Common Ground

Log Info

• Title: Common Ground
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Geir
• Place: Soldier's Defense
• Time: December 9th, 2021
• Summary: After a rather gnarly headache, Aryia is back in the Defense once more. Geir is attending to folks this time around, and he manages to help rid the mul'neissa of her headache after she provides some insights that another Mourner has done for her, as well as his inspection of her ailments. They converse, figuring if ripping a bandage off (flooding memories back) or taking it slow (letting them trickle in) was better in the long term, some of their origins from Charn, as well as the difference between makari and soft skins. Aryia thanks Geir for his help, and resumes resting.

Soldier's Defense, Noon.

It's a chilly day. Light snow on the ground reflecting the sun through the cloudless, blue sky. Making it oh, so bright in the hospital. Which is fantastic for most patients, makes it feel as if they're outside, soaking in the light.

Except for one.

A scarred mul'neissa woman is laying on a cot in the public treatment rooms with a black blindfold on and cotton shoved in her ears. She's been visiting more frequently as of late. And instead of wounds of battle, it's been chronic headaches. Judging by the faint sheen of sweat on her forehead, and the amount of medicated tea she's gone through beside her, it's obvious that this bout is a bit rougher on her than before.

The copper-scale Sith makes his way through the Soldier's Defense, his heavy scale armor clinking as he moves.

He pauses at the bed of another Sith, sharing hushed words with the woman in Draconic. Geir intones something quietly, gesturing with a hand, and after a brief flash of light, stands and continues along his way.

Spotting the Mul'neissa, he slows, again intoning something quietly in Draconic. "Peace on your nesst.", the copper-scale says to Aryia, in a quiet voice.

The cotton shoved into the elf's long ears didn't make her completely deaf to the world. Just tolerable. Aryia slightly shifts some on the cot, her reaching up to the blindfold to free a singular, torch-bright eye to spy who was speaking with her. She grimaces some from the light let in. It takes her moment, but vague recognition flashes across her face, and she returns the blindfold back to blissful darkness.

She raises a hand in the air to wave in his vague direction, and motions slowly, "Peace on your nest. You're... G-E-I-R, right?" she asks with her hands. <Handspeech>

"Yes, this one is Geir.", he says, his voice low. "You are suffering?", he wonders, "From what? This one is curious. Though, one can hear it at a later time, if one prefers to sleep."

Aryia wipes the sweat from her brow with a sleeve before slightly nodding. "Don't need anymore rest," she motions blindly in front of her, since he apparently can understand her. "Headaches. This one is has been the worst so far." <Handspeech>

"Ah. This one assumes that the fine doctors and priests have seen to you, and have determined the best course of action for your headaches?", the copper-scale says quietly, glancing furtively about. "Does one require anything? This one is willing to fetch and carry."

Aryia gives another nod, this one more faint. "Yes, V-E-R-N-A is my usual caretaker when I come here. Or S-E-Y-A-R-D-U. Verna does something for me sometimes, but usually I mix some alchemy remedies into some tea..."

Next to her cot was a teapot with a few empty cups beside it.

Fidget. "... since you asked, could you pour me some?" she requests, steeling herself as she slowly tries to sit up. <Handspeech>

"What is it that Verna does for you?", Geir ask, as he leans over to take up the teapot. His hand touches at the bottom, and he nods thoughtfully. "Still acceptably warm."

A gurgle of water can be heard, and then a pause as the Mul'neissa props herself upright. Then a delicate touch gently tugs at one of Aryia's hands, and a teacup is lightly placed into it.

"If one knows, this one might be able to assist in the same manner."

Aryia shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know," she signs, slowly scooting back until her back was resting on the hospital wall. The touch makes her hand twitch, and turn over to accept the cup. "Thank you."

Slowly, she sips on the drink. Grimacing at the taste, but it was for her own good. A shaky sigh leaves her. "Some kind of blessing that just whisked away everything. It came back later, of course. If you can't tell, I'm not the best with magic stuff." <Handspeech>

GAME: Geir rolls heal: (19)+11: 30

A gentle, warm hand lightly touches at Aryia's forehead. "Forgive this one, it is necessary to determine what can be done." Light touches are also felt on the Mul's cheeks, and then her free wrist is lightly held.

"Hrm. Without a thorough examination, this one cannot rightly say what the cause is. This one can make you feel better, for a time, by dealing with the symptoms. Does one desire such?"

Aryia flinches from the touch out of seemingly nowhere, but she relents. "It's fine," she assuages, sitting still for Geir. She was a bit cold and clammy, yet lacked a fever. And her resting heart rate was a bit elevated. Body clearly under a bit of stress with the pain from her alleged headache.

The mute gives a light nod at the offer. "That would be helpful, even if it will just come back around eventually. I know what the cause is, anyways." <Handspeech>

"Oh?", Geir wonders. "Hmm, just so." He begins to intone in Draconic, and his palm touches Aryia's forehead twice in succession. The first touch brings relief to the feelings of nausea, and the second, a short time later, brings relief from the exhaustion plaguing the Mul'neissa.

"This one regrets being unable to bring permanent relief, though as said, a further examination may bring resolution. Are you feeling a little better?"

Again, Aryia flinches once more from the touch. And there's just tiniest bit of hesitation one can feel from the spell taking hold, but she lets it through, and an unseen tension drops from her shoulders and her brow as she sighs in relief.

The mute reaches up slowly, pulling down the blindfold to hang around her neck. She offers a weak smile as the light doesn't bother her as much. "Thank you," she signs before pulling out the cotton from her ears. "Yes, that... helped a lot."

A sip on her bitter tea, another grimace, and she rests the cup on her lap. "It's a bunch of old memories," she explains after a few moments to revel in the relief. "They come back in pieces. Yesterday, something... kicked up a whole bunch of them. My mind is trying to process them, and it gives me the biggest headache..." <Handspeech>

The copper-scale is silent for a time, his expression contemplative as Aryia speaks to her malady. The silence lingers on after she's done.

"This one admits that he has not encountered such a situation before. It stands to reason that your experience is stressful enough to bring about pain. One may surmise some physical cause for it, but an emotional or mental cause is as likely."

Aryia snaps a finger right at Geir's assessment. "You would be right. It's due to a lot of... mental and emotional things that has... how do I put this."

She sits up a bit straighter, and languidly. Suddenly feeling better after feeling terrible has that effect of making one feel a bit discombobulated. "Imagine your memories are a ball of yarn. You wind it a certain way, so it all stays correct and flush. But if you mess up part of it, it winds terribly, might have knots in it, things that cross over, it's a mess. I've had a few knots straightened out recently, and now the rest is starting to unravel. Sometimes its slow, and I can manage it. Sometimes its really fast, and it feels like rope burn in my skull."

She sips on her tea again. "I hope that makes some sense." Clearly, this has been going on long enough that she's had time to think about how to explain it. <Handspeech>

The copper-scale coughs a few times, and a stream of acrid smoke escapes his nostrils. "Just ssso.", he says quietly. "This one cannot say he understands thoroughly, but will take your words at face value." He taps his cheek with a clawed digit.

"One can remove the bandage slowly, and prolong the pain, or one can remove it with a quick yank, and face it all at once. This one suggests the latter. If such a thing can be done for your condition."

That analogy makes Aryia cringe. "I would like not to relive entire decades of my life, that probably has quite a bit of trauma mixed in with it, in one singular go. That sounds like a good way to go comatose for a while."

She sighs. "There are some parts of my past that I'd rather take on one at a time than be blindsided by all of it. I'm sure you have some memories you're not too proud of." <Handspeech>

Geir chuckles and lets out a slow breath. "Of course, one is correct. This one has memories that he is not terribly proud of. Everyone, this one acknowledges, is different in their experiences, even if they are in the same place in their lives." A rumble is heard deep in his chest.

"However, this one weighs the cost of one versus the other. Experienced all at once would be terrifying, however, it would be done fairly quickly. This one believes that living in some pain for decades is not favourable, compared to living in sheer agony for a short period of time."

Aryia weakly chuckles. A silent sound, one that is mostly seen from the shake of her shoulders. A bemused smile crosses her lips before she polishes off her tea, and sits cross legged. She then offers a counterpoint. "... aren't most traumas cause by sheer agony in a short period of time? Who can say the aftermath of unwinding the yarn all at once would lead to more troubles than that caused by bearing through it?"

She snickers. "Though, I would certainly apply your logic if I had to snap a bone back into place." <Handspeech>

"Trauma can be caused by many things. Wouldn't prolonging the pain be more likely to cause long lasting damage, be it physical or mental?", the copper-scale counters. "Physical and mental health are connected. Treating one without the other is a cause of many health issues. The logic of putting a bone back into place is applicable to all things. Putting the bone back quickly is desired. However, recovering from said broken bone still takes time.

He gestures with a hand. "Thus, this one suggests a quick onslaught of memories, followed by a long convalescence."

Aryia's hands go still at the argument brought forth, her pursing her lips as her gaze falls to her lap.

...

Soberly, she replies with a downcast expression. "I'd rather not lose who I am right now, and become something I despise. An onslaught of memories would irrevocably change me into something closer to what I used to be." <Handspeech>

A hand lightly rests upon Aryia's shoulder, and a gentle squeeze follows. "This one understands. This one offers his assistance in whatever way is required. You may lean upon this one, or not."

The touch vanishes. "This one does, however, recommend meditation, as healthy a diet as one can bear, and regular exercise. It may be difficult with the pain, however, a healthy body will lead to a healthy mind, and both will fortify you against whatever comes."

It's with that bit of understanding that makes Aryia relax some. A soft sigh follows. "Thank you. I will keep your offer in mind."

The mute can't help but smirk at the advice given. "The headaches make it a bit hard to meditate, but that's what I usually end up trying to do. Helps sort out the memories. But uh... don't worry about exercise." She rolls up a sleeve, and flexes a muscled arm. "I've got that covered plenty. Need a lot to keep up with what I do." <Handspeech>

"This one believes you will weather this storm.", Geir says with a chuckle. His head stretches out, and firmly squeezes at the bared arm. "Hmm, you are quite strong, it seems." He leans back with another chuckle. "The old slap the water out of the bucket trick?"

"I think so too."

The arm is dense and solid. And from the rescued slaves in Mictlan, Geir would know Aryia fights with her body. If that wasn't proof of that, she signs with a snort, "Nope. The punch down brick walls trick. And running and climbing and jumping over buildings. Others use swords. I use my fists." <Handspeech>

The copper-scale chuckles. "Hmm, one supposes that is a way to go about it. It proves effective, most of the time, yes?" His expression changes slightly, gaining a far-away look. "This one might have gone that route, had the Deathdragon not required his service."

Aryia nods with a smile. "It is effective. And so far I've found most problems tend to go away if you punch them. If that doesn't work, punch harder."

She tilts her head to the side. Thinking for a long moment, and looking the copper-scale over slowly. "... Vardama?" she hazards a guess, unsure of all the alternate names. "I just had to learn to use my body because that's all I had in Charn. Why did they need your service?" <Handspeech>

The copper-scale leans back slightly, and laughs. "Hmm, jusst so! You would make a fine Sith-makar. Punch harder." Geir chuckles, snorting a few times.

He nods then, in reply to her question of the Sith's god. "Indeed, Vardama is the soft-skin name for her. As for Charn, one's body was all this one had also. Until he could kill one of the guards, and take that one's sword. Then they learned what a hundred years of experience can do with a sword."

His expression darkens slightly, before he forces another breath through his nose.

"She had seen enough death by my hands, that she bid me to serve Death in a better fashion."

Aryia chuckles along with him, shrugging. "Once the nest mothers are dealt with, I just need scales and a tail, and I'll fit right in," she jokes back.

Her expression softens as he explains, her nodding along in a manner that belied that she knew exactly what he spoke of. "Had you trapped too, huh?" she points out. "I never could get lucky enough to kill my captors. Got thrown into fighting pits. Had to learn there."

She glances him over once more, then slowly nods. "I see. Probably one of the better ones to fall under, in my opinion. What lead you to her? Or... rather. You know..." she fumbles for the word, trying to find one that wasn't as offensive as her usual snarky remarks on the matter. "How'd you meet her?" <Handspeech>

The copper-scale goes quiet, his expression fading to neutral. "This one died.", he says somberly. "It was like a dream." He forces a long breath through his nose. "And then this one awoke, knowing what he must do."

He shakes his head sadly. "This one's story is more complicated than it seems. This one can not speak of it."

Aryia blinks. 'Oh', her lips move silently. Blink blink. "I'm... sorry for asking," she lamely apologizes with a fist on her sternum. "Then we don't speak of it." Easiest way to get one's foot out of their mouth.<Handspeech>

Geir's expression brightens, and he shakes his head once more. "One does not need to apologize, one had no way of knowing. This one bears no grudges. It is... difficult to explain. It is like a still-fresh wound that one strives to recover from."

"This one has a feeling that one understands. Possibly having a similar life experience."

Aryia gives a sage nod. "Yes... I do. Some subjects I feel similarly about."

The mute gives a little shrug. "It might be the same for the most part. Probably best to not dwell on it for now." She taps the tips of her fingers together. And this is where the wonders of Aryia start to shine.

Small talk.

Less a shine, and more like a scuffed polish with no luster. "... so......." <Handspeech>

"Hmm, just sso, jussst so.", the Sith intones.

The copper-scale cants his head slightly. "Sooo?" He chuckles. "Aside from suffering from nasty headaches, how are you faring? How is being an egg tender going?"

Aryia's face colors briefly from her awkwardness being picked up on. Though, she huffs slightly. "Egg watching is... it would be very easy. If the mothers would calm the fuck down," she complains with her brows pinched together. "The headaches aren't helping with it either. Really testing my patience. The inane requests are worse than soft skin mothers. I swear, at this rate, the emotions are so thick in the air there, I'm going to walk out being able to read you all finally."

She crosses her arms, and slowly exhales. Then pinches the bridge of her nose. "...I bitch about it, but its fine. Doing it for a friend." <Handspeech>

Geir snorts and chuckles at her description of it. "It is very difficult for a male to be near expectant mothers. This one is happy to discover it is the same for females." He chuckles at length.

"It is good of one to do so, and this one is happy one is learning of our People's ways."

The copper-scale leans forward, winking. "This one has had as difficult a time learning soft-skin ways. One should take heart that the differences are not so great, after all."

Aryia chuffs, a corner of her lips raising. "There is no difference. I've done this for soft skin mothers as well. Both men and women tend to get incredibly stressed being near expectant mothers."

She blinks a bit as Geir leans in, but she snorts and rolls her eyes. "The differences aren't much, no. But when my headaches get bad, I've had to wear a sign that tells the mothers not to sniff me. I know that's how makari communicate. But when my head's pounding, I've got dinosaur bites from getting weird food for them, covered in sap from Am'shere, the last thing I want is someone's snout in my face."

She giggles silently. "But yes, you are right." <Handspeech>

Chuckling, he nods. "This one supposes it may be a universal trait: Fear expectant mothers." He snorts and laughs, shaking his head. "Over time, the People learn not to sniff people. At least, not so obviously. There is useful information in scent, however. The temptation is great. And it is merely one way of communicating... but not really. It is... hmm. Unconscious communication. Soft-skins do the same sort of thing."

Aryia bobs her head, smirking. "Yes. But not nearly as much smelling," she snickers. A sigh leaves her, and the mute slides down further onto her cot. "Appreciate the talk, and your help. I.. think I'm going to close my eyes for a bit." <Handspeech>

"Just sso.", the copper-scale intones. Ensuring that the teacup is out of the way, he takes a moment to ensure Aryia is comfortably tucked in. "Resst well, Aryia. This one will be about, if he is needed." He stands, and slowly makes his way further into the Defense.

-End Scene-