He awoke in a white room, in a white bed, with white sheet, in white clothing. The door was white, with a white doorknob. The walls were white, gleaming with the suns rays shining through the glass window. The wood of the stand beside him was painted white, and the ceiling was painted white as well. The strips of cloth wrapped around his head were white, as were the bandages which were wrapped around his leg. The entire room was white. Every single detail of the room was white. Everything that could be white was white, and what couldnt be turned white was dyed white, save him. He was the only thing that was not white this pure, blinding white within this bright white room. It was unnerving.
The door hastily opened as a cloaked figure attempted to catch the door before it slammed hard against the wall. Ah, and so you awaken good sir. I was beginning to worry, for you had been but sleeping since four nights ago when a woman bearing singular blades upon both arms brought you to us. The cloak was a dull grey, and although grey, blended well with the white wall behind the woman. He could tell by the voice it was a woman. No man spoke that soft, or that eloquently, save bards, who voices were harsh with their cries and songs, yet soothing all at once. Let me replace your bandages; they seem to be falling off.
She took a few cloths out of a bag which hung tied to her waist belt, and skillfully removed the bandages which had covered the arrow wound he had received. Morsuun aloth myu gath, she whispered. The cloth in her hand became alive as it took the form of a snake and wrapped itself around his leg. He could almost hear it slither, but it did not. It made its way around the leg, wrapped tightly many times over before it stopped and once more became a cloth.
There, she said, raising her head to gaze upon the mans face. You are not from this land, are you? she asked.
Eyeing her carefully, he cautiously answered: No, I am not. I am not from this place, nor belong in this realm. I am but a shadow of my former self, the flame of a candle when compared to the fire of a forge. I am from a place far away, yet so very near, and because of that, you must never know who I truly am. He did not know why he answered the question so truthfully, but he felt he could trust this woman who was his caretaker. He felt as if he could tell her every secret known to him, and she would not tell another soul and take it to her grave.
I should have guessed it seems. Your wounds were practically healing themselves by the time you had come here, and I am here only to see that they are indeed healing; and so they are. Your physiology is quite baffling, very different from a normal human. But I digress; I will not ask you any further if you insist upon hiding yourself from me. I suppose that I will find out in time, when need be, or you shall tell me willingly.
He sat up in the bed, and stood before her. Where can I find my belongings? he asked of her. She pointed towards the wall. I see but a wall. What do you think I am, woman, an imbecile?! The woman laughed a little as she shook her head, clearly forgetting an obvious fact.
Do forgive me, sir, I mean no offence. She glided to the wall and pressed her hand against it, as a small part of it revolved around and displayed his garb and his weapons. I had not known you did not know of our storage spaces. They are all hidden from sight, so as to discourage thieves. We have no guards here, as there is no need.
There will be now, he said deceivingly. Turning his back towards her, the man grabbed his belongings and donned his weapons. He opened the door, and proceeded out of the room but did not make it. There was something hard enough to knock him off balance for a few seconds before he shamefully caught himself by grabbing the post of the bed. What the hell is that woman?!
It is a field to prevent you from leaving before you are fully healed. It is to keep our moreunruly patients from leaving too soon, only to injure themselves once more. She looked at him sheepishly. He could tell by her eyes.
And who is to say that I shall become wounded once more! I can already stand on-
With that, the man crashed the ground, holding his leg in agony as the blood rushed into the wound, his face contorting with some strange expression as bright red spot appeared on the otherwise bright white bandage. He screamed in pain as the healer rushed to his aid, mumbling some words under her breath that he could not hear nor understand. As she placed her hands upon the leg, a lavender light encompassed her feminine hands with their long, narrow fingers and kept nails. The light passed from her hand onto the bandage, soaking in its warmth as the spell went to work, easing the pain and closing his wound once more left by the archers from the days before. He could only focus on the womans hands and how they seemed so very familiar. During this entire time she had not removed her shawl, covering her entire head and face, protecting them from his curiouis eyes. He could only see a single strand of hair which did not hide from his view, a brown colored hair in which he saw near her forehead as she was healing his wound. Quickly noticing that she had been exposed for even the smallest moment, she tucked the single strand of hair back into her shawl and cloak, wrapping them tighter around her, hoping to prevent further incrimination.
You have something to hide as well, and I too shall find out what this is soon enough. If this be a secret cult of some sect who is praying for my destruction, you shall be very well displeased when I slay you all. He looked at her with his empty black eyes, as if they were a void in which nothing could be found, in which things were to be lost, showing only the emotion of resentment. He could not stand to be taken care of by this woman he did not know, lest it be an enemy, waiting for her chance to strike.
That is enough! I will have no more of this! I have only tried to help you in ways others here can not, being the only healer here, and yet you still believe that I am not here to help? I shall stand it no longer, I say! Expect me not here once more, and I do verily hope that you do not open that wound again, for I shall not be here to repair what you have done! Her eyes narrowed, seeking his soul within him, and found it. It was a burning soul, a soul which burned with hate and murder, wrath and revenge. She saw the he was a tortured soul, torn between three beings, all trying to live within him. A demon, for one, tried to destroy the other halves of in a fierce battle which would only end in the demise of this man. The other two, though allies not, joined in their struggle against that demon which sought power and dominion alone over this mortal being. They would be like this for ever, she thought, as she slowly started to unravel his past, a tale of sword and sorrow, of magic and woe. He knew this, and at once, broke their fierce gaze, and looked upon the floor. She lost all her sight within him, looked upon this man sadly, and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. I must come back, if only for the sake of he.
~~~~~~~~~~
It has been nearly a week since I last saw her, he said as he bathed his face in the cool water brought to him by one of the humans. I have not for one moment forgotten how she had treated me, yet, in haste, I turned her away Why must I be so untrusting of others?! Why must I be so caught up in my own desire to live as to forget those around me?! He looked up, and saw that she was standing in the white doorway, clad in her grey garb. I I I had not known you were here, he stammered. He concentrated once again on washing his face.
I had not known that you were still here, friend. She looked down upon his arrow wound, and smiled a smile that he could not have described. It was a smile you could turn to for comfort, to turn to when you were seeking aide, and in every case, it would hold the answer. This was in indescribable smile of whose magnitude he could not say. The warm pink lips were so perfectly proportioned that it made the smile as if it were a smile of the gods, a favor from them, a favor to behold this smile. It was of a mother that had just seen her child take her first steps into the new world, of a joy that had not been felt before. I see your wound has healed up quite nicely. You have not been standing for too long, have you not?
It is if no concern, woman. I am fine now, and so do not bother me henceforth. He wanted to tell her something, but could not. He wanted to show her something, but he could not. He had not the courage to do so. He just could not do what he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss for words, at a loss for words: at a loss for thought.
He had seen those eyes once before.
He had seen those eyes once before, but had not remembered that she had seen into his soul, his past, his present. He had not known that she had known.
He had seen those eyes once before, in ages past of magic and sorrow, sword and woe.
He had seen those eyes once before, a familiarity holding a warmth so warm that he could never find the words to describe them.
He had seen those eyes once before.