Hiraeth

Viverescribere

Viverescribere

Always looking to write
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  1. Intermediate
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Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
  3. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Fantasy, Historical, Magical, Romance (usually within other genres), Dystopia,.




Melina

The village of Ewell always boasted a busy and well-stocked market. It seemed like one could find anything they wanted there, from a certain herb leaf all the way up to a fine-leather saddle worthy of a mighty steed. Due to the resourcefulness of the market, it saw lots of trade and, therefore, revenue, making it one of the more popular villages to buy produce from. People from two villages over even came to cast their eyes over the wears that were being sold or bartered for. Most of the time one could buy what they wanted for a decent prize. There wasn't a need, in Ewell, to sell above the worth of something, not when there was so much business you could afford to sell items at a decent prize and sell a lot of them.

It was one of the reasons why Melina preferred to visit Ewell, despite the risk. Although she had become a familiar face to some of the vendors and many now saw her as one of their own. Even if she wasn't. However it was better that they didn't know that. While Melina didn't mind some of the vendors, and enjoyed casual conversation with them, she knew better than to ever trust a single one of them with the truth. Friends could turn to enemies in a blink of an eye these days.

It's why she kept her hair pinned back over her ears, to hide the truth. For a single look at the pointed tips would inform everyone close enough to see them of what she was.

With the Kingdom of Findara searching for all creatures mythological and magic in order to kill them, and the Kingdom of Pendilor seeking them out to enslave and use them in battle, Melina was certainly stuck between a rock and a hard place. Although, that being said, it would have been stupid to remain within close quarters of Findara, especially with their soldiers extending their searches beyond their typical perimeters. It would be safer to stay within Pendilor's territories and pass off as a human... at least attempt to. That being said, it seemed to be working well for Melina at the moment, having been keeping up her act for the past seven months.

She kept her story vague as to where she lived, saying that she was about two miles north outside the village walls. Her tale spun with a mixture of lies and truths: she was a healer (true), her parents had passed during the influenza that swept the Kingdom five years ago (lie). It was much easier to keep herself straight and to not get caught out when some of her supposed life was mixed in with her real.

Melina took to Ewell to buy things she needed to survive, but also to sell pastes and herbs, grown and made within her little hut in the forest, to the humans. Not that they knew they were Fey made, though she had started to wonder if they would even care considering the amount of buzzing reviews she had received.

"Lina!"

The Fey woman stumbled back with a soft laugh as a little girl barrelled into her, smiling down at her as small arms wrapped around her legs. Instinctively a hand came down to rest on the child's head, and Melina raised an eyebrow, "Winnie, you're getting stronger by the day! I think you need to start being careful lest you bowl me over into the mud!" She moved her hand to the young girl's chin as she looked up with a giggle. The Fey's eyes ran over the face that looked up at her, taking in the gleam to her eyes and the rosiness to her cheeks, "You're feeling better now?"

Winnie nodded furiously, pulling back and twisting this way and that in order to ruffle up her dress skirts, "Much! Daddy said to thank you for your special drink. He said you saved my life."

Melina smile quietened and she crouched down, lowering her basket onto the floor, "You're very welcome, little bird." She murmured, tapping her nose gently, "Now, what are you doing today? I'm in need of an assistant and I can't seem to find anyone..."

"Me! Me! I can do it!" A hand shot straight up into the hair, chest puffing out with pride and the young woman laughed again, standing and straightening, "Well then, shall we get going? Can't afford to open the stall late. And, if you're extra good today, maybe I'll get us a strawberry tart from the Bakers for lunch. But you can't tell anyone okay? S'got to be our little secret."

Nodding, Winnie moved to Melina's side to grasp hold of her hand. From there the two walked to Melina's stall, the child skipping with every step.

@Dipper


Melina Loset


NAME
Melina Loset
NICKNAME/S
Lina
AGE
23
SPECIES
Fey
OCCUPATION
Occasional Healer
ATTIRE
Medieval peasant dress - linen, muslin, cotton. Leather boots, legging-type bottoms underneath dresses that can be pulled up and tied around the waist. Thick leather belts around the majority of her waist.
TATTOOS
None of note
PIERCINGS[/B]
Standard lobe || x1 ||
SCARS
Crescent shaped scar on back of hand near thumb ||
MARKINGS
When manipulating air/wind, lines of white/silver appear from her hairline. It almost looks like she is cracking as they appear from her hairline or the edges of her face.
FACE CLAIM
Alicia Agneson || Actress || Vikings ||



PERSONALITY

LIKES
The smell of mint || The smell of leather || The smell of parchment || The colour blue || Soft breezes on warm days || Strawberry tarts || Roasted wild boar || Mead || Storms || Thunder || Mist || Clouds || Swimming in lakes || Wind chimes ||
DISLIKES
Cranberries || Blueberries || Fish (alive or as food) || Ale || Stagnant/still air || Hail || Gambling || The colour yellow || Soggy bread || Closed spaces || The smell inside taverns || People being late || Rudeness || Superstition/old wives tales ||
HOBBIES
Preparing pastes for her healing jobs || Preparing potions for her healing jobs ||
HABITS/QUIRKS
Mumbles/talks in sleep || Blinks when surprised || Sometimes hums while thinking || Traces childhood scar on left hand when lost in thought ||
TALENTS
Air/wind manipulation || Healing knowledge || Knowledge of herbs || Magic manipulation ||
MAGIC/KNOWLEDGE
Herbal remedies for wounds/illnesses || General magic manipulation || Specialises/stronger in air/wind: can manipulate and create air-related elements at will and can affect the weather to a certain degree (e.g. creating hurricanes/storms) ||
MAGICAL INFLUENCE
When manipulating air/wind, lines of white/silver appear from her hairline. It almost looks like she is cracking as they appear from her hairline or the edges of her face.
FEARS
Being caught || Being enslaved || Being murdered for who she is || Being burned alive ||
HISTORY



Hex Code: #a4cbfd
 
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Melina

Arms slowly folded across her chest as the two men before her discussed between them, her eyes only narrowing as the king turned his attention onto her. The words he spoke made her want to laugh in his face, disbelieving that the human before her thought he was doing her a favour by whatever he was about to force her to do. Not that she would know what it was, since, after his barrage of threatening questions, he turned and walked away.

"Not even going to tell me what my lovely new position is?" She called after him, stepping even closer to the bars but still far enough away to avoid being pulled up against the iron should anyone decide to inflict such an action.

Watching until the king had disappeared outside the dungeon door, her head turned lazily back to the man in front of her. Instead of answering him, she allowed his gaze to wander over him, as if surveying him for any truths she could find. A soft hum sounded soon after, as if satisfied with what she had found. Melina finally raised her gaze to his, head tilting lightly to the side.

"So you are the prince. How interesting. Both in the fact you kept your identity hidden but also the fact that you were out on such a hunt. I would have thought such a thing was beneath you." She mused, eyebrow raising as she ignored his warning. "Clearly your father approves of your activities but I have to question... why? As his only son... I would have thought he would have preferred you closer to home."
 
"You're a healer," Gareth explained, "and we have someone in need of those skills. Better than fighting, isn't it?"

He'd expected this reaction-- despite the simplicity of the job, it was still situated deep within the castle among people she wouldn't know and who would distrust every move she made.

"You assume he cares more than he does. I'm better off away from home, doing what's best."

He shifted from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly, defensively, over his chest. Doing what's best. If he had to convince himself of it, then perhaps it really wasn't for the best. The imprisonment never sat right with him, but that little tidbit was something he'd much rather keep to himself.

He stepped in closer to the bars. "You'd better get used to it. From here on out, nothing will change and you'll be answering directly to the king. Be thankful you'll get somewhere comfortable to stay out of this." He pointed to the elf down the row. "He'll never be so lucky. Before I forget... Would you rather come along with me, or did you prefer the hunters? Rough hands, and all that..."

Gareth knew precisely the room his father wanted to keep her in. The windows were barred, there was only one door, and it was placed in a convenient spot on the same floor as his mother's chambers.

His hand hovered over the locking mechanism, waiting for her answer.
 




Melina

"Doing what's best. Y'know, you've said that before... but I got to disagree with you there. What you're doing isn't for the best - it's far from it." Melina knew that making her displeasure known wouldn't get her anywhere. Telling him that what he was doing was wrong wouldn't make him spontaneously change his mind.

"Besides, don't you have your own healers? I'm surprised you'd be willing to go through a Fae's form of healing, surprised you don't think it'd contaminate you in some way." She snorted, keeping her arms folded tightly across her chest, hands flexing into - and out of - fists.

However, regardless of what she thought, she knew she wasn't going anywhere soon. Or at least not until they had gotten what they wanted out of her, and apparently that meant her healing skills. Although she wondered if they would still feel that way if they knew about her other abilities.

Melina narrowed her eyes as he stepped closer to the bars, hands curling into fists under her folded arms, "Oh yes, so thankful."

Huffing next at his question, her eyes moved to the door of the dungeons, clearly deliberating her choices before she looked back to him, "So long as you haven't got any iron hidden up your sleeves. I've been burned enough for one day, thank you."
 
He ran a hand through his hair, loosening the tie. "Of course we do. But their methods are, as my father says, 'questionable'. And ineffective, besides." With an amused hum, he stepped away from the bars and toward the hunters. "We may be superstitious, fey, but we're not stupid. We can ward against any contamination just fine."

Reasonable. There was no iron where she was going, as far as he knew. Too much of a risk-- they didn't want her burning her hands to the point where she couldn't perform her duties.

"No iron," he promised. "Just rope. See?" He held up the bindings for her to see. "Hope you're not allergic."

Gareth reached through suddenly to grab a hold of her wrists and tie them through the bars. When he was done, he asked the guards to unlock the door, then gestured for her to step out. Once she did he'd lead her up to the castle, with a secure contingent of guards bringing up the rear. The castle's halls were twisting and full of dead ends, endlessly looping corridors, and mistakes in the architecture. His own room was on another floor, secluded and safe.

But his mother's...

She had to stay alone, in a quiet room with a slim balcony she never used. Next to it was an undecorated and unremarkable room with its own barred window. Those were new iron, installed recently. He didn't remember why.

A home was a home, and this was all a fey was going to get in this kingdom. She had better get used to it.
 




Melina

The fey woman was grateful for the silence on the walk to her new room. Speaking to the prince was unbearable. Speaking to any human, in the castle, she imagined, would be unbearable. They would all see themselves as in the right, that what they were doing was all for the greater good. They didn't see her kind or her fellow mythical/magical beings as creatures of equal standing, but rather a kind to enslave and force into battle. It disgusted her. And now they expected her to be their healer? After everything they had done?

Her frustration at the injustice surrounded her grew with each step, however she knew it was pointless trying to make a break for it. The ropes would be easy enough, her powers readily available to her. She wouldn't kill, of course. Just knock out the little prince escorting her one way or another and make a break for it. But how could she know for sure she would escape?

This castle was crawling with soldiers and hunters and guards. No doubt each of them equipped with something that could fell any kind of magical creature they came across on the off chance they did. She easily believed that even the prince, with his use of the ropes, had something hidden up his sleeve in case she tried anything.

Upon entering the room, Melina did a quick survey before turning to face him, not bothering to linger on the iron bars that blocked some of her view from the window. Nor did she question the door that clearly wasn't the one that entered her room from the hallway. She was sure she would be told what it was used for in due course.

"Well, better than the stinking dungeons and listening to that elf rattle on." She muttered, holding her wrists up for him to undo the rope, "Now, am I going to be supplied with what I need when I ask for it? Or do I need to forage and dig for things myself? Because I may need a hand, since your iron cage burned my hand earlier, and I'll need to make something for that before tending to anyone you want me to see - no point sending out a healer who cannot heal, hm?"
 
"What, Luin? He's not too bad." He sliced the rope and tucked it away. "Everything you'd ever need and more, don't worry. Maybe I'll show you in the morning."

He cleared his throat over the sound of a cough from the adjacent room, swiping a hand through his hair where it'd escaped its tie. How was he to break the news? How would she take it, given how she'd been treated since her arrival? Had he been in her place, he'd refuse outright regardless of the promises made-- there was a very real possibility that the fey would trick them, or bring more harm to his mother than good. But it was all a risk, and it'd been a risk since she got sick.

His father didn't make these decisions lightly. If this was what he wanted, then that was that. The fey knew what was hanging above her head should she fail.

"I'll show you what you're dealing with soon. Father will want you starting soon. And..." he shifted his weight onto his heels. "He'll be the one overseeing your work. I imagine you know what that means."

What was the point of making more threats, anyway? Gareth wasn't a liar if he could help it.

"For your hand, that depends. What do you need?"
 




Melina

"No maybe about it, mister. If you want me healing, I got to know where my supplies are, otherwise no one is getting any treatment around here." Melina raised an eyebrow, watching him for a moment longer before turning away from him to walk to the window. She leaned her side against the wall beside the window, peering out to the view she had from there.

She was sure it would hit her soon, what her new future would be. At the moment she was still running on the leftover anger of being treated the way she was and the fear of where she was going to be taken. She had expected to stay in the cells for longer than she had been too. Although she would never verbalise her relief in being taken out of them as quickly as she had been. Otherwise these humans will take it as gratitude, of that she was certain.

"I'll need honey, pine leaves, some lavender... obviously a mortar and pestle to grind things together, a jar and spoon to mix things together and bandages to compress it onto the burn. Oh, and ice. Or at least clean cold water. Maybe willow bark, if you can find it." She told him, keeping her eyes on the gardens she seemed to be overlooking.

She had expected to be over some courtyard, where traffic would be busy or the area guarded in case she did manage to escape. Instead she had this relatively nice view, which confused her.

"Not much. But sooner rather than later, to minimise scarring and speed up the healing process."
 
The items were procured without a hassle from what was once his mother's favorite garden; three in total made quite the assortment to choose from, however this one in particular had a charm to it the others did not share. But with an aura of sickness about it, Gareth couldn't stand to be around it for too long. The servants did most of the work and when they were done, he gathered it up and carried it up to their resident fey.

For some time, that was the only interaction between them. As invested as he was in his own mother, he had to keep himself occupied away from the castle and oftentimes forgot the tasks his father assigned him back home, most of which were trivial, time consuming, and far below his station.

Water the garden, his father said. Bring this package to the blacksmith. Take the horses out, will you? A servant's job, not a prince's. But he did them all the same and when he returned having satisfied his father's strange demands, a week and a half had passed by and still the fey knew nothing of the woman she was supposed to be caring for. A distraction, or did his father know something he did not? Neither option was particularly comforting to Gareth, who wandered the halls until they were cleared of staff and he was free to move about unnoticed.

He clutched his right hand in his left on approach. A deep gash through the palm was wrapped up tightly, the product of a rather shameful accident with his bow. He'd grown irritable and impatient, so it was no surprise that he'd gone and wounded himself in such a ridiculous fashion.

Stupid mistakes. He made those a lot.

But at least this stupid mistake gave him an opportunity, provided his father hadn't superseded his request to be there when his mother received treatment.

He approached the locked door - bolted from the outside - and rapped is knuckles against the wood to alert her to his presence before unbolting the lock and pushing his way inside without so much as a hello. Under his right arm was a cloth pouch of herbs and other things the servants were planning to deliver.

"I know I'm intruding," he murmured. "Before you say it. I simply wanted to... well, have a look yourself."

His request was clear as day when he held out both his bound hand and the pouch of herbs, but he was prepared to answer any questions regardless.
 




Melina

Bored.

That was the only word Melina could think of to describe her feelings at that moment in time. Just... bored. No one visited her. She had nothing to read. Nothing to do. She had already made a start on her creams and ointments and vials of medicinal liquids. It was the only thing that kept her busy, but the servants of the castle wouldn't always listen to her requests.

There wasn't much exploring to do in the room she had been given either. Just four walls, with a door leading in and out to the hallway where the servants would go. An area to bathe and go to toilet behind a screen in the corner of the room. She had set up her desk of apothecary and medicines as far away from that corner as possible, near the barred window so certain jars and vials could remain near to fresh air, or moonlight or sunlight should they need it.

The only thing that had caught her attention was the second door in the room, which was also constantly locked. Melina didn't know what it was, or where it led to. Briefly she wondered if it was something related to what the king was keeping her around for. But as time went on, Melina's interest dwindled and then vanished, becoming disgruntled when nothing fascinating came from it.

So boredom came for her again.

When the knock came from the door, Melina was busying herself with rearranging her apothecary table for what felt like the umpteenth time. Hair braided to a point, the rest of it fell over her left shoulder as she folded up bandages which she slowly lowered to place on the wooden surface.

"Surely it doesn't take three days to pluck lavender from a--" She began but cut herself off at the sight of the prince.

Her brow immediately furrowed, fingertips pressing firmly into the bandages and body inching that extra inch closer to the edge of the table as if to protect what she had created. She let him speak, cautious about what had brought on this visit considering what he held under his arm.

However, at the sight of the wound on his hand, Melina immediately forgot her worries and allowed the Healer instinct to take over. She was before him in an instant, reaching out to gently take hold of the bound hand and begin unwrapping the bloody bandages. As her fingers moved, her own palm revealed a lack of burn from her own mistake while in the cage, having successfully healed herself with the paste she made when she first arrived.

"First we need to clean it. You're lucky I still have water left over from washing this morning. It'll be cold, but it will do." She tutted softly in thought, moving away from him and toward the screen, which she ducked behind to soon reappear with a jug which contained a quarter of the water it started with. A bowl was held in another, the one she used when washing her face. She strode over to the window and tipped the bowl out, being careful not to touch the iron bars and barely hearing the water splashing below.

"Leave what you've brought on my bed. I'll sort those later." She ordered, filling the bowl with the fresh water once it was on her apothecary table. "Then come here. We need to clean that before it gets infected, if it hasn't already. How long ago did you do this?" She questioned, reaching for some willow bark while waiting for him to follow her demands. She broke some off into smaller strips, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting together at different intervals as she looked through her vials and glass jars.

Melina finally paused, reaching for one of the clean sponges on the desk and half a bar of soap, one she had cut up herself leaving the other half for personal use when bathing. "I'm surprised you've come to me, actually. Or is this just a test to see how well I do?" She finally asked, studying him for a moment before lowering her attention to the sponge and soap, which she had lowered into the water to wet and lather together. Her tone was softer than the last time they spoke, not as accusing, as if the week had mellowed her.
 
"Not long," he said, observing her movements through the room with mild fascination. As requested, he set the pouch on her bed and turned his gaze on the gash in his palm. "Test would be a fine way of describing my reasoning. Without the... planning. I didn't plan it. Just a convenience, really."

And the chance to acquire a new bow, but she didn't need to know that.

"But mostly I came to speak with you about why you're here. Time's running short and my father is too stubborn to make a move." Perhaps scared would be a better word. Gareth shared no such inhibitions regarding the fey and made the choice quickly on his way up. His mother's room was close by. The transition would be easy.

He watched in respectful silence as she went about her work with an admirable sense of duty, a rare trait among their own healers. It was a job to them, not a passion. Work to put coins in their pouches. But never once did they seem to truly care for those they looked after. Not that the fey did, he simply had the feeling she'd had some affection for the people of the village. A village healer who cared for their patients; his mother would be fine in such hands.

How was he to explain, though? How was he to tell her that they'd grown terribly desperate, that his mother lay dying in a dusty room she would possibly never leave, and that a fey, of all things, was their only chance. Once, he wouldn't believe creatures such as her were capable of empathy. As a healer, she had to be. It was a part of the job, wasn't it?

Gareth clenched his hand into a fist and hissed at the sharp sting of the wound. "There's a woman in the next room. She..."

He left it at that. He couldn't bring himself to continue, not until he could think more clearly.
 




Melina

Despite it being her who started the questioning, accusing him of using this as a test, she didn't really bother listening to his responses. Too focused, as she was, on getting things right as she would for any patient. Regardless of what he had put her through. However, she did roll her eyes as she listened to his hiss of pain, turning to see he had clenched the injured hand into a fist.

"Come here," she murmured, taking a step over to him and reaching out to gingerly hold his wrist. She opened up the hand to view the injury on the palm, observing it carefully. Her thumb softly stroked down the side of his hand, from the bottom of his index finger to the base of his thumb as she encouraged the hand to spread out as much as it could.

Without a word, she led him to the basin of water and lowered the hand into it, leaving it in there to soak as she lathered up the sponge with the soap once more.

"So it is a woman. She's sick, I know. I hear her coughing at night. Sometimes during the day too." She finally responded, taking his hand within one of hers to raising it from the water and gently dab at the wound with the soapy sponge. Melina took her time cleaning the blood away, peering in close every now and again to ensure there was no foreign body within the cut.

As she worked, finally happy with the cleanliness of the area and reaching for a spare bandage to dab it dry, she raised her gaze to him every so often through eyelashes, since her head was bent while she worked. "Someone close to you, and your father, for that matter. Since you both care so much, and she has a nice view of the gardens. So someone important. A sister, perhaps? One unknown to the people. Sickly and constantly hidden away. But that wouldn't make sense, as humans enjoy gossip, word would have gotten out eventually."

Melina halted in her musing as she tied the bandage briefly around his hand. From there she turned to her vials, pulling out a paste finally after a brief deliberation.

The young fey woman turned back to him and reached for his elbow, gently directing him to sit in the chair next to the apothecary table all while pulling the tub of paste across the surface to them. She pulled from under the table a small stool, which she then sat down upon, causing her to sit lower than him. She tentatively moved his hand once more, folding her legs so the back of his hand laid to rest on top of her knee.

"So perhaps... your mother. Rumours of her I have heard, but then all went quiet." Melina finally continued, unscrewing the lid of the tub to dip her fingers within. Briefly she glanced to him, gauging his reaction as she untied the bandage. There was a momentary pause, and then she lowered the paste onto his cut.

A cooling sensation would occur along the length of the wound, starting along the injury and then spreading outwards to where there may be bruising in the palm. She gently massaged the paste in, but left a sum of it spread out over the injury until one couldn't see it.

Wiping her fingers on her apron, Melina reached for a new piece of bandage to begin wrapping it around his hand, her touch soft and light. "Now it's your decision, but this will need to be done twice a day for about three. I can either give you a tub of this paste and you can get more bandages from wherever your servants get them - I do need a few more myself - or you can visit me and I can do it for you. I would say it would be best to do this once in the morning for the day, and then the second time before you go to sleep." She explained, pulling back to wash her hands in the basin.

Melina moved the stool with her foot to it's place back under the table, turning to face him and allowing herself to lean against her working desk, arms loosely folded as she studied him, "I can't promise to save her." She eventually told him, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted to hear, but she needed to be clear, "I will always try my best to do what I can for any patient... but if she's too far gone..."
 
"Doesn't take much to figure these things out, does it? It's a poorly kept secret, anyway."

Gareth huffed and watched her work, turning his wrist this way and that, twitching his fingers when she applied an ointment to the mark he was sure would scar. When they sat, he seemed to deflate, slumping down into his seat.

He looked at his hand and saw the work she'd done, turning it this way and that, impressed by the amount of care and that she hadn't taken advantage of his momentary weakness, as he suspected most fey would. Not odd, per se, but enough to warrant further investigation. She wasn't what he expected; perhaps she never would be.

"Thank you," he said. "She's been like that for some time. Getting worse. Do you know what denial looks like?" He grinned. His expression fell again almost immediately after. "It would be easier to explain if you could see her, as her illness is mystifying to even our greatest healers."

Save her? The sinking feeling in his chest told him not to get his hopes up, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

"I... don't think I can expect you to, with how long it's... Here, just... follow me. I'll show you."

Standing abruptly, Gareth walked briskly to the door and pried it open with his other hand while holding the wounded one tightly to his chest. He stepped into the hall and, procuring a key from the belt around his waist, jammed it into the adjacent door with an almost frightened intensity, as if whatever lay beyond it were in desperate need of his help. And maybe she did; his mother was caught in a tumult of coughs and raspy breathing, none of which sounded remotely human.

No one could help her during this attacks, least of all her medically clueless son. He carefully schooled his features into an indifferent mask, and wave the fey woman closer.
 




Melina

A small smile pulled at her lips, small but equally as saddened, "I've dealt with a lot of denial in my line of work, Prince. Just as much denial as grief." She informed him, pulling away from the table to pick up the basin of dirtied, bloodied water. She moved it over to the door, even though she contemplated just tipping it out of the window, and left it on the floor. The servants could take it out with them on their next visit and bring her back another.

"Sounds like a hard one to deal with... an' not just for her." She turned back to face him, taking a few more steps so she could sit on the foot of the bed. It creaked softly under her, not that she cared. Her eyes remained trained on him, as if trying to figure him out as he was with her.

At his abrupt movement, Melina didn't startle, the only show of surprise at his jerky movements being a blink of her eyes. She stood, for the first time hesitating in what he wanted her to do. He was letting her out of her room. With no chains, no iron... and while he was injured. Melina slowly moved forward, head peeking out from the doorway to look down either side of the empty hallway. No guards, either. She turned her head to look at him as he worked anxiously at the other locked door, heart beat growing in pace as she realised what she could do now. Run, flee, attempt to escape.

But...

What would be the point? How far would she get before she stumbled into a guard who knew she didn't belong or knew who she was? The Prince could yell, he could shout for his guards and the castle would go on lockdown. She could feel the iron around her wrists already, and consciously rubbed at the space with a small frown.

However, soon the other door was clicking open, and with it, slamming shut the one in her mind that held all the dreams of escape.

Melina focused back on the prince, and followed his instructions, following closely after him until she stood just a few steps away from where he wanted her. Her eyes ran over the woman, who seemed to be drowning in nothing, gasping and rasping for breath. It sounded painful, excruciating.

"The... the first thing you could do is open some curtains. The windows. The balcony doors." She whispered softly, as if trying not to disturb the woman in the bed, "Dust lingers, and that won't do any good for her cough. The-- the room needs to be aired, and then that air lifted and lightened. It's... it's all too heavy in there. I can feel it just standing here. It's sitting on her chest."

Tearing her eyes from his mother, she looked to him, "Do you want me to try and help her?"
 
"Yes. Please."

Gareth kept his voice down for his mother's sake. Too much noise exacerbated her headaches, which in turn intensified her coughing fits through sheer stress. He crossed the room to the windows and opened them one by one to let fresh air in, then the double glass doors closing off the balcony.

The flowers were dead from neglect. How long had it been?

The woman he called mother was emaciated and pale, lying back in a nest of pillows with three heavy blankets bunched up around her chest. Her eyes were closed in sleep, but Gareth knew she was no sleeping. She drifted more often than she slept, and likely wouldn't even respond to them if they touched her. The deep bruises under her eyes were testament enough to her exhaustion and inability to recover.

"Our," he grimaced, "healers thought she'd do better with less light. That it would 'preserve circulation', or some other such terminology I don't understand. That's not the case?"

Curse him for not understanding-- he knew so little of the body and its illnesses that if often made him feel stupid in these conversations. His lack of knowledge was shameful, if expected given his title. He had no need.

"She's fine for now, though, isn't she?"
 




Melina

"Your healers are idiots." Melinda responded bluntly, walking to tentatively approach his mother in the bed. "Your mother's issues seem to be coming from her chest, thus light would have no influence on her condition. If she had complaints of her eyes or her head, then I would recommend keeping the curtains closed. But regardless, windows can always be open."

Her eyes then rose to the Prince regarding his question, and she hesitated. She didn't wish to lie, or provide false hope. But this woman was suffering, and it was a long and dangerous path our of the woods she was in... and that was if she wanted to follow it out, never mind if she possessed the strength to.

"I can't promise you anything... but I can promise I will do everything I can, in my power and in what you allow me to do, to try and save her. And if not that... then make it as comfortable as possible for her." She told him, voice softening as she slipped back into her healer mode.

Melina the Healer was a lot different to Melina the Fey. The latter having had experience with adult humans and the harsh cruelty they posses. She didn't care much for them, until she was a Healer again. Then she would do everything she could in order for them to live and potentially redeem themselves. Children were different, still innocent and unbiased, seeing everyone as equal and good.

"These flowers need to be removed, and none brought to replace them. Their scent and pollen can also be effecting her chest. I will do what I can... but the servants, or you should you wish to be involved and learn, can bring different items." Melina turned her attention back to the woman, smothering a wince at the rasping noises she made. "I will examine her today, to get a fully understanding of her ailments and then... then we will go from there."

The Fey woman glanced back across to the Prince, finally pausing in her tirade, and rounded the bed to stand just a few strides before him. "You... will have to trust me on this. No questioning my methods or anything of the like... I am more than happy for you to be in here with me when I tend to her, or answer any questions you might have... bu I need to be allowed to work freely. Can you agree to that?"
 
"Maybe..." He turned back to the flowers and pulled them from their pots, then tossed them over the balcony toward the garden. He brushed the loose soil from his clothes and returned to his mother's bedside. "Your best is all I can ask. I have my suspicions she won't..."

Gareth didn't finish, but the intention was clear enough. And to be barred from questioning her strange ways? That was the hardest part to agree to. A fey working freely with his mother was so strange to him, using strange poultices and magic and other sorts of things he'd be dying to know about, and if she was amenable, would freely inquire about.

Perhaps even... No. That line of thought was heresy of the highest order, and a betrayal of his own father. Magic of this sort was not to be dabbled in.

"I can agree." He nodded curtly. "Anything you need, I'll be there. Father keeps tabs on me at all times - all you have to do is ask the nearest servant and they'll fetch me right away. Speaking of servants, they'll be up every other day to bring supplies. Food, medicine, bedding. I myself won't be far, lest..." Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and undid the hair tie. "I won't be far."

Gareth rubbed his hands together through his gloves and reached over to press the side of his hand to his mother's cheek. Even through the thick leather, her skin felt cold. Her eyes cracked open at the touch. Bleary, unseeing green eyes stared emptily at the room's high ceiling. Gareth dimly hoped he didn't imagine the faint sigh of relief. He grinned at the sight - pitiful though it was - and leaned in closer so he could whisper and she could hear.

"Time to wake up, mother. You've a long day ahead."

She exhaled softly. No response.

"Talk to her sometime, will you? She doesn't say much, nothing at all, really, but maybe a new voice keep her mind sharp."
 




Melina

Watching the prince closely, Melina struggled to understand how he could be so attentive and caring in this moment, only to have been so blunt and harsh with her when she had first been captured. Another may have questioned it. Another may have pushed for him to provide more leniencies since they were doing him such a favour. Yet Melina couldn't bring herself to manipulate the young prince in such a way. Those that used their healing knowledge for greed had no place in such work.

"Be careful with rubbing your hands together like that... you'll hinder the healing process on your own wound." She told him simply, eyes averting and lowering back onto his mother. With that last comment regarding his own injury given, she knew she had to focus on the queen... especially with how much now rode on her shoulders.

Exhaling heavily, the Fey woman pulled off the thin cardigan from her shoulders and stepped forward to begin her assessment.

"She's ice-cold... even with all these blankets," she murmured, hand lightly pressing against cheek and then forehead. Her other hand then raised to join the first, gingerly pressing against the sides of the woman's throat to check for swelling. Her brow furrowed in concentration, bending to place ear near chest with her head facing away from the woman, "I'll need you to fetch me a hot water bottle. Make sure they wrap it in towels or something to make sure it won't burn her." She then told him, straightening.

Melina then paused, eyes lifting to meet his as a hand lowered to rest on the top edge of the blanket. "Is there anything else you have concerns about? Any rashes, markings, bruising? If there is... I'm going to know where they are and take a look at them. I... need you to be honest with me. I cannot help her if I don't know everything."
 
Oh. Right. Speaking of the wound, he couldn't feel it much at all. He took her advice anyway, and forced his hand down by his side, if only to avoid bringing about further damage.

"I haven't looked myself, but the healers say she bruises easily around the chest. I don't know what that means."

Her bruises seemed impossible; they rose up along her sides and chest from the slightest of touches and took weeks to heal. The sicker she got, the more bruises she acquired, and the more bruises she acquired, the more frail she became. She was on a downward spiral if he'd ever seen one, and while it hurt him to see his own mother deteriorate so rapidly... he was coming to accept the truth of it, the inevitability of her death. For even if she were to pull through under the fey's magic, her life was cut short.

None of it was fair. And his father? His father was in a precarious position with the war going on. Not even Gareth could predict what poor decisions the man would make should his wife perish.

Gareth minded his hands and took a seat on the corner of the bed, arms folded carefully across his chest. As he expected, a servant came up to serve the frail queen a daily meal-- no more than a bowl of broth was provided to keep her going every day. She couldn't swallow anything else.

Before the servant left, Gareth passed on the request for warm water. The servant bowed and left the room in a hurry.

"All I've said is all I know," he continued. "And what I know is what the healers know."

The queen huffed and turned away from them, and that was enough to keep Gareth silent. Often they thought her to be sleeping, when in reality she was simply drifting in the haze between. Aware enough to feel her pain, but not enough to speak of it.

"If you have something to let her sleep deeply, I would appreciate it. Just for now."
 




Melina

Melina gently rubbed her index finger diagonally across her lips in thought, pausing at one point and tapping her mouth as she considered the new information she had been provided. She remained silent so long as the Prince did, still thinking about what she had been told and where to go forward with things. Her eyes only raised from the frail body on the bed as the servant brought food in.

She was quick to reiterate the the warm water had the be boiling hot, and wrapped in plenty of towels. She also asked for a replenish of her stock, knowing now that they will be taking a bigger hit than originally expected.

Her gaze flickered up to him and she lowered her hand from her mouth and chin, pulled down as her arms folded across her chest. She was hesitant to agree, concerned that if she did that then there was a strong possibility that the Queen wouldn't be easy to rouse again. But she had to consider the strengths that a deep sleep provided, the help it would provide with the potential recovery.

Eventually, the Fey woman nodded once, "Of course... but you ought to visit when I am here. I know you humans, you'll be worrying I'm not doing what I promise otherwise," she supposed with a shrug, "But also because hearing your voice more regularly might help her."

A brief pause, and then Melina was lowering her hands to the Queen's sides to gently pull back the bed covers. She lightly pulled down the top of the nightgown the royal was in, but not too much to reveal all. She was meticulous and professional in her approach, but soft and tentative with her touch. Her brow furrowed at the sight of the bruising, tutting lightly in thought, before pulling back and putting clothing back to rights.

"Thyme... hawthorn... not ginger." She thought aloud to herself, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. From there she leaned forward to rest her hands on the wooden bar at the end, brow furrowed as she stared at her new patient, "Maybe-- maybe pine bark. The leaves might not hurt either... Butcher's Broom... bil-- bilberry too."

Melina turned her head to look at him, "Once the... servant has come back, how about we go for a walk? I can collect some of the items I need for your mother and you can keep an eye on me, plus I can tell you what I'm doing, that's if you're interested."
 
He watched her ministrations with a detached air, moving out of the way. She was gentle, which surprised him considering what he'd put the fey through, and his mother didn't seem bothered by the attention, if she was aware of it at all.

Better than pain.

Gareth cocked his head. "Of course."

Not that he particularly mistrusted her-- yet. She was an unknown, same as always, yet he found himself unafraid of what she could do and fearing what she couldn't. Options were limited when their healers were mediocre magicians at best. She likely knew the risks as well, or she wouldn't have taken the job.

Not that she really had a choice. But the punishment for failure was likely much more brutal than whatever would've happened had she refused outright.

"A walk sounds... fine."

He had no interest in anything else at the moment. Few things caught the fancy of a prince who had everything at his disposal, but a walk seemed pleasant enough. Besides, he'd better be able to relay whatever the fey was up to to his father without the man becoming suspicious. After the war started, the king grew increasingly erratic, cold, brutal, and significantly less forgiving. Even Gareth wasn't free from the tyrannical manner in which he ran the castle, even as he learned the ins and outs of his father's behavior.

A different servant arrived this time, carrying a warm bundle in his arms and depositing it on the nightstand beside the bed. He relayed the healers' instructions to both of them, then hurried off without another word.

"They've gotten skittish recently," he said, inspecting the bundle of towels and hot water. "A walk, then? I'll have to alert the guard, you understand."
 
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