When she had come across the town, Primrose had kept to the outskirts for the first few days, trying to ascertain if she would be safe heading in with the shackles still attached to her, she didn't know the current political landscape well enough to know if this town was in slave territory or not -- even though Nevarra was not a slave state, she had spent long enough in chains to know that the flesh trades were alive and well. Walking into a town, even a small frontier town like this, always was a risk. But, as the spring days started to warm, and farmers came out into the fields, she hadn't been able to hide forever. The healer in town had found her first, surrounded by wisps in the tree line, as she napped in the sun, trying to stay as warm as she could in her robe and smocks while the temperatures had threatened to drop back down to freezing in the middle of the night.
It had been a boot to her side, rocking her awake, but a Dalish woman, blonde and petite, leaning on a gnarled staff, with an easy smile. And when Prim hadn't talked right away, the healer had taken her into her own cottage and tried magic and practical, but Prim's voice had been stolen by trauma, and so soon enough Gracielle, the healer, had let her keep her silence, filling the days with both sides of the conversations as they worked. Prim had fallen into an easy pattern of chopping herbs and helping with tinctures. But it was when a dying child had been brought to the cottage that had finally broken Primrose, when Gracielle had finally heard the woman's voice.
As the spirit left and went into the Fade, and Gracielle tried to comfort the parents, Prim had donned her smocks and pulled her kit from her cloak, bowing deeply to the family before she spoke. With a gentleness that only came with someone who knew the way, she handled how they wanted to remember their dead. From then on, the cottage had served as a place of comfort for both the living and the dead, and Prim had fallen back into her silence in the process. She had no words for the living, but at times Gracielle had heard her speak, low and gentle to a body as hair was brushed out, and limbs were massaged back limber enough to be posed, and either wrapped for burial or cremation, or.. final words were pulled from the body to allow a matter of will be answered.
And Prim had made it clear, to her host, that she would be leaving eventually, quiet nods of her head to questions when asked directly, and that time was coming soon, or had been, when a cart had pulled up outside the cottage, a body in leathers and scars dropped off to be put to rest properly, collected out in the field, "Dead as dead could be, look at 'im, didn't think it proper to take the leather yet, not till the Miss had seen to 'im proper."
Prim had nodded to Gracielle in that moment, to have the body brought inside by the men as she went to get her smock and kit. The body made no sound when it was dumped on her slab, unceremoniously, and Prim frowned as the men left, a loaf of bread and some herbs for the colicky baby at home, gentle hands going to smooth dirty hair from a face that had been handsome at some point before, the vision taking her almost immediately of her and the man walking into Kirkwall, as the leaves started to turn red and yellow,
Prim's hand jerked away from the man, as she cleared her throat, trying to clear the disuse from it, to say louder,
"Yes, yes he is, thank the Maker you caught it Rosie, we might have had him on the way to the pyre if not for you." Prim frowned a little at that, and looked away, before she stood to help Gracielle with the healing. Later, when they had transitioned the man from the slab, into a bed in a different room of the cottage, Prim had taken first watch at his beside, busying herself with cleaning the blood off his leathers, happy for the silence, and the gentle sounds of breathing. She could wait for him to wake, after all, her vision had been for the Fall, they had time yet, but as she hazarded a glance back over at what she assumed was her still passed out patient, she had to wonder, could she really trust one of the living enough to make it the rest of the way to Kirkwall with him?
@Zevran Arainai
It had been a boot to her side, rocking her awake, but a Dalish woman, blonde and petite, leaning on a gnarled staff, with an easy smile. And when Prim hadn't talked right away, the healer had taken her into her own cottage and tried magic and practical, but Prim's voice had been stolen by trauma, and so soon enough Gracielle, the healer, had let her keep her silence, filling the days with both sides of the conversations as they worked. Prim had fallen into an easy pattern of chopping herbs and helping with tinctures. But it was when a dying child had been brought to the cottage that had finally broken Primrose, when Gracielle had finally heard the woman's voice.
As the spirit left and went into the Fade, and Gracielle tried to comfort the parents, Prim had donned her smocks and pulled her kit from her cloak, bowing deeply to the family before she spoke. With a gentleness that only came with someone who knew the way, she handled how they wanted to remember their dead. From then on, the cottage had served as a place of comfort for both the living and the dead, and Prim had fallen back into her silence in the process. She had no words for the living, but at times Gracielle had heard her speak, low and gentle to a body as hair was brushed out, and limbs were massaged back limber enough to be posed, and either wrapped for burial or cremation, or.. final words were pulled from the body to allow a matter of will be answered.
And Prim had made it clear, to her host, that she would be leaving eventually, quiet nods of her head to questions when asked directly, and that time was coming soon, or had been, when a cart had pulled up outside the cottage, a body in leathers and scars dropped off to be put to rest properly, collected out in the field, "Dead as dead could be, look at 'im, didn't think it proper to take the leather yet, not till the Miss had seen to 'im proper."
Prim had nodded to Gracielle in that moment, to have the body brought inside by the men as she went to get her smock and kit. The body made no sound when it was dumped on her slab, unceremoniously, and Prim frowned as the men left, a loaf of bread and some herbs for the colicky baby at home, gentle hands going to smooth dirty hair from a face that had been handsome at some point before, the vision taking her almost immediately of her and the man walking into Kirkwall, as the leaves started to turn red and yellow,
Alive.
Prim's hand jerked away from the man, as she cleared her throat, trying to clear the disuse from it, to say louder,
He's alive.That had her companion's attention, and the healer came rushing into the room, trying to sort out what injury was what in the triage, all while Prim backed away from the slab. The man had been dead there, for a moment, she had felt it, felt the tendrils of the Fade cling to the body, ready to take the spirit away, it had been outside him, happening, when the vision had started, had it been the touch? Had the gentle touch been the thing to pull him back? She had seen it before, where someone had been so injured that they were halfway into the Fade before they came to the necropolis, only to sit up on the slab before rites and ritual were started, having found their way back to their body before.
"Yes, yes he is, thank the Maker you caught it Rosie, we might have had him on the way to the pyre if not for you." Prim frowned a little at that, and looked away, before she stood to help Gracielle with the healing. Later, when they had transitioned the man from the slab, into a bed in a different room of the cottage, Prim had taken first watch at his beside, busying herself with cleaning the blood off his leathers, happy for the silence, and the gentle sounds of breathing. She could wait for him to wake, after all, her vision had been for the Fall, they had time yet, but as she hazarded a glance back over at what she assumed was her still passed out patient, she had to wonder, could she really trust one of the living enough to make it the rest of the way to Kirkwall with him?
@Zevran Arainai
11-24-2024, 02:58 PM
