Everheart: Chapter 25

It's not exactly a golden chariot, but it'll do.

Soldiers carried Ginal on a stretcher as Selah followed behind, and Ginal could see the small twitches beyond her beloved's practiced stoicism that walking was unreasonably painful.  The infirmary occupied the second floor of a box shaped building on the northeastern wall of the fortress.  It was impressively large, sprawling across multiple short corridors that served as wings.  Menservants scrubbed the stone floors with a mixture of soap and vinegar that burned Ginal's nostrils, and maidservants carried linens soiled by blood and urine away to be washed.  The scents mixed in her nose and traveled right to her stomach, which turned on itself and threatened to expel its contents.

Oh, Matron...  I'm gonna lose it...

Turning her head in a vain attempt to escape the nauseating potpourri, Ginal caught sight of small spatters of her blood trailing through the halls.  A wide-eyed, cold dread crept over her, and a realization that the weakness overcoming her wasn't just post-battle fatigue.

I might die in this forsaken place...

Selah's hands wrapped around Ginal's, and the hyur's exhausted smile was genuine and reassuring, allowing a small sense relief to drape Ginal.  The piercing, throbbing pain in her abdomen was too much, though, as it reached her stomach.  The soldiers obviously found it difficult to keep their hold on the stretcher as the contents of her stomach splattered across the floor.  A whimper was all Ginal could manage as she slumped back. 

Selah kept pace alongside the soldiers as they arrived at an open room that, judging by the crates stacked into one corner and cots haphazardly arranged on the opposite wall, served as a supply wing.  Menservants were erecting simple wooden partitions to serve as a makeshift wall, while the soldiers roughly handled Ginal's move onto a cot, eliciting a pained groan.

A surge of white-hot anger, a blur of uncontrolled action, and Selah realized she was the one responsible for the bloodied nose of the soldier on the floor.  Her heart drummed against her rib cage as her fists trembled, while her thigh throbbed with pain to tell her that so much sudden movement was too much.

"Treat my love like that again, and I'll do worse." Selah's voice trembled with rage.

The soldier still standing dragged his companion away, muttering an epithet that reduced both women to their genitalia.

I hate this damn place.

If the situation had been reversed, and Ginal had taken swings at these soldiers, Selah would have been working to calm her and remind her to keep her emotions under control.  While Ginal knew, in her heart, this was the best way, she couldn't help but grin at the sight of Selah knocking some cocky shithead on his ass.

The menservants exchanged worried glances, but finished their work on the partitions and hurried away.  Within a heartbeat, there was a knocking on the partitions as an elezen woman stepped into their room.  Her hair was gray, her face and clothing a choice of simple trousers and tunic.  Despite the lines of age on her face, though, the woman's eyes still sparkled with wit and vigor.

"Name's Sarelle, ladies." she bruskly stated.  "I'm here to mend yer wounds n' get ye out me clinic."

Sarelle sat a satchel down and gave Ginal a cursory glance, her lips pursed at the sight of Ginal's wounds.  "Nasty.  Alright, blue-eyes, help me undress 'er so I can dress 'er wounds right."

Ginal's tail sharply flicked at the words, and she grabbed the healer's reaching hands.  "No.  Leave your supplies and I'll do it myself."

Sarelle's brow quirked with obvious annoyance at Ginal's defiance.  "Child, I can't much help ye if ye don't work with me."

Nope.  No way in all hells.

A soft sigh escaped Selah as she gestured toward the hallway, "Would you excuse us, a moment?"

The healer rolled her eyes as she strolled away.  "Girl's 'bout to bleed out n' she's worried 'bout modesty."

A moment passed as Selah waited for the older woman to round the corner, and with a furrowed brow, took Ginal's hand.

"Kitten..."

"Don't 'Kitten' me, Selah." Ginal grunted, struggling to push herself up.  "Just help me with the stupid dressing."

"Neither of us are trained in handling wounds of this degree, and I most certainly don't enjoy watching my beloved bleeding to death!" Selah snapped.

Ginal recoiled as tears blurred her vision, her grip on Selah's hand tightened.  "These people attacked us just because we have fucking glowing eyes!  What do you think they'll do when the 'witch' they found turns out to have a--"  She gulped the word back into her throat, lips and fist trembling in a display of barely contained emotion.

"If anyone wants to question your womanhood, they can do so at the end of my lance." the hyur stated matter-of-factly.  "But I'm not versed in alchemy or conjury, and I can't save you from these wounds."  Selah squeezed Ginal's hand tenderly, her distressed expression echoing her words.  "Ginal, please..."

A knock on the partitions startled the couple, and they found Sarelle had returned.

"Remember to speak softly, ladies.  Elezen ears rival miqo'te.  Now, before ye go n' get defensive, let me make meself clear.  I don't much give a damn 'bout what's between yer legs, child, 'cause that's not important.  My oath is to tend the sick n' wounded, n' that's what I'll do."

I'm so scared of what people might do...

Trepidation swelled in Ginal's heart, mouth agape, yet no words would come as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead.

But I don't want to die, either...

"Alright..." she finally sighed.

"But not a single comment." Selah demanded, her gaze upon the healer.

Sarelle rolled her eyes as she opened her supply bag, and soon had produced vials of various liquids, and bandages.  Selah aided in removing the torn, bloodstained garments and unbuckling the boots and gauntlets, all of which began to dissipate into aether as it sat in a pile.  If Sarelle had noticed, she made no indication.  With her bruised and bleeding body exposed, Ginal found herself afloat in vulnerability and shame.

"They're only jealous that you're more beautiful than any woman, and you can use it better than any man." Selah whispered into her ear.

It drew a smile to Ginal's lips, and as exhaustion finally overcame her, a small comfort stirred in her heart. 

Should I blame Geoff for being the start of all this?  The soldiers for their untrained hostility?  Or myself for not having the courage to stay home with Ginal?

Or have all of us merely been pawns in a game played by beings who claim godhood?

Though said as a joke, it was true that Ginal had been brought to near-death on multiple occasions, and each time was the worst fear Selah had ever experienced.

She squeezed Ginal's hand as she watched the miqo'te sleep, finally allowing herself a small sigh of relief.  The healer's magic had repaired about half the damage in Ginal's torso, and the salves were keeping the wound closed.  Ginal's less serious wounds were closing nicely by salve, as well, and Sarelle would be back after a rest to continue work on the interior injury.

Selah's own wounds were tender to touch, and the muscles begged for rest. The bandages were secure, though, and the surface of the piercing wounds were sealed.  Sarelle had promised to tend to her once Ginal was no longer in danger of internal bleeding.  Selah's eyelids, too, called for rest, as her eyes ached.  She shook her head at the thoughts, though, refusing to rest in until Ginal was no longer in danger. 

So she sat on crate, in this cluttered makeshift room, rubbing her eyes and repeatedly blinking in the struggle to fight back exhaustion for another few minutes.  Furthermore, the hard crate was not a comfortable place to park her rear, which she hoped would make falling asleep difficult.

Ginal's chest rose and fell in slow but shallow breaths, and sometimes the pause between was just long enough to frighten Selah.  So it was back to Ginal's side, holding her hand and petting her hair.

I've never really known what the right thing was, in any part of life.  I've hurt a lot of people as I've chased after my personal freedom...  Like when I pushed you away that one day in Costa, and you ended up in the claws of that demon crab.  And before that, when I wouldn't recognize you as my equal, so you charged in to face the poacher king alone, and...and the others found you half dead from bleed out...

Self-loathing stirred in Selah's heart as she finally realized that her blurring vision was tears welling in her eyes.

You wanted so badly to impress me...you stupid girl, always pushing yourself so fucking hard just to impress me...  But you don't need my praise.  You're already so strong, so fierce and driven.  You owe me nothing. 

I love you so much, Ginal...but we're surrounded by so much pain just for being together.  Will we ever be happy?

The tears pooling at Selah's feet looked almost as though a glass of water were spilled.  For once, though, Selah found she didn't care about such a display.

A knocking on the partitions startled Selah, and she found Lord Drillemont waiting, carrying a tray set with a small kettle and two mugs.  Selah hastily wiped at her eyes, suddenly very conscious of the need to save face. 

"Not necessary, my girl." his words were gently spoken, tinged with a sadness his eyes echoed.  "You two must have been through quite an ordeal."

Selah stayed silent, with no effort made to conceal the mistrust with which she eyed the man.  He briefly paused, his shoulders drooping as he took notice of her gaze.  A sigh escaped as he poured a nearly black liquid, whose scent floated on the stream erupting from the kettle.

"Coffee?  In this tundra?"

A grin crossed Drillemont's lips as he handed the mug to Selah.  "A benefit of my station is that I can have almost anything imported."

Oh, gods, I have missed coffee.

The beverage had a dark, bitter and nutty flavor Selah immediately recognized as the staple roast of a Gridanian breakfast, and for a moment she forgot about how much her body ached.  Birdsong and the murmur of flowing streams played in her mind, and when she gazed out the nearest window, she could swear the gray skies and frozen ground had become fields of sun-kissed flowers surrounding the roots of mile-high trees.  The fantasy receded, and she noticed  Drillemont sitting in silence, gazing upon the floor.  Selah quirked a brow as she waited for him to gather his thoughts.

"I remember you, from years ago..."  Drillemont sighed,  seeming to have difficulty looking Selah in the eye.

"I thought so, since you used my...former name."

"Our ways and our people...can be very cruel.  Especially to those who are different.  Especially for women."

Drillemont's tone was so heavily laced with regret that it felt nearly tangible, and left Selah stunned at the unexpected sentiment.  She watched as the noble lord gently closed his hand over Ginal's, his shoulders slumped. 

"I've questioned my men...those who aren't so badly broken that they can still talk, and it seems we're guilty of lacking both discipline and compassion.  Maybe we've always been this way..."

Awkward silence filled the room.  Watching a man of such high station choke on his own remorse was something she'd never imagined would happen.  Was she supposed to be reassuring?  Or was she supposed to condemn the man for his subordinates' actions?

Gods, but I'm too tired to want to do either.

"I have often wished I were a man of bravery." Drillemont wistfully stated.  "Facing dragons is simple, for they can only kill me.  To face the many generations of tradition that are ingrained into our people, though, and speak out against fellow nobility?  That could have me stripped of allies, titles, land and rank, were I not extremely careful...and we're I not indisputably correct in my accusations.  I'm ashamed to admit how important these things had always been to me."

"Forgive me, Lord Drillemont, but I'm very tired.  Is there a point to this?"

A smirk crossed the lord's lips as he met Selah's gaze, which quickly receded into a grimace.  "I remember a young girl, not quite a woman grown, with all the promise in the world before her.  I also remember watching that promise slip away from her.  How her eyes, once brilliantly shining sapphires, lost their sheen...and how her smile, which once radiated warmth and serenity, became practiced and forced."

It felt like rubbing salt on a wound that had never truly mended, and Selah had to consciously control the pangs in her heart.

Gods, I wish he'd get to the point.

"You don't smile much anymore, do you, Selah?"

Her gaze drifted to the miqo'te sleeping on the cot, and her eyes narrowed to match the smiling curve of her lips.  "More than I used to.  It's amazing how natural a smile can be when you find a reason."

Drillemont inclined his head toward Ginal, his brow raised inquisitively.  "May I ask, what is she to you?"

"My fiance.  Though that should be my wife, by rights."

"By rights?"

Selah sighed despondently, "It's...complicated.  We're working toward fixing my mistakes right now, though."

"I'd like to know this story."

The hyur shook her head, "If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not."

His brow furrowed and eyes radiating resolve, Drillemont rested his hands under his chin.  "That wasn't a question, child.  The details of this story of yours may yet determine what course of action I decide on, next."

Deciding it was best to not risk upsetting her host, Selah recounted the details of the last year of her life.  The immediate friendship with Ginal, and how they fell in love.  Their almost full inability to be together because of the scars on their hearts.  The near-death experiences, and long journeys.  The resolve to embrace their love for each other, and make it work, damn the hardships.

Some details, though, Selah kept to herself.  Ginal's anatomy, and their first kiss in the Gold Court.  Dreams of a past life, and the games of Primalesque beings.  She also, deliberately, reworded the specifics she knew of Geoffrey's transformation.  These details were too intimate, or otherwise too bizzare, to share so soon, for she had no guarantees she could trust this nobleman before her.

Silence again blanketed the room as Drillemont paced about.  The shifting expressions on his face spoke of disbelief, sadness, intrigue, and lastly, resolve.

"Geoffrey was always a pompous, arrogant ass, even for Ishgardian nobility." Drillemont chided.  "His family had been petitioning the Holy See to be named as a great house for decades, and Geoffrey had long since learned to play the part as though he were so honered.  I had always felt glad to know of his supposed death at Cartineau."

"As was I." Selah agreed.  "Though the path of freedom was long and winding, it's the path that led me to Ginal...and to people I can actually call my friends."

"I had been wondering what the hells sort of monsters had taken residence in Stone Vigil.  Anything that can frighten off dragons is enough to cause me worry.  But why Stone Vigil?"

Selah could only shrug.  "He's been fixating on Falcon's Nest, I know that much.  Stone Vigil is nearest to there than any other fortress, so...maybe he's trying to use Stone Vigil as a place to stage his precious reconstruction.  Or maybe he simply started walking and that's where he ended up?  Fuck if I know."

"Either way, we're doing something about it." Drillemont stated.

"No, Lord Drillemont, it's not your fight." Selah sighed.

"It's not a request, child, nor a debate or discussion.  Geoffrey has become something evil, with the capacity to cause much harm to our people."  Drillemont's lips sat pursed as he paused, and allowed his eyes to meet Selah's gaze.  "Besides, I've already allowed you to suffer so much by looking the other way, even when I suspected the harm being done to you.  I will not look the other way this time, Selah."

Genuine disbelief halted Selah's thoughts as she grasped to make sense of the conversation.  Enough people had already been caught up in this insanity, hurt or even killed.  Now, though, someone was willingly trying to join them in this mess.  As much as Selah resented getting somebody else involved, she found herself grateful.

"Alright, Lord Drillemont." she sighed.  "What, exactly, do you intend to do to help us?"