Promises Belatedly Kept [Talian]

Aparicus had been kicking herself for over a sevenday now.  After all, she had said that she'd bring the young man fresh flowers every day since he had appreciated their beauty, but after she had hurt him...  she had been too fearful that he might hate her now.  There had also been whispers that he had attacked someone, a woman healer...  it didn't seem like the same Sanderon she had hurt that day, but then again how often could you really trust your eyes or ears when it came to a person's nature?

"Well, my nature isn't to break promises."  She told the cinnoman bark she was tying into bundles at the little work table in her room.  Next to her was a vase with a bundle of wildflowers freshly picked and arraged in it.  She had picked them last night, but had chickened out from going when the sun set.  "Afraid or not."  She finally added as she gathered several bundles of the sticks and slid them into a skirt pocket.

Taking the flowers from the vase, she tied those with a blue ribbon as well before drying her hands and carrying them toward the harper hall.  Her chin was held high with determination, but as she walked her back slouched and her shoulders slumped slightly as she slowly second guessed her own, limited bravery.

When she found his room empty, however, she didn't know if she should have been relieved  or disappointed.  Spotting a familiar face as she left the empty room, she spoke up, though the rooms were quiet enough that she needn't speak loudly.

"Master Talian, where is the young man who was staying in that room?"  She asked after a small curtsy that was habit for her.  "Do you know where he is is staying now?"

Talian was doing what he did best: muddling through. He walked briskly through the hall, checking on one patient or another, running one errand or another, or mixing one batch of herbal solution or another. It had been a busy day of changing bandages, removing stitches and basically kissing boo-boos. It was boring and lacked the stimulation he could have liked. It didn't help that he didn't consider a single one of his fellow healers worth spending his time training, either. He wasn't proud of feeling that way, and it wasn't anything against them personally...it was just a fact.

Facts. Talian liked facts.

A fact: Talian was not used to actually being addressed as 'Master', nor was he used to being curtsied to. He paused, perplexed, and gazed at Aparicus as if she were a science project. He recognized her quickly enough, and soon found the will to smile.  He didn't know her well, but he'd seen her about. She was delicate and skittish, quiet...much like himself. There were rumors about her past as well, and if they were true, they had even more in common.

That's not something he was going to pry about, though. He sure didn't want anyone prying at him over rape.

"Good day," he said to her cordially, gaze softening from it's previously harsh, analytic state. "You're looking for  Sanderon? I'm afraid he's been placed under Weyr arrest..." Just as quickly as he'd loosened up, the young healer's voice became clouded with mixed emotions.  He pitied Sanderon in a variety of ways, for a variety of reasons. For Talian to feel empowered and elevated enough to pity anyone was a feat indeed.

He wrung his hands, a nervous habit. "He'll likely be gone for some time. I'm planning on going out there later this afternoon to perform a mental evaluation, though..." he said, wondering if he could be of any help. He could at least pass along well-wishes, for sure.

The bundle of flowers she held visibly drooped with her own features as the arm holding them lowered to hang at her side.  Her other hand had raised to her mouth to cover the quivering 'o' her lips had formed.  "Then it is true?  Not just stories that he hurt someone?"  She asked, her voice shook and the the waver could eveb be seen in her ever-expressive eyes.

She had never brought herself to ask why he had been whipped like the poor rider, B'jin.  She didn't really want to know, her heart naturally reaching out to the victum of violence after being in the position for so long. 

But she had never returned that violance with violance.  She had not considered that perhaps the young man would.  Or worse, perhaps he had been the violent one to begin with, before being whipped publicly.

She had thought she had found a kindred spirit.  Had she been wrong?

Searching the healers face with those pale blue eyes.  "I had spoken with him breifly... and made a promise to bring more flowers..."  she said, her voice softer and sad.  "But I had been too afraid.  Now I can't keep that promise."

"Do you know if they will allow him to come back, Master Talian?"  She called him Master, more out of acknowledgement that he had more training than she than from any knowledge that he actually held the rank at his young age.  Just like any rider she spoke with was titled Sir out of respect and women m'lady.

Talian sighed lightly. He hated delivering bad news, but something told him his stony 'bad news' face wouldn't be appropriate for this situation. Or was he thinking too hard about it? Was she going to notice him thinking too hard about it? He fidgeted.

"I'm afraid it is," he said, his awkward tone quickly funneling into a much more serious one. He straightened his posture. "I believe he was under a large amount of stress and may have suffered from a brief lapse in judgment and cognition. 'Snapping', if you will. I don't believe it's part of his normal tendencies, but I'll know more after I go and speak with him." Talian had only seen the boy briefly.  It wasn't difficult to see the signs of depression, but that wasn't the turn Talian expected to hear about only a few days later.

Medicine was rarely predictable, though.

He frowned at her comments on this 'promise'. She must have been tender-hearted, it was clear by the disappointment on her face. Talian fidgeted some more. "I'm certain he'll be allowed to return, though I cannot say when." His own evaluation would play a large role in that, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that. Besides, he didn't want to be hanged by the Weyrleader.

"If it helps, I could perhaps take the flowers for you," he offered. His eyes almost immediately widened. Why had he offered that?! Well, the gifts littering his own room after that day had certainly helped.

Her pale blue eyes had never left the healer as she seemed to silently plead for answers that she might understand.  His brief fidget and awkward tone confused her slightly, but she found reassurance when he straightened his posture and took on his serious ‘healer’ voice.  That was the voice she could recognize speaking from other rooms in the Healer’s Hall when she was around and while such professional wording mostly floated right over the simpler woman’s head, she was still reassured by his overall reaction and the bits she could understand.

Sanderon had been stressed which translated to upset in Apari’s mind – which made perfect sense after the pain he had suffered at the lashing (she had seen that clearly enough in his demeanor even without the obvious bandages) as well as the pain she knew she herself had caused, though she had never meant to.  Of course he had been upset. 

It still made her shiver to think that the ‘upset’ had turned into violence however.  That scared her.

”I don’t believe it’s part of his normal tendancies…”

That too, reassured Aparicus briefly.  The Healer was smart, that was clear enough to see by the way he worked and the way he spoke.  If this smart man felt that this was not normal for Sanderon, then Aparicus would take that to heart.  After all, everyone makes mistakes – Apari had made plenty in her life to earn the beatings she had endured.  Surely even men like Sanderon could make a mistake.

Of course, it didn’t dawn on her that Talian was human and as such could be afforded mistakes as well.  After all, he was a Healer and in her mind a Master at that.  If the man before her now said that he was certain Sanderon would be back, well then Sanderon would be back.  Maybe not right away, but eventually.

Clearly taking comfort from his words, Aparicus had stopped the quiver in her voice and waver in her eyes – eyes that clearly brightened at the offer he made to take the flowers with him when he visited the young man.  In her own relief and happiness, she missed the way his eyes widened in surprise at offering.

“Oh would you please?  It would be wonderous of you!”  Lifting the flowers up once more, she held them in both hands, closer to herself for a moment as a smile played on her lips before she walked to a nearby counter, placing the flowers that so that he might pick them up when he was ready without needing to take them directly from her.

“If you don’t mind…”  she added, patting down her own pockets as she searched.  “I think I should send a short note.”  Blushing as she found she had no parchment or pen, she glanced up at the Master Healer and fumbled with an explaination of the additional burden. 

“So that he knows I am sorry for not keeping my promise sooner.”  Looking down at the surface the flowers sat upon, she added softly under her voice, “And to say I’m sorry for upsetting him further last time I was here.”  Again she fumbled inside the patched pockets she had sewed onto her own skirt as she looked for something useful to write with or on. 

Talian saw the swirl of fear and confusion move through her. He was immediately reminded of some of the disturbed cases he saw back at healer hall, but he didn't get a good enough look to immediately jump to conclusions. Signs of lingering trauma were all too common at Katila, with almost everyone showing some sort of scarring from the turns, no matter how they'd come to be there. The riders had their plague, and the northerners had Katila itself.

He let it go, though he did put the information away for future use. He'd noticed how nervous she was and how fleeting her appearances could be. He'd probably need to speak to her gently, and he somehow doubted she would tolerate being touched. He'd heard stories of her extreme revulsion to physical contact. Poor thing. Having grown up with a borderline abusive father and witnessed the rage he'd thrown at Talian's sisters, he could only imagine what might have caused it.

"I'd be happy to," he said, watching as she fumbled around. He bit his lip, then moved to a nearby desk where he quickly located some parchment. He kept most of the building organized, whether his colleagues (if they could be called that; he hated them all and considered most of them useless) wanted him to or not. Finding a quill and an ink pot took a little bit more thought, but eventually he was able to dig them out of the back of another drawer.

"Here you are, miss," he said, setting them down on the table and stepping away.

When the Healer began to move, Aparicus had stopped what she was doing to watch his movements as he opened drawers and found what she had been quietly searching for.  It was with an internal sigh of relief that she watched him put the things onto the table and step away rather than handing them directly to her.  Healers, she thought, They are always the wisest of people.  They always seem to understand even when you don’t say anything. 

Waiting until he was done moving again, she stepped forward, giving him a sincere smile as she picked up the quill in her gnarled hands and dipped it into the ink pot, pausing for a moment to consider her words.  The note turned out a short one and not for the first time Aparicus was glad that the fingers she had such difficulty using were not her thumbs and forefingers – that would have made writing and note taking impossible.

Once done, she put the stopper back onto the ink pot so that it wouldn’t dry and blew lightly upon the parchment hoping for the opposite effect she wanted to avoid with the pot.

“Thank you so much, Master Talian.  I wish I had a better way to show my gratitude.”  She said as she rolled up the parchment and pulled one of her never ending supply of strings and ribbons from her pocket.  At least she had remembered to pocket those.  When her fingers brushed the fresh sticks of cinnamon, her face lit up and she pulled out a small bundle of three sticks already wrapped.

“Oh bless me, I do!  My Cinnamon tree was old enough to cultivate this year for smaller shoots.  The first batch didn’t turn out.”  She admitted with a slight face.  “It was too humid during the rain, but these dried nicely and it will add a real treat to your Klah.”  Setting the bundle with the rolled and tied note, she stepped back again so that he could gather them when he was ready to.

Promises kept, Apologies made and Appreciation shown, she felt good about the whole situation and knew she could trust a healer to keep his word.  Now she could return to the safety of her garden with her mind at peace.

Talian glanced towards Apari, tawny eyes widening in subtle surprise at her gesture. The healer had never been good at accepting gifts, but the gratitude in her eyes seemed so genuine that he couldn't bring himself to turn her down. He waited until she backed away before walking back in himself, delicately lifting the rolled parchment and the cinnamon shoots from the table and slid them into his pocket.

"I appreciate it," he said. He wondered in passing if she knew about his love-bordering-on-addiction to Klah. He supposed she might, since even now the Weyr loved to gossip about him. It was more likely just a simple coincidence, but it was still more than enough to bring a rare, if brief smile to his face.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a good day," he said as he turned to head back to his rounds. He still had three more patients to check in on, albeit all for minor complaints. Then, he needed to get to work planning his diagnostic methods and treatment for Sanderon...

He was going to need a lot of klah.