| Thanatopsis |
| Thanatopsis |
| Never in all his travels had he seen a woman such as she; even though she had been severely wounded, the woman the creature had called Ryuuri had managed after only a few moments rest to pull herself from the ground and stumble from the dilapidated bar. Katsuhiro, disregarding every call of common sense his addled brain could issue forth, followed her. He owed her his life. She turned abruptly- he had been trailing her for at least a quarter of an hour without her giving any indication of notice-her face set somewhere between determined strength and exhaustion. �Go.� Her voice quivered in the rain, she made a motion to brush the wet, matted hair from her eyes, but dropped her hand midway through the gesture. Perhaps she did not want or face to be seen, or maybe it was simply that she did not want to look into the eyes of what she had saved. The less she knew of Shiva�s quarry, the easier necessary sacrifices were made. �Ryuuri�� it seemed an appropriate name; shivering in the rain, she had the destitute appearance of a bird exiled from all that was familiar. Cold and bloody, she seemed positively alien. �Don�t call me that,� she turned her back to him and continued to limp towards the outer limits of the village. �Just leave me alone,� she coughed and wiped the blood away from the back of her hand. The encounter with the reaper had taken much more out of her than she was willing to admit. Yet involving a human in her affairs would be an inexcusable offense before the Council. Her body, however, seemed to be making the decision for her. Weakened by the physical force of the reaper�s blows, it had taken every last ounce of concentration she had to muster the energy required for the vanquishing spell. She had literally drained herself, and in her desire to make a hasty disappearance, had not been allowed any time to recuperate. Humans weren�t supposed to know about Shiva�s demonic children any more than they were to be aware of her existence. The ability to wield magick of any kind had become a point of ostracism in human society. She did not care to stay in TanaViv and wait to see what they would do with one such as her. Healers could be tolerated, healers were necessary in a world regressed, but she was far too powerful to be ignored. She teetered precariously and leaned against a wall in an attempt to right herself. Although she acknowledged that there had been sufficient blood loss on her part, she knew that she should not have felt that ill. Her joints were on fire, her spine burned, bringing tears to her eyes. Katsuhiro approached her in much the same way one might approach a wounded animal. She could bite him at any moment. After the display in the tavern, he had no desire to incite her to violence. �Ryuuri�you�re bleeding. Let me take you to a healer.� She screamed as he laid his hand on her arm and swung about violently. �Let me be! Go!� Her eyes were wide with fear, glassy from loss of blood. The exertion brought on another coughing fit, and as she was doubled over in pain, he again stepped near. She fell backwards, uttering threats in a hoarse whisper. Hunched over in the mud, she truly looked like a frightened animal. Swallowing his fear, Katsuhiro leaned over and in a single sweep, scooped her from the ground- the shock of so sudden a movement made her black out. He stood there in the rain, clutching her, wondering who would be willing to mend the wing of such a dangerous bird of paradise. ************************************************************************ She woke up in an antiseptic little room, surprised to find a man asleep in a chair in a lone corner of the room. His hilted sword leaned against the wall beside, within reach- it almost seemed as if he were guarding her. Momentary confusion gave way under a flood of recognition; he was the man from the tavern where she fought the reaper, the same man that, despite her warnings, followed her and ultimately brought her to this place. A middle aged woman entered the room carrying a tray of fresh gauze to change the bandages wrapped around Ryuuri�s arms and torso. �So you�re awake, childe, that�s heartening news given recent events.� She set the tray on the bedside table, turning her arm just enough for Ryuuri to catch a glance of the markings on her wrist. �I hadn�t expected the Council�s Reichou to make an appearance in this area.� Ryuuri smiled weakly, wondering if it was simply by chance that she found herself in the care of her brethren. She gave a glance towards the man sleeping in the corner, and reading the concern in Ryuuri�s expression, the healer, shook her head. �He doesn�t know a thing. Tonight I�ll give him a draught of sleeping potion in his ale, so that you might make a clean escape. I know how complicated things could become if a human were in your company.� The woman began to cut away the soiled dressing, clicking her tongue at the sight she was met with. �Perhaps our plans should wait a few more days until those cuts have closed up some? Last thing we want is the Reichou dead from a bacterial infection�Shiva�s dark pets couldn�t do the job, but what are we to do against microbes in these days?� Ryuuri nodded sadly, the woman had made a good point. Lack of proper medical facilities made treating infection extremely difficult. Sanitation for centuries had been linked with technology, yet few of the old techniques had survived Shiva�s purges. And even if one had the knowledge, electricity had become a suicide letter- there were demons roaming the land that were attracted to electricity. Few cities had the means to defend themselves against such possible attacks; fewer still had the desire to make such a pugnacious show of resistance to the darkness that swept across the land. Ryuuri felt a slight tug at her side as the bandages were drawn closed. She sunk back into the soft bed, savoring the feeling. With a yawn she went to thank the woman, and realized she did not know her name. �Ken,� and with a small bow, she backed out of the room. Ryuuri did not even remember falling back asleep, only an overwhelming sense of her own fragility and the cool numbness against her wounds. |