Post by cosmignon on Nov 15, 2016 3:05:16 GMT -6
I've never really written much fanfiction before, and I've posted even less of that online. But I've been writing this for weeks and just mulling over it. Tried to post it a couple times now but decided not to, but right now it's late and I figure why should I just keep backing up on that.
This is messing around with what we've know abt Drop's backstory, really heavy focus on Sheithayne's involvement in the whole thing cause I'm just super fascinated by her. And there's definitely more parts to this fic, it's just long and just splitting it up into chunks sounds like a good idea. Hope people enjoy reading it!
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Sheithayne sat alone in a dark corner of the monastery. She had begun to clear her mind of the dayâs activities, replacing them through meditation and enjoying the calming darkness of the room lit only by the rays of the setting sun. How much time had passed or would continue to pass didnât concern her. She nearly entered into a trance, when she just barely heard the sound of frantic footsteps.
Sheithayne snapped back to reality, and the echoes of footsteps intensified as they drew towards her. She rose to her feet in time to see a winded monk stop in her tracks at the doorway. She held her chest, and tried to catch her breath while speaking to the elf.
âMaster Shei⊠Sheithayne! A hurricaneâŠ!â she coughed âFlint spotted a hurricane, just now!â Sheithayne stepped toward the monk with a frown and placed a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to straighten her stance in the face of this news.
âIs he sure thatâs what he saw?â
âYes!â
âAnd does he know if this will reach the monastery?â
âI donât know, he told me just now⊠should I-?â
âFor now, just make sure everyone knows to take cover. And if anything comes our way, just remember, stay calm.â
The girl nodded nervously at Sheithayne, turned, and ran off without another word.
Sheithayne had held her tongue, resisted an urge to question the girl any further. It was highly unusual for any of the monks to lie to each other about such things, and the girl showed no signs of anything but grave seriousness. But still, Sheithayne doubted. A hurricane? Aside from the flooding, there had never been much peculiarity concerning the weather in the Tiger Mountains. During the decades sheâd spent at the monastery, she was certain hurricanes werenât able to form in this area. She took a hold of her quarterstaff, and departed the room to investigate this further.
It was all too easy to see the hard evidence once she reached a coast facing window. A hurricane raged on in the distance. The sky was tinged in the dark greys, and the faint sound of howling wind could be detected. Sheithayne felt a shiver run down her spine, felt the familiar ache of fear rise in the back of her mind. She had taken great pains in her training to repress such feelings, so for now they were only mere echoes of the real thing. But for the elven monk that was enough for her to freeze in place, if only for a minute or so.
For that was about as long as it took for the unusual weather phenomenon to vanish before her eyes. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. The hurricane was no more.
Without thinking, she jumped out of the open window onto the ground outside of the monastery. Her curiosity about many things had faded over the years, but she couldnât deny herself further investigation of this. With a quick glance back at the window she assured herself that the other monks would continue on with their night without much worrying about her.
She headed towards the spot where a whirlwind of destruction had just reigned a few moments ago. The dim light of the sunset streaked through the inexplicably clear sky, and gently lit the narrow, rocky road that connected the monastery to the scarce settlements that did - and used to - mark the mountain side. Yet neither the fading light nor the terrain proved a problem for the elf. She moved briskly, and as she drew near her destination a haunting scene stretched out before her.
The hurricane had, in its short lifespan, laid waste to what must have been a rather expensive home. Even the ruins of mansion were far more luxurious than anything to be found at the monastery. She slowed her pace to take a better look, clutching the quarterstaff as she kept herself alert of her surroundings. In the shadows of these ruins laid the silhouettes of what could only be corpses. Three, perhaps four people lay cast about like tattered rag dolls. They were clearly torn apart in a ghastly fashion, a grim reminder of how fragile everyone is in the end. The monastery would have never stood a chance.
Sheithayne quietly thanked some unknown force for extinguishing the hurricane so quickly.
For several minutes she paced about the area looking for anything significant, and heard a wolf cry into the twilight. It seemed as though the commotion of gale winds and rubble had attracted the local wildlife. They were most certainly agitated. She was not ready for a fight with mere animals, but she still kept her guard up as she continued her survey. Yet regardless of all these peculiarities there didnât appear to be any signs that could explain the freak hurricane. Perhaps it would be better not to know. Somewhat disappointed, Sheithayne turned to take her leave. She could explain to the other monks they had nothing to worry about concerning this place, as odd at it was.
Then, another noise caught her ear, and she froze. A high pitched whine crossed from one corner of the ruins to where she stood. Wolves didnât make that noise. Someone must have survived.
She turned back, heading in the first direction she could pin the source of the noise to. She didnât have anything to heal wounds on her person, but she decided that she could retrieve medicine from the monastery after the impromptu search and rescue. She had to see the damage first.
A large, collapsed wall divided her from this person, and she hung around one corner to spot them. There she saw a human standing rigidly, arms to his sides and eyes staring directly through the wall. The poor boy couldnât have been older than 20. At this distance, his ragged panting could be heard quite clearly between the pained whines. There was bright blood dripping down his arm, and on his shoulder - a bite mark. The wolves had attacked him. His plain clothes were torn badly, with the holes in the fabric revealing multiple bruises and scrapes and scratches he suffered through the recent ordeal.
In spite of his poor condition, he continued to stare and stand, making no efforts to move himself, leave the area, seek help. He didnât even notice Sheithayne as she rounded the wall and began moving toward him. These events could not be taken lightly by a race that had to comprehend so much in their short lives, and Sheithayne knew that well. The elf steadied herself once she was in armâs length of the boy, and spoke softly.
âHello, young man?â He violently screamed in response - Sheithayne took a step back as his eyes darted toward her, his panting intensified. He turned quickly, and ran off.
He only made it a short distance before tripping over rubble, falling on his side with a harsh thud.
Sheithayne moved toward him again, trying her best not to startle him again. Sheâd seen many people panic in ways like this before. Sheâd been one of them. It was best not to further agitate someone in that state, if possible. She spoke again, maintaining a calm tone that she hoped would let the boy know she meant no harm.
âIâm sorry I frightened you. Can you speak?â He remained crumpled on the ground, one arm clutching tightly on his bite mark as he gave no response. Sheithayne remained silent, staring over the boy for a few seconds while considering whether she should let him wait there while she retrieved aid from the monastery. Just as she had come to a decision, the boy finally spoke between his pained noises.
âGoâŠawayâŠâ
âI shouldnât leave you here. Youâre hurt, and you need help.â
He shook his head firmly, clutching his arm even tighter. âNoâŠno. No, Iâm bad, itâs bad, Iâm bad, bad, badâ his voice shook as he curled into himself.
Sheithayne moved a step closer, âThat doesnât matter right now. Your arm looks terrible, you might die.â
He broke into sobs. It was a pitiful sight, to see someone so young and afraid of death. Sheithayne knew too well that she should accept death as inevitable, so it was humbling to remember that not everyone had come to that revelation yet, especially the short lived humans who so frequently passed in and out through the material plane. She crouched down, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, and quickly retracting it when he flinched away.
âIâm sorry. I canât imagine what you must have lost today. But you can still survive, if youâre willing to let me help you. Thereâs a monastery I can bring you to, itâs not too far from here.â
For a couple minutes, there was silence save for the sound of crying and animals in the distance. Then the boy began to slowly right himself into a sitting position, still in pain, still crying. He faced away from Sheithayne as he spoke again.
âIâm canât⊠Itâs my faultâŠItâs all my faultâŠâ
âWhat do you mean by that?â
âThis,â he limply gestured his good arm towards the ruins. He didnât explain himself further, but simply sat hunched over himself while shaking.
Could he have caused the hurricane? Sheithayne scoffed at herself, thinking better of the thought. He was so young, and the magic needed for that was well beyond the scope of most people in Lorelei, let alone the Tiger Mountains. He couldâve have possiblyâŠ
Sheithayne shifted her focus, and realized that she wouldnât get any further helping the boy at this rate. He needed something help soothe his nerves, distract from the pain for a short while. She assessed his injuries from an eyeâs glance; he was bleeding and dirty, but luckily for him, nothing seemed to be terribly out of place, or mangled, or torn apart. He should probably survive if she thought of something quickly. She looked down at her quarterstaff, and its striking blue color gave her an idea.
She stood up, walked around, and sat down to face the boy directly. He didnât look up at her, his shoulders tensed as they shook. He only acknowledged her presence once more when she handed the quarterstaff to him like a present.
âIf I cannot help, maybe you could hold onto this instead, and keep your eyes on it for me.â He sat still, confused for a few moments before he hesitantly reached his arm out to grab the quarterstaff, and fidgeted with the weight and feel of it in his hand. The sun had just barely left the sky for the day, but in the twilight the moon granted enough light for it to reflect off of the quarterstaff, displaying its calming properties. Its potential could only be fully utilized during a focused meditation session, but in this situation it still proved useful.
Though the boy was still sobbing, he sat entranced by the confusing object offered to him, and Sheithayne got her first good look at his face. More injuries were evident, though mostly minor scrapes and bruises. His hair was disheveled beyond belief, obviously blown around by the hurricane and refusing to settle afterwards. Overall, a mess.
âOk. Now, do you think you could breathe in, please?â
He complied with her second request, more readily than the first.
âAnd breathe out.â
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tears still traced across his face, but he appeared to be calming down. He wasnât quite calm yet, Sheithayne could see, but it had to be enough for the time being.
âThank you. I can still offer my help, if you follow me to the monastery. Will you do that?â
Without acknowledging Sheithayne directly, the boy slowly began getting up to his feet, using the quarterstaff to balance himself while letting his injured arm fall to his side at its own accord. He looked up at her with a look of pain etched along his face, but he seemed to be steady enough on his feet to reach the monastery with the quarterstaff by his side.
ââŠItâs late⊠where do we goâŠ?â
âUp this path. I can see it, so you can follow me.â
With her guidance, they began walking towards the monastery along the path she had taken earlier. The boy hung his head low, still heaving a sob every so often as he followed her lead. He nearly stumbled once or twice, but he managed to keep his balance for a fair amount of time. However, it eventually became evident that the boy might be getting too tired to continue on foot. Sheithayne expected protest when she offered to carry him the rest of the way, yet he simply said nothing and limply leaned against the quarterstaff in defeat. They traveled much faster afterwards, the boy allowed to rest a short while as Sheithayne carried him in her arms.
They reached the monastery as the moon hung behind them in the sky. Sheithayne passed by a few monks who had delayed going to bed to look for her. She did not respond to their questions about where she had been or who this human was with her, and she heard them behind her quietly deciding to return to their sleeping quarters for the night.
She found a clean place to put the boy down, a room where the medicinal supplies were kept, and asked him if he could stay awake for a while longer while she did a more thorough examination. He nodded. Although he winced at the pain in his arm when Sheithayne touched it, he seemed willing to sit still for the most part.
His clothes were ruined, so she needed to address that first. She disposed of the shirt and shoes to little protest, but allowed him to keep the rest of his clothes until she could find something suitable for him to wear later. Once she dealt with that, and couldnât find any signs that something more urgent was left unseen, she set to work on fixing up the poor human as best she could.
She began by cleaning the bite mark on his arm, which at this point surprised her as being the only substantial injury he had on his body. Considering the circumstances, his physical condition was a miracle.
His eyes darted around the room as Sheithayne continued to work on his injuries. The glances were less confused more than they were curious as he surveyed the surroundings. He didnât find much to keep his attention, and eventually locked his eyes on the quarterstaff again, watching it twinkle in the warm light of a candle flame Sheithayne had lit. He wasnât crying anymore, though his breathing still fluttered.
Sheithayne finished addressing her major concerns, making sure things were cleaned and wrapped in bandages where necessary. She hoped that she had been quick enough to take care of any lingering problems, though only time could tell. A small sigh escaped as the tension of the situation dampened slightly. She then sat down on the stone floor in front of the boy, and waved her hand to catch his attention.
âIf you would be able to answer me, what is your name? Iâm Sheithayne.â
The boy turned his eyes away.
ââŠIâm Drop Goodwood.â
She tossed the name around in her head. A surname was certainly unusual in Lorelei, but for now that was unimportant.
âWell Drop, I want you to sit here while I find something for you to wear, OK?â No response, but he didnât look like he was going to be moving anywhere anytime soon. Sheithayne hurried to find some spare clothes, and returned to the room to find that he had stayed in place. In fact, from a distance it would have appeared as though he wasnât moving at all, aside from his breathing.
âHere, you can wear this for now. Thereâs a room I'll show you where you can wash off more, and then I want you to stay here for the night.â As she handed the clothes to Drop, he looked up at her with an expression that she couldnât gauge as either confusion or fear.
âI donât know if thatâs a good idea.â
âDonât worry Drop, this place is safe for you to-â
âItâs not safe for you!â His voice cracked as he clutched the quarterstaff closer to his chest. He looked surprised at himself, and then ashamed as he insisted, âItâs not safe here, nowhere is I⊠Iâm bad IâmâŠYou saw⊠you saw the mansion, the hurricane, it was all ruined and itâs my fault⊠This always happens,â Tears pricked his eyes again.
âItâs hard to believe that you could have-â
âI did! I did it, it was my fault! Itâs always my fault!â His body and voice trembled,
âWhy are you even helping me? Youâve got to stop now, or youâll die!â
Sheithayne knelt down in front of the panicked boy. âDrop-?â
âI donât want anyone else to die!â
Sheithayne took a deep breathe. Take things slowly.
âDrop, could you to breathe for me again, please-â
âNo!â Drop swung the quarterstaff without warning. Thwack.
Sheithayne gripped the quarterstaff tightly in her hand. It was only an inch from her face as she held it between the two of them. The boy lacked any grace, and now his good arm hung at an uncomfortable angle to keep his grip as well. The air was still, and the melting candle flickered as they remained frozen in space, staring at each other.
âIâŠâ He let out more sobs. Sheithayne started to worry that Drop might get dehydrated at this rate. âIâm sorry⊠Iâm sorry I didnât, I donât want to, I-â
âI can see you didnât mean to,â Sheithayne spoke softly once more, and released her grip of the quarterstaff to let Drop relax his arm as he pulled it back to his chest. She hoped he hadnât hurt himself any more with that stunt. âI think you should take some time to rest before you try to talk about what happened. Is that OK with you?â
Drop nodded, and tried to take a few shaky breaths to calm himself down. Instead, he coughed, and couldnât stop his coughing fit until Sheithayne brought him water. They sat in silence for several minutes afterwards, giving Drop time to cry until he couldnât anymore. When he was through, he leaned on his side and scrunched up the spare clothes to make them into a makeshift pillow.
âOh - Drop, I could find you a bed.â But half way through her words he passed out cold on the floor. His face and body finally relaxed, and his arm laid on top of the quarterstaff he had clung to before. She hesitated to carry Drop in case that might wake him, so she made due with finding a blanket to drape over his body. It wasnât much, but hopefully it was a small comfort that wouldnât give him any more reasons to cry.
She sat herself several feet away from Drop, and began preparing herself once again to enter a trance so that she might get some rest as well.
A freak hurricane. A ruined mansion. Wolves. And a desperate, frightened young human. The evening had taken such a strange turn that Sheithayne was unsure if she could even continue looking for answers to all of her questions at this point. What mattered at the moment was that she had helped someone survive, at least for now, and that was enough to satisfy her for the night.
This is messing around with what we've know abt Drop's backstory, really heavy focus on Sheithayne's involvement in the whole thing cause I'm just super fascinated by her. And there's definitely more parts to this fic, it's just long and just splitting it up into chunks sounds like a good idea. Hope people enjoy reading it!
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Sheithayne sat alone in a dark corner of the monastery. She had begun to clear her mind of the dayâs activities, replacing them through meditation and enjoying the calming darkness of the room lit only by the rays of the setting sun. How much time had passed or would continue to pass didnât concern her. She nearly entered into a trance, when she just barely heard the sound of frantic footsteps.
Sheithayne snapped back to reality, and the echoes of footsteps intensified as they drew towards her. She rose to her feet in time to see a winded monk stop in her tracks at the doorway. She held her chest, and tried to catch her breath while speaking to the elf.
âMaster Shei⊠Sheithayne! A hurricaneâŠ!â she coughed âFlint spotted a hurricane, just now!â Sheithayne stepped toward the monk with a frown and placed a hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to straighten her stance in the face of this news.
âIs he sure thatâs what he saw?â
âYes!â
âAnd does he know if this will reach the monastery?â
âI donât know, he told me just now⊠should I-?â
âFor now, just make sure everyone knows to take cover. And if anything comes our way, just remember, stay calm.â
The girl nodded nervously at Sheithayne, turned, and ran off without another word.
Sheithayne had held her tongue, resisted an urge to question the girl any further. It was highly unusual for any of the monks to lie to each other about such things, and the girl showed no signs of anything but grave seriousness. But still, Sheithayne doubted. A hurricane? Aside from the flooding, there had never been much peculiarity concerning the weather in the Tiger Mountains. During the decades sheâd spent at the monastery, she was certain hurricanes werenât able to form in this area. She took a hold of her quarterstaff, and departed the room to investigate this further.
It was all too easy to see the hard evidence once she reached a coast facing window. A hurricane raged on in the distance. The sky was tinged in the dark greys, and the faint sound of howling wind could be detected. Sheithayne felt a shiver run down her spine, felt the familiar ache of fear rise in the back of her mind. She had taken great pains in her training to repress such feelings, so for now they were only mere echoes of the real thing. But for the elven monk that was enough for her to freeze in place, if only for a minute or so.
For that was about as long as it took for the unusual weather phenomenon to vanish before her eyes. She blinked her eyes in disbelief. The hurricane was no more.
Without thinking, she jumped out of the open window onto the ground outside of the monastery. Her curiosity about many things had faded over the years, but she couldnât deny herself further investigation of this. With a quick glance back at the window she assured herself that the other monks would continue on with their night without much worrying about her.
She headed towards the spot where a whirlwind of destruction had just reigned a few moments ago. The dim light of the sunset streaked through the inexplicably clear sky, and gently lit the narrow, rocky road that connected the monastery to the scarce settlements that did - and used to - mark the mountain side. Yet neither the fading light nor the terrain proved a problem for the elf. She moved briskly, and as she drew near her destination a haunting scene stretched out before her.
The hurricane had, in its short lifespan, laid waste to what must have been a rather expensive home. Even the ruins of mansion were far more luxurious than anything to be found at the monastery. She slowed her pace to take a better look, clutching the quarterstaff as she kept herself alert of her surroundings. In the shadows of these ruins laid the silhouettes of what could only be corpses. Three, perhaps four people lay cast about like tattered rag dolls. They were clearly torn apart in a ghastly fashion, a grim reminder of how fragile everyone is in the end. The monastery would have never stood a chance.
Sheithayne quietly thanked some unknown force for extinguishing the hurricane so quickly.
For several minutes she paced about the area looking for anything significant, and heard a wolf cry into the twilight. It seemed as though the commotion of gale winds and rubble had attracted the local wildlife. They were most certainly agitated. She was not ready for a fight with mere animals, but she still kept her guard up as she continued her survey. Yet regardless of all these peculiarities there didnât appear to be any signs that could explain the freak hurricane. Perhaps it would be better not to know. Somewhat disappointed, Sheithayne turned to take her leave. She could explain to the other monks they had nothing to worry about concerning this place, as odd at it was.
Then, another noise caught her ear, and she froze. A high pitched whine crossed from one corner of the ruins to where she stood. Wolves didnât make that noise. Someone must have survived.
She turned back, heading in the first direction she could pin the source of the noise to. She didnât have anything to heal wounds on her person, but she decided that she could retrieve medicine from the monastery after the impromptu search and rescue. She had to see the damage first.
A large, collapsed wall divided her from this person, and she hung around one corner to spot them. There she saw a human standing rigidly, arms to his sides and eyes staring directly through the wall. The poor boy couldnât have been older than 20. At this distance, his ragged panting could be heard quite clearly between the pained whines. There was bright blood dripping down his arm, and on his shoulder - a bite mark. The wolves had attacked him. His plain clothes were torn badly, with the holes in the fabric revealing multiple bruises and scrapes and scratches he suffered through the recent ordeal.
In spite of his poor condition, he continued to stare and stand, making no efforts to move himself, leave the area, seek help. He didnât even notice Sheithayne as she rounded the wall and began moving toward him. These events could not be taken lightly by a race that had to comprehend so much in their short lives, and Sheithayne knew that well. The elf steadied herself once she was in armâs length of the boy, and spoke softly.
âHello, young man?â He violently screamed in response - Sheithayne took a step back as his eyes darted toward her, his panting intensified. He turned quickly, and ran off.
He only made it a short distance before tripping over rubble, falling on his side with a harsh thud.
Sheithayne moved toward him again, trying her best not to startle him again. Sheâd seen many people panic in ways like this before. Sheâd been one of them. It was best not to further agitate someone in that state, if possible. She spoke again, maintaining a calm tone that she hoped would let the boy know she meant no harm.
âIâm sorry I frightened you. Can you speak?â He remained crumpled on the ground, one arm clutching tightly on his bite mark as he gave no response. Sheithayne remained silent, staring over the boy for a few seconds while considering whether she should let him wait there while she retrieved aid from the monastery. Just as she had come to a decision, the boy finally spoke between his pained noises.
âGoâŠawayâŠâ
âI shouldnât leave you here. Youâre hurt, and you need help.â
He shook his head firmly, clutching his arm even tighter. âNoâŠno. No, Iâm bad, itâs bad, Iâm bad, bad, badâ his voice shook as he curled into himself.
Sheithayne moved a step closer, âThat doesnât matter right now. Your arm looks terrible, you might die.â
He broke into sobs. It was a pitiful sight, to see someone so young and afraid of death. Sheithayne knew too well that she should accept death as inevitable, so it was humbling to remember that not everyone had come to that revelation yet, especially the short lived humans who so frequently passed in and out through the material plane. She crouched down, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, and quickly retracting it when he flinched away.
âIâm sorry. I canât imagine what you must have lost today. But you can still survive, if youâre willing to let me help you. Thereâs a monastery I can bring you to, itâs not too far from here.â
For a couple minutes, there was silence save for the sound of crying and animals in the distance. Then the boy began to slowly right himself into a sitting position, still in pain, still crying. He faced away from Sheithayne as he spoke again.
âIâm canât⊠Itâs my faultâŠItâs all my faultâŠâ
âWhat do you mean by that?â
âThis,â he limply gestured his good arm towards the ruins. He didnât explain himself further, but simply sat hunched over himself while shaking.
Could he have caused the hurricane? Sheithayne scoffed at herself, thinking better of the thought. He was so young, and the magic needed for that was well beyond the scope of most people in Lorelei, let alone the Tiger Mountains. He couldâve have possiblyâŠ
Sheithayne shifted her focus, and realized that she wouldnât get any further helping the boy at this rate. He needed something help soothe his nerves, distract from the pain for a short while. She assessed his injuries from an eyeâs glance; he was bleeding and dirty, but luckily for him, nothing seemed to be terribly out of place, or mangled, or torn apart. He should probably survive if she thought of something quickly. She looked down at her quarterstaff, and its striking blue color gave her an idea.
She stood up, walked around, and sat down to face the boy directly. He didnât look up at her, his shoulders tensed as they shook. He only acknowledged her presence once more when she handed the quarterstaff to him like a present.
âIf I cannot help, maybe you could hold onto this instead, and keep your eyes on it for me.â He sat still, confused for a few moments before he hesitantly reached his arm out to grab the quarterstaff, and fidgeted with the weight and feel of it in his hand. The sun had just barely left the sky for the day, but in the twilight the moon granted enough light for it to reflect off of the quarterstaff, displaying its calming properties. Its potential could only be fully utilized during a focused meditation session, but in this situation it still proved useful.
Though the boy was still sobbing, he sat entranced by the confusing object offered to him, and Sheithayne got her first good look at his face. More injuries were evident, though mostly minor scrapes and bruises. His hair was disheveled beyond belief, obviously blown around by the hurricane and refusing to settle afterwards. Overall, a mess.
âOk. Now, do you think you could breathe in, please?â
He complied with her second request, more readily than the first.
âAnd breathe out.â
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tears still traced across his face, but he appeared to be calming down. He wasnât quite calm yet, Sheithayne could see, but it had to be enough for the time being.
âThank you. I can still offer my help, if you follow me to the monastery. Will you do that?â
Without acknowledging Sheithayne directly, the boy slowly began getting up to his feet, using the quarterstaff to balance himself while letting his injured arm fall to his side at its own accord. He looked up at her with a look of pain etched along his face, but he seemed to be steady enough on his feet to reach the monastery with the quarterstaff by his side.
ââŠItâs late⊠where do we goâŠ?â
âUp this path. I can see it, so you can follow me.â
With her guidance, they began walking towards the monastery along the path she had taken earlier. The boy hung his head low, still heaving a sob every so often as he followed her lead. He nearly stumbled once or twice, but he managed to keep his balance for a fair amount of time. However, it eventually became evident that the boy might be getting too tired to continue on foot. Sheithayne expected protest when she offered to carry him the rest of the way, yet he simply said nothing and limply leaned against the quarterstaff in defeat. They traveled much faster afterwards, the boy allowed to rest a short while as Sheithayne carried him in her arms.
They reached the monastery as the moon hung behind them in the sky. Sheithayne passed by a few monks who had delayed going to bed to look for her. She did not respond to their questions about where she had been or who this human was with her, and she heard them behind her quietly deciding to return to their sleeping quarters for the night.
She found a clean place to put the boy down, a room where the medicinal supplies were kept, and asked him if he could stay awake for a while longer while she did a more thorough examination. He nodded. Although he winced at the pain in his arm when Sheithayne touched it, he seemed willing to sit still for the most part.
His clothes were ruined, so she needed to address that first. She disposed of the shirt and shoes to little protest, but allowed him to keep the rest of his clothes until she could find something suitable for him to wear later. Once she dealt with that, and couldnât find any signs that something more urgent was left unseen, she set to work on fixing up the poor human as best she could.
She began by cleaning the bite mark on his arm, which at this point surprised her as being the only substantial injury he had on his body. Considering the circumstances, his physical condition was a miracle.
His eyes darted around the room as Sheithayne continued to work on his injuries. The glances were less confused more than they were curious as he surveyed the surroundings. He didnât find much to keep his attention, and eventually locked his eyes on the quarterstaff again, watching it twinkle in the warm light of a candle flame Sheithayne had lit. He wasnât crying anymore, though his breathing still fluttered.
Sheithayne finished addressing her major concerns, making sure things were cleaned and wrapped in bandages where necessary. She hoped that she had been quick enough to take care of any lingering problems, though only time could tell. A small sigh escaped as the tension of the situation dampened slightly. She then sat down on the stone floor in front of the boy, and waved her hand to catch his attention.
âIf you would be able to answer me, what is your name? Iâm Sheithayne.â
The boy turned his eyes away.
ââŠIâm Drop Goodwood.â
She tossed the name around in her head. A surname was certainly unusual in Lorelei, but for now that was unimportant.
âWell Drop, I want you to sit here while I find something for you to wear, OK?â No response, but he didnât look like he was going to be moving anywhere anytime soon. Sheithayne hurried to find some spare clothes, and returned to the room to find that he had stayed in place. In fact, from a distance it would have appeared as though he wasnât moving at all, aside from his breathing.
âHere, you can wear this for now. Thereâs a room I'll show you where you can wash off more, and then I want you to stay here for the night.â As she handed the clothes to Drop, he looked up at her with an expression that she couldnât gauge as either confusion or fear.
âI donât know if thatâs a good idea.â
âDonât worry Drop, this place is safe for you to-â
âItâs not safe for you!â His voice cracked as he clutched the quarterstaff closer to his chest. He looked surprised at himself, and then ashamed as he insisted, âItâs not safe here, nowhere is I⊠Iâm bad IâmâŠYou saw⊠you saw the mansion, the hurricane, it was all ruined and itâs my fault⊠This always happens,â Tears pricked his eyes again.
âItâs hard to believe that you could have-â
âI did! I did it, it was my fault! Itâs always my fault!â His body and voice trembled,
âWhy are you even helping me? Youâve got to stop now, or youâll die!â
Sheithayne knelt down in front of the panicked boy. âDrop-?â
âI donât want anyone else to die!â
Sheithayne took a deep breathe. Take things slowly.
âDrop, could you to breathe for me again, please-â
âNo!â Drop swung the quarterstaff without warning. Thwack.
Sheithayne gripped the quarterstaff tightly in her hand. It was only an inch from her face as she held it between the two of them. The boy lacked any grace, and now his good arm hung at an uncomfortable angle to keep his grip as well. The air was still, and the melting candle flickered as they remained frozen in space, staring at each other.
âIâŠâ He let out more sobs. Sheithayne started to worry that Drop might get dehydrated at this rate. âIâm sorry⊠Iâm sorry I didnât, I donât want to, I-â
âI can see you didnât mean to,â Sheithayne spoke softly once more, and released her grip of the quarterstaff to let Drop relax his arm as he pulled it back to his chest. She hoped he hadnât hurt himself any more with that stunt. âI think you should take some time to rest before you try to talk about what happened. Is that OK with you?â
Drop nodded, and tried to take a few shaky breaths to calm himself down. Instead, he coughed, and couldnât stop his coughing fit until Sheithayne brought him water. They sat in silence for several minutes afterwards, giving Drop time to cry until he couldnât anymore. When he was through, he leaned on his side and scrunched up the spare clothes to make them into a makeshift pillow.
âOh - Drop, I could find you a bed.â But half way through her words he passed out cold on the floor. His face and body finally relaxed, and his arm laid on top of the quarterstaff he had clung to before. She hesitated to carry Drop in case that might wake him, so she made due with finding a blanket to drape over his body. It wasnât much, but hopefully it was a small comfort that wouldnât give him any more reasons to cry.
She sat herself several feet away from Drop, and began preparing herself once again to enter a trance so that she might get some rest as well.
A freak hurricane. A ruined mansion. Wolves. And a desperate, frightened young human. The evening had taken such a strange turn that Sheithayne was unsure if she could even continue looking for answers to all of her questions at this point. What mattered at the moment was that she had helped someone survive, at least for now, and that was enough to satisfy her for the night.