Legend of Ransera

(Closed - Khyan)

43 Searing, Year 122
Evening

Hilana was the only one of her sisters who deigned to have a job outside the home, and she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She enjoyed it - she was learning, she was getting more and more hands-on with what many people would have seen as grunt work, but botany and herbalism was about getting your hands dirty. If one wanted to be clean and tidy all the time… that was hardly a career for them. As it was, the sweetgrass in the back of the garden was ready for harvesting, and one of her tasks as the student and assistant was getting it prepared for its later use. And the best way to prepare it, Vasilei had told her, was to braid it.

That had been her morning - setting up the portable sun shield under a canvas tarp over a wooden frame, and settling down amongst the garden with a good pair of snipping pliers and a sharp knife. Her long skirts had been bundled around her knees - not because she had concern for the garment itself, but because she would have to go back into the shop, and an apron wasn’t going to save her hems. The long blades and strands, some of them almost as long as she was, were cut carefully and placed in the tall, wide-mouthed basket that was made of woven reeds. It was steady work, even under the relentless heat of the sun despite the protective shade, and she was still glad to be back inside with the sweetgrass. In between tending to customers, assisting them with bottles and vials, diagnosing and prescribing under Vasilei’s watchful eye, she would return to the table in the back corner to braid it. Sometimes just single-strand braids, sometimes more. Long braids, hung to tie, sometimes crown-like circles hung on pegs, some smaller and thicker bundles wrapped with themselves and hung that way. She found she enjoyed the scent of it; the way the aromatic sweetness stayed on her hands. It was relaxing, calming, and she wasn’t inclined to wash the scent away.

They would press some into oil, more would be brewed for teas and drinks for sickness, more still would be burned. Once sweetgrass dried, he had explained, it didn’t spark with an active flame. It smouldered, which made it ideal for allowing the scent and properties of the plant to become airborne and used as an inhalant and cleanser. A few shorter strands were turned into a bracelet, and she slipped it over her wrist like a bangle.

The sun had set by the time she left Sweet Remedies, making her way out into the cooling evening. The streets of the market were becoming more and more active as magical lights and lanterns assisted the stars with adding a brightness to the streets. The way the marketplace transformed once the sun went down was perhaps her favourite part of working there. The flowing, tiered skirt, dyed a rich hue of blue, rustled quietly with each step she made, and her fitted, sleeveless linen shirt exposed her midriff that was a more pale, natural colour. Her long hair was tied up and out of the way with her bandana, another flash of colour amidst the dark. It would be a long walk home to her apartment in the Antiquine District, but time flew when you were having fun.

Even though she was outside in the streets rather than stepping into one of the public houses, there was music everywhere, and you didn’t have to be a Mesmer to hear it. The string instruments, the reeds, the percussion… her hips moved to the sound of a tambourine as she walked, a skip in her step despite the very long day she had had. The music joined shouts of voices, of laughter, of people calling and greeting others, salesmen trying to entice those who had come out now that the brutish heat of the sun had waned. All kinds of crafters, from the tailors who plied fabrics to those who tinkered with metal and mechanics, all of them had stalls and open doors. There was plenty to see and savour, and if she hadn’t grown up in Tertium, it might have been overwhelming. But what was really getting her attention was the food vendors. While she had had a good lunch, she had worked up an appetite, and the sizzling meats and seasoned vegetables and breads were not helping.

She stopped to get a stick of kebabs from one of the vendors, paying quite happily for the reed skewer that was loaded with seasoned beef and some potatoes. A small sack of roasted chickpeas went into her rucksack. The rest of her food she could make when she got home. As she was making her way past the the throbbing crowd thronging around Mundus Vini, a shadow of something caught her eye in the night sky. And when she looked closer, pulling a piece of succulent meat off the skewer, she realized what it was: a bird. And as she watched it try to flap, try to fly, Hilana knew something was wrong with it. It was all she could do to hitch her skirts with her free hand and start running, the skewer clenched in her teeth, looking for all the world like a wild thing as she tried to catch the falling creature before it hit the ground with the extended hand.

The distance was too great, however, and she came up short. But the young woman was able to watch his attempts to flap in the sand, exhaling. His wings didn’t seem broken, but he had to be disoriented, perhaps concussed or shocked. She hoped he hadn’t broken a leg in the unceremonious landing on the sandy street, though. She made gentle crooning sounds as she crouched in front of him, letting her skirts pool around her again so that she could carefully lift the magpie up, checking him over in what lights there were in the street. One hand carefully tucked his wings down, smoothing feathers, as the fingers of her other hand checked his legs, feeling for any broken bones. She let her fingers do the work, knowing that with only her there, trying to turn over a fussy, panicking bird to check his legs visually as well was just going to be difficult. Once she was satisfied that nothing seemed broken, she had a look at his eyes, using the lights above and around him to check his pupils, continuing her sh-sh-sh sounds. She did make sure to keep her eyes out of reach of that beak, in the event that he decided to have a go at her with it. Definitely not completely there. Something had gone to the wee bird’s head, and so she rose to her feet, tucking him against her chest and finally taking the skewer out of her mouth. “I got you, little one,” she was gentle, her hold gentle enough to avoid damaging him, but secure enough to prevent any more flapping. Her hold on his toes gave him the opportunity to dig his nails into her hand and fingers if he so wanted, and the silver and copper earrings shimmered and reflected the lights around them. “Let’s get you home, hm?”

Hilana was not a practitioner of Semblance, or any other matters of the Arcane, and as far as she was concerned, what she had was a very sick bird that certainly needed help, something for nausea, water, and plenty of nursing. “You’re going to be alright, little one. Little Starshine. We will get you better. We’ll be home soon.”

To be fair to Khyan, his assumptions and suspicions were not too far off base. While she saw an opportunity to help and heal a sick bird now, Hilana had killed her share of wild birds to eat as a child when tending the flocks with the older boys who knew meat came when you could find it. But from those lessons, she knew, too: if it acted sick, it would make you sick. Plus, the corvids were just poor eating. You were better off taming one, simply because they were quite intelligent birds, and that could be useful when you were in the deserts. To top it off, while corvids were quite lean birds anyway, she knew from her careful probing over his breastbone that this one was skinny even for a magpie. Helping him and perhaps gaining a pet was worth far more than a decidedly unsatisfactory meal.

When he stopped protesting, tucked into safety though he was, Hilana’s steps had a renewed purpose. She might have been inclined to take her time on her trip home, to enjoy the sights and absorb the energy of the crowd, but in an instant, things had changed. Now she had a patient, and she'd rather not dawdle. Time counted when someone was sick, and this little magpie seemed to be a bit far gone. She knew that it wasn't her soothing that had calmed him; it was far more likely that he just didn't have the energy to protest and complain further. By the time she left Port Vasta, her kebab was finished, the reed skewer discarded into a garbage bin, and she headed for the Antiquine District and her home. It wasn't Sorokyne, but that didn't bother her - she wasn't as ostentatious as the rest of her family tended to be, but she was realistic enough to know she was not about to bed down with those desperate enough to do a lot of harm just to get a meal.

Hilana knew she had been lucky to get the apartment - it was spacious enough, furnished, and in one of the nicer neighbourhoods of the district. She knew she would be keeping strange hours, and she hadn't been interested in a rooming house, especially with her predilection towards creatures of all kinds. But the activity of the area was a good sort - there was always going to be crime, except perhaps in the areas where the more regal elves lived, but even then... that was just something that was kept hidden from the rest of them. As she walked, she kept checking on the sleeping bird, careful not to jostle him unduly and wake him from his slumber. She could still feel the faint movements of his chest that indicated breath; and that was important. His head was supported with her fingers, making sure that his airway stayed unobstructed, and if his breath hitched, she would know and could make adjustments. She let herself into the building and made her way up a couple of flights of stairs, and unlocked the door at the end of the hallway, letting herself in. The door closed and locked behind her, and after slipping off her sandals, she made her way towards the kitchen.

There, she turned on one of the lamps, the light emanating from the window helping to illuminate the tidy space as well. "Little Starshine," she murmured to him, gathering up a few soft hand towels to make a nest in a woven reed basket for him. She didn't set him down just yet as she arranged the towels to form a supportive ring - birds needed to be propped up, after all, or they would have problems. This way he could rest his abdomen and chest, and be able to be relatively upright. "Are you thirsty?" the Vastian woman carefully stroked his beak and head with her finger before getting a bowl of water and a spoon, setting it on the table before placing him carefully in the nest. One hand still lingered near his back, hoping that he wasn't going to decide to make another attempt at flight as she gathered water in the spoon, bringing it close to his beak to see if he could be enticed to drink on his own.

"There you are, Starshine," she smiled down at the magpie when he chittered at her, letting him drink as much as he would take. When he turned his head and beak away, she didn't trouble him to try to take more. An animal knew what it could and couldn't take, after all, and this way, she could at least get him rehydrated and hopefully get some food in him to deal with the shock. But with the way he laid his head down on the soft towels, she had a feeling he wasn't going to eat. But with the nest in the basket on the table, she could reheat her own food and keep an eye on him. If he did wake up and he did want something, then she had plenty. Magpies were opportunistic feeders, and they would eat what they could get. She had another thought, wondering if he had ingested something that had been poisoned. But with no way of knowing... she would have to let nature take its course, and let him rest. Perhaps that would be enough, and when he was ready, she could try to feed him.

She had made herself a larger batch of koshari and kibbeh a few days ago, simply on the grounds that bulk-batch meals were easiest when you were busy, and this way, it was there when she wanted it. And considering how late it was, starting a whole new meal this late wasn't a particularly good idea. She scooped some of the koshari, the mixture of chickpeas, rice, lentils, onions, and so much more, into a smaller pot and set it over the burner of the stove to warm up, adding a little bit of water to it before pulling out the leftover kibbeh, the meatballs, and setting them on top. The steam from the water and sauce would warm everything up, and keep it from drying out in the process, and Hilana rinsed off a few of the cooked chickpeas to get the spices off before placing them along the towels by the magpie's head in the event he desired a snack. She helped herself to the roasted chickpeas in her bag, leaning against the counter and watching her patient while her dinner warmed up.

The rest of the night was uneventful - Tiaz was curled up on his branches in his enclosure, the Vasti woman ate, cleaned her dishes and cleaned herself, before carefully lifting the basket-nest and carrying it with her to her bedroom, placing it by the pillow on the bed before changing out of her clothes and hanging them up. Her thick hair was undone and then worked into two braids, and she eased herself into the bed, making sure she didn't jostle the carefully padded bird. With luck, he would be more awake and aware in the morning. Settling under the blanket, Hilana watched him for a while until her own brown eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

While she'd gotten used to having a more sound sleep over the last two years or so that had been spent more in houses than in tents on bedrolls, always sleeping with one eye and both ears on alert that you got used to in the desert, Hilana was still a light sleeper. She'd woken up a time or two in the night, just to check on her patient and make sure that he was still with them in the world of the living, and satisfied that he hadn't left the mortal coil, she had gone back to sleep.

The room was nice enough, even in the light. It at least didn't seem to be some seedy pit above a tavern, but a bedroom that someone apparently lived in. It may not have been as nice as what he was used to, but it could certainly have been worse. Brightly coloured skirts hung on hangers, a small table had a few cosmetics and jewelry, the rugs were clean and serviceable, if not elaborate. It smelled nice, not from any discernible burning incense, but from little pots of plants and herbs, and more of them hanging from the rafters in clusters to dry. What in the name of the holy founders had he stumbled on?

When the woven basket had hit the rugs on the floor surrounding the bed, Hilana did stir. It may have only been a muffled sound, but it was enough for her groggy brain to register. Had Starshine fallen? When another form moved on the bed, she did find herself blinking awake to see a young Vastian man right where she had left her Magpie. That got her attention, and even though he had a polite smile fixed on his face, she was more concerned about the bird, and where the bird had gone to. The fact that Khyan was naked registered, but didn't faze her as she pushed herself up into a seated position, looking around. "Starshine?" It turned out that she, too, was also naked, but where he was largely unblemished, she had her share of scars on her hands and arms that he could at least see, tokens from work and play and childhood shenanigans. None of them seemed too gnarly, and most of them fairly faded, but she was looking around for something - not at the surroundings, so this was likely her place, but she rose up even higher on the bed, seeing the basket on the floor, and the soft towels underneath her new guest.

"Starshine?" she repeated, looking down at him. "There was a magpie," Hilana told him by way of explanation. "That I left exactly where you are now."