No Success Without Sacrifice III [Solo]
Posted: Mon Nov 07, 2022 11:21 pm
20 ASh, Year 122
[Closed - Solo]
[Part II]
Whatever it was, be it Deus and Domina watching her return with her prizes, or sheer dumb luck, the girl made it back. She reclined in her saddle, twisting a bit in order to tie quick slip knots in the ropes in order to keep the rams closer and avoid collisions with the rest of the traffic in the streets. The sheep had lost more of their fight from being pulled along, but Hilana wasn’t counting them out yet. It would be foolish to do so, and as they made their way down the street to where her apartment was in the Antiquine District, she was glad it was so late. There were far fewer people out and about, less to antagonize the sheep, and she was glad that being hauled in this way had helped wear them out. She did have something for them, but she had to hope they were hungry enough for it. As she turned down the street towards her apartment, she had a look at the sky to gauge how much time she had before the sun was going to rise. It would be best to be at Mount Sorokyne in time to make her sacrifice and get back down to the Temple in order to make the Radiant Mass, and considering the leg injury... Plus she couldn’t take Hayima’el. As much as she really wanted to, she wasn’t taking any chances with the fact someone might well want to commandeer her uniquely-patterned bull and think him a worthy sacrifice on the eve of the Equinox. Best that he stay safe in his stable.
She dismounted, sliding off of her saddle and onto the tack box rather than going all the way down in one movement. If she didn’t have to jostle herself, so much the better, because she was going to have to make her way up four flights of stairs to get to her apartment. She secured the sheep, one at a time, to the sturdy brass rings that were anchored amongst the walls, meant for securing mounts through the wide hallway of the stable to prepare them for grooming or cleaning out their stalls. She untacked her camel, removing his saddle and the saddle pads, halter, and leads before turning him loose in his big box stall. “You are amazing,” she told him, her hands reaching to cup the camel’s cheeks, rubbing along his jaw while he blew air gently in her face. She returned the gesture, letting a slow, steady stream of air blow into his flaring nostrils. “You really are the best camel in Atraxia.” She grabbed some hay from the bale, putting it down by the sheep that stood there, still tied, before sprinkling in some of the clover. With luck, they’d be face-deep into it when she came back downstairs... and a lot better behaved.
Hilana left the stables, hauling her still-wet skirts in both arms to avoid tripping on them as she made her way to the apartment building and let herself in, starting the hike up four flights of stairs. No need to trip on them, and as wet as they were, they were getting ready to come right off her hips. Further, she also felt cold from the mounds of wet fabric and her time in the night air. Once she was able to get out of these wet clothes... she knew she’d feel a lot better. But every step ached, in both her leg and in her midsection. Just one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. That was all it was. One foot in front of the other until she found herself on the fourth floor. As soon as she got in, she undid her sandals before she stripped off her wet clothes and took them to the bathroom. The skirt was tossed in the shower stall for the time being and setting the plain white shirt on the vanity before getting out her medical supplies to get to work on cleaning and dressing her injuries.
She checked herself out in the mirror, and pulled a face at the growing pattern of bruises all over her abdomen and torso. Pressing with careful fingers made her certain that nothing was broken, just badly bruised and very tender. Good enough. One long leg came up to rest on the vanity, so that she could see her calf, and after she unwound the bandage, she began to clean it out with warm water, wiping and washing down the dried blood and inspecting the depth and damage that the ram had done in his efforts to save his own hide. Hilana didn’t begrudge him; she would have fought however possible to free herself, too. Satisfied, she shook up the bottle of cleansing solution and began to pour it into the wound, and that time she started swearing. “Faex, faex, faex, faex!” she cursed, rising up on her toes before breathing deeply, and watching it bubble as the solution frothed, and she wiped it away with a cloth before sluicing it once again. It didn’t hurt quite as much that time, but she certainly felt it. She applied the ointment before wiping her hands and adding a tight bandage, knotting it at the front in order to secure it. Her leg came down and she started on her arm, rinsing it out just as she had with the calf injury, sucking air through her teeth rather sharply. That damned ram...
Once her upper arm was bandaged, she rewrapped her midsection before putting her supplies back and made her way to the bedroom, yawning. One look at the clock beside the bed made her sigh and grab some more clothes. There was no time for a nap or to stop and rest, inasmuch as she might have liked to. She had two sets of skirts, one for Deus Avaerys’ temple, and one for Domina Varvara, but it was a plain skirt she put on for now so that she could deal with the sheep and Hayima’el without making her clothing filthy before attending the Radiant Mass. That was never an option, and if she’d shown up there looking like a little hog that had wallowed at the River, she would probably be struck dead before she even entered the Temple. She brushed her hair up, adding yellow ribbons to contrast the black of her tresses before securing it with another ribbon for the time being until it was time to go. She collected her python, tucking him amongst the bundled skirts in her rucksack and headed back down to the stables.
The rams were much quieter, placid, even, when she got back down. She let them be for now, starting to brush out her camel before giving him a couple of pats, satisfied with him for now and making sure he had plenty of food to make up for their adventure and his efforts in taming these wild creatures. She could actually sit on a stool with them now, taking the combs and starting to carefully brush out the golden brown hair. There was no fight, no resistance. She was not a Mesmer, but she had the knowledge of plants to do what she needed with them, and she intended to just keep them all mellowed out until their time came. There was no need for them to get excited. She didn’t want them excited. She wouldn’t win against them on her own if she did and she knew it. It was better to keep them calm. Their horns were rubbed down and polished to give them a shine, and now, she could just sit and rest. She almost wished she had made herself that tea, but she would just have to do without.
The net was hung on the wall of Hayima’el’s stall for the time being to let it dry out, and she knew it was time to change her skirts and put on her travel cloak before she could take a few minutes to rest again before she would start to make the trip up the Mount. The one who had gored her was certainly going to be the first one to go, as far as she was concerned, and as she leaned against the walls, she looked at the rams. She removed the ribbon tying her hair back, letting her hair flow before leaning back once more, taking a slow, deep breath, resting her hands in her lap. Pain. But pain was bearable. She felt something, she had accomplished something. It may not have been what others would have done, but she wasn't others. She was just herself. It would have been so much easier with a Rune of some sort. Just about any of them would have saved her a lot of effort and a lot of trouble, but as it was... Hilana was a graduate of the school of hard knocks, and she was perhaps too stubborn for her own good. Would the use of a Rune in these efforts have counted against her in the eyes of the Founders? Maybe. Maybe not. But Pain was always an excellent teacher... even if most preferred to avoid his lessons.
It wasn't long before it was time to make the trek, and Hilana ushered the second ram into Hayima'el's stall for the day, securing it in the corner where it had a bit of water and more hay and clover. She ran a rope across the top of the door to ensure the camel would be somewhat disinclined to come over and knock her about her second sacrifice. She needed that one in good shape for Domina Varvara, and she wasn't going to be able to come back and check until later...
"He of the Sceptre..."
"...She of the Scourge"
[Closed - Solo]
[Part II]
Whatever it was, be it Deus and Domina watching her return with her prizes, or sheer dumb luck, the girl made it back. She reclined in her saddle, twisting a bit in order to tie quick slip knots in the ropes in order to keep the rams closer and avoid collisions with the rest of the traffic in the streets. The sheep had lost more of their fight from being pulled along, but Hilana wasn’t counting them out yet. It would be foolish to do so, and as they made their way down the street to where her apartment was in the Antiquine District, she was glad it was so late. There were far fewer people out and about, less to antagonize the sheep, and she was glad that being hauled in this way had helped wear them out. She did have something for them, but she had to hope they were hungry enough for it. As she turned down the street towards her apartment, she had a look at the sky to gauge how much time she had before the sun was going to rise. It would be best to be at Mount Sorokyne in time to make her sacrifice and get back down to the Temple in order to make the Radiant Mass, and considering the leg injury... Plus she couldn’t take Hayima’el. As much as she really wanted to, she wasn’t taking any chances with the fact someone might well want to commandeer her uniquely-patterned bull and think him a worthy sacrifice on the eve of the Equinox. Best that he stay safe in his stable.
She dismounted, sliding off of her saddle and onto the tack box rather than going all the way down in one movement. If she didn’t have to jostle herself, so much the better, because she was going to have to make her way up four flights of stairs to get to her apartment. She secured the sheep, one at a time, to the sturdy brass rings that were anchored amongst the walls, meant for securing mounts through the wide hallway of the stable to prepare them for grooming or cleaning out their stalls. She untacked her camel, removing his saddle and the saddle pads, halter, and leads before turning him loose in his big box stall. “You are amazing,” she told him, her hands reaching to cup the camel’s cheeks, rubbing along his jaw while he blew air gently in her face. She returned the gesture, letting a slow, steady stream of air blow into his flaring nostrils. “You really are the best camel in Atraxia.” She grabbed some hay from the bale, putting it down by the sheep that stood there, still tied, before sprinkling in some of the clover. With luck, they’d be face-deep into it when she came back downstairs... and a lot better behaved.
Hilana left the stables, hauling her still-wet skirts in both arms to avoid tripping on them as she made her way to the apartment building and let herself in, starting the hike up four flights of stairs. No need to trip on them, and as wet as they were, they were getting ready to come right off her hips. Further, she also felt cold from the mounds of wet fabric and her time in the night air. Once she was able to get out of these wet clothes... she knew she’d feel a lot better. But every step ached, in both her leg and in her midsection. Just one foot in front of the other, one step at a time. That was all it was. One foot in front of the other until she found herself on the fourth floor. As soon as she got in, she undid her sandals before she stripped off her wet clothes and took them to the bathroom. The skirt was tossed in the shower stall for the time being and setting the plain white shirt on the vanity before getting out her medical supplies to get to work on cleaning and dressing her injuries.
She checked herself out in the mirror, and pulled a face at the growing pattern of bruises all over her abdomen and torso. Pressing with careful fingers made her certain that nothing was broken, just badly bruised and very tender. Good enough. One long leg came up to rest on the vanity, so that she could see her calf, and after she unwound the bandage, she began to clean it out with warm water, wiping and washing down the dried blood and inspecting the depth and damage that the ram had done in his efforts to save his own hide. Hilana didn’t begrudge him; she would have fought however possible to free herself, too. Satisfied, she shook up the bottle of cleansing solution and began to pour it into the wound, and that time she started swearing. “Faex, faex, faex, faex!” she cursed, rising up on her toes before breathing deeply, and watching it bubble as the solution frothed, and she wiped it away with a cloth before sluicing it once again. It didn’t hurt quite as much that time, but she certainly felt it. She applied the ointment before wiping her hands and adding a tight bandage, knotting it at the front in order to secure it. Her leg came down and she started on her arm, rinsing it out just as she had with the calf injury, sucking air through her teeth rather sharply. That damned ram...
Once her upper arm was bandaged, she rewrapped her midsection before putting her supplies back and made her way to the bedroom, yawning. One look at the clock beside the bed made her sigh and grab some more clothes. There was no time for a nap or to stop and rest, inasmuch as she might have liked to. She had two sets of skirts, one for Deus Avaerys’ temple, and one for Domina Varvara, but it was a plain skirt she put on for now so that she could deal with the sheep and Hayima’el without making her clothing filthy before attending the Radiant Mass. That was never an option, and if she’d shown up there looking like a little hog that had wallowed at the River, she would probably be struck dead before she even entered the Temple. She brushed her hair up, adding yellow ribbons to contrast the black of her tresses before securing it with another ribbon for the time being until it was time to go. She collected her python, tucking him amongst the bundled skirts in her rucksack and headed back down to the stables.
The rams were much quieter, placid, even, when she got back down. She let them be for now, starting to brush out her camel before giving him a couple of pats, satisfied with him for now and making sure he had plenty of food to make up for their adventure and his efforts in taming these wild creatures. She could actually sit on a stool with them now, taking the combs and starting to carefully brush out the golden brown hair. There was no fight, no resistance. She was not a Mesmer, but she had the knowledge of plants to do what she needed with them, and she intended to just keep them all mellowed out until their time came. There was no need for them to get excited. She didn’t want them excited. She wouldn’t win against them on her own if she did and she knew it. It was better to keep them calm. Their horns were rubbed down and polished to give them a shine, and now, she could just sit and rest. She almost wished she had made herself that tea, but she would just have to do without.
The net was hung on the wall of Hayima’el’s stall for the time being to let it dry out, and she knew it was time to change her skirts and put on her travel cloak before she could take a few minutes to rest again before she would start to make the trip up the Mount. The one who had gored her was certainly going to be the first one to go, as far as she was concerned, and as she leaned against the walls, she looked at the rams. She removed the ribbon tying her hair back, letting her hair flow before leaning back once more, taking a slow, deep breath, resting her hands in her lap. Pain. But pain was bearable. She felt something, she had accomplished something. It may not have been what others would have done, but she wasn't others. She was just herself. It would have been so much easier with a Rune of some sort. Just about any of them would have saved her a lot of effort and a lot of trouble, but as it was... Hilana was a graduate of the school of hard knocks, and she was perhaps too stubborn for her own good. Would the use of a Rune in these efforts have counted against her in the eyes of the Founders? Maybe. Maybe not. But Pain was always an excellent teacher... even if most preferred to avoid his lessons.
It wasn't long before it was time to make the trek, and Hilana ushered the second ram into Hayima'el's stall for the day, securing it in the corner where it had a bit of water and more hay and clover. She ran a rope across the top of the door to ensure the camel would be somewhat disinclined to come over and knock her about her second sacrifice. She needed that one in good shape for Domina Varvara, and she wasn't going to be able to come back and check until later...
"He of the Sceptre..."
"...She of the Scourge"