Focus seemed to teeter back and forth in a heavy bog. As if she was both present in the moment, yet not at all about her wits either. Neither here nor there. Lost between the events of many yesterdays ago and trying to grasp the real-time of the present all the same with the discomfort of fever and irritation of sinus pressure agitated her wellbeing. She felt hot and cold simultaneously. The north, eh? Pearlescent gaze promptly turned to the long eared stranger. I was driven here from the south. Her expression softened despite her own tribulations faced. The new question that gnawed at her is if the stranger went through similar unfortunate events but could not muster the will nor the courage to spurn the rawness of it all once again. That would be admitting it happened. Because it did.
I had little choice but to come to Klewyth, He continued in leisure. Would you believe I had never felt even the spark of the cold before arriving here? Ianthe could not withhold the widening of her eyes of disbelief. Like a child struck with bewildered awe and unable to fathom how one did not experience the coming of winter and the first fresh blankets of snow covering the lands in a silent ocean of white. He proceeded to share that he would refrain the sharing of introductions for liability on his part. It’s less you can use against me if you don’t be a good girl and take your medicine willingly. Her cheeks flushed a pale pinkish hue. There was only another brief glance made towards the sickly substance swirling within that unsettling vial.
She prodded the contents of the medicine he spoke of to which he seemed content to share his knowledge. Ianthe would be lying to say she wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued. The closest experience she had was whatever had been written in books before they were snatched away by the hands of her mother following a heavy reprimand. A lady needn’t learn such things. Despite her desperation and willingness to learn such intriguing arts. It should cause no harm as it’s reliably safe, but I have my doubts that it will speed about your recovery.
The spotlight recentered itself, she had a decision that ultimately could not go undecided. A sigh escaped her, burying her face within her hands. Reason was beginning to strain her wants. Ianthe did not want to cause a scene within the display of a public eye even if the number of patrons were small. None came to inform her or the maid in whether or not her room was prepared which even if the space was temporary, it would have been the ideal place to run away to. “Alright.”
Relent sighed with the evidence of reluctance, drawing her hand to receive his potion.
They hadn't simply moved here, she had stated. They had fled to Odersten, a story he was kindred with for the most part. While he had certainly fled his homeland, his wandering steps had eventually brought him here. He wouldn't say his path was direct, but perhaps their origins were somewhat the same. He wouldn't press her for further details, as he held no remedy for that. Only time would mend the broken and warped wounds that pressed deeper to the root of her affliction. All he could do was treat the physical symptoms, those explained and detailed with cause and action through practiced science and medicine.
He knew not the full extent of her personal issues, but even if he did, he could prescribe nothing to aid her. Even to this day, he found himself comparing his progress and daily actions to those of a memory. While he knew his father would frown upon the trouble he had gotten himself deeply rooted in, he hoped he made up for it in other ways. The sting when he realized he could never ask the man for a second opinion on a matter for fresh perspective or even compare a mixture he made with one of the master crafter's was still fresh even after five years. He still looked for his face when he was gathering herbs and other ingredients, expecting to turn his vision over his shoulder to see the older man bent double and adjusting his crude spectacles to better determine the span of a leaf or the color of a certain species of plant. But he was no longer there. Perhaps his ghost still took its watch over him, but he did not believe so readily in those tales of superstition.
He caught the wide eyed awe that assumed her features. A soft chuckle left him, "My people come from a great forest. The trees were so large that many of my neighbors made the trunks their homes. It was mostly warm and sunny - at times very humid and balmy. The canopy was far above even the tallest of the buildings here." He informed, recalling briefly the features of friends and neighbors that merely became naught else. Perhaps some of them had escaped the cruel fate his father suffered, but if they had, they would forever be scattered across the land. An eerie realization to be so nonchalant of, and yet it was a fact he had come to accept.
In the present, however, it mattered very little. Should their paths cross again, he would be most glad, but none of them were ever to be the same as they were back in those days. Though their physical appearances may resemble those he was familiar with, he held his doubts that they were actually the same person he had known before. He certainly wasn't. There was a sinister musing, a depraved wish that they never beheld him, either. Not to say he hoped them dead, but his cerebrum gently revolved around the ideation that they find him not. That 'Farron' died in the village.
“Alright.”
His attention would lift to her countenance as she relented, though her intonation suggested she wasn't entirely happy about it. He offered her a faint simper, a gentler expression void the bite of his sarcasm. He would move his seat slightly closer, his hands held out in proffer so that he could remove his rain slaked gloves. "Would you mind to remove your hood, so I can get a better look at you?" his voice was a rough hum, and he would clear his throat slightly into the bend of his elbow, trying to alleviate the dredge of scarred tissue. "I know it isn't my place to pry into your business," he would also continue, attentive stare focused upon her shadowed apparition, "but if you are in some manner of trouble, I have a room you could stay in." Would come the offer, knowing he had the spare space in the loft above the shop. Also knowing that whatever had driven them from the north would have a harder time trying to discover them there. "Farron, by the way. Since you're being cooperative now."
My people come from a great forest. The trees were so large that many of my neighbors made the trunks their homes. It was mostly warm and sunny - at times very humid and balmy. He shared with her the brief tale of his previous life before Klewyth. Pearlescent doe-like sunrise gaze blinked unable to hide the evidence of interest, The canopy was far above even the tallest of the buildings here. Perhaps it was the sheltered life she was forced to endure while her head tilted back so that she could look towards the vaulted ceilings of the tavern. It was difficult to imagine that such a place existed, as if it were plucked from the very fables she had longed to disappear into as she hid from the ire of her mother’s scolding. “That sounds like something written out of a fantasy novel, I think.” Came her gentle muse. Her guard faltering enough to where a ghost of a smile managed to creep upon her delicate visage.
Ianthe caught herself and her cheeks flushed instantly. So much so she nearly hid behind the cloak draping over the crown of her skull. Internally she battled briefly a struggle that would have easily been decided by another not with the stubborn nature she possessed. Ultimately, she relented with a deflated droop of her shoulders. Would you mind to remove your hood, so I can get a better look at you? The stranger vied as his chair drifted closer. Ianthe hesitated if but for a moment. It was no fault to his own, but the unease that clawed angrily within her nerves like an incessant leech refusing to relent.
She obliged in a bashful manner as both hands found the rim of her hood and seamlessly pushed it back and exposed the unusual iridescent prismatic colors of her locks. The dark circles did not befit her pale freckled face. There was a subtle sheen beading her temples that exposed the evidence of fever. I know it isn’t my place to pry into your business, Ianthe could not bring herself to look up just yet as if she were anticipating her assailants to storm through the tavern doors. But if you are in some manner of trouble, I have a room you could stay in,
Immediately her eyes shot up with apparent bewilderment and uncertain disbelief. Ianthe took in a breath trying to find her words though they never came. “—Yes.” It was Jenny who would respond for her employer. The young maiden looked to her maid, baffled she would even implore the idea. “It would be wise given the… circumstances.” The elder seemed so certain. Ianthe felt her nerves stir, “At least until the manor is ready—” there was a hint of panic in her tone, “—I do not wish to cause you any more trouble than I already have sir—”Farron, by the way. His name came to a surprise as she only assumed he would keep such introductions under wraps. Since you’re being cooperative now. Her lower lip curled inward as one hand found the hecateolite stone which dressed her neck in nervous habit. “Farron,” she murmured under her breath, tasting his name upon her own tongue. "It's... nice."
“That sounds like something written out of a fantasy novel, I think.” He chuckled softly at that. "There are many different things outside of Klewyth." The words were low, his attention fixated upon what he could discern of the apparition of her features from unber the shaded protection of the hood. The first to note of her affliction was the easily spotted blotches of angry red that painted her cheeks. Covering the marring was a pale sheen of diamond sweat, a progression of her condition. His head would tilt faintly, an ear pressed back as a slight frown wandered onto his mouth.
He had hoped she wouldn't be so possessed by fever, but he had expected as much from the beginning with the explanations given by her maid. Her cheeks only swarmed with further pink as she smiled, the expression faltering swiftly as her shoulders fell from their rigid posture. Her hands would raise, fingers tentatively pulling back the covering and allowing the light to settle upon the pearlescent locks, a resplendent cascade of hair flat and dulled with the effects of her illness.
"Hmm, we need to get your fever down sooner rather than later." He informed, his voice attempting to soften despite the gruffness of it. He rose to his feet, his attention turning to the handmaid that answered his offering, much to what appeared the dismay of the young lady. “—Yes.” He would look between the two for a moment, his weight shifting as his ear twitched faintly. “It would be wise given the… circumstances.” His gaze would then cut sharply to the Lady Primrose. It did indeed seem that the two of them were, in fact, in some sort of trouble. Though, just as he had told her, he would not pry as it was none of his concern. It didn't settle well with him though for someone to harm an unarmed woman, let alone an elderly one as well. While his hands were not particularly clean he did have his own set of morals that had to be met ere he would lift his blade.
There was also some whisper of hope that helping those in need would clean at least part of the slate of sin that he had accumulated since he had left his homeland. “At least until the manor is ready—” he would wipe his hands on the cloth that rested upon the table top to act as a napkin, mentally tallying the small list of things to help her here and offer her what comforts he could. “—I do not wish to cause you any more trouble than I already have sir—” He would give a grunt, a gruff humor at the sentiment. "Then just don't be difficult, and take care of yourself. Then there won't be any trouble for me." He allowed the rag to drop from his grasp, running one had idly in contemplation through his mussed hair. "I won't have you chance getting your lady friend here sick trying to help you only for you not to accept it. She's worried beside herself over you, honestly. If not for you, then do it for her sake." His tone was light, airy despite any backlash he may receive for his honesty regarding the elderly woman. And honestly, he couldn't recall a time that he had spoken so much to a single person.
“Farron,” she clutched the stone at her pendant as she mirrored his name. "It's... nice." There seemed to be surprise in her tone, and he merely offered her a simper. Another lesson his old man had engraved upon him. One always caught more flies with honey than vinegar. He found people much more cooperative with him should he reward them with the same efforts. "I'll be right back, just getting clean water and a cloth from the bar keep. It would be best if you could remove the wet coat and try to get dry."
Shameful to admit, Ianthe hardly knew what the world could offer outside the tapestries and painted walls. Rarely was she ever granted but a glimpse if it were not for her brothers breaking her out of the cage of her room. Offering an exchange of clothes that did not, for once entail the suffocating bindings of a corset or uncomfortable itchy fabrics of stockings equally irritating heels. Even Jocelyn would sneak in a sweet or two for the young maiden in her youth who had otherwise a restricted diet. There are many different things outside of Klewyth. Pearlescent gaze would drift away as she considered his words, wondering if she would be able to make that brazen leap some day and explore without the worry of threat looming over her head. That was neither here nor there.
Instead, she cautiously obliged the request as the hood that once blanketed her head would undress. Ianthe felt far more vulnerable than she had. There was hardly a crowd and what faces did linger, her eyes would dart with some unrealistic fear that someone would call her out. This wasn’t the North anymore to which she attempted to remind herself. Hmm, attention promptly reeled back to the long-eared stranger, We need to get your fever down sooner rather than later. Ianthe wanted to protest but she held her tongue. He would have shifted the cards against her as he’d done once already. He did assure that there was no harm intended. But could she be so sure? He’d even offered a place of shelter – of hiding - for the time being.
Jocelyn made the arrangements promptly much to Ianthe’s surprise. It happened far too quickly for the young woman to argue as she’d already burdened Farron enough. Her promise of a limited timeline came out clumsy to which her mother would have berated and scolded her promptly. Her actions weren’t ladylike by her mothers expectations. Then just don’t be difficult, and take care of yourself. Then there won’t be any trouble for me. The tips of her ears reddened nodding quietly in understanding.
I won’t have you chance getting your lady friend here sick trying to help you only for you not to accept it. She’s worried beside herself over you, honestly. If not for you, then do it for her sake. Jocelyn stifled back a nervous laugh as she shook her head. This one was quite forward, wasn’t he? Perhaps her employer could learn a thing or two from him. “My apologies.” Ianthe murmured quietly to both her maid and Farron alike. A gentle aged hand would find the maidens shoulder with quiet forgiveness though in truth had long since grown used to her and knew that the fault did not wholly belong to the Primrose daughter.
“You’re far more like your father than your mother would’ve ever cared to admit dear.” The maid regarded in light jest. A small ghost of a smile tugged at her cheeks finding a brief sense of warmth in Jenny’s words. I’ll be right back, The chair that Farron sat in hissed against the floor when he stood, drawing her attention back to him. Just getting clean water and a clothe form the bar keep. It would be best if you could remove the wet coat and try to get dry. Ianthe noticed that the heavy rain had eventually settled into a light drizzle. There was the occasional flashes of lightening webbing across the dark clouds but the rage of the storm seemed to finally calm. Ianthe watched him step away as Jenny went to assist her in removing the damp coat from her person.
There was a pause as the maid took the coat and noticed the spread of red and unusual discoloration in the fabric of her blouse. There was an obvious tear in the back exposing the large wound across her back in a diagonal tear. A look of hurt tugged at the maids aged features realizing that Ianthe probably hadn’t felt the immediate wound as she’d more than likely grown numb to it as she’d been no stranger to her own mothers lashings. It was raining that night – and it was dark with far too much happening all at once… but how had she not noticed sooner? “Is everything alright, Jenny?” Though the maid did not answer and instead promptly followed after Farron as she sought for more currency in her own damp pockets. “Mister Farron, sir—a brief word if you will—” she may have found the if not a source of the fever.
Confused though finding no strength to pursue, Ianthe remained seated, watching the dance of the fire burn within its hearth. It was an inviting warmth that seemed to be a desperate want.
“My apologies.” The maiden murmured, her ears reddening softly further. While he wasn't normally exceedingly fond of those with prestige of title, he supposed this one wasn't shaping up to be as bad as some of the others he had crossed paths with under varying circumstances. Some had been prettier than others, and some meetings both parties had walked away in better shape than others. It was often times those ilk that Huian had set the guild's sights upon. He had turned a blind eye, been complacent in some regards to some of the... less savory events. Though he had refused to personally assist, it changed little that idle hands in the matter were just as much to blame as those slaked in blood by the end of the evening.
“You’re far more like your father than your mother would’ve ever cared to admit dear.” He would watch their conjoined exchange, if but just briefly. The two were obviously very close, leading him to believe that the elder had been in the young lady's employ for at least a large portion of the dame's life, if not all of it. Many of those loyal to their houses and their broods were with the children until one of their lives ended, he could only fathom that this was one very same occasion. It had been some of the worst parts of past jobs. Hui would tell him the atrocities the rich wrought upon the poor, whatever semblance of justification that would have him left his sword, only to be met by the loyalties of those indentured to the wealthy.
He wouldn't harm them if he could help it, just as he had told the young lady she should take more heed of the woman's condition. Her faithful loyalty was not something to be spurned of simply tossed aside in these days. Not when the hungry ravaged the streets and razed homes. The very same that were once in Jenny's position turning to bite the hand that once fed them as many servants were being cut loose to fend for themselves when coffers that were once thought would never run dry were beginning to scrape the bottom of.
Betrayers, cutting free what they perceived as dead weight had been the hand to light the Molotovs that ravaged parts of the city in recent days. He'd heard the alarums ringing in recent times all through hours of the day and night. The orange glow of vehement fire burning in a pyre to downtrodden's desperation. He had feared for his own workshop in recent days as well, though he seemed to be given a slight berth for the time being. Perhaps it was the karma of helping those less fortunate without the threat of increasing their debt that had brought fate to smile upon him. Maybe the masses just hadn't worked to his location yet, especially since this side of Odersten was certainly more quiet and sparsely populated than others.
He would leave them, however, his foot falls carrying him towards the front. "Rixton, could I get a pail of water and a few cloths?" The barkeep would offer him a nod, departing to get the materials from the back he requested as Farron stepped just barely around the counter to the well of clean water. No matter how many times he washed his hands, the sins were still there. So it was the contrition of exchange he hoped for now. To help and save as many lives as he had taken or been a part of the theft of. While he didn't exactly think she would die without his help, he certainly knew that what he could do would definitely ease her suffering and simplify her symptoms. Not only for her, but it would also ease the plaint of her hand maid as well, the very same that he suddenly heard chasing after him with hurried steps. “Mister Farron, sir—a brief word if you will—”"Hm?" he turned his features faintly to look at her over the curve of his shoulder as he ran the block of rendered soap over his palms.
Pearlescent sunrise gaze settled upon the dancing golden pyre tangoing within the hearth. Ianthe focused on the way the flames swirled and flittered against one another, the sound of the crackling and hiss of burning wood. It reminded her of the fireplace in her father’s study that seemed to constantly remain active whenever he was busily writing away with the ink-doused quill and the many parchments that required his upmost attention. The very warmth that came with it when he pulled her and her brothers in together during a eve of storys and tales alike which what sparked the youthful maidens blooming curiosities and wonders despite her mothers wishes. We do not fantasize a silly children’s tale, it is uncouth to the public eye. Rumors will spread that you’re not in the right of mind for the society ahead of you, Ianthe.
Even with the angry fever and the overwhelm of events that only just took place, Ianthe chuffed bitterly at her mother’s words now. She could do so without feeling the braided whip striking her back or the searing, reprimanding slap across her face. The maiden knew, however that she was not the only one who endured the repercussions of her mothers’ unrealistic demand. Her sights would lazily tilt towards the direction that which her maid had scurried off to, beckoning the aid found in the dying storm. If a seam was not even, or a piece of fabric so much as a centimeter out of place, so too did the staff endure such wrath for minor imperfections.
A small frown tugged the corners of her lips as a weight pressed against her chest as Farrons words tugged at her conscious. Perhaps she had been too offput with Jenny and that she truly did fret for the right reason. Ianthe would make a point in the near future to show and express her gratitude to the maid once they found their settlement safely within Klewyth. She would need to compensate the long-eared store owner too having to endure the wrath of the storm over a mere stranger.
Jocelyn, in the meantime made haste towards their help. She flashed a friendly smile to the barkeep as he tended to the request. “Sir Farron,” the maid regarded politely, Ianthe’s coat still in the clutches of her aged palms. She glanced over her shoulder to see her employer was beginning to doze until her head would begin to dip from the support of her palm, this continued on repeat. Her expression only softened until her attention returned to the long-eared patron. “I believe I’ve found what may be causing the fever but I fear I’ve made an error in doing so.” She extended the coat showing the gloss of red against the back, the stench of infection lingering.
“I fear there maybe traces of silver which is why it has not completely healed yet.” She would glance back to see that Ianthe may have, for the moment, lost the temporary battle with the clutches of the sandman as she contemplated her next words. “She may not have realized she was struck in the heat of the moment in our efforts of escape.” she adjusted the coat to rest within her arms with a deflated sigh. “I promise to compensate you as needed. But… do be patient with her, please sir, she is still learning how to simply… be, so to speak.” she chuckled softly though there was no humor behind it.
His attention was spared between ensuring his hands were properly cleansed and the hand maid of the noble lady. He listened intently to her plight, his full sights departing the water basin sharply as she held aloft the fabric he quickly recognized as the maiden's very cloak she had been wrapped in. He wasn't sure how he'd missed the scent of blood to begin with, let alone the untended lesions of infection that clung to the coat just as well as the very threads it was crafted from. “I believe I’ve found what may be causing the fever but I fear I’ve made an error in doing so.” His brow furrowed into a light frown. He'd certainly known that more than just tiredness had afflicted the woman, but he could only kick himself from his lapse of senses. Concern. Scornful worriment settled like silt within the forefront of his mind. He would shake his head, quickly drying his hands. Just as well that the barkeep would return with just what he had asked about. "Any open rooms by any chance, Rix?" He would inquire, quite the change of plans from merely wiping the sweat from her brow in between observance to see just what medicine would best do the trick. "Aye," the man would affirm with a nod, "I'll just take this there then." He added, departing with the already gathered goods.
He was an alchemist, and he knew plenty of remedies for colds, illnesses, and even antidotes to poisons and other more wicked arts. He wasn't a full fledged doctor, however. He knew the basics of first aid, things learned as his time as a guard and more picked up running with Hui's band of idiots and their frequent scrapes and bruises. He'd had to learn how to set broken bones, wrench bones back into place and other necessities. He didn't have a feather touch, however, and he wasn't practiced and fluent in such an art either, but he could certainly do what he could. For at this hour and in this weather they would not find a healer at the ready, especially not with the looming threat of war just upon the horizon either.
“I fear there maybe traces of silver which is why it has not completely healed yet.” He would only further frown, ears lancing back somewhat in obvious displeasure of the news. He had his suspicions based on the soft glow of the stone he had glimpsed earlier in their exchange. “She may not have realized she was struck in the heat of the moment in our efforts of escape.” Escape. There it was again, that hint of danger, and yet he would not press either of them. He wouldn't have liked another prying in his business. He didn't need to know their past to offer aid in the present. Though he held his doubts that the two were on the lamb from the long reach of some foreign law or any other manner of arrest for that matter.
“I promise to compensate you as needed. But… do be patient with her, please sir, she is still learning how to simply… be, so to speak.” One ear twitched forward, the other remaining somewhat strenuously held back. Though the wariness didn't leave his expression, there was a flicker of confusion that came as he tilted his head at the woman faintly. "If I wasn't being patient, I'd have left the first time she refused. Forgive me, but I don't make a habit of sugar coating words. Though my intention isn't to be cruel, mind." His expression would drift further, becoming momentarily blank as he witnessed the way the woman's head lilted, claimed by sleep or simply unconscious he wasn't sure. "I'll carry her to the room, if that's alright? Then I'll have to take a trip back to my shop, I believe. I certainly wasn't expecting... this." He would shake his head, a faint sigh leaving him. "Just to be clear, miss, she'll need to see a real doctor - the sooner the better. I'll do what I can to tend to her hurts and get her through the night, but.... I don't think I'm the right one to look after her wounds for the long run."
Perhaps it was the rain that muddled the scent of iron. The splashes of grass and soil, leaves, plants alike to nullifying the heavy stench as they fled through the trees first by foot, eventually by carriage by what little staff that remained within the Primrose estate. There was only the slight irritation that felt more like an annoying bug bite rather than the actual gnarled, jagged mark down her back, numb by the burning sear as it felt far too similar that the whip that struck her many a times before. Her mother made sure to strike where eyes could not directly find any blemish or mark. This is for your own good, Ianthe. There is no other way for you to learn the error of your mishaps. A brow merely twitched, her eyes far too heavy to open now as sleep finally found her.
If I wasn't being patient, I'd have left the first time she refused. Forgive me, but I don't make a habit of sugar-coating words. Though my intention isn't to be cruel, mind. Jenny offered a soft smile of understanding, the elder nodding her head. “Of course, sir.” she regarded. Anyone could have easily turned their nose away from a stranger – let alone two caught in the midst of a summer storm plagued with infection. They could have some incurable plague, contagious and he had all in the right might to deny her request. “Your honesty is a breath of fresh air.” the maid mused with aged mirth as she cast another maternal glance back to her patron. She watched the rise and fall of Ianthe’s shoulders. Asleep, finally. Worry however did not leave her with haste, but lingered still like guilt pitting her against the wall for this new discovery based on careless actions. I'll carry her to the room, if that's alright? Then I'll have to take a trip back to my shop, I believe. I certainly wasn't expecting... this
“Oh, I’m far too old to carry anything heavier than a sack of grain these days.” Jenny chortled carefully folding the coat in her arms while being mindful of the scarlet ichor. A inclination that she was hardly opposed to Farron carrying the young maiden to a room away from the public eye. The less attention the better came the hope. “I merely assumed it was the weather,” the maid admitted hoping that such ailments would have long subsided by now. She too mentally scolding herself for her carelessness. Just to be clear, miss, she'll need to see a real doctor - the sooner the better. I'll do what I can to tend to her hurts and get her through the night, but.... I don't think I'm the right one to look after her wounds for the long run.
The elder offered a prim nod of assurance; “I understand sir,” she conceded. “If you happen to have any strong recommendations for a physician within the area, as I would not know where to begin to look around these parts.” Aged eyes glanced to see Ianthe’s head bob back and forth from her palm to nearly rolling off the cliff of her hand. Shoulders rising and falling with a heavy sigh. “Anything you are able to do presently will be more than enough help in the meantime, of course."
“Of course, sir.” Came her acknowledgement, a rueful smile slipping over the aged lines of her features. “Your honesty is a breath of fresh air.” He supposed in one way or another such things were foreign to most with coin. People oft told them what they felt they wanted to hear, weither it be a barren lie or some misshapen tense of truth warped to meet their desires. Even those who would claim the space occupied by a friend were prone to it from what he'd seen. It wasn't a problem reserved for the rich, however. Lies left tongues regardless of social standings. Mortal. Immortal. Nothing of that mattered, it all came down to the base of human nature. Even those undead could still be plagued by it. Greed, loathsomely green eyes. Despite the burn of the whiskey prior, he found that already most of its presence had faded, and a silent nagging in the back of his head whispered that perhaps he would need a bit more. He supposed that would depend on how bad the would was when he truly looked at it. A huffing sigh left his lips as he brushed the back of his hand over his forehead, pressing back the gnarl of his still damp hair. To be quite honest, he wasn't looking forward to another trip out in this either, but the inn wouldn't have what he needed entirely. He'd brought basic ingredients for a tonic to cure the ailments brought on by the less than stellar weather - not for infection and weeping flesh.
“Oh, I’m far too old to carry anything heavier than a sack of grain these days.” she would mutter a brief chuckle, and he rolled his shoulders faintly. "Alright," the words would leave him as his footfalls began to carry him back towards the table she occupied. "If any of this belongs to you all, I suggest taking it up now, as it likely won't be here when you get back." came the additional warning. It also served as a faint warning to the Lady, if she hadn't noticed their return, or if she stirred at all. She was, however, tucked away quite troublesomely, in the corner of the booth. He would press the table aside, just enough to better reach her. His touch would be gentle as he sought to scoop her up, an arm at her knees, the other just behind her head in effort not to touch the torn fabric of her dress and ultimately the wound just beneath it. Its presence was now almost overwhelming, and the smell of iron was in full assault of his sensitive nose.
Just how long had they been on the run? How long had it gone untreated to get to this condition? He would shake his head, dismissing the line of unspoken questioning. Curious stares would follow his path, though he wished it wasn't so, there was little in the ways of privacy that could be afforded that she would be staying here for at least the night. A sidelong glance was afforded to the hand maid once again, his jaw set slightly tighter, his vocals a lot, graveled intonation meant for her ear only. "I'm not going to pry, but is there a chance your trouble may follow you?" From peripherals, he would observe the woman strictly, searching for any inkling that along with his other tools, he should bring the ply of his.... other trade.
"As for doctors, there's a man who goes by Lassinger." He informed, as well as to answer her, a rouse to comply with a sense of normalcy for any straining ears. "He frequents my shop, and he seems to be a good man. His clinic is a bit on the small side, and lies near the eastern wall, on the same street you found me on." He was also good at keeping his mouth shut, should that be another appealing trait for the pair.
