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<blockquote data-quote="Delemental" data-source="post: 4965386" data-attributes="member: 5203"><p><strong>World Apart</strong></p><p></p><p>Chrysanthemum story number three.</p><p></p><p>-------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>The healers looked up when Ayama entered the room and exchanged a look. Ayama had scolded them the first time they had seen her use a charm to help heal one of the plague victims. The two elders had prostrated themselves. They were of little use to their patients if they were fawning over her and she had said so.</p><p></p><p>"Divine One, the worst is over. Surely you deserve a time of rest?”</p><p></p><p>Ayama began scrubbing her hands and pulled on a healer’s robe over her clothes before entering the area where the remaining victims convalesced.</p><p></p><p>"I look that bad, do I?”</p><p></p><p>"No, you are as lovely as ever. It is more that you have a look about you like someone who has seen great suffering and felt it deep within their soul.”</p><p></p><p>Ayama moved to the first bed and checked to see how the young woman in it had fared through the night.</p><p></p><p>"Life goes on, does it not? I will preserve as much as I can and I do that poorly from bed.”</p><p></p><p>The healers nodded to each other and continued about their business in silence as the sun rose from a pale pink glow on the horizon.</p><p></p><p>Once she had made her rounds of the convalescents in Chrysanthemum’s infirmary, Ayama decided to go for a walk. She made a mental list of tasks. She needed to speak with Kaliel’s right hand, Brusk about a few things needed for the infirmary. She needed to stop in and speak with one of the city’s hedge-practitioners regarding a brilliant bit of potion brewing that the witch had concocted. Not as full a day as she had hoped for. Running at full speed from dawn until dusk kept her mind from coming back to the faces of the dead and the faces of the living they had left behind.</p><p></p><p>She started walking, focusing on her breathing, stretching her long legs. The physical activity kept her body healthy and the meditative breathing helped to still her chaotic thoughts and solidified the framework of her knowledge, allowing her to organize those thoughts.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>With Brusk, Ayama made her requests for the infirmary. The Sergeant balked a bit at some of her requests, noting the expense of having certain supplies on-hand in the quantities she was requesting. Respecting the man’s intelligence, Ayama sketched out a quick set of figures. What she was requesting was not unreasonable in light of the data… keeping a supply of the components necessary to make plague cure on hand and dosing not only the afflicted but those they came in contact with as well had the potential to keep the plague from spreading. The initial cost would be far outweighed by potential losses if the plague spread. When presented with the calculations the soldier could hardly argue and agreed to acquire what was necessary.</p><p></p><p>Though her request was made out of concern and compassion, Ayama was perfectly able to articulate the logic behind her plan. The data did not lie, the calculations could not be swayed. The beautiful workings of order and reason could not be argued away and Ayama knew that a man like Brusk would respect such logic. She thanked him for his time and for allowing her to demonstrate then turned and left his office, heart somewhat lighter.</p><p></p><p>As the Golden Bull left his office she did not see the look of faint speculation and grudging respect on the veteran’s face.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Ayama's next errand took her to a small dwelling against the Chrysanthemum’s Western wall. She was preceded by a gaggle of children who ran, skipped and toddled ahead of her in a race to inform the resident of a guest’s arrival. A woman hobbled outside on a crutch, one foot dragging and bent permanently at an awkward angle.</p><p></p><p>"Bright One, you humble me with your presence. I would have been more than happy to come to you with this information but my messenger told me that you insisted on coming here.”</p><p></p><p>Ayama bowed her head. “It is tradition in my village that the student come to the teacher and in this you are my teacher. To do otherwise would be disrespectful of the knowledge you hold.”</p><p></p><p>The witch’s mouth crooked in a smile. “As you like. It is simple really…”</p><p></p><p>The witch described how, during the time she had spent aiding the city’s healers in brewing plague-cure she had come to realize that the original formulation could be made more potent with an infusion of additional herbs and an added step in the brewing process. The addition of a potent alcohol would then allow it to be kept fresh and effective longer. It hadn’t been a helpful idea while the threat of plague was imminent but for creating and storing cure to protect the city it would be of immense help.</p><p></p><p>Ayama listened attentively, committing the information to memory. It was sound, even eloquent reasoning.</p><p></p><p>The witch stopped speaking, smiling shyly at Ayama. “I did not think you would listen so raptly to me. Most folk would rather a cripple like me hide away and mistrust me feeling that deformity must be a punishment that reflects some inner defect. My mental faculties are sound though and I pay attention. Will this help Chrysanthemum, do you think?”</p><p></p><p>The solar nodded. “Knowledge and those who hold it are to be respected. Humanity has lost so much, we must not wallow in our ignorance. Sharing information like this is vital and I thank you for speaking with me. As to your leg, would you mind if I had a look at it? There may be something that I can do to help.”</p><p></p><p>With a shrug, the witch pulled a battered stool from just inside her dwelling’s door and sat. “It has been bent since I was a child. Were my parents not so soft-hearted I would have been exposed and abandoned because the healers could find no way to correct its shape. I do not give even a miracle-worker like you good odds on finding a cure but it will not offend me for you to look.”</p><p></p><p>Ayama knelt and began a careful examination of the woman’s leg, starting at her toes and working her way up to just past the knee where the twisting of bone and muscle seemed to stop.</p><p></p><p>"The flesh, the muscle, even the bones are all sound. It looks like the bone is just twisted and the muscle around it followed the shape the bone made. If I could redirect the flows of essence to help re-shape the muscle, all it would take is cleanly breaking the bone and re-setting it at a more normal angle. With the right tools it would be possible to do just that with very little pain or injury to the skin and muscle above. There might be minimal scarring but someone with a strong constitution and a will to match could do exercises to strengthen everything as the bone and muscle healed…”</p><p></p><p>Ayama stopped speaking, taking in the hedge-witch’s blank look.</p><p></p><p>The healer had been teased as a child because she seldom spoke and when she spoke, it was done with great deliberation. But moments like this just proved to her that to not speak was often the most judicious course of action. Yes, her mind was not the quickest of minds. On the other hand it seemed that there was a gulf between how she came to understand things and what others could grasp. Whereas other people relied on intuition Ayama reasoned through things. She catalogued minute details and arranged them until they fit. It was not as fast as intuition but it left her with a more complete understanding and her reasoning suffered from few of the flaws that plagued the plans of quicker witted thinkers. Every new thing she saw was an opportunity to learn more about the basic forces that moved through Creation.</p><p></p><p>"Thank you for showing me this. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated. I will go now.”</p><p></p><p>The glazed look faded from the witch’s eyes and the woman nodded seeming relieved that Ayama had stopped spouting theoretical healer-craft.</p><p></p><p>"It is an honor.” </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Ayama found her exquisite Eclipse-caste circle-mate walking back to her lodgings from tea at the home of one of the city’s wealthier merchants. She fell into step beside the Quicksilver Falcon, shortening her stride to match the much shorter northerner’s pace.</p><p></p><p>"It is auspicious that I found you Zanka. I had been meaning to ask you a question.”</p><p></p><p>The petite woman flicked a bit of lint from her otherwise impeccable sleeve. “Oh?”</p><p></p><p>Ayama nodded. “When I spoke with Kaliel last he was more abrupt than usual. I appear to have offended him but I do not know why. I’ve spent most of my time in the infirmary and I have been quite careful not to publicly contradict him. You have known him longer than I have. Do you know what I may have done to put him off?”</p><p></p><p>The pale Northerner lifted her hand to her mouth and flashed a demure but mischievous grin behind her sleeve. “Ayama, its nothing you’ve done. Or rather, nothing that you’ve done intentionally. Some of the families of his soldiers have suggested that a small shrine be erected in your honor for saving the lives of so many when they believed all to be lost. The soldiers were very impressed. They cannot fight a disease, just sit back and watch its course but you did and though there were casualties, you won. You are stealing the hearts of his people and he does not like it.”</p><p></p><p>Ayama thought a moment. “But is it not so that deities of war and victory are complimented well by deities of healing and reconciliation? If, within his cult, my status is understood as complimentary to his rather than as a rival or equal then there should be little issue.”</p><p></p><p>Zanka pondered. “That could work. And it might help make him stop brooding. I can get behind that idea and I assume that you would be appreciative if I were to begin subtly introducing this concept to those I entertain.”</p><p></p><p>"I would." Ayama smiled and gave the delicate woman a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.</p><p></p><p>"All right, all right, just don’t crush me in your giant lumbering affection. Run along since I know that you could have walked across half the city by now if you were not trying to walk with me.” Zanka shooed the tall woman in a flutter of silken sleeve and Ayama was nearly half a block away by the time Zanka was done making sure her garments were unwrinkled by the Easterner’s handling.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The setting sun set the horizon ablaze with brilliant color. It seemed appropriate to a celebration rather than a funeral rite. Ayama stood waiting a short distance away from three small groups of people. Each group was clustered around one shrouded figure laid out on a pyre. Three dead was a small loss compared to the previous weeks but she had labored long with each of the deceased, watched their families hope and worry. And now she was watching them grieve.</p><p></p><p>She watched the sun and finally judged that it would not be safe to wait any longer. Watching their loved ones rise as undead would be far more traumatic than simply losing them. She moved to the first pyre and the victim’s widow and son nodded to her and backed away. The little boy looked at her with awe in his eyes despite his sadness and the widow seemed torn between her sorrow and gratitude. Ayama reached out and laid her hand on the widow’s shoulder.</p><p></p><p>"Are you ready?”</p><p></p><p>The woman nodded.</p><p></p><p>Ayama channeled a significant amount of essence into her anima, feeling the air around her suddenly spark with energy.</p><p></p><p>With her aura glowing with the brilliance of the midday sun she reached out and gently touched the body. Immediately white-gold flame danced from her fingertips and began to play over the corpse, igniting the body and sending all vestiges of the soul to the afterlife. The purity of the flames Ayama called obliterated any uncleanness or dark energies, ensuring that no sort of undead might rise from the ashes of the pyre.</p><p></p><p>The second group of mourners reacted with a bit more emotion, bursting into fresh tears as Ayama approached. Though they shrank away from her at first, soon her gentle touch soothed the worst of their sobbing and she once more released the Unconquered Sun’s holy fire.</p><p></p><p>The final body had two mourners who were quite familiar to the solar healer. The two healers welcomed Ayama back to their midst, reverently touching her outstretched hands.</p><p></p><p>"We will miss her Divine One, but her passing was peaceful. We have no regrets and she would not either. She came to us as an orphan and found her calling. She lived well and died doing what she loved, what more can one ask?” The pair stepped away from the pyre.</p><p></p><p>Ayama looked down into the face of the woman she had worked with for countless hours and saved a multitude of lives with. She had not been young but neither was she old. Her life had been cut short in its prime by a sickness that cared nothing for such wasted potential. Ayama took a moment for her self, silently thanking the Unconquered Sun for choosing her at a time in her life when she might have been in the same situation as the woman laid out before her. The air was beginning to cool as the last rays of the sun’s light danced across the horizon.</p><p></p><p>Ayama touched one glowing hand to the corpse and let the deceased and her own thought of self-pity burn to white ash and blow away on the breeze. Eyes closed, she lifted her voice in prayer to the Unconquered Sun giving thanks for the strength of the people left behind and their unquenchable thirst for continued life in the face of their pain.</p><p></p><p>The onlookers drew in a collective breath as it seemed for just that moment that the solar healer’s personal aura of light burned away the gathering darkness, bleached away the colors of the sunset and set the entire square in brilliant mid-day light.</p><p></p><p>Ayama herself was unaware. Prayer finished, she opened her eyes and bowed her head one last time before giving the healers a brief, somber smile and heading to her quarters for evening meal and sleep.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Delemental, post: 4965386, member: 5203"] [b]World Apart[/b] Chrysanthemum story number three. ------------------------------------------- The healers looked up when Ayama entered the room and exchanged a look. Ayama had scolded them the first time they had seen her use a charm to help heal one of the plague victims. The two elders had prostrated themselves. They were of little use to their patients if they were fawning over her and she had said so. "Divine One, the worst is over. Surely you deserve a time of rest?” Ayama began scrubbing her hands and pulled on a healer’s robe over her clothes before entering the area where the remaining victims convalesced. "I look that bad, do I?” "No, you are as lovely as ever. It is more that you have a look about you like someone who has seen great suffering and felt it deep within their soul.” Ayama moved to the first bed and checked to see how the young woman in it had fared through the night. "Life goes on, does it not? I will preserve as much as I can and I do that poorly from bed.” The healers nodded to each other and continued about their business in silence as the sun rose from a pale pink glow on the horizon. Once she had made her rounds of the convalescents in Chrysanthemum’s infirmary, Ayama decided to go for a walk. She made a mental list of tasks. She needed to speak with Kaliel’s right hand, Brusk about a few things needed for the infirmary. She needed to stop in and speak with one of the city’s hedge-practitioners regarding a brilliant bit of potion brewing that the witch had concocted. Not as full a day as she had hoped for. Running at full speed from dawn until dusk kept her mind from coming back to the faces of the dead and the faces of the living they had left behind. She started walking, focusing on her breathing, stretching her long legs. The physical activity kept her body healthy and the meditative breathing helped to still her chaotic thoughts and solidified the framework of her knowledge, allowing her to organize those thoughts. *** With Brusk, Ayama made her requests for the infirmary. The Sergeant balked a bit at some of her requests, noting the expense of having certain supplies on-hand in the quantities she was requesting. Respecting the man’s intelligence, Ayama sketched out a quick set of figures. What she was requesting was not unreasonable in light of the data… keeping a supply of the components necessary to make plague cure on hand and dosing not only the afflicted but those they came in contact with as well had the potential to keep the plague from spreading. The initial cost would be far outweighed by potential losses if the plague spread. When presented with the calculations the soldier could hardly argue and agreed to acquire what was necessary. Though her request was made out of concern and compassion, Ayama was perfectly able to articulate the logic behind her plan. The data did not lie, the calculations could not be swayed. The beautiful workings of order and reason could not be argued away and Ayama knew that a man like Brusk would respect such logic. She thanked him for his time and for allowing her to demonstrate then turned and left his office, heart somewhat lighter. As the Golden Bull left his office she did not see the look of faint speculation and grudging respect on the veteran’s face. *** Ayama's next errand took her to a small dwelling against the Chrysanthemum’s Western wall. She was preceded by a gaggle of children who ran, skipped and toddled ahead of her in a race to inform the resident of a guest’s arrival. A woman hobbled outside on a crutch, one foot dragging and bent permanently at an awkward angle. "Bright One, you humble me with your presence. I would have been more than happy to come to you with this information but my messenger told me that you insisted on coming here.” Ayama bowed her head. “It is tradition in my village that the student come to the teacher and in this you are my teacher. To do otherwise would be disrespectful of the knowledge you hold.” The witch’s mouth crooked in a smile. “As you like. It is simple really…” The witch described how, during the time she had spent aiding the city’s healers in brewing plague-cure she had come to realize that the original formulation could be made more potent with an infusion of additional herbs and an added step in the brewing process. The addition of a potent alcohol would then allow it to be kept fresh and effective longer. It hadn’t been a helpful idea while the threat of plague was imminent but for creating and storing cure to protect the city it would be of immense help. Ayama listened attentively, committing the information to memory. It was sound, even eloquent reasoning. The witch stopped speaking, smiling shyly at Ayama. “I did not think you would listen so raptly to me. Most folk would rather a cripple like me hide away and mistrust me feeling that deformity must be a punishment that reflects some inner defect. My mental faculties are sound though and I pay attention. Will this help Chrysanthemum, do you think?” The solar nodded. “Knowledge and those who hold it are to be respected. Humanity has lost so much, we must not wallow in our ignorance. Sharing information like this is vital and I thank you for speaking with me. As to your leg, would you mind if I had a look at it? There may be something that I can do to help.” With a shrug, the witch pulled a battered stool from just inside her dwelling’s door and sat. “It has been bent since I was a child. Were my parents not so soft-hearted I would have been exposed and abandoned because the healers could find no way to correct its shape. I do not give even a miracle-worker like you good odds on finding a cure but it will not offend me for you to look.” Ayama knelt and began a careful examination of the woman’s leg, starting at her toes and working her way up to just past the knee where the twisting of bone and muscle seemed to stop. "The flesh, the muscle, even the bones are all sound. It looks like the bone is just twisted and the muscle around it followed the shape the bone made. If I could redirect the flows of essence to help re-shape the muscle, all it would take is cleanly breaking the bone and re-setting it at a more normal angle. With the right tools it would be possible to do just that with very little pain or injury to the skin and muscle above. There might be minimal scarring but someone with a strong constitution and a will to match could do exercises to strengthen everything as the bone and muscle healed…” Ayama stopped speaking, taking in the hedge-witch’s blank look. The healer had been teased as a child because she seldom spoke and when she spoke, it was done with great deliberation. But moments like this just proved to her that to not speak was often the most judicious course of action. Yes, her mind was not the quickest of minds. On the other hand it seemed that there was a gulf between how she came to understand things and what others could grasp. Whereas other people relied on intuition Ayama reasoned through things. She catalogued minute details and arranged them until they fit. It was not as fast as intuition but it left her with a more complete understanding and her reasoning suffered from few of the flaws that plagued the plans of quicker witted thinkers. Every new thing she saw was an opportunity to learn more about the basic forces that moved through Creation. "Thank you for showing me this. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated. I will go now.” The glazed look faded from the witch’s eyes and the woman nodded seeming relieved that Ayama had stopped spouting theoretical healer-craft. "It is an honor.” *** Ayama found her exquisite Eclipse-caste circle-mate walking back to her lodgings from tea at the home of one of the city’s wealthier merchants. She fell into step beside the Quicksilver Falcon, shortening her stride to match the much shorter northerner’s pace. "It is auspicious that I found you Zanka. I had been meaning to ask you a question.” The petite woman flicked a bit of lint from her otherwise impeccable sleeve. “Oh?” Ayama nodded. “When I spoke with Kaliel last he was more abrupt than usual. I appear to have offended him but I do not know why. I’ve spent most of my time in the infirmary and I have been quite careful not to publicly contradict him. You have known him longer than I have. Do you know what I may have done to put him off?” The pale Northerner lifted her hand to her mouth and flashed a demure but mischievous grin behind her sleeve. “Ayama, its nothing you’ve done. Or rather, nothing that you’ve done intentionally. Some of the families of his soldiers have suggested that a small shrine be erected in your honor for saving the lives of so many when they believed all to be lost. The soldiers were very impressed. They cannot fight a disease, just sit back and watch its course but you did and though there were casualties, you won. You are stealing the hearts of his people and he does not like it.” Ayama thought a moment. “But is it not so that deities of war and victory are complimented well by deities of healing and reconciliation? If, within his cult, my status is understood as complimentary to his rather than as a rival or equal then there should be little issue.” Zanka pondered. “That could work. And it might help make him stop brooding. I can get behind that idea and I assume that you would be appreciative if I were to begin subtly introducing this concept to those I entertain.” "I would." Ayama smiled and gave the delicate woman a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "All right, all right, just don’t crush me in your giant lumbering affection. Run along since I know that you could have walked across half the city by now if you were not trying to walk with me.” Zanka shooed the tall woman in a flutter of silken sleeve and Ayama was nearly half a block away by the time Zanka was done making sure her garments were unwrinkled by the Easterner’s handling. *** The setting sun set the horizon ablaze with brilliant color. It seemed appropriate to a celebration rather than a funeral rite. Ayama stood waiting a short distance away from three small groups of people. Each group was clustered around one shrouded figure laid out on a pyre. Three dead was a small loss compared to the previous weeks but she had labored long with each of the deceased, watched their families hope and worry. And now she was watching them grieve. She watched the sun and finally judged that it would not be safe to wait any longer. Watching their loved ones rise as undead would be far more traumatic than simply losing them. She moved to the first pyre and the victim’s widow and son nodded to her and backed away. The little boy looked at her with awe in his eyes despite his sadness and the widow seemed torn between her sorrow and gratitude. Ayama reached out and laid her hand on the widow’s shoulder. "Are you ready?” The woman nodded. Ayama channeled a significant amount of essence into her anima, feeling the air around her suddenly spark with energy. With her aura glowing with the brilliance of the midday sun she reached out and gently touched the body. Immediately white-gold flame danced from her fingertips and began to play over the corpse, igniting the body and sending all vestiges of the soul to the afterlife. The purity of the flames Ayama called obliterated any uncleanness or dark energies, ensuring that no sort of undead might rise from the ashes of the pyre. The second group of mourners reacted with a bit more emotion, bursting into fresh tears as Ayama approached. Though they shrank away from her at first, soon her gentle touch soothed the worst of their sobbing and she once more released the Unconquered Sun’s holy fire. The final body had two mourners who were quite familiar to the solar healer. The two healers welcomed Ayama back to their midst, reverently touching her outstretched hands. "We will miss her Divine One, but her passing was peaceful. We have no regrets and she would not either. She came to us as an orphan and found her calling. She lived well and died doing what she loved, what more can one ask?” The pair stepped away from the pyre. Ayama looked down into the face of the woman she had worked with for countless hours and saved a multitude of lives with. She had not been young but neither was she old. Her life had been cut short in its prime by a sickness that cared nothing for such wasted potential. Ayama took a moment for her self, silently thanking the Unconquered Sun for choosing her at a time in her life when she might have been in the same situation as the woman laid out before her. The air was beginning to cool as the last rays of the sun’s light danced across the horizon. Ayama touched one glowing hand to the corpse and let the deceased and her own thought of self-pity burn to white ash and blow away on the breeze. Eyes closed, she lifted her voice in prayer to the Unconquered Sun giving thanks for the strength of the people left behind and their unquenchable thirst for continued life in the face of their pain. The onlookers drew in a collective breath as it seemed for just that moment that the solar healer’s personal aura of light burned away the gathering darkness, bleached away the colors of the sunset and set the entire square in brilliant mid-day light. Ayama herself was unaware. Prayer finished, she opened her eyes and bowed her head one last time before giving the healers a brief, somber smile and heading to her quarters for evening meal and sleep. [/QUOTE]
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