"Sakes, lad, I'm not going to hurt you. And have you had double vision or severe headaches?" Her fingers prodded at the bruise gently.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"N-no, ma'm," he said softly, glancing over to her for the briefest of moments. "A-a-a headache, a-a bit, but n-not ter-terrible." He grimaced at his own stutter, but couldn't do much to stop it.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"I'll give you some feverfew for that, then. Anything else bothering you? Gaius said you were quite nervous when he snuck out to see you last night." Sera wrinkled her nose and bent down to open her bag. "Though why he thinks that would be odd when he looks like some demented farmer's ruse half the time, I'll never know."
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
((She just says it like it is and ugh she's lovely))
He found himself slowly beginning to relax around the woman. She didn't seem to pose a threat, nor to have any desire to hurt him. Her comment about the Serpent Lord prompted the faintest of chuckles. Most anyone could've had that effect on him, really, but having the man who Sashka had in a cell a week ago only served to make that worse. He didn't know this place or these people or what he was and he didn't know how to get out of this one.
"N-no, 'm, thank you, ma'm," he replied.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
(I need to do a spinoff series about her. It'll be called Taking No Shit: The Life of an Apothecary.)
"Hm." She drew out a small bundle of herbs. "That stutter. Have you always had it or did it come up recently?" Sera rooted back through the bag, searching for something else. "I only ask because I'd rather not have to report you as concussed."
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
((PLEASE)) ((You do it and I will be your #1 follower in it))
"It-it's not new," he replied. Not controllable, but not recent. "I-I don't th-th-think it's so bad. B-been hit a lot worse be-before. St-t-tutter notwithstanding." He managed a slight smile, the tension leeching out of his posture.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
(As soon as I finish the other four novels I'm working on I will do it.)
"Good to hear." She plucked out a couple more herbs and sorted through the leaves, picking out several leaves. "This supply should last you about three days. Take one of the feverfew leaves in the mornings for the headache. Take the pointed ones to ward off cold, and this other one is to apply to your cuts and scrapes." Sera took out a damp rag. "Which I will now clean."
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"Yes, 'm," he said, nodding. He would've sat down to make it a bit easier for her, given his height, but there wasn't exactly a chair. He did bow his head a little, trying to keep her from having to lean up too far. "Thank you, m'am."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Sera dabbed at the wound on his head. "You were one of the Ivan girl's men, then?" Her touch was far gentler than her features would have suggested, and she cleaned the blood away with expert speed.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
"Yes, she...helped me ou-out of a sticky situation," he replied. "But I'm af-afraid I'm not all that good at fighting." There was a hint of rue in his tone, light as it was, and though he didn't meet her eyes, he did seem to be steadying out some.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"You wouldn't be down here if that were true. Your head would be on a pike with the rest of the guards." She paused. "Or your balls would be off, depending on how much you pissed Gaius off while he was a captive." She moved the rag to the scrapes on his arm.
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
He looked away, unsure how to answer that. She had a point. He rotated his arm so she could better reach them. "I don't know what he wants of me," he said after a few moments, watching as she washed away the blood.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"It's very likely he wants to figure out how you managed to impale such a large portion of his men on icicles," Sera replied stiffly. "And then use you to impale more men that are not under his employment. That shouldn't be for awhile yet, though. The silly man can't stay in bed for more than an hour."
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
He looked down, brow furrowing slightly. He couldn't quite remember. But he did recall the blood. There was always so much red. Beast indeed.
"I don't want to hurt people," he confessed, though his words were soft enough to be lost even in the quiet of the cell. "I-I didn't mean to. I don-don't even know how."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Well, I daresay Gaius will get to the bottom of it before he lets you out of this cell. And, chances are, you'll be hurting people as soon as he thinks he can trust you. That's his way." She finished cleaning the scratches and put away her supplies, then gave him a pitying look. "How old are you, lad?"
"The Imperial need for control is so desperate because it is so unnatural. Tyranny requires constant effort. It breaks, it leaks. Authority is brittle. Oppression is the mask of fear. Remember that." -Karis Nemik
What holds you betwixt panic and serenity? That is, if it's not among the many querulous quagmires unfit for elaboration. — soundofmind as Emiliano Achillinus
