Ilene da Silva
The Twisted Woods
Goin' to the Lian's Apothecary
Within the wee hours of morning light, as haunting dusk breeze gave way to golden forest skies, a little less than a dozen tired minds scrambled awake from the clutches of a midsummer nights' dream. Watching as a timid moon become its' brilliant, beseeching counterpart, it came as an inconvenient reminder to one particular, already alert mind that
her world had not been lovingly enchanted by a dream; that the otherwise charming midsummer night had only graced her eyes with --or what had been-- a bleak, wholly uneventful stretch of darkness. It had been, after all, an evening where not a thieving soul had stirred save the natural, ethereal residents of the forest. And, although a guard should be glad for inactivity, suffice it to say that she could've very well been vigorously waving a sign saying
'Please eat me, mosquitoes!' and gotten no less but the same amount of action; just kind of sitting there like a ripe, plump tomato.
But a guard is a guard, and nobody asks to get robbed. So, with only a dispirited sigh to tell the tale, Ilene hopped from her perch as the last shift of night watch ended; eyes warmly welcoming the change from shades of black to gold. Because, although it wasn't entirely obvious (if at all), her sight was never the sharpest in the shadows. No matter how bad, though, her lack thereof was never enough to shirk sentry duty; and, being the ever competent high-class waitress, Ilene didn't really have the option to say no. Not that, of course, she ever would; when work and getting paid was just as --if not more-- important. In any case, amongst the hustle and bustle among the newly awakened travelling party, these depressing thoughts pushed to the corners and recesses of her mind; to be dwelled on the next, equally depressing night.
What fun.Or, well, perhaps not. For the past couple days, one of her charges had been caught in excessive bouts of coughing; and, from what Ilene had seen, was now snared in some sort of dim, increasingly severe fever. It was only a matter of time before the decision came to get a check-up at the border mountain village of Lian; the only available pit-stop within a couple dozen miles.
We were going to replenish our supplies, anyway. And, after a few weeks of weary travelling, no sane person would reject the idea of a clean bath; or the prospect of, you know,
not being attacked one night.
An intermission between mosquito bites, like the calm before the swarm, yes? Ilene, of course, had absolutely no idea how right she was.
Really, blood-sucking insects in an inn? But, in any case, within an hour and a half of back-breaking swerves to avoid overhanging branches on top of a slightly disfigured horse, the answer to the entire party's prayers shone between the edges of the Twisted Woods.
That is to say, Lian came into view in much the spectacular fashion; with, in their eyes, a heavenly glow of sunlight illuminating the scene. Which simultaneously triggered nine or so relaxed, pent-up sighs; although most entirely for completely different reasons. Personally, there had been an unrelenting itch on Ilene's back she hadn't been able to get, for fear of a vicious tree causing an equally vicious concussion. So, perhaps two hours after dawn and all with rather sore muscles from days and days of riding; these nine travelers checked into the local inn, three with quite lavish rooms while the rest took significantly
less expensive posts all around. Happy horses went into happy stables, and weary guards were dismissed for most of the day. The tavern was the first hit for the vast majority of these people and, as Ilene had been the lone sheep heading back to her room, unknowingly passed the young adult to a wolf wrapped on a bright, silver platter.
The cause for the wreckage of her entire afternoon, evening, and perhaps days thereafter was initiated by two, very simple words.
"Apothecary. Now." What am I, a dog? It wouldn't be such a source of agitation for the
future Ilene if the previously frantic pair of rich parents had bothered to be even the least sincere for their child; which, in all fairness, they weren't.
And who was it again that wanted to get halfway across the country in less than a month? The duo had complained all throughout the journey, and by their parenting it wasn't very difficult to imagine them causing the declining health of their child. All of the hired help had thought, at more than one point, that life was really just unfair; that it really
was a shame that the miraculously sweet Gilbert Junior had been born to a bad set of parents.
But, well, that's how it goes.In any case, it was with an altogether mixed sense of disgust, accompanied by the beginnings of morning exhaustion, that made Ilene's daily, inwardly annoyed attitude; unknowingly brought to
delightfully add to the congregated crowd's already-stiff mood in the Apothecary. And, although she was hit with a wave of
'life is just about to get a little more difficult! Don't go in!' just before opening the door, the kid was never one to back away from someone in need; no matter the client a bitch. So, throwing all caution into the wind, Ilene quietly slipped in to be part of the busy clinic; instantly regretting her decision when the parting
noise of the Delerian language welcomed her. She inwardly winced, of course, but stayed put with a friendly face for the sake of a job to do.
Right. They're not all murderers. I'm not supposed to judge-- Damn it. From a quick, five-second survey of the scene, it seemed as if the Delerian in question had somehow been dehydrated and brought there; revived by copious amounts of water. The others, most likely of mixed heritage (as she wasn't able to discern it upon a glance), were crowded around; and she could only assume that the two women worked for the apothecary, while the man just a regular villager. The only impressions her mind enforced was the unjustified, immediate disliking of the Delerian; as she always had. But nothing changed among a still, calm face; and it took a few moments before she deemed it polite to approach for the sake of a child. Seeing that the taller woman was busy helping the downed man, Ilene chanced her bearings on the shorter; approaching by the front and staying a respective distance away. After all, being that she was armed, it was always better not to startle when pitching a request.
Without wasting time on introductions (and a little on edge as Gilbert Junior had been steadily getting worse), Ilene gave a detailed as much explanation of her own situation; her tone of voice a tad urgent, but calm enough. "A child just arrived at the inn with a bad case of fever, and he's getting worse. He's been coughing for days, but we don't know what caused it, or why. Please, can we have a moment of your time?" Practiced, a little pleading, she waited for a response; fully having thought that the taller woman, Linde, was also a healer. Her eyes casually danced from face to face, although determinedly ignoring the Delerian, but the fact that she only asked for one only meant that she hadn't ignored his sickness. Just, you know, bypassing the person in question. (Well, you can't expect better treatment from one grown in Caelum, can you?)
