Why are Damsels Always in Distress? (Theying)

[Isabetta Leonard]

The cry of seabirds and crash of waves had receded into little more than background music as Isabetta moved further into Jaedaxia. The general bustle of city life stepped in to take its place, merchants hawking thier wares and the natural hum of people going about their days punctuated here and there with the clopping of horse's hooves on cobbled streets.

Beneath the clatter of the city came a softer rumbling as Beth's stomach complained of its emptiness. There was no help for it. The lady hadn't been able to eat a decent meal since she'd set sail from Ieffreon, a fact easily blamed on the lack of fresh food in the ship's larder. She hoped that, now that her feet were on solid ground again, she might be able to answer that rumbling call. Her thoughts ran rampant as she ate imaginary foods, fresh fried fish with their skins so crisp around the moist flesh, smothered in carmelized onions and just a spritz of lemon... with strawberries, she decided. Isabetta had a sudden craving to taste the red sweetness of summer strawberries.

Following the curve of the street, the young woman stopped at a building with a sign bearing a picture of food. Isabetta couldn't read the name on the sign, all of the words seemed foreign to her here, but the picture said enough. The dress that she wore wasn't her best - a high waisted overdress of blue wool with upper and lower sleeves segmented and tied together with ribbons over a cream blouse and underdress - but it was good enough to dine in public she decided. She stepped beneath the pointed archway that led into the restaurant but before the waiter could even arrive to offer her a table, the rich smells of food wafted across her senses sending her running back out into the street. It smelled warm and savory and it was going to make her ill.

Isabetta beat a retreat at a brisk pace, but the lady in her refused to allow her to break into a run. She didn't pay much attention to where she was going, but just wanted to get away from the main crowd of the city to a place where she could compose herself in private. Her hand trailing a building, she rounded a corner into an alleyway only to be confronted by the resident's trash heap.

The smell of rotten food mixed with excrement assaulted her olfactory sensors sending her over the edge. Bending double, Isabetta's empty stomach heaved. One delicate hand pulled at her hair to keep it out of the way as her other cradled her heaving stomach, but nothing came forth. Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets if she could not relieve the pressure, but there was nothing in her stomach to begin with - no amount of force was going to produce what wasn't there.

The tall, willowy form dropped to her knees as the heaving subsided, her woolen skirts protecting her legs from the cold ground beneath. Tears had formed from the violence of the muscle contractions. She wiped the moisture from her eyes and the spittle from her lips. Her mouth opened to suck in huge gulping breaths of cool winter air as she willed her body not to begin again.

[Theying]

Theying stretched a bit in the alleyway behind the plot he grew herbs in. During winter there wasn't all that much to do, as there were only a relatively modest collection of herbs and flowers to care for in those months. The plants that grew and regrew annually were gone and many of the others were in a deep sleep. The handful of herbs remaining were often among the heartiest and most self-sufficient (not to mention with the strongest scent, not unpleasant but overpowering). Still, the tradesman was unwilling to cut back on the time he spent in and around the garden, for fear of having more of his time reallocated to other duities on a more perminent basis.

Rather than sit around or be bored, Theyiing was practicing technique. Particularly with the fine elvish steel throwing daggers he acquired on a previous trip. Theying had come to determine the natural bias of the thrown weapons, while they were of excellent quality true perfection was not attainable by mortal smiths so the daggers went just a bit up and to the left from the place where he aimed. That was one thing he needed to adjust for. Still, the fine instruments were something that the herbalist prided himself in owning.

The relatively short man took up his normal stance, with legs apart and his left foot ahead. His hand forming the same grip on the dagger that most would use on a hammer, sure there were fancier ways to throw but Theying was unaware of them. Besides, this method was easy to do and highly controlled even if it did take longer than those espoused by the most highly skilled of practitioners.

He was preparing to begin the motions of the throw proper when he noticed a young woman apparently in some kind of trouble. He immediately dropped what he was doing (but not the dagger, that would be dangerous) to head over to her. When he arrived he was still quite uncertain as to what the problem was.

"Are you alright?" Theying inquired, concern in his voice. "Can I be of help?"

[Isabetta Leonard]

The crumpled form gave a visible start at the sound of the man’s voice, obviously unaware that the alleyway was already occupied. Isabetta’s sun-bleached head came up sharply to locate the source of the voice, her eyes landing on the approaching figure.

“My apologies for the intrusion.” Her voice was soft and honey-smooth. The pale flesh of her cheeks turned a rosy blush at having been found in so compromising a position. Long legs curled beneath her, pushing her form erect again. Vertigo washed over her at the sudden change in position sending one slender hand shooting out to grasp the wall beside her. Standing upright, the lady was easily on eye level with the man, her height a gift of her Vagaran roots, though, having been raised by strangers, Isabetta could only guess at her lineage. She was not one usually given to much conversation but she felt some explanation was in order.

“I’ve recently arrived by ship,” the honeyed voice continued, “I fear the movement of the sea does not agree with me – or perhaps it was merely that the food they served aboard ship was… not the freshest.” She had already been in Jaedaxia for a few brightenings, but she couldn’t come up with any other reason for feeling the way she did.

The rosy cream of her cheeks threatened to give way once again to a sickly green as she remembered what passed for food on the ship. If one got past the maggots and acrid smell, it was mostly edible. Her free hand pressed against the flat of her stomach as if willing it to subside but she quickly covered the movement by smoothing the blue wool of her skirt instead.

Her gaze traveled the length of her would-be hero, stopping as she noticed the glint in his hand. Stormy gray eyes widened in shock and fear as she realized he was approaching with a weapon in his hand. The rise and fall of her chest beneath the bodice of her dress quickened and her nostrils flared with the increased need for breath. She pressed her back to the wall, seeking refuge in its rough solidity.

“I… I don’t have anything of value. A few bank notes. Take them, if you will, but please don’t hurt me.”

[Theying]

Theying empathized with her comments about ship food. He rarely ate it if he could avoid it, preferring the generally fresher fare of shore establishments or even using herbal substitutes for food over ship travel that only lasted a couple brightenings. It was also normally cheaper like that, too. That really went a long way.

He was about to respond when she reacted in a manner that he honestly didn't expect. Fear wasn't the sort of reaction that the relatively short herbalist expected out of strangers. He was hardly an imposing figure, and it often took poisoning a couple of bandits before people in a new area figured out that Theying wasn't an easy mugging target. The skilled tradesman was shocked to discover his dagger still in his had, he thought he had returned it to the specially made sheath in his jacket prior to arriving.

He flushed in embarrassment at the rather boneheaded mistake. He turned the dagger around so that he was holding the blade and proffered the handle to her. "I must apologize Madame," Theying said earnestly. "It appears that I have given offense by neglecting to put this dangerous toy of mine away. If it would make you feel better you can hold it until you trust me. I was going to offer to provide something to help settle your stomach, but it appears that I have bungled that opportunity quite throughly."

[Isabetta Leonard]

Weapons had never been allowed in the home of Florinda and Edlene Leonard where Isabetta had been raised to be a lady. Though known as ‘the Leonard sisters’, Edlene had actually married a young officer in the military and taken his name as young women were wont to do. It was the tragic death of this same officer during his line of duties - while he was still young - that caused Edlene to eschew all things militant, including weaponry, in the hopes of sparing her children their father’s demise. The sisters were approaching their elder years by the time Isabetta came into their lives, but their philosophy had not waned.

The lady standing before Theying looked at the proffered knife as if it were an adder that would bite her the moment she accepted it. Her options were not favorable in her opinion – take the dreaded thing into her own hands, or leave it in the hands of a possible threat. After a moment’s hesitation she reached out and took the weapon, holding it gingerly between her thumb and one finger, but keeping it at arm’s length.

“Something to help settle my stomach?” Her gaze tore reluctantly away from the knife in her hand to look at the man, hope dawning in her eyes despite her distrust. “Are… are you a physician? Is this a tool of your trade?”

The reedy woman looked again down at the metal bit between her fingers, holding it higher so that she might get a better view. It didn’t look like a physician’s instrument, but then, Beth wasn’t really versed in such things. And hadn’t he called it a ‘toy’? A dangerous toy, he had said.

“I’m sorry. I must sound like a twit.” She rather felt like a twit. This trip to Jaedaxia was her first foray out into the world without her ‘Aunts’ to chaperone and Isabetta was beginning to get a glimmer of just how sheltered her life with the Leonard sisters had been. “I would greatly appreciate any assistance you would be kind enough to offer.”