Potions and Poisons
86th of Ash, Year 120 AS
Iselya had the habit of coming to work far too early. This had started when she discovered that walking through the Tranquil Gardens when there was no one else around was more soothing than she could ever imagine. It was not the most beautiful place she had ever seen, but she was fond of it anyways. Even in the season of ash, the colors were still as vibrant as ever. As she walked pass a shrub of rosemary, the healer knelt and gathered a handful of them.
She proceeded to make her way to the main entrance, her robes billowing behind her. There were only a few attendants greeting her as she passed, all clad in emerald of the House Ahvitin.
The door to clinic suddenly open and Heowynne slipped out of the room, eyes wide and blonde hair disheveled. No doubt she woke up late and only rushed to tidy the room when she saw Iselya was coming from afar. From all the assistants she had dealt with, Heowynne was certainly the most driven. It also did not hurt that she could stomach necromancy. The young human straightened and flipping through the charts in her arm. “Healer d’Svaris, you have five appointments so far. Most of them in the evenings.”
Iselya nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Heowynne. You should go get yourself some breakfast from the cafeteria.”
Nodding gratefully, the aspiring young healer quickly bid her farewell, promising to return with some tea. The Siltori slipped into the room and took a quick look as she placed the rosemary on her worktable. All her tools were already arranged neatly the way she wanted it to, ready for use. Heowynne may not be the brightest, but she certainly listened well. The sheets on the examination bed was slightly askew and the healer tucked it into place.
As she sank into her chair, the Siltori let out a soft sigh and looked around the room that she had called her office for three seasons. It was considerably smaller than her working space in Ailos, but it was more than enough for her to stock everything she needed. Large windows that went from floor to ceiling filtered in the soft sunlight, showering her in a gentle warmth. On the other side, the wall was line with cupboards hiding dozens of containers filled with her ichor. While her necromantic magic was greatly appreciated, Iselya had been specifically instructed to keep the more gruesome part of it well away from plain sight. After all, jarred blood certainly didn’t exactly scream tranquility. Meanwhile, more mundane potions are proudly displayed, their diverse colors glistening under the sun.
Iselya wondered how long she would be able to stay, playing healer to the people of Kalzasi. Some days she was sure that this was it, that this was her chance to finally settle down and no one would find her here. Other days she could see it clearly in her mind, Gelerian soldiers breaking through the door and ready to capture her. Iselya reached for a book detailing the various properties of medicinal herbs – tedious reading always worked to take her mind of things.
She didn’t know how much time had passed but two knocks broke her focus. It was time for her to start the day.