "The man is a miracle worker!"
"Ah, speaking of Alfyn, where be he? Still at Susanna's?" Cyrus glances around, only having just noticed the apothecary's absence.
"At the seer's still, yeah," Therion answers tersely.
"Hmm, perhaps we should fetch him so he can do another assessment?" The scholar shrugs, "He would know better than us of any lasting damages."
"Why was Sir Alfyn out, anyways?" Simeon asks now, "He hadn't rested nearly enough after yesterday night, I'd imagine. And he was so tenacious about attending to the wounded here..."
"Something had happened with H'aanit last night..." Olberic sighs, "I am... admittedly still trying to grasp it."
"Lady H'aanit? Was she not off to find her herb..." Simeon blinks.
"Yes... And there was a fierce battle with a dragon in the Whitewood near those sought-after plants," Cyrus explains wearily, "Lady H'aanit and Lady Ophilia nearly lost their lives..."
"A dragon?" Simeon gasps, "Gods be!"
"A dragon so close to Stillsnow?" Arianna asks in alarm.
"Ah, it's... a bygone issue at this point, I think," Cyrus tries to assuage the worry, "The dragon was soundly defeated... Well, at least, I think so. It's body vanished and... well, I don't think that was a mere illusion."
Arianna lets out a sigh of relief.
"Alfyn had a long night, needless to say," Olberic sighs, "We can fetch him later if need be."
"Let the boy sleep."
Heads turn to see the dancer dressed in red descend from upstairs. She seems as composed as ever, despite the injuries from last night being evident. Barely anyone but Therion notices that the corners of her eyes are just a little reddish.
"Primrose," Olberic glances her over.
"Is everything alright?" Simeon approaches her, "What of lady Tressa?"
"She's asleep. She woke up a bit ago. Had a small headache but... she seemed fine," The dancer answer with slight pause, "When Alfyn recovers, he should have another look at her.
"..." Therion folds his arms quietly.
"That's fortunate," Arianna sighs.
"I see you boys brought home the bacon," Primrose looks to Olberic and Therion, "How does it look in town with everyone after last night?"
"... The tavern guy's a real blabbermouth," Therion mutters under his breath, "And a snoop."
"I figured that would be the case," Olberic sighs, "He seems to be a rather shrewd man with the knowings of many things in this town. However... perhaps he still lacks pieces of the puzzle."
"Kalv is a very powerful man in Stillsnow..." Arianna brings out some cracked plates for them to eat on as the stew cooks, "He has very close ties to that of the town headman."
"Yes, I believe he was a patron of men even like Oren," Primrose rolls her eyes, "Hmm... So I suppose he is now trying to gather all he can about the Parlor incident. Assuming most people fled without word, we may be the only ones that know the full story of what happened."
"I doubt the Obsidians would be keen on remaining after the beating they took. And even the amount of ladies here in this house have reduced," Cyrus does a quick head count, "The patrons of the Parlor have all but fled as well, likely to cushier places."
Arianna passes out the food shortly. It's not much more than boiled salted meat with some root vegetables, but it is a welcome meal for everyone going to bed hungry and injured after last night.
"I think that, for the time being, it would be wise if we stayed a few more days in town, perhaps?" Simeon looks around as he asks, "Considering the extent of injury here, and especially if lady H'aanit had fought a dragon and also sustained heavy wound..."
"I am in agreement," Olberic sighs, "... But... will we be staying here in this house? There in an inn in town..."
"I'm fine not paying anything," Therion scoffs.
"Hmm, this place is certainly a bit small for all of us... not to mention a bit underkept..." Cyrus glances around.
It is abundantly clear that this house is not meant for everyday living. It is a dormitory at best, with half-made cots instead of proper beds on the floor and nary a proper stove. The plates Arianna fetched were from some ancient drawer of sorts. There is a single armoire upstairs with changes of outfits for the workers and a washtub out back that needed them to melt water inside due to the frigid temperatures. It's not fitted for activities like cooking and the hearths show misuse from lack of cleaning.
"We didn't really have to do with any of the upkeep here," Arianna explains, "It's only where were stay and sleep before being picked up to the Parlor... Any repairs done would be just to keep the roof from caving in."
"I think for now, this place will do. Perhaps we can help fix things up for our stay," Primrose glances around, "It would also bode better that we stay together here. Even if the Parlor is gone, I don't know that there are no lingering threats."
"People won't be too glad knowing what happened," Therion mumbles on the side. They did sever a lifeline for this town, after all...
"Well, that stands to reason..." Cyrus sighs, "Luckily, most of our luggage remains at Susanna's, I believe... I will return there later today to see how things are."
"What about the rest of you?" Primrose glances now to the women in the room that formerly worked for the Parlor, "Do you all plan to leave soon?"
"... It would be wishful to stay and try to build something of ruins," Arianna curls a lock of hair behind her ear, "We don't have the money nor backing to do so. I think I will eventually have to go outward and... keep looking."
Several of the other women seem to be in silent agreement.
"Hmm... Well, that is a practical way of looking at things..." Simeon finishes his food.
"Do you think Kalv can help with this a little?" Primrose brings up.
"What's he gonna do?" Therion raises his eyebrow, "I doubt he's keen on upkeeping some rundown place without a return."
"He's helped out more hopeless people," Primrose shrugs, "The former Parlor workers have suffered on the account of this town's silence for a long while, I think."
"I don't know that we could ask that..." One of the women speaks up apprehensively, "They would rather just sweep us under the rug..."
"No worries. I think we might be able to chat with them since we are in town anyways," The dancer nods, "We should be good for a few days even in spite of that."
The former Parlor workers share apprehensive glances with one another.
"Well then, it is decided," Olberic sighs, "We will be resting here before departing for our next destination."
"Where might you all be headed next?" Arianna asks curiously.
"Noblecourt," The warrior answers, "It shan't be too far, I believe. The Flatlands are still close by."
The mention of that familiar place makes Arianna a bit misty-eyed for a second. Primrose notices, of course.
"Noblecourt, huh... That's nice..." Jura sighs bitterly, "We can't step foot in such hifalutin society without alerting the local guard..."
Therion rolls his eye and glances outside the house window. The snow outside is undisturbed, as few people walk near them here. It may not be backed by hard evidence, but people probably know that this house with the Parlor workers had something connected with last night... so they will mark it a pariah.
...
Alfyn finally wakes up later in the day, almost close to sundown in the snowy town. He sits up with a groggy face and yawns. Rubbing the sleep out of his face, he looks around the living room and sees Susanna reading at the table. There is the reminiscent smell of heady herbs in the air.
"Ah, g'morning!" Alfyn grins, "Sorry, I musta passed out on yer couch this whole time"
"That you did," Susanna raises an eyebrow at him, "Does your shoulder still hurt?"
"Huh? Oh, this?" Alfyn glances to his wound from the crossbow bolt, "… It moves alright. Stings but… that's fine!"
"Hm. Well, H'aanit and Ophilia are upstairs," Susanna looks back to her book, "H'aanit woke up a bit ago. She's been upstairs this whole time."
"Ah, she's up? That's great!" Alfyn hurriedly goes to climb upstairs.
The apothecary finds the huntress sitting on Ophilia's bed, at the cleric's side. H'aanit heard him coming. He sees the huntress has a bit of a miserable expression, notwithstanding her injuries as is. His bandaging in her head, arms, and legs held well. Seeing her less-than-happy expression, the apothecary's smile turns apologetic.
"Heya, H'aanit..." Alfyn waves a little, lowering his voice as he approaches, "How're ya feeling?"
"... Alfyn," H'aanit nods in greeting, "... Aren thou well rested?"
"Yeah, but I wanna hear how it's with you! Ya weren't in the best shape when I saw ya yesternight!" Alfyn looks her over, "So, ya feeling okay? Aches? Pains?"
"I feelen fine," H'aanit can't help but glance back to Ophilia, "... Be'en Ophilia alright?"
"Ah, I'll take a look..."
The apothecary proceeds to do an assessment of the unconscious cleric. H'aanit stands by quietly like a worried watcher.
"Complexion's a mite better... still a bit pale... Her breathing's better, fer sure..." Alfyn feels a little along Ophilia's neck and checks her eyes a little, "No swelling... she's still a bit chilled..."
He takes out one of her hands. The white scars on her fingers spread up to her elbows and have not receded at all. Something tells Alfyn that these will be permanent. Ophilia normally wears her gloves to cover these...
Squeezing her fingers, he watches to see if the blood would fill the capillaries. It was a standard sign of health. A slight shade of pink fills the cleric's fingertips, but not much. The cleric doesn't stir at all.
"... Gotta keep warm," Alfyn puts that limp hand back under the blanket and makes sure Ophilia is well swaddled, "She's alive, H'aanit. It'll be fine. Lia ain't one to give up easy!"
H'aanit doesn't seem convinced and looks pained on the side, rubbing her arm.
"Hey, hey, what's with the long face?" Alfyn looks to the huntress with a soft smile, "Lia's alive..."
"... T'weren not for me, she woulden not be in such state," The huntress mutters bitterly.
"H'aanit, they were worried for ya, m'sure. Lia most of all, heh," Alfyn rubs the back of his neck, "M'sure she knows yer worried about her."
"... How so?" H'aanit raises an eyebrow skeptically.
"Well, ya've been here the whole time... Ya talked to her at all? They can hear sometimes, y'know? Once, Goren got a bad knock on the noggin' back in Clearbrook. He was out fer three days! But by the end, he woke up and told us he'd heard just about all the jabbering at his bedside. Made ol' lady Elinor blush red as a beet!" Alfyn chuckles, "So I'm sure Lia hears ya, too."
"... I see," H'aanit seems a bit skeptical but she nods anyway, "So I shoulde talken more to her..."
"Yeah! It ain't fun lyin' in bed... So let 'er know yer there. She'll get better, fer sure!"
H'aanit nods, "I willen try."
"Other than that, I'll see if she can take any fluid. Ya should also stay hydrated, H'aanit," Alfyn stands now to go back downstairs, "Take it easy. Ya sure I don't need t' check on yer bandages or anything?"
"Nay... I am fine..."
Alfyn looks her up and down with scrutiny. Her bandages aren't leaking and she didn't seem in pain. He nods, "Well, alright... but lemme know the second ya need anything, alright?"
"Mm..."
Alfyn comes back with a bowl of water and a cup for H'aanit. The huntress watches as Alfyn gently feeds water to Ophilia's lips. Water dribbles down the corner of the cleric's lips, but she does seem to swallow a little, much to Alfyn's delight.
"Good, good..." Alfyn sighs, "Yeah, yer no quitter, Lia... Ye'll be better in no time."
"... Whatten hath happened to the others?" H'aanit sips her water and looks at Alfyn's bandaged shoulder with the dried blood on the sleeve.
"Oh, they're restin' up over at Arianna's house by the river. Oh, wait, ya never got introduced!" Alfyn looks up, "It was a wild night. We went to the Parlor and fought those Obsidian guys and... uh, yeah, Tressa got banged up a bit..."
"And thou hath still us watcheth?" H'aanit sighs, "Thou aren the beste at thine profession, Alfyn. Nary other hath that devotion."
"D'aw, it's nothin'... I wish I coulda done more. Oh, speaking of, I guess I gotta check on them, too! Miss Jura had a pretty bad leg and Prim's arm also broke..." Alfyn sighs.
"Thou cannen go. I willen watcheth Ophilia," H'aanit finishes her water.
"Ah, alright. Susanna oughta be here with Alaic the whole time... I'll be back later to check again!" Alfyn gives a hearty thumbs up.
"Mm... thanken thee for thine work as always."
"No need t' thank me, H'aanit. What're friends for? Ya can rely on us more, ya know?" The apothecary chuckles, "No need t' take on so much yerself all the time."
"... Mm," The huntress merely nods as the apothecary leaves once again. She looks back to the motionless cleric and sits down by her side. She brushes aside some stray strand of hair on Ophilia's face.
"Whatten can I say to you, hm..." The huntress mumbles. She would rather wait for Ophilia to wait, honestly.
"..."
"... Thou weren foolish," H'aanit ends up saying with some difficulty, "I hath said I weren to go alone..."
Maybe she was foolish thinking the cleric would just stay behind. The cleric is a headstrong iron fist in a velvet glove. She'd known firsthand, having seen Ophilia try to help in Rippletide, for example. And, Ophilia came after her...
For a second, H'aanit scolded herself for her heart skipping a beat as her face felt warm. Ophilia would have gone after any of their companions! She would have her best tried to save any of them. She's not particularly special...
But... was that what made her suddenly hopeful and even happy for a second...?
H'aanit shakes her head and frowns, rubbing her cheek a little.
What stupid thoughts she's getting!
She sighs loudly, "... I ... haven something to tellen thee when thou waken..."
And that was the most she could manage before another calm silence ensues.
...
The apothecary runs through town as it is already darkened and arrives to find everyone else at the house by the river. The food is largely finished and everyone was still sort of resting after the craziness of the previous night. Nonetheless, most are very happy to see the resident doctor in the house.
"Hey, guys!" Alfyn looks about at the remaining residents in the place, "Huh? Is it just me or is it emptier?"
Cyrus and Simeon are reading some books with some of the women while Olberic seems to be cleaning his weapons. Therion, Arianna, and Primrose are nowhere to be seen. Alfyn can guess that Tressa is still upstairs.
"Ah, Alfyn!" Cyrus looks up from some books he found around the house, "I was about to come fetch you along with my tomes... Goodness, what be the time now?"
"It seems it had gotten away from you, scholar Cyrus," Simeon chuckles, "Sir Alfyn, it is good to see you."
"Hey, you guys doing okay? Cy, any pains or aches? Ol'Berg, how about you? Ladies?" Alfyn does a rapid checkup.
"I had bit of fatigue last night and a slight migraine, I suppose..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "But I can't really complain."
"I am just sore. It is to be expected," Olberic nods, "But the effect is transient."
"That's good t' hear...Where's Prim and Therion?" Alfyn glances around.
"Upstairs," The warrior points.
"Alright, I'll brew somethin' up for those migraines and aches once I come back down!" Alfyn promises as he practically leaps up the stairs.
Upstairs, the dancer and thief are standing around. The thief is glancing out the window towards the town. Primrose is sitting near where Tressa is sleeping.
"There you are," Therion scoffs, having seen the apothecary approaching outside.
"Hey, you both alright? How's the head, Therion? Prim, your arm?" Alfyn smiles. Therion just grunts in reply.
"Ah, Alfyn," Primrose smiles in return, "It's itching a bit, but that's normal, right?"
"Itching is healing, yep! Lemme change the casting and it oughta help a bit... Oh, and I got a salve!" The apothecary immediately jumps into doctor mode.
"Please do check on Tressa first."
Alfyn looks Tressa over, gently assessing her head injury first, "Hmm... Tress? Tress, can ya hear me? I need ya to wake up a bit..."
"Mh..." Tressa stirs just a little, but doesn't seem to want to wake.
"Did she wake up already before?" Alfyn looks to the other two in the room.
"A bit earlier, yes... She fell back asleep..." Primrose's brow furrows, "Is that bad?"
"Well, no... rest is the best medicine, end of the day. I jus' can't tell everythin' while she's outta it... But I guess she's probably tired..." Alfyn seems to think a bit, "Maybe I still got some revival herb left. I'll brew something up!"
"But she'll be okay?" Primrose asks.
"Mm! It'll take more than this t'keep Tress down!"
"Just wave a coin under her nose," Therion mumbles under his breath.
"Ah, Therion!" Alfyn gets up and hops over to Therion now. The dancer sighs softly to herself, still smiling, as the apothecary does what he does best: caring for others. It feels like the horrible taste of last night is finally vanishing a bit, melting into some relief.
"No broken bones, so that's good," Alfyn mutters a little to himself as he assesses Therion, "You're still sore, I'll bet... Didja go out at all?"
"The princess here had me go grocery shopping," Therion snorts.
"Ah, well, I mean... it's a mixed bag. Some people honestly feel better movin' around than lyin' in bed. And, if ya can, why not?" Alfyn chuckles, "I'll make your brew extra strong for that!"
"What brew?"
"Oh, Ol'Berg was havin' some aches so I'm gonna whip up a batch o' medicine for y'all. You got bruisin' and tenderness so I can just up your dose!"
"That sounds illegal," The thief grumbles.
"Doctor's orders," Primrose teases.
"I'll get to it. If Tress wakes up, come get me!" Alfyn goes downstairs now to work on his concocting.
"..." Primrose looks back down at Tressa after Alfyn leaves.
"... Who knew you were like some protective mother hen?" Therion scoffs.
"... Who knew you cared?" The dancer says wryly.
"Hmf..." Therion folds his arms and resumes seeming like he doesn't care.
From the corner of his eye, he sees the dancer's expression seem to contort just a bit as she looks at the merchant. It's not a very visible expression. For a second, it just looked... desperate. The thief sighs a bit loudly.
"Don't do anything stupid," He says tersely.
"...!" The dancer looks to him with slight reproach, but says nothing.
"You're not thinking about using that weird power on her, are you?" The thief raises his eyebrow.
"... I was... able to wake Cyrus back in Stonegard that way..." Primrose's hand clenches on her dress.
"She'll be fine. Stop worrying and jumping the arrow," Therion rolls his eye, "You heard the bumpkin doctor."
"..." Primrose takes a hesitant breath, seeming frustrated.
"Blaming yourself isn't going to do anything," The thief mumbles.
"...She came with me and I... I should have kept her by me instead of charging in," The dancer softly mutters.
"Then just learn from that and don't let it happen again," The thief sighs like it was an obvious answer.
The dancer glances to the thief, who still doesn't look her way. Slowly, she seems to smile a little at his words.
"...Thank you, dear thief."
She didn't say it with her usual sarcastic snark. It was soft and uncharacteristically genuine, as she usually didn't speak to him that way. It made him almost uncomfortable, that her tone changed.
"... I'm going to get some air," He grumbles and goes to leave downstairs, "Don't pull any tricks."
"Don't worry your white hair about that."
"... And don't forget you said you would talk to that annoying bartender, too," Therion scoffs.
"Hmm... Now that you mention it, I should get on that... work my charm a bit on someone that deserves it."
Therion rolls his eye and clomps downstairs. Primrose chuckles as the thief leaves her alone with Tressa. Downstairs, the sounds of chatter can be heard, along with some shrieks at the smell that now rises up as Alfyn undoubtedly begins his brewing.
"Oohh, that ... doesn't smell right!"
"It's fine! That's the effect of the ice pear! It'll cool down aches and pains in a jiffy!" Alfyn says assuringly.
The dancer softly sighs with a smile and allows herself to lean back against the nearby wall, facing Tressa's cot. Feeling something finally loosen in her, the dancer lightly rubs a hand across her chest, over the dark mark.
"..."
She gently leans down and kisses Tressa's brow before heading downstairs with a smile on her lips.
...
When Ophilia opens her eyes, the room is already dark since the sun had long set. She feels incredibly sleepy and tired, like she could go back to sleep at any moment. Her mouth is also dry and her voice rasps a bit with each breath.
"Unh..." She struggles to even move her head a little.
Her eyes adjust to the dark and she feels something warm beside her. Finally managing to turn her head, she sees the sleeping face of H'aanit beside her. It's dark but the faint moonlight from outside allows Ophilia to see the hints of bandaging on that pretty face, as well as the messy, untied strands of hair.
"... H..." Ophilia whispers, eyes a bit wide.
She hears H'aanit's soft breathing and sighs herself in relief. The huntress is alive. A bit of water gathers at her eyes as she just stares at the huntress asleep beside her. It seemed so surreal, after seeing her battered in the snows...
Ophilia weakly snuggles a little closer the huntress. She feels that strong arm gently lift her onto her side. She hears that soft voice murmur.
"... Resten thee..."
"Y-you're awake...?" Ophilia asks and then coughs a little.
H'aanit opens one eye and then shifts to sit up smoothly. She lightly pats Ophilia's shoulder.
"I willen getten thee water."
"Uh, i-it's okay..." Ophilia weakly reaches to stop her and fails since she's too weak to even lift her arm up, "..."
Using a candle for light, the huntress returns with a pitcher and bowl of water that Susanna had left out for them in anticipation. Putting those aside, H'aanit helps Ophilia sit up, leaning the cleric on her own body. She can feel Ophilia shiver a little. Ophilia clings a bit to that warmer body.
"... Here."
Ophilia's hands are too shaky, so H'aanit carefully feeds her the water poured into the bowl. The cleric drinks thirstily. The liquid moistens her throat.
"Mm..."
"Doth thou need more?"
"No..." Ophilia turns her head a little so her face rests against the crook of H'aanit's neck, "Are you... alright now?"
"...Aye. Thou weren worse than I," H'aanit rubs her head gently, "Thou... weren too reckless..."
"...?" Ophilia notices that strong arm tightly wrap around her shoulder. It shakes a little, too, "H'aanit...?"
"..."
The cleric stays there on the huntress as she's hugged. She slowly drags one of her arms up to weakly return a semblance of a squeeze. She wasn't sure why she felt so weak and tired...
"I would never... forgiven myself if... if thou hath perished," H'aanit gulps down some air shakily.
Ophilia's eyes widen a little. It sounded so strange. The huntress was such a strong and admirable fighter. Ophilia had gotten used to her confident and blunt statements. She'd only seen the huntress crack when it came maybe to Z'aanta and seeing his petrified form in the Spectrewood. Still, such vulnerability was such a strange thing that was virtually uncharacteristic... until Ophilia remembered the soft memories she'd first witnessed when she accidentally touched H'aanit's mind.
That little girl still is in there somewhere... the girl who lost her parents... and played by the hearth with her companion leopard under the watchful eye of her master guardian...
"... I ... wouldn't have forgiven myself either..." Ophilia whispers, "If I let you die..."
Even with her obvious fatigue and weakness, the cleric's stubborn attitude comes through. The huntress can only let out a slight laugh. It's not exactly one of mirth and has a tone of slight bitterness.
"Ophilia... thou carryen with thee... the light of the continent... doen not sellen thine life so cheaply!" She says as if she were holding this back all this time, "I..."
"I wouldn't... be on this trip if I... If I didn't have you by my side..." The cleric smiles tiredly, "You know, I... I was... jealous..."
"... Jealous? Why?" H'aanit blinks, her eyes glistening a little in the flickering candlelight.
"You're so strong and beautiful..." Ophilia lets out a tired chuckle, "I thought... if I could be even a little like you... and step out from my comfort zone... You... inspired me to do that..."
"...Thou hath always such strength," The huntress sighs, breath uneven, "Thou hath a family that thou willst travel far and wide for..."
"Isn't it the same for you? Searching for your master..."
Ophilia's hand slowly drags itself now to touch H'aanit's cheek. She doesn't exert quite enough strength to guide that face to look at her own, but the huntress obliges. In the candlelight, the two of them can see each other's eyes glistening.
H'aanit's throat seizes up. What were words, even, at that moment? She didn't know. It was as if she were suddenly struck dumb and mute. A swell of something knotted inside her. If she tried, it would burst.
"I... I think you're amazing, H'aanit..." Ophilia smiles and some of the tears gathered at the corner of her eyes leak, "I admire your laugh and... your laughter... I really... like traveling with you..."
Her hand on that cheek trembles a little. She wasn't sure what else to say but to ramble and see where it goes because she didn't want to hold anything back anymore after all they had been through.
"I get so scared seeing you hurt... I really wish you'd stop throwing yourself into danger alone like... like you don't have anyone but Linde that you trust... I... I wish you would trust us... trust me...!"
H'aanit's gaze softens. She can't really say anything to rebut that.
"Because I...! I'm not that weak or scared... of getting hurt..." Ophilia's voice cracks a little, "When you said that you... felt at ease looking at me... I was so happy..."
"... Ophilia..." H'aanit whispers so quietly that almost no one heard.
"Because I... I care for you... and..." Ophilia blinks as the tears run down her face, "I love you, H'aanit..."
It was so quietly said that H'aanit heard her only because of how close their faces were. The huntress' eyes widen. The first of the tears drip down her face as she can't keep them back any longer. Her lower lip quivers.
A landslide of feelings washes over her. The fear she'd felt from seeing Ophilia's corpse-like form, to the dread upon realizing she was responsible for it... to the gratefulness she felt seeing Ophilia after having killed the Ghisarma... and then back to that very first time... when she first opened her eyes in the sick wing of Flamesgrace Cathedral and laid eyes on the beautiful cleric in similar candle light... All the emotions for which she had no words were somehow understood even if she could not say...
"I... I..." H'aanit chokes back a bit with such unfamiliar fondness, "I am... I... love thee ... as well... I love thee, Ophilia..."
These kinds of words were like uncharted territory for the huntress. They don't even sound right coming out of her mouth...
Ophilia seems a bit surprised by that and then her smile widens a fraction. The oddity of those words didn't matter to her one bit.
"..." The huntress pulls her into a tight hug, unable to say more. Ophilia lets out a small squeak, much to the huntress' alarm.
"P-pardon...! Aren thou alright?" H'aanit lets go immediately, though still supporting the cleric with her arms.
"I-I'm fine... I just..." Ophilia sighs a little, "I'm just so happy..."
"... I aren... elated as well... I hath... uhm..." H'aanit fumbles a bit, not sure how to proceed, "I hadde... feelings for thee for... a while. But I hath always placed them behind mine quest... So..."
Ophilia lets out a helpless laugh, "I understand... I pushed aside my feelings, too... I kept telling myself that I was supposed to be doing the Kindling and not getting distracted..."
The huntress purses her lips a little and sniffles as she wipes the tears from her face roughly. She wasn't a crier and did not like herself crying.
Ophilia softly giggles, "I... I don't believe I'd ever seen you cry..."
"... Tis not befitting a hunter to cry," H'aanit says with a slightly hoarse voice.
"I think it's fine to cry now and then..." Ophilia smiles, "Bottling it up... You don't feel as good."
"... Aye..." H'aanit sighs.
"... Were you ... keeping watch over me this whole time?"
"... Aye... I wanteden to ... apologizeth."
Ophilia lowers her gaze a little, "There's nothing to apologize for, okay?"
"..."
"And if you feel otherwise... I won't stand for it," The cleric chuckles.
Perhaps it was the overwhelming relief the huntress felt that overcame her. Or, maybe she was following a feeling she had held inside for so long that it had to burst now, with her emotions being let out into the open free at last.
Whatever the reason, the huntress leans in and gives into her sudden impulse. She kisses Ophilia on the mouth. Feeling those soft lips on her own, she didn't feel a hint of her usual fluster initially.
"-!" Ophilia's eyes widen.
The kiss did not last long at all, since H'aanit didn't exactly know how to elongate it. She just... went for it. It was something she saw some couples doing sometimes in the woods back in S'warkii. Until now, she'd never understood the significance.
When their lips part, the two of them felt like they were holding their breath. Shakily, Ophilia pats the bed under them.
"L-let's go to sleep?"
"... Aye..."