Recovery (solo)

[Fawn]

45th of Frost, 120 - 1st of Glade 121

Fawn didn't remember much of the trip to the palace. She'd been watched for almost a week under careful supervision. A few times she'd cough up a small pool of bile and blood, though mostly she refused food and consumed only water and the small crackers they brought. It wasn't like she was trying not to eat, but putting anything in her mouth meant the gash on her cheek would move, and that in itself would send waves of nausea through her system. But she still made sure to thank the nurses when she could muster it. Which wasn't often.

Mostly though she just pet Mino when he would show up, and slept. Cold, restless sleep with only a few hours at most at a time snatched before the nightmares would wake her into a fit of thrashing and screaming that haunted the quiet halls. It was that very thrashing on her first night being watched that caused them to have to re-position one of her ribs and keep her an additional day while they fed her sedatives. But she welcomed it. The herbal sedatives would slip into her system and send her into a dreamless, painless sleep and allow her a full night's rest. It didn't come without its own side effects though, as she'd wake with severe nausea and be unable to consume much more than a few sips of water before wretching into a small bin that had been placed at her bedside.

For those nights Fawn wished she could escape the room. It was cold, lonely, quiet, and in some ways the clacking of heels in the hallway reminded her of the stairs at Havershims. She couldn't have been more glad when she was finally cleared to leave the emergency watch and be transported to the palace. Even sent off with painkillers, she slept nearly the entire trip there.

The weeks in the palace went by like a hazy dream. At times she would be awake for days on end, unable to sleep as her body became resistant to the sleep aids. Though more than that she was fighting between the choice of being terrified of not being in control of her body and dreaming of Havershim. The choice was so impossible most nights that she'd choose instead to stay up and watch the moon and the stars. A few times Mino had come to see her, and she was thankful for that company. It was those nights she found the most comfort. His soft purring, gentle rise and fall of his chest, she would cuddle up to him and sob softly into fur before drifting off into the night with blankets wrapped tightly around her.

Though his stay was often longer than the palace security preferred, she took those nights to be selfish. Part of her felt guilty for the request, to let someone stay overnight when she already was taking over an entire room, but in the end her nightmares dictated her choices. She needed him there. And on the nights he wasn't, instead spent time writing letters to Rickter and Telion. Especially when Mino had stopped showing up towards the end of Frost. It seemed her visitors were dwindling and with it her hopes that she would keep her friendships. Was she too weak, now? Had she proven herself unable to be reliable, and thus unworthy of their friendships? And it wasn't like she knew how to contact Mino- he'd never given her any address or correspondence instruction aside from 'follow the cats'.

During her days the palace medical staff would be attending to her as if she were the only person alive- though they likely had a much larger staff than what entered her room, she was thankful for their devoted attention. But shame was stronger. The shame of her failure, her mistake, the hardship she brought upon the palace simply by her weakness. Countless days were spent apologizing to the staff who never once chastised nor judged her, though she felt they should. It was an odd, foreign feeling. She knew if anyone else had been in her shoes that she would never judge them the way she was judging herself.

Then why? Why was it so hard to let go of the shame that washed over her like the hot waters of the baths they poured for her? She wished they'd have scrubbed her skin harder. Rougher. As if the man was still not gone from her skin even after weeks of assisted baths and aether-assisted healing spells that did wonders to speed along the recovery of her wounds. She would have left sooner had it not been for the staff insisting upon her staying longer. Something about watching her sleep, about making sure her ribs were completely healed, and that no other underlying injured had been hidden.

And on the 91st of Frost she got the word. She was ready to go back home. Back to Lyra's shop. Back to the busy streets she had only been able to hear for the past few weeks. She still felt weak, and knew now exactly how strongly she wanted to learn magic.

'I have people to protect. But if I can't protect myself, how can I ever expect to protect them?'

And on the 1st of Glade, with the chill in the air finally gone as the midday sun warmed her skin, she stepped back into the city.