Dragoncrest Cliffs a paean

healing broken bones is a long and challenging process for anyone.

for Avicus, who in even poor condition hated to stay still, it is something close to a death sentence.

day after day, she wiles away the time in the healer's place, watching the goings-on of the pack, ears cupped to catch the distant sound of the sea. she sleeps, but not often, because while Erzulie had staved off the fever that haunted her previous convalescences, the dreams were just as fitful were she engulfed in flames.

every time, she dreams of her mother. and every moment upon waking, she weeps.

it is a quiet, still sort of weeping, the tears flowing silent from her eyes, her body heaving just slightly. she dare not sob too hard (her tender ribs ache under the strain) nor too loudly. she is afraid of looking as weak as she feels.

with wet cheeks, she remains here, breath stirring the dirt, adorned in any number of bandages and poultices and salves.

if there is a hell, it is here; it is now.

Erzulie told her news of the one who she was helping to heal, but Rosalyn wished to meet the girl herself. They had a number of newcomers and young children; she was slow to trust even the ones who had been with them before, but this one she knew nothing about.

When she arrived, she paid little mind to her tears as she ducked in and looked her over impartially. Someone had done a number on this girl and she knew what that was like, so she did hold sympathy. She just knew it was likely she'd prefer not to see it.

Where are you from? She asked. Erzulie had said she couldn't speak much, but that didn't mean Rosalyn couldn't suss out some sort of answer. She needed to know nothing would be following her. Violence like this rarely was done in isolation.

her eyes turn upward as someone darkens the door. a woman, old and scarred. a comfort, to see someone here that looks as ugly as she does, or at least so she supposes. reminds her of her father, which ties in neatly to the question asked.

bear. . .hhhaw. Avicus forces out the guttural k, though the l still escapes her. and Ursus is altogether impossible. bear hhaw vah'ee.

her chin raises ever so slightly, her cool indigo gaze regarding the woman. tears dry upon her cheeks. who're you? she queries. not Erzulie. another warrioress here; she supposes that when she heals, she'll fit right in.

if, of course, she decides to stay. there is still the matter of Karst, trapped by the moonwoman, to deal with.

The name of the place was obviously butchered by whatever was wrong with her mouth. The sounds were stilted and garbled. She listened dispassionately, noting the question was much clearer. The pack name didn't sound familiar either way; she knew of no place that sounded even remotely similar.

I am Rosalyn, Erzulie's wife. She answered. And you, clearly, ran into trouble. She lay down, allowing light to filter from behind and the entrance space to open once more.

I want to be sure none of it followed you. Will we see any of it here? Simple yes and no questions were perhaps for the best.

Rosalyn. another name that will escape the grasp of her tongue. she frowns, and then nods, in time with the woman's question. yes. trouble. always.

but. . .

Avicus pauses a moment, thinking, then shakes her head. no, she says firmly. not sure of it, though. but what else would Laurel have wanted, but her? and she had laid nearly dead at the bottom of that grotto, and yet the woman had not come to finish her off.

she must have thought her niece dead. and so, in that supposition, Avicus is. . .safe.

'hangk you, she manages, hoping Rosalyn takes the meaning of it, even if the words are a little off. her eyes are as solemn and sincere as they've ever been, staring at the healer's wife.

That was good to hear. She had no reason to doubt the immediate and earnest answer, but she would still keep an eye out. (One was all she had, after all. The humor of that caught her a moment.)

You cannot speak. Rosalyn stated, not unkindly. Then her voice softened a bit. My daughter could not either. Words aren't as useful as some might think. If you want to thank us, you will.

The statement was little more than empty sentiment. The girl would recover and, once she did, they would see how truly grateful she was. If she disappeared, Rosalyn would not hold it against her - she would simply know what their sanctuary had meant.

Her eyes held sincerity at least, and deference. Rosalyn understood why Erzulie had chosen to take the child in, though inwardly she sighed. Soft. The older they got, the more each and every stranger began to resemble a child gone.

you cannot speak. a choice rises up within her mind, and by the time Rosalyn is done speaking, she has made a decision. she opens her mouth just wide enough to let her tongue hang free, putting on full display the ugly, scarred appendage.

they are kindred creatures, Avicus thinks, staring at the woman's own myriad scars. each highly altered from their original states, carved into something new by the horrors of the earth and its inhabitants.

she could speak—once. now she is more like her mother than ever.

fresh tears stand suddenly in her eyes, blurring her vision. this woman is a mother, but she isn't Astara. for one solitary instant, all she wants is to run back to the valley, to grovel at her dam's paws, to fit herself within the curves of that midnight breast.

a fleeting instinct, just an instant. . .but oh, what a strong desire it is!

Rosalyn would never learn. She'd resolved to, as she felt no good could come of it, but the maternal protectiveness that she felt when Avicus averted her gaze was too strong to resist. She couldn't ignore it if she tried, and the similarities Avicus had noticed only cemented it.

No doubt she would break her heart too, but for now, it was a child she saw. Grown, but young. Too young to look the way she did.

Here. Let me see. She moved closer, indicating that Avicus should show her the injuries. Erzulie had done her work and the parts that Rosalyn had little knowledge on, but the pirate wasn't helpless. She'd had too many herself not to know the basics of care. It was an excuse, too... she could draw near and brush her presence against her without sentiment, under the guise of a different intent.

she hesitates a moment, then opens her mouth further, extending her tongue as long as she can. her eyes burn into Rosalyn as she does so; heartsore as she is, she is still wary, ready to snap to attention at a moment's notice. anyone can hurt—anyone can betray.

she thinks of Karst, trapped in that witch's lair. she should. . .

but how?

after the woman's had her inspection, Avicus draws the appendage back, swiping it across her lips before they pull taut closed in a frown. noh' a'way lie'h thih', she attempts, and cringes at the disjointed sound of it.

Rosalyn was no Erzulie, but she could at least see that the damage was healing with no sickness to it. You are lucky there's no poison to it, she replied, though there was some warmth of sympathy. It was all she could really say - what was done was done and the girl knew, as well as she did, that there was nothing left but to live with it. The fact that she was here showed she was keen on it. It was admirable. Despite her misgivings, Sapphique could do worse than those who overcame such odds.


She did not catch the meaning but did not feel she needed to. The self-conscious look of her told the pirate all she needed to know. My daughter spoke a long time without words. There are ways. Unknowingly preaching to the choir. There's worse things to lose. If you like, and feel up to it, I can show you the lands tomorrow. Today, I think you should rest. She looked ill-used and like a good meal and a rest would do some magic.

Rosalyn waited, however, before departing.... unsure what caught her. She couldn't help it. Chacal's departure had shaken her and this girl... she reminded her so much, despite looking so different. She found herself reluctant, and instead of stepping outside, settled down where she was.

She'd leave if asked, and to get food soon. But for now, perhaps, a little quiet company could be appreciated.

no invitation needed. at Rosalyn's words, Avicus nodded fervently, and—to her surprise—buried her auburn nose in the woman's darker breast. she left it there for a long moment, breathing in musk and salt and sweat. . .different, but comforting.

she let her shoulders ease, feeling a little more at home.

yeah, she responded against Rosalyn's fur. p'ease. she took one more inhale, then pulled back.

the two of them were kindred spirits, she thought. scarred, broken, withdrawn. she eyed the scar across Rosalyn's face, steeling herself. if the woman could survive her ordeals, then surely she could, too?

Rosalyn felt her affections flicker and soften when Avicus, momentarily, accepted her presence for comfort. There was a piece of her closed-off heart that would always tie itself like this to these broken things washed up on their proverbial shores. Perhaps Avicus did not need a mother - she had one, she said. But she clearly needed something, and whatever it was, Rosalyn knew Erzulie and herself would stand in for a time.

For now, silent company would suffice. Rosalyn nodded as she accepted, but didn't say anything more. The girl's stares didn't bother her - there wasn't any pity behind them. Just a feeling of perhaps curiosity. These weren't stories she wished to share here now, but maybe another day. She'd stay until Avicus slept, and perhaps catch some herself, before moving on to see about feeding her.