To Find the Cure (Tacelyn)

[Wildcard]

Late Brightening. The Eleventh of Junctior in the Season of Autumn, Era XIV Post Fractum


Roused from his telathly slumber, the bald headed master of the Sunn Monastery quietly stretched his joints while a torrent of monks wisked around his presence like a theatrical performance.

"What is it, brothers?"

The man's voice cracked softly with the tensure of patience and surprising to some, annoyance.

"Abbot! A city official has come.. he brings an elf.. sickly and weak. We have placed her in the infirmary's isolated wing and await your inspection."

Slopping his dry palette together the elder monk rose while blinking softly.

"Surely our head physician has seen to the girl..."

Slippers were placed on the ground before him without even a passing notice. Interupting the venerable sage, an eager to please novice cut him off with worried excitement.

"No your grace, Master L'iane is away on.... "

The Abbot in turn returned the favor.

"Ah yes, acupuncture for our dear beloved Diamyo's first wife. A pleasure to be certain. Well then.."

The old man paused, stopping to wash his face.

"Let us have a look then shall we. Please bring the purification incense and pigment. I know the good doctor won't touch the stuff."

Almost lazily, the old man drew a crimson colored overcoat across his shoulders while straighting his golden sash. As all eyes were on him in waiting, the man pushed them forward with a flick of his wrists.

"Come, come.. Hop to it."

The cloister made for the isolated infirmary like a goose with a lame wing. Fluttering and trying to fly but all the same moving at a record slow pace.

[Tacelyn Armagil]

Tacelyn struggled from time to time to cover her ears. But her arms seemed so heavy and unco-operative.

It seemed to her that an endless stream of voices was bickering around her. Pounding in her mind, bouncing off the sides of her skull.

First there had been a calamity which she could not put name to.. then a couple arguing.. it seemed so loud.

Somebody had moved her, she knew that much..

Then there had been an endless journey in discomfort. How many candlemarks had it been? How many brightenings? It felt like an era had passed.. but in her clouded mind, Tacelyn held on to the one truth she knew for sure.. it had been no more than four days, and so this episode of her illness must be nearly over.

After all that endless motion, under the unforgiving sun, it suddenly seemed to Tacelyn that something had changed. No longer was she surrounded by voices.. no longer did she feel the heat of daylight upon her.

Struggling to raise up on her elbows, Tacelyn blinked her eyes.

She was alone, and the voices and motion and heat that had all seemed so nauseating moments ago had vanished.

The inky blackness still permeated her vision, but wherever she was, it seemed to be indoors. She could make out a wall, to her left, and some sort of counter or dresser. Other walls rose up to her right, and in front of her.

‘Am I to spend my entire existence confined in one room or another?’ she thought, trying to remember where she was and how she got there.

Tacelyn seemed to recall having been in some sort of rickety cart.. with the smell of hay and manure.. but that was gone now. Now she lay on something hard, but comfortable, and her head rested on something soft.. a pillow perhaps? Something wet lay upon her brow.

Even as she lay in the room, the darkness drained from her vision, and she could make out a door, which seemed to have a light source beyond it.

Tacelyn tried to rise into a sitting position but found her body still disagreed with the effort. Perhaps tomorrow, things would be different?

Imagining she saw a shadow pass in the light beneath the door, Tacelyn called out meekly, with strained vocal chords. "He..hello??"

Frustrated, she collapsed back into her bed, doubtful that anyone could hear her.. but then, a sound outside the door made it seem as if perhaps someone had heard her squeak after all.

[Wildcard]

The monastery infirmary was an open platform of pillars offset by billowing curtains of simple dyed cotton. Confined to the isolated wing were woven wooden paneling layered against a backdrop of unique paintings. That of saints and spiritual leaders lovingly drawn onto the ancient stone walls overhead.. Multi-headed patrons of spiritual paramount leered down at the girl as if laughing at a some private joke, probably at her expense.

Laying atop white fabric, the young elf could see a glass of water condensating next to her bed. Three quiet kemites entered slowly, their hands folded beneath dark crimson robes complimented by sashes of gold. Bowing once, these pious young men made way for an elder of extreme age and clarity, a majestic figure who's quiet fortitude radiated out from his mere presence. Stepping smoothly to her side, the aged figure smiled gently down upon Tacelyn with grace and mild skepticism.

"Serale my child. Welcome to the Sunn Monastery. Do you remember your name? I am Abbot Caine, a friend. You have been sick, but your fever seems to have lessoned.. I would like to attest this blessing to my own skill, but I speculate the resilience of your spirit is the true culprit."

Folding his hands gently the man turned to view the hot wonderous sun out beyond the confines of the wicker.

"If you are ready, I would walk with you. There is so much to discuss.. as your symptoms are like none other I have seen in my .. short time upon this telath."

Gesturing almost impatiently, the stranger's serene face creased in waiting.

"The peach trees are dropping their fruit and I would hate for all my young novices to snatch at it's bounty before I've even a slender taste.... would you?"

The remains of burning powders, incense and the heady cloud of exorcism rites stained the floor and walls as they'd not yet been scrubbed. If any concern had crossed the abbot's mind, it was well hidden indeed.

[Tacelyn Armagil]

Her eyes felt strained, as they always did.. things were a bit different this time, but she couldn’t put her finger on why, or what. The black haze that encompassed her eyes had become a viscous liquid, and she was now shedding it slowly, like tears.

The black veins which had run over her skin like leeches.. they too seemed to lose solidity and melt into a wet black smear, running down her face, down her arms.

It was these black tears that had leant the Lunar Misery its name.

Tacelyn could only be thankful that the shedding of the disease was not accompanied by the same pains as its onset.

Finally, her wits were returned to her, but this final stage, the crying, would leave her sorely dehydrated, and prone to strange hallucinations. It seemed always part of her curse, that the fears of her mind would play themselves out on the edge of her vision.

Staring upwards, as her vision cleared, it seemed to Tacelyn that multitudes of strangers stared down upon her. A parliament of insanity.

Three amongst the horde moved.. these close to her, men all.. not elves.. where was she? It relaxed her somewhat, to realize that the other stranger faces belonged to statues and paintings.

Drops of inky blackness spilled out onto the pillow as she lolled her head to the side. A half glass of water stood invitingly next to her. She was not yet ready to conclude whether the glass was half empty or half full.
She focused on the three men who had entered. She could see them clearly now, and could not deny that the vibrancy of their clothing choices were off putting. You could take the Pale Elf out of Ethgan’tor, but you couldn’t take Ethgan’tor out of the Pale Elf.

Still, there was some comfort to knowing that she was not amongst her own people. It was a sad truth that there was more reason to fear and distrust them than any others.. what if her brother had changed his mind and sent assassins? Or what indeed if one of the other houses thought that they could get to him via her demise?

Such thoughts pushed aside, Tacelyn propped herself up on her elbows, focusing her attention on the first voice who had spoken to her in kindness.. in recent memory.

Tacelyn didn’t know what to think. Or rather she found too many thoughts fighting around in her head. She was hardly in any condition to fight or to flee, but when had anyone ever done her a kindness? Who had ever treated her with dignity? That wasn’t the way the world worked. There were no happy endings, no free lunches, and anyone who tried to tell you differently was selling you something.

The man who addressed her though, seemed formidable in his own right, and she dared not speak her mind. What sort of man was this? A doctor? Certainly not THAT doctor.. no he was nothing like the man.

Father Caine... a priest. What sort of religion? Bewildered, Tacelyn sought an answer in the costumes of the man, and in the decorations on the walls. She knew none of it. She’d known bare brick walls for eleven eras, and nothing of the gods except for chaos. She had learned that Jorel was to be feared, for no matter how hard one struggled, all were within his grasp. Her existence itself had been one chaotic mess after another, always at the mercy of those stronger. One day she would ask him why.. ask the god himself, why she had suffered so. But not today. Not here.

“I am... Tacelyn... I..” speaking hurt. The inside of her throat felt like sanding paper. Scunching herself up into a semi-sitting position, she grasped the glass of water in both hands. She lifted it to her lips, only to pause, and her eyes took on a doubtful look. She smelled the water.. it smelled like.. water. Of course it smelled like water. It was water. Anyone who had wanted her dead would have had ample opportunity without resorting to poisons. As thirst overrode fear, she gulped the water down rudely. Drinking at first seemed to hurt almost as much as speaking had, but then she felt somewhat soothed by it.

“Tacelyn.” She repeated. She was going to keep her last name a secret when it occurred to her that this man had probably already been through her belongings, and seen her visa.. her belongings!

“My things!” exclaimed Tacelyn, shooting up like a rocket, only to exclaim in pain, and collapse back down on the bed once more. “Oww..” she complained mournfully.

She listened to the words of the priest. Here was a man of curiousity, and whatever circumstances had brought her here, he certainly held her future in his palms at the moment. She saw it would be best to give him what he asked for, since it wasn’t much. The man said he was ‘a friend’.. but what did that mean? Tacelyn’s only friends had been a sister who only spoke to her through a locked door, and a doll who only spoke to her through her own private fancy. Her doll.

“I should.. like my doll please.” Tacelyn spoke with hesitancy. Her voice faltered with the longer words, and so she tried to stick to small ones. “I will walk with you.”

Although sudden jerky movements were certainly no ally to her, Tacelyn was surprised to find herself feeling strong enough to leave the bed.

A peach.

Food.

Tacelyn could think of things that sounded worse. When had she last eaten? Rather, when had she last eaten and not evacuated her stomach moments afterwards on a vocal and discomforting manner?.. suddenly she thought maybe a peach didn’t sound like such a bright idea after all.

Despite the relative cleanliness of the room, it seemed to Tacelyn that she had to avoid stepping in sooty stains and dust. She felt light but unsteady on her feet. Smiling awkwardly Tacelyn was obviously looking for an arm to support her.

“My illness.. I’m not con.. it .. it isn’t catching.. the worst is over..” Tacelyn stammered, “i shouldn’t wish to burden anyone. I will be alr..alr.. okay.. in a day. You mustn’t lock me away..” in mere moments her voice had turned from explanatory to panic stricken.

It occurred to Tacelyn that she was doing something similar to panicing, and that this priest.. this ‘friend’ hadn’t said anything negative yet.. and maybe she should try to be a bit more personable, so she started again.

“S..sorry.. My symptoms.. I know no other person with my.. condition. The onset is horrid, but the recovery.. swift.. I was born with it.. it comes and goes.. with the moon.. the Doctor called it 'Lunar Misery'.. oh! The Doctor!..” thinking of the doctor was sufficient to wipe the slate clean of her fears and replace them with anger. “The doctor did this to me,” she grumbled bitterly, “its HIS fault.” And then she exploded in a fit of hoarse coughing.

[Wildcard]

Raising an eyebrow the old man withheld his very vocal character. He stepped asuredly light along stone unhewn tiles, watching the pillars slip by them both with an easy gait. "The peaches are not far young lady.. We can take our time..." He for the most part ignored the girl's comments as if slightly numb to the concerns and needs of his patient, or at least it looked that way from the onset.

"Tacelyn.. you will find your new quarters very freeing, but I would ask you not to leave these grounds until the symptoms have fully passed and our gentle healer has a look at your tongue."

Was the man teasing her? It was an unorthodox approach for an ancient holy man if so. The pair continued along the path as it careened through a divinely beautiful orchard, white rim light carring through the volume of dust and green. Gnarled trees highlighted by the sun made both parties squint but the fur of a peach skin russled pleasantly between two pink palms. It felt calming and peaceful out here away from the torrent of emotion and bustle of fear and physical pain. Such was her life now. A fresh start, or the morning after a night of drinking.. The white light could lift the very soul of those held under it's gaze. Blinding Armagil with the flare of his sloped dome, Abbott Caine half smiled empathically.

"Tell me of this Doctor.."

Patient concern lined the man's brow. Nothing could hurt her now. Not here.

[Tacelyn Armagil]

Although it did occur to Tacelyn that the priest did not seem to be addressing any of the issues with which she had presented him, pressing the issue seemed to be futile. Also the priest’s manner was so disarming, she found herself walking along with him, in somewhat of a daze, hardly sure of what she was saying.

Until she remembered the doctor.

It took abnormally long for Tacelyn to stop coughing. Her throat was still terribly dry, and it now had an unavoidable tickle in it. When she finally settled down, the priest showed interest in the doctor, more than in her symptoms. Which made sense to Tacelyn, seeing as in her mind, the ‘doctor’ himself was the infection.

She didn’t know how this old Abbott was able to remain so calm about everything. It frustrated her to be so emotionally unstable in the presence of someone who seemed in complete control. Being out of control of her life was nothing new to her, of course. So it had always been.. but she yearned for that to change.

She squinted, bothered by the dazzling sunlight. "The doctor," she mustered, swallowing bile, "is a monster. A demon. He does things to people.. nobody should endure. No.. he is no doctor.. no healer. He is an evil man. I call him doctor, for lack of a true identity. We knew him as Doctor Senvayne."

She bit off the name as one who wished to chew it thoroughly before swallowing it.

"I am told that, before my first ordination, in brighter times, my father was a good and decent man.. but then he met this human doctor… no," she paused, peering at the Abbott, "not a Kemite.. one of those tall men, with blonde hair. I do not know the circumstances of their meeting, but the doctor warped my father’s mind."

Tacelyn didn’t sense that she was quite getting the point across, so she continued, "My father became obssessed with.. human ideals.. amongst them, having a son to carry on the family line.. but all he seemed to produce were daughters," she frowned sullenly, "the doctor.. he promised that he could ensure a son, and my father let him try."

She shuddered, "What’er he did, I know not.. but when the time came for birthing, it was two children came out.. one boy, strangled dead, and one girl, three quarters strangled dead."

She added, as an afterthought, "That second one be me."

[Wildcard]

Abbot Caine nodded, resting a hand against the girl's back calmly as he passed her a hollow gourd canteen. She had been through quite an ordeal and it was quite striking that the two of them were even standing face to face.

"Easy young one.. drink."

The problems presented here were not so simple as a spiritual unbalance, the very fabric of the girl's energy and physicality bore an offset of strident manipulation. She would require extensive treatment perhaps every single brightening...

"I think that is enough for now unless confronting this topic helps you in some way.." The man paused to let the damaged girl drink. "Would you be comfortable staying here for the next month? I think it would be prudent if we allowed not only time, fresh peaches and clean air to heal you.. but a doctor's examination. Other things.. mental tools to aid in bridging the gap between your buried trauma and present reality. Clean your meridian lines.."
Noticing his trailing words, the gentle monk applied strength to the following speech.

"I would then ask you to eat only what I prescribe. After you regain your stamina.. perhaps a fast.. but I stand here not to damn you, judge you or nudge you. You Tacelyn will choose.. and progress accordingly. There are people here that may be able to help teach you the ways of healing and magic regeneration, while others would allow the mind to build in a slower.. proactive way. "

There was so much more the man wanted to say.. but he held his tongue back, watching two novices paint over an uneven stone wall. There was almost regret in the way he conveyed this empathy.. yet in the end the Abbot smoothed his robes while letting the shadow elf collect her thoughts.

"I am glad you have found us Tacelyn... It is good to meet you."

Like two lines of fate crossed by chance, the renewal of healing awoke in the man a sense of contentment at being able to assist when he could. Such a simple thing gave his life meaning, but the talkative stranger may become like so many of the rest .. a passing blur.. walking her own path .. in and out of the monastery with barely enough self-awareness to see the results of her wake. Time did not heal all wounds.. He could point at the moon but he could make her see it. It did not matter, the old man would find resolve and continue.. but perhaps after the midday meditation session.

[Tacelyn Armagil]

Tacelyn was still at the stage of her illness where she felt constantly parched. She thankfully accepted the liquid, and quite thoroughly drained it, but her throat continued to remind her of the sanding parchment that carpenters use to smooth things.

She could agree that they’d spoken quite enough on the subject of her misfortunes. Her throat needed a rest, not a monologue. But how could she agree to his request? She knew her disease well enough to know that she would be fine… well.. as fine as she ever was… in a few days time. If she stayed a whole month, that would only bring her a month closer to the next episode of her illness. All that time wasted. "I.. I don’t know.. I really think that I’ll be fine in a few days." Besides, what was this ‘trauma’ of which the abbot spoke? Obviously she’d been through a traumatic upbringing.. or none at all.. but that had nothing at all to do with her illness.

Did it?

She continued to listen to the man’s words. If he could really help her, then perhaps she could at least try to do .. some.. of what he said. But she couldn’t really see staying at the monastery for all that time. She’d finally left one prison, only to place herself in another? No.. she would need to have her freedom. She smiled at the Abbot, sadly, "I have lived so much of my life in a cage.. only recently have I known freedom. I would certainly appreciate being permitted to visit frequently, but to be confined anywhere is something my spirit can no longer endure."

Tacelyn arched her eyebrow at the mention of healing and moreso at that of magic. She didn’t know what to think of magic at this point in her life, but if she could learn to heal herself.. perhaps she could shed the disease entirely, some day?

She considered his offer carefully, although he did not speak of judgement, or nudgement, if that were a word.. which it wasn’t.. she knew he was convinced of the merits of his own advice.. and he was probably right.. but Tacelyn could not go back to a cage. "If I did sojourn here for a time, would I be at liberty to travel to the city during the day, if I wished? I would agree to being examined when I am here, certainly.. and follow your diet as prescribed.. I hardly eat anything as it is.." Tacelyn wondered if that was part of the problem?

Hopefully this was an arangement that the Abbot would find some merit in. Tacelyn realized that she was being given her own choice in the matter, but it would be a shame to miss out on the positive side of the Abbot's offering, if missing out could be avoided.

[Wildcard]

The old man looked down at the girl with a quizzical expression of jest. It was as if he could see the conflicted thoughts pass through that elven brain of Tacelyn's before she could herself.. or perhaps he was more judgemental then first noticed. Patience still reigned supreme.

"Once our healer has signed off, you are welcome to stay and leave at your leisure young lady. If you have the disipline, our rigorous diet may prove benificial to your specific needs. When we return to the sanctuary I will give you a tincture that has four uses. Everyone will offer you relief from pain when it's.. that time."

From the way the man said it, you would have thought he was going to prescribe cranberry tea next. He was a crafty devil, but kept his wit under a deadpan laundry line of dried flesh and crackling wrinkles.

"It's called Monk's Call, because it tastes so rotten only a very few can tolerate such a bleak and senseless existence."

The hanging skin lifted to form what was left of a smile, proving even the most pious of pilgrims had humour enough to laugh at himself. Or was it simply distain. "I tease.. but meal time is quite soon so you will be able to make your own formulation. Be good and we'll sneak in some salt." The grin held and both elder and youth continued their grand walk through the grounds of the ancient Zinn'Sunn monks.

"You'll be staying at the nunnery when you so choose to visit, so come let us meet your host for this darkening before getting to the good stuff.."