Ataraxis
05-13-08, 06:35 PM
Sequel to Into and Out of Hiding (http://althanas.com/world/showthread.php?t=8651).
Closed to Izvilvin.
“Can you still walk?”
These past few days, the voices without had become distant warbles, a mess of strings that she cared not to disentangle. She would nod and smile, wanly of course, but would give no one the comfort of an elaborate answer. And yet, the citizens of Scara Brae never ceased to flock at her bedside, to the point that there was now a greater influx of visitors than actual patients in the clinic.
They always made a mess of her assigned room. Twice, they broke the oil lamp on her night table; because of that, she hadn’t been allowed to read after dark until they could find replacements. Simple candles were apparently a fire hazard that they could not risk. She’d also stopped counting the times they tipped over her broths by mistake. Everyday, she looked forward to that soup. It was the tastiest thing they were able to cook in this catchpenny place, and by common standards it wasn’t even that good.
Lillian sighed. She had saved Scara Brae from ruination, and she would never regret it. The librarian only wished that the citizens of the port city weren’t so annoyingly grateful.
Three days. Three days since the attack of the goblins, riding their giant spiders. Three days since the little grey buggers were betrayed by their own chitinous steeds, when what could only be described as their eight-legged God had risen from the shadows of the docks. Three days since she had fallen from its back, and into the mercurial seas. The waters had spit her out, swallowing the beast instead. She was told that was when they brought her here, fearing that she might have caught a cold.
She hadn’t. What she did have was a broken spine.
“Can you still walk?” repeated the freckle-faced boy at her bedside. “Come on, let’s go out and play! You can show everyone how you defeated that monster! I’ll play the Drow mister, okay?”
The physician came back not a moment too soon, hurrying to pull the boy away by the shoulder. “Miss Sesthal can’t come out yet, I’m afraid. Oh, don’t be mad at her, those were my orders.” The child ran out, turning back one last time with a wounded frown before disappearing down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I told the nurse to stay here and keep them from coming in.”
Lillian met the man’s apologetic gaze. It fell away, hiding the hurt in his eyes. Then, he left. 'She smiles... and nods. Always.'
Slowly, carefully, she turned to the other side and peered through the latticed window. It was a clear sky, but the sun was elsewhere. She watched the clouds for a while, puffy white brushes drifting from frame to frame on a canvas of pastel blue. Carefree.
“So tired.” Giving up, Lillian let her mind go numb, until she was sound asleep. She wondered if she would dream, this time.
Closed to Izvilvin.
“Can you still walk?”
These past few days, the voices without had become distant warbles, a mess of strings that she cared not to disentangle. She would nod and smile, wanly of course, but would give no one the comfort of an elaborate answer. And yet, the citizens of Scara Brae never ceased to flock at her bedside, to the point that there was now a greater influx of visitors than actual patients in the clinic.
They always made a mess of her assigned room. Twice, they broke the oil lamp on her night table; because of that, she hadn’t been allowed to read after dark until they could find replacements. Simple candles were apparently a fire hazard that they could not risk. She’d also stopped counting the times they tipped over her broths by mistake. Everyday, she looked forward to that soup. It was the tastiest thing they were able to cook in this catchpenny place, and by common standards it wasn’t even that good.
Lillian sighed. She had saved Scara Brae from ruination, and she would never regret it. The librarian only wished that the citizens of the port city weren’t so annoyingly grateful.
Three days. Three days since the attack of the goblins, riding their giant spiders. Three days since the little grey buggers were betrayed by their own chitinous steeds, when what could only be described as their eight-legged God had risen from the shadows of the docks. Three days since she had fallen from its back, and into the mercurial seas. The waters had spit her out, swallowing the beast instead. She was told that was when they brought her here, fearing that she might have caught a cold.
She hadn’t. What she did have was a broken spine.
“Can you still walk?” repeated the freckle-faced boy at her bedside. “Come on, let’s go out and play! You can show everyone how you defeated that monster! I’ll play the Drow mister, okay?”
The physician came back not a moment too soon, hurrying to pull the boy away by the shoulder. “Miss Sesthal can’t come out yet, I’m afraid. Oh, don’t be mad at her, those were my orders.” The child ran out, turning back one last time with a wounded frown before disappearing down the stairs. “I’m sorry, I told the nurse to stay here and keep them from coming in.”
Lillian met the man’s apologetic gaze. It fell away, hiding the hurt in his eyes. Then, he left. 'She smiles... and nods. Always.'
Slowly, carefully, she turned to the other side and peered through the latticed window. It was a clear sky, but the sun was elsewhere. She watched the clouds for a while, puffy white brushes drifting from frame to frame on a canvas of pastel blue. Carefree.
“So tired.” Giving up, Lillian let her mind go numb, until she was sound asleep. She wondered if she would dream, this time.