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Heyyyy everyone! Funn fact, I’ve been driving all the way across the US the past few days, hence why I just disappeared from cyber-space… Lol sooo I’m back now but even though y’all are awesome I’m not going to directly respond to anything right now because I need to sleep and eat food and generally find methods of not dying while trying to be a sociable human tomorrow. Sooo I’m going to make this a particularly long post so that Niarok and Yila can respond to everything going on. THANKS FOR BEING AWESOME Y’ALL YOU KILLED ME INSIDE!!!!!!!!!

Also I’ll probably be intermittent in my posts for the next two weeks… fair warning.

Niarok

Niarok immediately regretted snapping at the man when he saw the haunted look in his eyes.

“Go get some rest. If the castle can’t help her, there’s nothing you can do. There’s a stream over there.” the man said and gestured to the other side of the cave. “Go wash the blood off.”

Niarok nodded, appreciating the other man’s attempt to help. Still, he changed Yila’s bandage, not wanting it to become infected. Then he left her to rest, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief when he saw the slightest hint of color return to her cheeks.

The man sat down beside Yila’s sleeping form, gaining the appearance of a sentinel. Niarok allowed his respect of the man to inch up another notch.

As he approached the stream, he heard the irregular pounding of a crutch and turned to see the one-legged man approaching him.

“I’m Quin–his brother.” he jerked his head in the direction of the man guarding Yila. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?” asked the man.

Niarok nodded.

“Is it bad?”

He nodded. With an effort he forced his gaze not to stray to Quin’s missing leg.

Was it necessary? Was it an infection? A battle wound?

Niarok mentally shook his head. He would not allow absentee guilt to gnaw him to pieces. He already had enough going on with his sister.

“I heard it was…” Quin seemed hesitant. “A venom of some sort, and you–you don’t have the herb to cure it?”

Niarok nodded, becoming wary of the direction of this conversation.

Quin was quiet so long, Niarok began to turn toward the water. It sounded so cool and clean and he was so thirsty…

“Have you thought–would it help–”

Niarok pulled up short and his heart sank at the flat tone of Quin’s voice. Pity ate his stomach, but with it a stone of respect settled. Quin was brave to try to suggest this.

Spit the words out, Quin. Especially these ones. They’re easier if you say them quickly.

Niarok caught Quin’s gaze drifting towards Yila with a dark expression and he followed his line of sight. Yila stirred, shivered with her fever. Niarok felt heaviness settle on his shoulders.

If I let her die, I will never forgive myself.

Quin’s gaze suggested death would be better, but Niarok refused to believe it.

“Have you considered…amputation?” Quin finally asked.

Niarok lifted his gaze to Quin’s misty blue eyes, but Quin averted his gaze and spun away before Niarok could mention his appreciation of his bravery. Quin swung past Yila. Niarok noticed the assassin was back, crouching beside the feral mountain lion.

But not feral. Just… haunted.

Niarok’s heart sat heavy in his chest and he let his shoulders slump. The responsibility was too much. He had to save his sister, but he felt a comradery with these people, though he barely knew them.

And now I’m hyper-aware.

Niarok shook himself and threw his shoulders back, ignoring the curious boy who was stating all the good statistics for amputating Yila’s arm.

Niarok hid behind a blank face, reciting to himself all the reasons not to amputate her arm.

Not that she would survive the procedure anyway. Too much chance of bleeding out, along with worsening the infection, as well as-

Stop.

Stop torturing yourself.

Niarok knelt beside the stream and tasted the tiniest drop on his finger.

Not pure, but no poison.

He filled his water skin and pulled his survival pouch from the chain around his neck, measuring a pinch of purifying herbs and shaking them into the water.

Then he took the man up on his idea and washed the blood off of his now healed wounds, his hands, his shirt, his head…

I might as well jump in the river.

Niarok shook water out of his hair and strapped the water skin to his belt.

As he was standing, he noticed the girl, Sahar, sitting by herself. While earlier she had seemed immensely immature, the lines of stress and exhaustion – and pain – on her forehead, told a completely different story. She also looked thirsty.

Without a second thought, Niarok approached her.

Sahar looked afronted.

Niarok had seen that look before. It was Yila’s I’m done with people so don’t get close to me or I will use you as knife practice look.

Niarok lowered his head, trying to communicate to Sahar that he respected her space.

Do girls besides Yila know social cues?

“I just wanted to thank you for helping my sister earlier. I appreciated the extra set of muscles.”

Sahar’s face softened almost imperceptibly.

Niarok reached into his pouch and removed a pinch of herbs. “The water is not poisonous, but you’ll want to put these herbs in your water skin when you fill it if you want to avoid ingesting bacteria.”

Sahar held out her hand, and he dropped the herbs into it. Without another word, he walked away, leaving her bubble and hoping she wouldn’t hate him later.

And do I really care?

Yeah. Somewhere beneath all the stress and anger and frustration at his inability to care for Yila.

What a wonderful time to not have a fully stocked medical bag.

No guilt. No guilt. No. Guilt!

Niarok reached Yila and startled when he noticed she was awake. Her eyes seemed clearer now. He rested his hand on her forehead, relieved to find that her fever had reduced significantly.

The assassin knelt beside Niarok and Yila, his eyes stormy. He was struggling. Niarok looked him in the eyes, trying to show his respect.

“This will help,“ the assassin said, his eyes alighting on Yila and quickly dodging away. He held up a package and unwrapped it, his eyes growing stormier, and pulled out something that looked like yeasty berries. Niarok’s heart pounded at the scent. Salt and berries. He forced the flood of memories behind a dam that he hoped wouldn’t break until he was in private.

He hid behind his blank face and glared at the assassin. “What is it?” he immediately regretted the anger of his tone. The assassin was just trying to help.

To many memories.

The assassin didn’t answer, and Niarok felt terrified that he wouldn’t be able to hide the memories much longer. They were screaming to be heard.

“My people call it Arankā. Its a yeast, with strong energy giving properties. Legend has it that a lady clothed with the stars came down from the heavens and gifted my people with it.” The assassin shrugged. “Its probably just a silly story. But all who eat it gain strength, physically or mentally.”

No. That’s no silly story.

Niarok hadn’t seen or smelled this bread since he was five. It had saved his father.

And then it was gone.

Niarok shook himself, hiding behind a mask of suspiciousness. Maybe if the assassin thought he was just protecting his sister, he wouldn’t notice the pain in his eyes.

He took the piece offered by the assassin and fed it to Yila bit by bit, knowing full well what would happen. She would get better, imperceptibly at first, but castle or no, she would get better.

Hope overcame the fear in his heart.

He ate the tiniest crumb at the end, hoping it wouldn’t make him bounce off the walls later. But he needed the strength. Exhaustion had never weighed this heavy on him before now.

Yila frowned slightly, and Niarok saw the slightest hint of recognition beneath the gesture. “It tastes really good. All fluffy like cake.”

Niarok tried not to snort.

Now he knew it work.

She was even getting flirtatious.

He tried not to snort harder.

The assassin grinned. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Niarok thought he got a far away look in his eyes for the slightest hair of a second.

Yila’s eyes got wide. “Can I have some more?”

The assassin chuckled.

Niarok smiled. Joy now sang in his heart, and he was willing to try life again.

“Not so fast a stór. I only have a few more, and they’re only to be used in emergencies. This constituted as one.”

Niarok couldn’t resist anymore. He snorted, trying to hide an all-out derisive laugh.

Emergency indeed.

The assassin tilted his head at Yila, and Niarok was once again struck by the nobility hiding somewhere deep beneath the scars and the haunted face.

Haunted. It seemed to be a common theme among all the people here.

And I think I’ll fit right in.

It was the first time Niarok had considered staying with them and getting to know them. And the idea didn’t hit him with disgust like he had expected it to.

Yila’s eyes were wide, and Niarok could see her admiring the assassin with something more than just fascination.

“Name’s Lorcan. What’s yours?” the assassin said, grinning.

Yila stared, and her hands twitched like she longed to hold a knife.

Niarok chuckled quietly. Yila would want a knife in a situation like this. Not to kill Lorcan, of course. Just to feel secure.

“In your belt,” Niarok whispered to her, then slipped away. He was just in time to hear her introduce herself – and to hear a knife being drawn from a sheath.

Niarok approached Quin, who stood by himself.

“I appreciated what you had to say earlier,” Niarok said quietly.

Quin looked at him and Niarok focused on keeping the blank expression off his face. It wasn’t hard. Quin was genuine, and Niarok had a habit of being genuine around genuine people.

Quin’s pain was acute, but he quickly hid it.

“I’ve had to do… amputations – before now,” Niarok continued, hoping he wasn’t pushing too hard. “And it hasn’t been a pleasant experience. I’m just glad I won’t have to do it for my sister.”

Quin looked confused, though he stayed quiet.

“Lorcan had something help her.” The memories crept back into Niarok’s mind, but he pushed them back.

Not yet.

“But I just wanted to tell you that you were brave to suggest it. I may not know what it’s like to live without a limb, but I do know this. Most people lose the will to live. You didn’t. That was brave. And it was braver to want well-being for someone else, even if it means causing pain for yourself.”

Niarok turned away, hoping he hadn’t opened any wounds.

I’m terrible at this.

He just felt like Quin needed a friend, and with Yila’s health off his shoulders, he wanted to be that for him.

Or not. Wow! I’m terrible at human interaction!

“Wait.”

Niarok froze and turned, looking at Quin.

“Wait,” Quin said again, quietly.

Niarok raised an eyebrow, urging Quin to continue.

Or maybe I’m not?

 

 

Okay, so first of all, Emily, feel free to change anything!!!

And second of all, I greatly apologize for the extremely staggering length of that post.

And third of all, *hits Niarok over the head with computer* WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT YOU NOW ABOUT THIS WEIRD ARANKā PLANT???????????????????? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME!!!!! I THOUGHT WE WERE A TEAMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Don’t you just hate it when your characters do things you didn’t expect???

*Niarok grabs computer*

I don’t tell my team-mates my deepest darkest secrets!

*I grab computer*

I DON’T CARE!!!!!!

*dodges more herbs flying at head*

You should get a better weapon, Niarok!!!

“I hate throwing knives!!!”

*Niarok dodges a knife flying from the corner*

“Sorry Yila.”

 

Okay so I’m bored if you couldn’t tell, and I need sleep… and this hotel room is crazy. I have an aggressive herb-master next to me here, there’s a warrior woman obsessed with knives in the corner, and my friend is lying on the other bed writing about some different characters who are probably also somewhere in the room with weapons I can’t see…

I will post Yila tomorrow when I’m not driving or sight-seeing or whatever I’m going to end up doing tomorrow…

And uh…

I think that’s about it…

Also y’all are amazing people!

Okay bye…