RIFTER ARRIVAL: Guardian 9:45

[faderifting]

WHO: New rifters, rescuers, and anyone else
WHAT: New arrivals are collected and transported to Kirkwall
WHEN: Mid-Guardian, 9:45
WHERE: The hills north of Starkhaven
NOTES: This log contains prompts for the ARRIVAL and RECOVERY of new rifters, as well as the subsequent QUARANTINE period. All prompts are open to anyone.

Comments

[seaboard]

She does her best to not move, to make as little sound as she can - but it is inevitable. The little noises of pain, that she bites her teeth into her lip to keep down. Gnawing on the sound, a look on her face that is patently apologetic when it's sharp enough a pain that she jolts and gingerly offers it back.

"On... on the sea. The only Isle in the - the - Bay of Lutch." Her face turns away. Nose scrunched up and her eyes screwed shut when a particularly big and deep piece comes free. Some deep need to answer his questions out of politeness that keeps her going even when she wants to sob once more. "Do you hail inland, to not know it?"

But his warning, she looks downright scared when he says it but... he is being kind, and he is helping, and it would be awful to say she doesn't want it when he is being so good to her. He says it will help, and she trusts him as she trusts anyone - which is to say, completely. So, ultimately, bracing herself, locking her joints to not falter, she stretches them out flat, and nods. Ready.

[meds4sale]

"A different shore, perhaps."

Either someone had told her rifters were from different worlds and times and she was in denial or no one had told her and the Medicine Seller was not about to drop that bomb when he needed her still and calm.

She's being very brave about the whole thing, but even as gentle as he is with the disinfectant, it still stings. Fortunately that means that any bacteria the rotten wood might have left behind were being wiped out and nothing would go gangrenous.

"Are there many different kinds of fish there?" He asked, as he finished dabbing on the last of it. He corked the bottle, cut a few squares of bandage and opened the jar of poultice.

"You are doing very well. This has a painkiller in it and it will keep the swelling down," he explained, showing her the thick, green substance. It had an earthy, herbal smell to it - not entirely unpleasant with none of the acrid smell of the disinfectant.

[seaboard]

Sting it does, and even as her hands stay still, her head drops, face contorted in the pain of it. The cry she barely has the time to swallow, eating up all the words, any other questions. Because it was worse than denial, she hadn't heard them at all. By the time she had reached the Gallows, no doubt the truth will have made itself understood. Bur right now?

Well, he's spared any follow-up questions about it. Rather, he asked another question and she follows along. "Many. Many fish. The fishermen - " another swipe, another murmur of pain. Scrunched up she goes to prayers rather than whatever else she was going to say. "- Sea-Lord, take my pain, I am but nothing but made of you, share, share, - "

Her teeth clack, quiet. Silence with its bite, and finally, it is over. But it is over, with only the lingering pain left behind she looks back up at him with eyes wide, nodding along as best she can, fumbling over things to say right now and settles for the familiar. "As it pleases you to do."

[meds4sale]

"I have used shellfish in the making of medicine," he explained, applying the poultice to the bits of cut bandages, laying them flat on her palms.

"Though they are medicines for old, old men."

The poultice that had seeped through the gauze had an almost immediate cooling effect where the wounds were inflamed, and the Medicine Seller wrapped her hands - tight enough to secure the poultice but not so restrictive that she couldn't move her hands.

"Will you tell me more about the sea where you are from?"

[seaboard]

It is... a relief, after all that. He was being so careful with her, she is sure, even if it hurt. Taking good care of her, that at least the want to cry returns to no more than little sniffles. Not that it mattered where her face is still wet with the tears of before.

"It is... " she struggles, for a moment, to unravel her tongue from where it has been glued firmly to the back of her teeth to be quiet in the pain. To form intelligent things and sensible conversation. "... It is a deep grey-blue. A little like your eyes. Almost always frothing with waves, also."

[meds4sale]

He was quiet and attentive as he stowed his materials, the way she spoke of her home sparking a rare nostalgia for his own.

It seemed quite unfair that someone who clearly loved the place she lived in had been ripped so suddenly from it and with little to no chance of returning.

"Tumultuous seas are always a wonder," he agreed.

"Though not so good to swim in. Can you stand?"

He extended a hand to her, in case she needed help getting upright.

[seaboard]

Later on, in a day or two, it will become too much, and she will weep again, being so cut off from the other half of herself. The dreams which had once scared her so, now an aching memory. She will curl up inside of herself, and not want to move from bed and find, suddenly, with no reason to do so, she cannot bring herself to face the sun or sky.

But as of right now, his company is a soothing balm. "I shall never be afraid of it." And nervously, it takes her longer than it should, to reach for his hand. There is a twitch that is almost reflexive to never reach, not for anything. Her now bandaged, cleaned hands that curl in and shyly away. Smoothing over the bandages.

" - Yes." She ventures, at last. Her hand settling on his, small, light, half afraid of the touch for what it was. Accepting. Gently, she unfolds her legs underneath her to try and get the rest of the way up.

[meds4sale]

He was still and patient despite her hesitation - he knew the body language well enough. He'd seen it in many, many people over his long life, and it always spoke of an upbringing that told them their life was not their own.

He didn't speak much more until after he'd shouldered the heavy-looking wooden pack.

"Some were wounded in the fight," he explained. "I will see if they require my services. Will you join me? There is much to explain, and I am sure you will want answers."

A pause - perhaps hesitation? Something like sympathy? Possibly. The Medicine Seller's face rarely expressed anything, and it remained masklike as his tone montonous.

"...However hard they will be to hear."

[seaboard]

There is a comfort in that, in its way, for all things simmered in front of her face like ripples on the water, he reminded her of her oldest brother's calmness. His evenness in tone. The disinclination to show much that was noted of their homeland.

"I will do my best," though it worries in the corner of her mouth, the crinkle of her eye when it's down turned in her gaze. Though she realises that is easily an answer for either of his questions - so she clarifies a moment after she wets her lips. "I would like to help them."

That is what matters most, isn't it? Not her discomfort, least of all that, there must always be something more important than that, didn't Godfinn tease her? "Please do not worry for me. I will be well, with - with some time." Like that was all the soothing she needed.