Muls, Migraines, and Mourners

Log Info

• Title:
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Verna
• Place: Lower Gardens
• Time: December 3rd, 2021
• Summary: On a chilly day at a tea stall in the Lower Gardens, Aryia is nursing an ever increasingly painful headache. Verna swings by to check in on her, finding the mute mul'neissa exhausted and pained. She mentions she's afraid of all the memories flooding back, which is a constant stream at the moment, and she's been using her journal as a crux to keep her in the now, as per the Mourner's orders. Verna offers insight, and a small blessing, one that hit the nail on the head with the pain, and Aryia gets a small reprieve from the onsetting migraine. They amble off towards Soldiers' Defense so Aryia can get a much needed rest before it comes back again.

Lower Gardens, Midday.

It's a chilly, clear day in the gardens, and most out and about were shielded in jacket and cloak. There wasn't much to see in the grounds this time of year aside from heartiest of foliage.

Though, such cold didn't ward against folks visiting the tea stand nearby. In fact, it encouraged it, there a steady stream of customers coming and going. Though, a scarred mul'neissa woman rubbing her temples with a steaming cup and pot in front of her had been glued to a stool in front of the stall for some time. She's in a grey cloak and wrapped up tight, nursing the warm cup as if she was attempting to drain the life from it to stave the headache she's had for a few days now.

Tea may be a luxury or necessity, dependent upon personal opinion and viewpoint. Against the chill, it is a welcome tool, regardless. Covered in cloak and layers of robes, Verna makes her way towards the stand in the gardens, conveniently near the Soldier's Defense. The scarred mul is noted as Verna nears and greetings are offered. "Good day to you. Are your headaches still an issue?"

Aryia looks up from her hood, eyes set in a thin squint behind her sunglasses as she settles them on the Mourner. Her posture is straighter, one leg crossed over the other. Her lips part for a moment as her brows knit in confusion. It lasts for a mere beat before her visage eases back into the faintly pained expression, and she nods slowly.

"I am sorry to hear that. As you noted, there are apothecaries for pain relief. As for the ... mental collation," Verna's lips purse, which may or may not be visible within her own hood, "I am uncertain how well I can aid with that."

Aryia lightly shrugs, holding up her teacup at the mention of apothecaries. She pulls a small pouch out of her sleeve, tipping it over to put a splash of some powder into the drink before stowing it away. Medicine of some kind.

She drinks. Grimaces. And sets it back down.

Her hand finally flicks some mote of conversation. "... I don't know if you can. Aside from... listening to me complain, really." <Handspeech>

She gestures to an empty seat beside her, the situation similar to that when they had tea together some time ago. <Handspeech>

Verna requests a tea from the shopkeep before taking up the invitation and settling in the empty seat. "If that is helpful to you, I am capable and willing."

Aryia sighs, flashing a "Thanks," to the Mourner.

The mute takes a moment for her tea to settle before pulling out a journal from inside her cloak. She cracks it open, flipping through a few pages. A tremor runs through her hand. "I... am afraid," she motions slowly, frowning into her cup at the admittance. "It's getting worse. I'm... finding myself acting more out of turn. Having thoughts that... grind against how I am. I've had, on a number of occasions, someone say my name, and I missed it." <Handspeech>

Verna doffs her hood as her tea arrives, though her attention remains upon Aryia rather than the drink. Her lips purse in concern. "As we discussed before, and perhaps moreso now, it will take time to incorporate all, especially if memories are returning en masse and unbidden." A gloved hand gestures to the journal. "Has that aided you?"

Aryia's voice is still for a moment, her using it to remove her shades and carefully place them on her collar. Her visage is a shade pale, some bags under her eyes. "... somewhat," she finally answers, languid. "It... feels like every day, another few months unveil themselves. I... wish I could sleep like most can," she laments. "The journal helps me focus on what's happening now. Or, um, the past few months." <Handspeech>

Verna looks from the journal to Aryia, observing a moment before noting, "You do not appear especially well-rested." After a moment of further consideration, she inquires, "What of the other suggestions? Have you spoken of this with" a pause and her hands lift to fingerspell "V-I-O-L-E-T?"

Aryia slumps some at the question, and she shakes her head slowly. "... she's... busy," she signs back, sighing with a sad frown. There's a faint bit of desperation in her expression and her signs. "Do you have any magic that can knock me out? I know sleep magics don't work, but..." <Handspeech>

Verna frowns at the statement,the inquiry, or a combination thereof. "To what end? There are certainly spells that could render you unconscious, but I am concerned that being so would not aid you... to say nothing of rendering you such in the first place."

"I just want rest. Haven't been able to get any for days now..." she motions slowly before Aryia lulls her head forward into open hands, palms pressing into her eyes. <Handspeech> "T-r-d," she hisses softly. <Sildanyari>

"Sc-r-d." <Kulthian>

Her fingers curl into a few ivory locks. Continuing to hiss, albeit in a more harmonious tune. "P-ss-d -ff," <Celestial>

She abandons her perch, and falls forward, groaning quietly as her face mushes against the open pages of her journal.

"I understand," Verna assures her, regardless of which tongues she chooses to exhale. "Rest will come. Regretably, I am not inclined to bludgeon you about the head and shoulders, nor concuss you with mana in attempt to bring such more quickly. I am quite certain that such would increase the aches in your head, not ease them."

Aryia lies still on the pages for a moment overlong, before finally sitting upright, sniffling and rubbing at her face. She flips the slightly damp page to another one before just shutting the journal with a light 'thonk'.

"What do I do then...?" she slowly asks, rubbing at her temple so hard with a thumb that her knuckle pops. <Handspeech>

An excellent question. Whether or not Verna has the answer for a sleepless sildanyari is another matter. She considers further. "Were I in the rotation, I might suggest that you attend one of my lectures at the Arcanist Society. According to a number of past attendees, the experience is rather soporific. Perhaps half are rendered unconscious at one point or another during the course, for varying durations. There may be other Sages whose offerings are similar."

Aryia wasn't sure if the Mourner's deadpan delivery was one of her attempts at a joke, or being dead serious about it. Yet, the mute couldn't help but think it was both, and a weak smile breaks through on her lips. She tries to laugh, but her jaw tenses and her fingers curl in pain. She just closes her eyes at this point to ward off all light.

It takes her moment to respond, either collecting herself or piecing together what 'soporific' was by the way her lips move. But she does motion with one hand while the other was covering her eyes. "As much as I would love to listen to one of those, I'm sure I couldn't focus enough to do that. Shit, I can't even focus like I'm usually able to."

Again she elects to rest her head on the cool wood of the stall, her motioning more. "I take it you have been well, aside from my medical woes?" <Handspeech>

"I am well enough, physically," Verna affirms with a nod. "However, recent developments have kept much on my mind, if not in the same manner as yourself." With Aryia resting head down, again, she extends a hand to the fullblood's shoulder. A brief, simple blessing is uttered and, while she is not imbued with healing from her Mistress, she can offer some respite from some states and maladies.

Aryia gives a nod against the grain of the wood, her giving a shaky thumbs up. "I wish you luck on those developments. I can't offer much, but I'm here if you need-... need-..."

The energies taking hold whisk away the mute's headache for the time being, as well as her exhaustion. And the hand repeats the word a few more times before clunking against the stall side as the pugilist goes lax.

She simply turns, finds the edge of a willowy robe and encircles an arm around Verna. The headache would come back for sure, but a moment of respite was long needed. <Handspeech>

"Thank you. I would not ask such of-" Verna's response to the offering is cut short as she finds herself with an unexpect third arm. About her, that is, rather than sprouting from her side. "Did that assuage your state any?" It may be a somewhat rhetorical question as she wonders if the fullblood is still conscious. "Would you prefer another location, with escort to?"

Aryia is still conscious, somehow. Though, from her posture and frame, it was clear that she was the empty void that was present when sudden ailments were alleviated. She gives a small nod as her other arm was preoccupied holding herself up. "Thank you," she manages to eek out with the hand. <Handspeech>

Verna does her best to serve as a support structure, despite most (or any) of her breadth and width being only illusory from her robes and cloak. "You are most welcome." As she does not require use of her arms and hands to speak, she moves them around Aryia reciprocally to assist with that support.

Tea abandoned, the mute slips free of her chair and places a few coinage on the counter. She staggers a bit, though her weight on Verna is less 'I need a hand' and more of a 'thank you so much'. Yet such expressions were hard when there is sudden calm amongst a veritable storm. She breathes evenly. In. Out. A notion that was sorely missed.

"Can... you guide me to... the defense?" she asks with a hand, eyes stilled closed and not wanting to kick start a new headache anytime soon. <Handspeech>

"Indeed, I can," Verna responds, "though I cannot carry you entirely." Not to imply that the mul'niessa is bulky nor heavy, only that she is in the context of Verna's might (or lack thereof). She turns the two of them slowly towards the hospital and begins to lead. Also slowly. "Regretably, I did not utlize my cauldron for the venture here."

Aryia weakly chuckles. One that would have been more lively were she not so used to the pain the notion caused. "I could pass out at the bottom of that thing before we even got there..." she jokes, barely keeping herself upright. She wasn't heavy,but it was like moving a teetering brick stack forward so it didn't topple over.

She was going to sleep so well. Finally. <Handspeech>

-End Scene-