Featuring: Bhruic, Sebastian, and Zea
Date: July 11, 2004
IC Date: March 12, 3930
Summary: A seemingly ordinary magic lesson between two wind mages ends in nearly disasterous results.
Empyreal Gardens - Parnassus
These are the largest of the public gardens in Parnassus, so much so that it cannot be viewed in its entirety from any single vantage point. Its beauty, it is said, can be compared to those that blanket Civitas Dei. The layout is a sharp geometric grid, with long reflecting pools splitting the pathways. Only perpendicular pathways split the silent pools, allowing visitors to venture off into different quadrants of the garden. The sound of moving water is a constant here as fountains within the pools spill water over marble bowls.There is almost always a heavy fragrance in the air in the spring and summer months, be it from the numerous flowers the bloom brightly along the many paths or the fruit trees when their bounty is ripe. The song of birds is usually the only music found here, though every so often the songs of musicians can be heard as well. In the winter months the gardens become a silent canvas of white and only a few main paths are kept clear should a few hearty guests desire to visit.
Small pavilions offer visitors a place to stop and rest. Constructed in the Empyrean style they offer a touch of man-made beauty to the sumptuousness of nature's palette. There is even staff on hand at some of the pavilions, offering guests cool water and fruit picked from these same gardens. Because of the garden's size there are small signposts pointing lost visitors in the correct direction, each gold-painted placard mounted on a stone pillar, its instruction painted in a cobalt blue. Tall slender pines form a shield between the garden and the rest of the city, while a marble wall strengthens the separation, allowing visitors the opportunity to block out the rest of the world and enjoy the beauty and serenity offered in abundance here.
As the afternoon sun travels slowly across the sky it spreads a dismal warmth over Parnassus; enough that residents can just taste the coming of spring, but still with a slight nip in the air to remind them that winter has not yet desired to release them from her grip. Heavy clouds hang over the city, their gray undersides threatening to drop rain or snow onto the streets below, but so far the afternoon is dry. Patches of light filter down from above, playing a continual game of hide and seek through the clouds. These shafts of light slowly waltz through the Empyrean gardens, momentarily touching various trees or statues with their taunting light but offering little heat to help bring forth new growth. City workers have seen to keeping the pathways clear but even so the gardens are not as popular at this time of year as they are in the summer months. This lack of visitor attention, however, makes it a perfect place for a magical lesson. Zea is already here, wandering the garden pathways, looking over the brown and green landscape with a wistful expression on her face. Her fingers touch the tips of low branches, waiting for the first verdant leaves to poke out and unfurl into grand canopies to provide shade from summer heat.
There is the soft sound of wings beating upon the air, the dark branches of the tree obscuring the figure approaching, but the signature black cloak that billows about him likely marks Sebastian before his features are discernable over the distance between sky and earth. His wings cup the wind, gliding him down with slow grace and style, the descent almost indulgently lackadaisical. Booted feet touch down upon the slowly thawing ground below with nary a sound, a cheerful smile and wave given to Zea as he crosses the small gap between them. A mischievous gleam is within Sebastian's gaze as he greets, "Ave, Domina ... I hope you're not averse to mixing a little pleasure with our business?" His right hand pivots, gesturing to off of his right shoulder and slowly a large basket descends down from the sky to settle upon a stump. Apparently the pupil -has- been practicing it would seem. His eyes never even turn to make sure the basket as found a safe landing upon the flat stump. One eyebrow arches and ocean eyes gleam with amusement and spirit, the urge to show off his honed skill too great for Sebastian to resist as well it seems. "I brought a small picnic."
Zea had turned at the sound of the wings and tilted her head upward, shielding her eyes from the stray beams of sunlight to watch her pupil descend. She does not toss back the casual wave, but she does greet him with a smile and a warm, "Ave, Sebastian," remembering his dislike for the more formal title of dominus. Her gaze drifts from his approach, perhaps sensing the unnatural currents of air being used and the smile increases. "You have been practicing your control," is her response to the falling picnic, unable to hide the joy she suddenly feels though the basket itself is met with a moment of confusion for it is unexpected to say the least. "Of ... of course Sebastian, an afternoon meal would be delightful, though I do hope we can accomplish some business this afternoon." With the garden empty, save for some city mongrels, Zea gestures him to follow her down one of the paths. "Tell me, with what else have you been practicing?"
"You will find that I have no problems mixing business with pleasure, Domina. I can concentrate on the lessons and duties at hand and have a good time whilst doing it ... the picnic can wait till we're finished. A reward perhaps for a job well done ... or if not, hopefully some personal restraint from losing my temper and having a most distasteful spat?" Clearly the somewhat tempestuous nature of their -last- lesson as not been forgotten by the Empyrean sailor, but by the warm and teasing smile upon his lips it -would- seem that it has been forgiven. His lips purse thoughtfully as he had not been given any particular "assignments" from Zea other than to work on the control and feeling with the wind, rather than seeing it. "Different forms of control, with different objects," he begins as he casts his mind back over the past weeks to try and remember what he might have done that would interest her. "I've been working also on stamina - practicing manipulating winds for longer and longer periods of time and remaining steady and consistent." He hrmmms softly aloud, turning in a slow circle, his head tilting back to consider the pale plain sky above their heads. "I made some water spouts ... just small ones. Didn't want to call down a full scale tornado of course ... but wanted to get a sense of them and how to control them on a small scale ... just to know and be prepared."
Zea, too, seems to have put the rather strained and spirited lesson behind her. She appears much more relaxed this time and while she still carries herself with that stiff noble posture, she does not appear like the forbidding schoolmarm. "You will need to be exceedingly careful when affecting the weather, Sebastian, especially in Parnassus." She leads him into a large clearing with a few small objects scattered across the lawn. Glancing around to be certain they are alone she explains. "It appears my cousin, one of the city's Jurators, is determined to see that magical uses in the city are strongly reigned in and punished should those displays prove damaging. It is why I've chosen this spot; we are at least out of the main pathways." She draws her lower lip inward and chews on it in frustration at what she has just said. "For larger lessons we will need to go further away from the city if we do not wish to arouse suspicion, if you are agreeable?" Her pale eyes look over to Sebastian and her teeth release her lip.
Chuckling softly, Sebastian returns, "I'm not a child Domina, I know the limits of my powers and made sure that I was a safe distance out over the water before practicing. I may be a member of the Buccaneers, but we do know a thing or two about skirting the law and the authorities." The smile fades then as he notes more firmly, "And I also would not be so irresponsible as to risk any of the lives of Irha-Esh or Parnassus." But something about her commentary causes a small frown to crease Sebastian's brow as he counters, "Are you suggesting, Domina, that perhaps your cousin has a dislike for mages? Or is he merely responding to the actions of some irresponsible mages and assuring the city's safety?" A light breeze caresses against her lip as he notes, "You seem fretful over the matter ... but best not to chew your lip. It's too lovely to mar, Domina." As to her recommendation, Sebastian nods readily, noting, "I am content to leave the city if it will content you Domina and set your cousin's itchy trigger finger to rest?"
Zea blinks; shocked at the faint caress and is left without response for a moment. Quickly she pulls the lip back under, but doesn't gnaw on it further. "I do not think," she finally begins with another glance cast towards the path they had just traveled down. "That is to say, he does not have a dislike for mages that he has spoken to me about, but he is adamant that the laws be followed and I think he might strike quickly if only to prevent the possibility of an accident." She shakes her head and steps over to the lawn. "I am sure, Sebastian that you are as adept at skirting the law as you say, but I felt it necessary to give you fair warning." She forces a smile to her nervous lips. "And I am well aware you are not a child Sebastian." A pause as she clears her throat and looks away. "Now, as for our lesson, it sounds as if some of what you had practiced is what I had planned for today." She gestures towards the items on the lawn and motions him closer. "We're going to continue with focus and incorporate something of weather into it, mainly controlled whirlwinds and perhaps attempts to stall or re-direct them. Nothing as large as nature could produce, of course, but just enough to lift the objects and spin them as a tornado might lift trees or other larger objects."
At her confirmation of his "adulthood" a very wry and charming smile curls Sebastian's lips, his gaze flickering over Zea casually in acknowledgement that he is aware in turn, very aware in fact, that she is no child either. "Strange ... you would think with all that mages have done, with Castallia, that there would be a greater sense of respect for mages. But there are always a few who feel they have to challenge the system ... shake a few cages." A small frown of consternation touches Sebastian's brow as his gaze turns away, shifting north toward where the dock lie. Or perhaps to where the mage city sits? "I hope your cousin doesn't urge any ... overly rash action or retaliation?" But he drops the topic as Zea leads him toward the lesson of the day, peering at the objects lying upon the ground. "So you want me to create a small air spout and lift these? All together, or would you prefer me to lift and drop them each individually?"
Zea doesn't comment further on her cousin's position, the unease that had settled on her at the first mention of the topic by her own lips is too much to bear. She instead focuses on the task at hand, trying hard to ignore the charming smile blossoming on her pupil's lips, though the hint of a smile on her lowered head does little to aid her ignorance. "We will start simply, Sebastian," she says with another clearing of her throat. Zea points towards a piece of parchment folded a couple of times. "Just a small whirlwind, enough to raise it to the level of my hand," she explains, raising her hand so that it is at shoulder level. "And bring it as close to me as you can, Sebastian, without completely encompassing me within the windstorm." The last draws forth her more noble no-nonsense tone.
Ohhhh-hhh, some terribly wicked thought must have crossed Sebastian's mind, some terrible idea given birth there within, inspired by her innocent request. Clearing his throat lightly, Sebastian doesn't give voice to the naughty fantasy, though his eyes gleam with the restrained image, his smile widening to unseemly proportions. Covering his mouth with his hand he gives a rather unconvincing cough, turning this merry gaze to the parchment then raising it up to a few feet higher. The air twitches and starts to spin there, invisible to the eyes and all too evident to the magic that both Empyreans share. He calmly shapes it there, adjusting height and form before slowly coaxing it downward. The paper trembles and then is violently sucked up, spinning round and around within the small air spout. Slowly it drifts over the ground, approaching Zea cautiously as if it were a nervous dog fearful of getting beaten. It stops about a foot away from Zea's outstretched hand, the paper slowly raising the level of the spout till it whizzes past her fingers in a foot wide diameter. It's not perfect, the parchment rising and falling occasionally and moving so rapidly now that it is starting to tear under the strength of the small column.
With the parchment at finger height Zea could reach out and take if from the wobbling whirlwind, but instead she issues a shooing motion to send it back out across the lawn. "Very good, Sebastian, your control has improved greatly. Now, keep the parchment aloft while trying to pick up one or two more items." her fingers draw into her palm so that only her index finger is extended, pointing towards the various objects to select. There is a long feather, a small piece of fabric, a child's sandal, a large seashell, a small cushion and a doll. She drops her hand back to her side and watches Sebastian's progress with the next attempt at her instructions.
Nodding, Sebastian's brow creases in concentration, the teasing smile slipping away as he focuses on the work at hand. As promised, he can handle his business as well as his pleasure, knowing when there is a time and place for each one. The whirlwind moves away from Zea first before starting to grow in height and width in order to make room for the items that are too be added. It starts to bend and wobble a bit; drifting aimlessly before Sebastian takes it in hand once again, frowning. Slowly it moves across the ground, gobbling up dead leaves, small rocks, and loose dirt as it wends its way toward the various objects. The feather is taken first, light and willing to go. The fabric is next, sucked up easily. The cushion is more reluctant, mostly due to its size, which requires the funnel to widen a bit further, the air to spin about more rapidly. With the addition of each item the size and speed of the wind funnel increases till the large seashell is the only thing left untouched. Gritting his teeth slightly Sebastian eases the almost unwieldy funnel over to the shell. It is nearly at his own height now and with all the debris and objects within its furious grasp, it is quite visible to the eye. The shell is reluctant to move at first, its weight and size resistant to the process. But after a moment it too is sucked up. Alas, like a juggler with too many objects in hand, one of them is bound to fall. The miniature tornado bucks in resistance and while Sebastian doesn't lose control of it, the nature of such a wind spout is always erratic at best. A small gap in the flow and out shoots the shell. There's not enough time to really -do- anything, like try and recapture it with the wind funnel, for like an arrow shot from a bow it is traveling at an extremely high velocity. So Sebastian does only two things that seem in the split fraction of a moment like the best choice. He flattens the funnel instantly, pressing it and all of its contents down into the ground hard, killing it as fast and as completely as possible. At the same time he whirls about and drags Zea against him in a protective embrace, wings flaring out on either side to shelter her. His body jerks and his arms tighten about her as there is an unpleasant *crack*, the shell impacting and shattering, scattering fragments past Zea's cheek.
There is an initial shriek from the fair-haired domina as she is suddenly swept against Sebastian when the growing whirlwind proves too much and the shell turns into a weapon. Whether the shriek is out of anger for him trying too much, from shock at the sudden pull by him or simple fear is uncertain. I a moment such as this things move so quickly one is not aware of each individual movement, for instincts take over and they are much stronger than rational thought. Zea finds her face buried against his shoulder as a cry erupts from her lips at the cracking noise. Unable to see what caused the impact and all too aware how close the fragments came, she cautiously looks up with a look of shock on her face, as if surprised to find herself currently in the arms of her pupil. Noticing her fingers digging into his arm she begins to apologize profusely while looking around the garden. "Gods," she breathes, finally able to utter something more than a panicked cry. "What ... that was too ... where did..." Her words tumble over each other in unintelligible fragments as she jumps from fear to anger to curiosity. "Sebastian?"
The rest of the items that were held in the thrall of the miniature tornado are scattered about the ground around them, many of the objects torn, smashed, or otherwise damaged by the sudden cessation of the whirlwind. Sebastian's arms have dropped down and rest now lightly on her hips, his body swaying away from her slightly and then back again as she recovers from the shock of the moment. He says nothing at first as Zea glances about them, the small indentation in the ground from where he ruthlessly crushed the wind down blocked by Sebastian's chest. She can feel something trailing down her cheek like a tear. Swaying slightly again Sebastian waits until Zea's gaze lifts to his, studying her face to make sure that she's alright. But his eyes look strange, almost sleepy and half lidded. Blinking he takes a wobbly step backward and murmurs apologetically, "Ssssorry'boutdat ..." and with the space between them now Zea can see blood under his right ear and streaming down his neck to stain the collar of his cloak a slick wet black. His legs slowly buckle and give way and in a kind of reluctant slow motion Sebastian collapses down to his knees, his hands lightly trailing down the length of Zea's legs in an effort not to collapse onto her. But that's as far as he goes, reeling there for a moment as he struggles to remain conscious.
Frightened and confused, but otherwise Zea is fine, thanks to the quick thinking of the man now collapsing at her feet. "Gods," she breathes, seeing the blood pouring from a wound at the side of his head. Shock and his unintentional pull on her drag Zea down with him, though she is able to fight gravity much better than he. She crouches down as best as she can and helps him into a more comfortable position before he trips her up and further injury is caused. "I told you only a couple of objects," she whispers to him, not at all angry. She tugs at her cloak, frustrated that in a time when haste is needed her hands work as if frozen. "It's ok, I'll get you help," she promises, gently pressing her wool cloak to the side of his head to help stop the bleeding. She scans the area but finds no one, just has she had planned it, gods burn her. "Sebastian," she coaxes him to open his eyes. "Sebastian, can you hear me?"
Head wounds are heavy bleeders, though fortunately that's never an indication of the actual amount of damage done. It seems that the shell caught him on the back of the head, just behind his ear, his hair wet with blood which seems quite bright and lurid on the gold stands. He closes his eyes, focusing on breathing only for a moment as his head whirls and spins, his vision graying and blurring. Zea's voice comes in and out of focus like the rest of the world about him. At her mild chastising, Sebastian mumbles again, "Ssssorry ...." Zea's hands keep him upright more than he does himself, his frame swaying in her grasp though he struggles for balance, to stay upright while the shock from the impact and the dizzying urge to pass out slowly fade. His head drops to his chest and it might seem that he has in fact passed out, but after another few moments slowly, cautiously, Sebastian opens his eyes again, irises a thin band of gray about dark wide pupils. His gaze meets hers again as he asks, "Are you okay?" One hand stays on her shoulder while the other reaches back to touch his head gingerly only to find her cloak pressed there. Frowning he lifts his gaze to hers again, mumbling, "You'll stain it ... here ... " and dropping his hand down he lifts up a corner of his own black, noting, "s'black ... s'better ..."
Zea might laugh at him if not for the seriousness of the accident. She does try to smile for him though and keeps her cloak where it is, the deep red bleeding into the saffron-hued wool. "It's already stained," she tells him, gently pushing his hand away. "I need to get you to a healer," she says anxiously as she again scouts the garden for any sign of life. Damned mongrels are always underfoot except when you need them. "Sebastian, my cousin is a Healer, but I do not know if this is beyond his abilities. I can take you to my home if you'd like?" A pause as she readjusts her cloak against the wound and drops herself further so she is actually seated on the ground, holding him protectively, as best as she can. "You're losing too much blood as it is." She speaks not with any kind of medical authority, for she has none, but as one who is seeing the extent to which her cloak has changed color. She speaks slowly, trying to hide the wavering in her voice and to hopefully not overwhelm him with too much talk. "I ... I can carry you there, the winds can," she adds quickly lest he attempt to stand again.
In a small detached place in his mind Sebastian wonders idly if this cousin who is the healer is the same cousin that is concerned with mages misusing their power? And if so, how will they explain his injury? Would Zea lie and say some bandit attacked them? But in broad daylight? How many cousins does she have anyway? His thoughts run round about his head like schoolchildren at recess, darting here and there and chasing after one another without much logic or purpose. But at the suggestion that she might carry him somewhere, Sebastian shakes his head emphatically at first. But that was a bad move, the dizziness and ringing in his ear coming back. So he stops the sharp motion and instead bites out, "No need. I can walk. Don't worry ... s'nothing." He has no idea what it is, but surely it's nothing. "Head wounds always look worse than they are." Opening his eyes again he looks at Zea's face and frowns, reaching out with one hand and murmuring, "Hold still." He wipes at her cheek, the tear she felt there early a drip of blood. He wipes it off on his sleeve as if it were the most important thing to do at the moment before smiling wanly and murmuring, "There ... all better."
Zea tries to look down at her cheek as he wipes away the trail of blood and this time she doesn't flinch away. Oddly, she finds the act amusing, considering his condition is far worse and she smiles with an odd sense of gratitude. "Sebastian, please, let me help you," she says, once more adjusting herself, this time to get back to her feet and help him up as well. This puts her cloak, which is still attached at her shoulders, in a most awkward position, but she is determined to keep it pressed to his head until he is in the care of a healer. "Careful, now," she cautions, slowly rising and bringing him with her. "Lean on me," is also offered, even it if means her chiton and not just her cloak is ruined by stains of blood.
He has his pride, but Sebastian is no fool. There's no way he can walk anywhere right now by himself. Maybe with some rest right here for a few hours he'd be able to, but that probably isn't an option at the moment. Frowning, he sighs and then nods ever so slightly. Taking a deep breath, Sebastian closes his eyes and grips her arm tightly as they rise up together. Vertigo swamps him, but he places his wings back and down, pressing them into the earth as they continue to rise up, propping him up from behind till he is standing again and then holding him there till the wave of nausea and dizziness fades once again. Uncertainly his eyes flicker open, half expecting to have another attack of vertigo, but a breathes a deep sigh of relief as once upright his head seems to have settled itself into the new position. He moves slowly, coming over to Zea's right side so as to keep his bloodied side away from her. His right hand lifts as well, covering hers and pressing against it lightly. "Best you let me hold this n'place." His left arm slips over her shoulders to brace himself as he adds, "Wrap y'right hand about m'waist 'nstead. That'll be most secure."
Zea does as she's told, though her fingers remain pressed against the cloak for a few moments longer, assuring herself that he has taken hold of the cloak and is keeping enough pressure against the wound. Even though he insists he can walk, she summons the wind to help prop him up as they stumble down the narrow path leading back to where they first met. The wind can barely be felt if he keeps himself upright, but should he topple backwards slightly, or fall to the side he'll feel it there, like a firm cushion to keep him from taking a tumble. Zea does her part too and slides her arm around his waist. "If Azrael cannot heal you completely, I'll send for Bhruic, he's one of the most skilled Healers in Parnassus. You'll be in good hands, I assure you." She tries her best to assure herself as they amble towards the main gate like a pair of drunken sailors after an evening at the Nereus. The picnic! She suddenly remembers the pleasure part of this excursion but there's no time. "I'll send a slave to gather our things," she says to him, making their way, slowly, to the street and eventually to Aventine Hill and her home. Certainly much closer than his ship.
He senses the magic about them as she wraps the wind about him protectively, but makes no pretest. Sebastian does indeed tip from time to time and feels the wind bolstering him, relieved in truth and grateful that no eyes see the truth. He had utterly forgotten about anything they might have left behind, and the reminder brings a sad frown to his lips as he murmurs wistfully, "... the picnic ..." the words practically lost to the empty tree branches about them it is spoken so softly. "You ... you must think I'm a ter'ble student." Only on their second session and it's been as tempestuous as the first, though in an entirely different way. "Wasn' my fault," he tries to explain through labored breaths taken more in an effort to ward off any vertigo than actual weariness. "Real tornadoes ... have weak spots and gaps and .... Is hard to keep air completely steady ... isn' natural." Turning slightly to look at Zea, Sebastian mumbles, "Just glad you didnae get hurt ..."
"No, Sebastian you are not a terrible student," she assures him quickly as they struggle up the street, drawing curious gazes that will no doubt quickly turn into waggling tongues as the gossip spreads through the city. Zea does her best to ignore them all. All except a couple of Praetorians that are sprinting towards them. Zea waves them off, her tone surprisingly sharp as they attempt to take the burden that is Sebastian from her. They fall back a few paces and serve as an escort back to House Acesius, just in case something else might happen. "You are an ambitious student, perhaps, but not terrible, Sebastian." Again she reassures him of this fact as she struggles to make herself sound as calm as she tries to make him feel. "Next time we will work slower, and use nothing that could double as a dangerous weapon." The rest of the trip is carried on in silence, Zea unsure what else to say aside from the constant reassurances that he will be fine.
Upon reaching the Acesian household they are nearly swarmed with slaves and the house guard takes the place of the Praetorians. Suddenly Zea is quite animated but still refusing to allow anyone to take Sebastian. "Get some warm water, plenty of strips of linen to dress the wound and send for Azrael immediately!" Zea continues on, to her own room while slaves scatter and curious family and staff peer after the odd couple.
Zea's Chambers - House Acesius - Aventine Hill - Parnassus
These high-ceiling chambers belonging to the Vilica of Acesius have been designed and decorated with the wind mage in mind. White marble columns flank the entrance and form a wide galley leading further into her personal abode. Open alcoves, some as large as traditional rooms, provide her with space necessary to for her day to day life. Within the first alcove is a large white marble desk and walls lined with shelves filled with scrolls and sheets of parchment. A long slender couch with sky blue cushions provides a place to recline and read as does a backless chair behind the desk. Across the galley is a small sitting room, it too is decorated in blues and white with a fresco painted on the ceiling to simulate a bright blue sky scattered with clouds. Large windows allow an abundance of light to fill the alcove and provide a stunning view of the house's inner gardens. A pair of well-cushioned chaises face each other, each accompanied by a small white table often with vases of fresh flowers set on top.At the far end of the column-lined galley is the Vilica's sleeping chamber. The gallery opens into a large private sanctuary affording the Vilica every luxury she desires. Half-columns ring the room and the plaster walls between them are painted a rich blue. Light blue and white tiles decorate the floor with elaborate mosaic patterns that represent the winds. Marble sculptures, images of perfection in the male and female Empyrean form, are also set between the columns, every-watchful over these chambers. Long windows look outward, over Aventine hill and the rolling fields to the south. Comfortable chaises and chairs are scattered about the room, each cushioned in fine fabrics reminiscent of the winds and the sky. In the last alcove at the back of the room is a large marble bed, truly crafted by a master artisan. Its headboard and footboard are carved into large wings that wrap around the bed in a protective embrace. From the ceiling hang sheer white drapes, providing only the illusion of privacy while above the ceiling is painted like the night sky filled with stars and guarded by the full moon.
"You're just sayin' that cause m'hurt," he rumbles recalcitrantly, face creasing in thought as he ponders if all his efforts were for naught? Would the shell have missed her entirely, or would it have hit her in the face? A small shudder catches him as he decides that he would happily take a seashell to the head any day over having one hit Zea in the face. She could have lost an eye or been seriously maimed. Twirling about in his own thoughts, Sebastian is utterly unaware of their passage through Parnassus, of the reactions of passersby, only coming back to the present as Zea shoos off the approaching Praetorians, surprised that she would not gladly give up her burden. But for once he does not argue the choice, strangely touched and grateful that she would see him all the way herself. "Ambitious. Aye, that's true. Want to do well. Want to impress you." His hand tightens on her shoulder as he mutters, "Don't wanna slow down, but yeah, not working with hard objects in funnel work s'good idea ..." As she gives commands left and right, Sebastian says nothing, not wishing to counter her in front of her staff. But when it is just them again softly he murmurs, "Zea ... m'good, y'shouldn't bother y'self so ..."
Zea attempts to hush him as she helps him to lie down, using her magic to help him while she fumbles with her cloak to detach it from her shoulders. "It was partially my fault for using the shell," she murmurs as she tries to make him comfortable in the dim confines of her room. Darkness is slowly falling over the city and only a couple of lanterns are lit in the room. Her face is decorated with a complicated pattern of faint light and deep shadow, but the concern in her eyes as she looks down on him is evident. "Please, Sebastian, next time you think you need to impress me, don't. You don't need to try to impress me; your skills are coming along rather well." She smiles through the concern and adds, "Honest." Her attention is distracted as the door opens but it is only the slaves bringing the water and the cloths she asked for. "We can't find Dominus Azrael, but we're still looking," one mongrel promises before scurrying back out of the room.
Sebastian is torn, for he desperately wants to lie down, close his eyes, and sleep until the throbbing and nausea go away. But staring at her lovely bedding he can't bring himself to lower his bloodied self down on the fine linens and bedclothes. As such he resists her attempts to lay him down, mumbling, "No ... too nice. I'll mess it ..." In the end he sits gingerly on the edge of bed, his features twisted in consternation as he tries to make sure that only the clean parts of his cloak touch it and are beneath him. He leans forward slightly in the hopes that any blood that might escape will spill upon his clothes or the floor. His normally robust and tanned features look a bit blanched in the dim light and his eyes keep flickering shut and lingering there. "You're bein' terribly sssweet," he murmurs. "Really, so much bother. I'm embarrassed." His eyes flicker open again as he takes a moment to quietly study the room before return his wearied regard back to Zea. "Very fine'n'formal. Elegant. Suits you."
Zea does her best to get him to lie down against his objections. "Please, you'll feel better," she promises, spreading the rest of her cloak on the bed beneath him so that he can lie down without fear of ruining the bedding. "I do not care about the bedding, that can be replaced," she promises him, her voice sincere. "Please." Certain that he'll be ok for a few moments, she risks turning away to gather some of the linen and soak it in the warm water. "Let me clean some of that off." Without waiting for his approval she gently dabs at the side of his face where the blood is already beginning to dry in a crusty mask. She doesn't attempt to remove the part of her cloak against his head, however. She works in silence, continually wetting the cloth and wiping more blood from his skin. "I couldn't leave you there to bleed to death," she says softly as she cleans his cheek.
He stays upright despite her assurances, noting in argument, "Better stay up so I can bandage this ... then I'll lie down," he promises. He continues to hold the cloak to his head though his arm trembles slightly with the extended effort of remaining upright for so long. His free left hand lifts to absently undo the clasp at his throat, letting his cloak slip from his shoulders. He sits quite still as she tends to him, washing his face so carefully with her eyes intent upon her work. Sebastian's eyes are intent upon Zea, studying the ever flicker and shift of her features, studying the emotions and concentration stamped there for him to read. "You could've had the Pr'torians bring me the rest of the way ... or the servants ... you didn' have to do it all y'self. You could've handed me off and been no less the woman or teacher for doin' so." His language has slipped since the accident, either simplifying down to sailor slang out of confusion or perhaps being finished and refined is simply too much effort. But Sebastian doesn't sound exactly like himself, the finer polish that he normally sports a bit tarnished and dented it would see. Much like the man himself right now. A small smile touches his lips and a little tickling breeze brushes over Zea's mouth in turn as he murmurs, "Very sweet'n' thoughtful. Smile Zea, it's just a wee bump. I'm not gonna die or nuthin ..."
Finally she stops pressuring him to lie down, content at least to clean the blood from his face while she waits, impatiently for her cousin to arrive. Her anxiety stemming form his absence releases itself in her foot which taps against the tile floor. Her gaze momentarily flickers over to meet his as he asks for the smile. With her hand gently blotting the same spot over and over, her eyes study him in the pale light and slowly she smiles. "Well, you would have died if I had left you there," she says to justify her decisions over the afternoon. "You allowed yourself to be injured to protect me, Sebastian. I believe that I owe you some debt of gratitude." Zea notices her lack of attention to cleaning his wound and quickly she looks away and finds a new clean cloth to start bandaging the wound. "Now," she begins with a warning. "I'm not very good at this, but it will be better than you holding that cloak to your head until your arm falls asleep."Just let me..." Zea reaches tentatively toward Sebastian's wound to draw back the cloak and press the new bandage to it.
"Posh," Sebastian replies succinctly, though he resists the urge to shake is head in further denial, keeping it carefully still. "Takes a lot more than a shell to the head to kill me." His smile curls crookedly over his features as he gives a rough chuckle. "Gods, would be embarassin as all hell to be killed by a sea shell. The crew would never let me live it down." He considers arguing with her over the whole bandaging process, eager to examine the wound with his fingers and determine just how serious it is but after a moment of consideration that seems too much like effort, and at the moment Sebastian is much more interested in walking the path most taken rather than least. "Here," he suggests, reaching for the pad of cloth. "Why don't you take the cloak away, I'll hold the pad in place, and you c'n wrap the bandages to keep it there? Then we'll get all these blooded things away and I'll be an obedient student and lie down fer a bit?"
Zea eyes the cloak warily. It has been pressed to his head for so long that the blood has dried to it, making it more difficult to remove. "This might hurt a little," she apologizes, dripping some water from the damp cloth over the cloak to loosen the blood. She slowly pulls the cloak way, her face contorted into a sharp wince as if she was experiencing the pain herself. "Almost ... there," she assures him just before it is completely pulled free. With the bloody cloak in one hand she uses the other to guide his hand with the pad to the wound all the while trying not to look at it, lest she faint. "Hold it ... here," she instructs, dropping her gaze to his, adjusting his hand so that the big bloody area is covered. "Let me get some bandages and then you will relax." Not can relax but will. She is adamant on that point no matter how compassionate her tone might be. The cloak is deposited on the floor away from the two of them and she quickly gathers up some lengths of linen.
Either the removal of the cloak is painless, or Sebastian is being stoic about the matter. His wings flex and jolt every so often, but other than that he remains quite still, his head bent slightly forward to allow Zea easier access to the injured area. Fortunately for her the actual injury is hidden beneath blood soaked hair. Reaching up Sebastian carefully places the clean pad of linen as she directs and holds it there quietly and firmly. His eyes flicker over to where the garment lies on the floor; blood soaked and likely ruined, and frowns. "I'll get you a new cloak," he promises quietly. He considers the amount of blood on his hands, her cloak, and his clothes and after a moment mutters, "That is a lot of blood, isn't it?" Good thing he's not squeamish about such things, his gray ocean eyes studying the evidence at hand with mild interest and scientific regard before noting, possibly for her benefit, "This isn't so bad. I seen men bleed out before, s'I know first hand just how much blood a body holds. It's a lot more'n'this." But then again the body will go long before all the blood departs, and where that threshold lies Sebastian has no idea. But he's pretty sure if it were serious enough he would be fainted away on her fine precious linens by now.
Zea kicks the ruined cloak further out of her way, careful to catch a clean part with her toe. "I've got others," she casually says, her back to him as she gathers more bandages. "Honestly, Sebastian, it is not great thing, I promise you. Now," she studies the covered wound and looks over and around his head at how best to do what must be done. "I've never actually done this before, unless you count my dolls. I have two brothers," she adds with a smile as if that simple statement should explain everything. "Just ... hold still and I'll..." Whatever command she was going to issue fades away as the first length of linen is carefully laid across the pad and begins its journey around his head. Certainly not the neatest job in the world, but those years of tending to abused dolls keeps the material in place. The end of one of the strips falls down his forehead, partially covering one of his eyes. "Oh, sorry about that," she quickly apologizes as she lifts and fixes it. Eventually all of the linen is used and Sebastian, if he had a mirror, could see he is left looking like a chewed up rag doll. Zea steps back to admire her handiwork and her slight frown reveals what a mirror would. "It isn't ... pretty," she admits, trying to smile. "But it will do until a Healer gets here. Now..." Her frown slowly transforms into a triumphant smile. "It is time for you to lie down and rest."
"Jus s'long I can still see and breathe, I think we'll be a'right," he jokes roughly, weariness slurring his words along the way. "I don need to be pretty." A wry smile touches his lips as he notes, "Manly w'be nice, but I suspect it's either foolish or pathetic that I be lookin now, yes?" He peers up at Zea from beneath those massive bandages about his head, quirking one eyebrow up in what attempts to be a rakish slant but utterly fails in conjunction with the rest of his appearance. He doesn't even need her to confirm the truth. Her expression is his mirror and softly he mutters, "Damn, thought ssso." He shifts carefully, drawing his cloak out from about him and tossing it to the floor to avoid marking the bed with the blood there. His hands then lift to his shirt, untying the knot at his side and slowly unraveling it from his torso, slowly revealing his muscular torso with each pass of black cloth.
Zea cannot help but laugh, though it is a restrained sound much more appropriate for the current situation. No one else will see you here, Sebastian; you need not worry about looking foolish or pathetic." Which, of course, does not go far to answer the question. She reaches out and adjusts the bandages slightly, do it does little to improve the appearance. In the baths, and even with the art within her chamber, Zea is often exposed to the male form, but for some reason as he begins to undress this feels different. "Would you like something clean to wear," she asks as she tries not to trip over her words as she kicks his cloak out of the way as well. "I could find you a tunic perhaps?" She takes a few steps away from the bed, allowing him some privacy as she desperately finds something to do. "Some warm wine, perhaps? We never did have our picnic and you must be quite hungry. I could send for something from the kitchens? I could even go to the kitchens myself if you like to..."
"D'bother yerself," he murmurs as he manages to get the tunic off, balling it in his hands till he throws it over on top of his cloak. "Don need no shirt, jus don wanna get no blood on yer bedclothes." Reaching out gingerly he gets one of the wet cloths and washes off his hands and right arm, looking studiously for any blood that he might have missed before putting it back by the bowl. Shifting his gaze to Zea, he asks, "M'I clean?" One hand starts brushing over his silwar pants, looking for any blood there that he might have missed. Perhaps they should be removed as well, just to be safe? Sebastian is not nearly as unnerved by having a witness to his undressing as Zea is to witnessing it, his actions smooth and unhurried, his tone mild. Lifting his gaze to Zea he thinks for a moment, as if it did not come to him naturally before noting, "I think a glass of wine would be nice, thank you ..."
Zea looks over her shoulder at his request and slowly inches back over to him. "You've got..." she begins, taking up the damp cloth again and dabbing it along his neck."Here, let me get that. There's a little blood that was missed." She bites on her lower lip as she wipes away the last of the dried blood and once done she quickly drops the cloth back in the bowl and steps away from the bed. "I'll have the slaves bring some wine, and some food." He might not be hungry now, but she's certain he will be and better to have it waiting. "Just ... just lay down Sebastian until it comes. Please, make yourself comfortable." He can hear her footsteps hurry across the tile floor as she races towards the door, not so much an effort to get him wine immediately but to escape the uncomfortable position she suddenly finds herself in. She opens the door, passes orders to slaves waiting without and while her actual words cannot be heard, the tone in which she speaks can certainly be said to be stern and commanding, a position she is much more comfortable taking.
Message to Bhruic: A slave from House Acesius comes running into the Castallia and nearly out of breath. He is brought to you after pleas of needing the Castallia's best healer. He explains that the Vilica arrived home with a man bleeding heavily from his head and she asked that Bhruic come at once to see to him.'
Bhruic enters in the wake of a short slave, looking inscrutable. He pauses at the door to be announced and takes that moment to scan the room without expression.
Watching her closely again, Sebastian's eyes never leave Zea's face as she gently washes the spots he cannot see, his regard intent and thoughtful, his gaze heavy lidded. It might have been sensual save for all the bandages that make him look more silly than sexy at the moment. As she bites her lip, Sebastian's gaze locks there for a long silent moment before slowly returning back to her eyes again. Feh ... if only he weren't feeling like sleeping for a million years. Course she would never have come this close to him if he -wasn't- so incapacitated. His hands drop again to his silwar, but they seem unblemished and as he watches Zea move about the room nervously somehow he suspects that she would much prefer it if he left those on. He does manage to remove his boots before he gingerly starts to lie back upon the bed. The motion is enough to cause the nausea and dizziness to surge up again, and with Zea's back to him Sebastian allows himself to simply collapse the rest of the way, his eyes closing as he presses his undamaged side into the pillow.
Zea is halfway back to the bed, her steps much slower than her retreat to get win, when a slave enters and announces the Healer's arrival. "Oh thank the gods," she breathes with a great deal of relief in her voice. Turning, she looks startled to see the Sylvan there, for his was her second choice. "Auctor," she greets after a long moment of stunned silence. "Thank you for coming; it's my student, Sebastian. There was an accident with a lesson and..." With the Healer here she is much more at ease and her steps quickly carry her towards the bed, fully expecting Bhruic to follow her. "He was hit hard in the side of the head with a large conch shell, he was bleeding quite badly and I wrapped his wound as best I could, but..." She knows just how insane that must sound to an outsider, but she's not laughing.
Bhruic opts to continue the inscrutable pose, no matter the reaction of the young woman within the room. Sebastian and the well-stained bandages, however, earn a raised brow. "Of course, Vilica. When the summons arrived at the Castallia, I could hardly ignore it." There is the Caducean's oath, of course, but more than that Bhruic actually favors Zea with what might be considered a 'fatherly' smile. The explanation is accepted without comment or further change in his expression, passing no judgment on the order of events other than, "Interesting."
The conversation buzzes in Sebastian's ear as it if were very far away and being spoken by insects, but as the pain recedes and his head stops feeling like it's going to explode, the words become more distinct and clear. He opens one eye suspiciously; grateful now that they didn't eat the picnic, as he fears he might not have been able to keep fresh food down. His gaze wanders over to affix upon Zea as she draws closer to him, flickering then past her to study the sylvan that has just entered the room.
On approach Zea speaks to Sebastian. The nervousness gone in her voice now, back is the compassionate tone in which she has spoken to him most of the evening, before he began taking off his clothing. "Sebastian, this is Auctor Bhruic, he is the best Healer in all of Parnassus. He has come to see to your injuries." Her gaze flickers back to Bhruic and steps aside, letting the healer approach while she looks on, twisting a part of her chiton between her fingers.
Bhruic approaches with the ease of one long accustomed to these particular activities. He leans over the bed to study the Empyrean laid there and gently sets his hand atop the bandages wrapped around Sebastian's head. "Hmm. Quite a knock you've gotten there, Dominus," he comments mildly. His eyes narrow, perhaps in concentration or perhaps in reaction to shared pain. It is the most simple trick, then to touch the web of nerves -here- and -here- with the slightest prick of magic and erase the pain as if it never were. With that gone, Bhruic meets Sebastian's one open eye with his own gaze quite deliberately and asks in clearly enunciated words, "Do you wish me to Heal you, Dominus?"
Sebastian blinks and takes a deep breath as the pain he hadn't even realized was a great as it was is suddenly just ... gone. It's been some time since he's injured himself seriously enough to require the services of a healer mage and as such he'd quite forgot the miraculous experience of the matter. His eyes flicker up to meet Bhruic as a wry smile curls his lips. "Chinchookma, Auctor Bhruic," he greets mildly. "What, are there really some loons out there that would answer 'no' to that question?" he asks with an air of amused incredulity about him. He doesn't nod his head to the question, too aware of how that set off unpleasant experiences before, even if he doesn't feel ill or in pain at the moment. Why tempt fate? "Aye, it would be lovely if you'd heal my cracked pate," he returns, in case his question was not sufficient answer. His gaze shifts to Zea, offering her a reassuring smile to ease her nerves.
Zea forces a smile back at Sebastian now that it appears he will be fine, thanks to the Sylvan. "Well, let this be a lesson the next time you want to try something impressive," she gently scolds him, dropping the portion of her chiton that is now heavily wrinkled from in continuous twisting. "Or next time I'll have to try and heal you myself, no magic." See, she can make jokes too, even if they are bad ones.
Bhruic smiles wryly, "You would be surprised, dominus. There are even a few who are offended at the offer." He shrugs slightly and brings his other hand to rest such that his fingers cradle either side of Sebastian's head. It takes a few moments of silence in which the Auctor allows the conversation to flow about him without particular note. The bandages conceal any immediate changes, but under his touch it seems to take little effort at all for the wound to mend. It is only those few breaths before Bhruic is straightening with a half-smile. "That should set you to rights."
"Next time I'll pack a healer along with a picnic," Sebastian assures Zea with a crooked smile. Tian's gaze affixes curiously upon Bhruic, puzzling over those words and the logic, or rather lack there of, of any who would refuse a healer's helpful touch. Eyes then flutter closed as Sebastian takes in a deep surprised breath, holding still and quiet while he feels the magic moving through him, exhaling as the sensation fades away. Turning his head to Zea, a brilliant smile curls his lips as he breathes, "Now I know what the wind feels when I move it ..." Gingerly he sits up, but there is no dizziness, no nausea ... nothing but the heavy feeling of the bandages about his head. "My thanks Auctor; I see that Zea's words were but faint praise of your skills." Reaching up he touches the crudely wrapped layers of cloth asking Bhruic hesitatingly, "I can remove these now, yes?"
Zea's gaze strays to the Sylvan. "Should he sleep for a while? He had only just laid down when you arrived?" Ignorant of the Healing process for something such as this she's fearful he'll try to do too much too quickly. "He is certainly welcome to stay here if you deem it necessary."
"Of course," Bhruic reassures Sebastian, winking as he continues, "No need to measure a shroud this early. You'll want to eat well for a few days to replenish your reserves." Turning to Zea, Bhruic does not, quite shrug. "If he feels like resting, it's not a bad idea but I can honestly say he is as healthy as I can make him."
The flush of the relief slowly fades and in its wake Sebastian finds that he feels whole, but not exactly stable. His gaze flickers to the bloodstained cloak on the floor which holds a great deal of the fluid which used to flow through his veins. Nothing would be more embarrassing than to head back to the docks only to faint along the way or worse ... pass out while flying? Turning to Bhruic he asks, "Forgive my ignorance. You healed the injury ... but the blood lost you cannot replace, yes?" There is of course the added bonus, Sebastian realizes silently to himself. An excuse to stay in Zea's room? Hmmmmmmm. There is definitely value to be found in that. His hands lift to the bandages about his head, slowly untying and loosing them, unlooping the white strips. "Perhaps, Domina, if I'm not presuming too greatly upon your hospitality, I might rest for a bit and have something to eat and drink before heading back to my own place?"
"I cannot make water from nothing, no. But you have what you need." Bhruic leans over to Zea now, and in a clear good humor whispers to her loudly enough that Sebastian is sure to overhear, "I wouldn't let the boy into the ambrosia unless you want to be scraping him off the floor, later."
Zea certainly looks agreeable to that, but likely not for the same reasons as Sebastian. With great relief she sinks into a small chair nearby and gives her guest a nod. "Of course, Sebastian, you're welcome to remain here until you feel well, it is the least I could do." As if on cue the slave she had sent for earlier enters the chambers hesitantly, bearing a large tray filled with a variety of food and drink to satisfy even the most discerning tastes. Zea doesn't immediately notice them, but such is their existence. The slave sets the tray down on a larger table and quickly makes his way out, but not before quickly checking to set what is going on. Gossip is as good as hard currency in the slave ranks, and a strange man in the Vilica's bed is worth a great deal.
Zea glances up at Bhruic and nods to him, even giving him a faint smile, though more for the advice than the man himself. "Of course Auctor, thank you again for coming."
Bhruic steps away from the bed and bows to Zea in the Empyrean fashion, formal once more. "Of course, Vilica. Good day." He nods to Sebastian in turn, "Dominus." The food, tempting as it might be, does not earn comment as he turns towards the door.
Inclining his head, Sebastian pauses in the removal of his bandages to thank the Auctor again as he departs, reminding himself silently to visit the man some time at Castallia and pay him for his services. The last of the bandages are removed and then Sebastian slips off the bed to lean over the basin, pouring water over his head again and again to wash out the remains of blood trapped in his hair. He can feel now, however, the effects of the blood he lost for there is a faint sense of dizziness. Nothing serious, but enough that he doesn't feel completely stable and he does feel rather sleepy. Taking up the mostly still clean pad he runs it through his hair till no more blood is visible, drying it crudely before sitting back upon the bed. Damp locks are tousled about his head, like a little boy who had just taken a bath, but nothing else about the Empyrean man is particularly boyish. With a soft sigh of relief he drops back onto the bedding. "It's amazing really ... that someone can knit flesh and bone and make a broken body whole again." He takes another deep breath, chest rising and then falling as he releases it with relish. Sebastian's eyes flicker closed for a moment as he rests upon Zea's bed peacefully, one hand reaching up to idly stroke over the place where there had but a few short moments ago been blood and torn flesh. "Amazing ...."
Zea rises from her chair and crosses over to the bed, stopping a couple paces from it. "He is truly quite gifted," she admits, casting one more look back towards the door just in time to see the man being shown out by the slave. "But for now you really should get some sleep. Stay here and rest, Sebastian and eat when you feel hungry, but there is no need to overdo it." She smiles down at him and even leans over to brush some of the hair off his forehead in a rather motherly fashion. "The house has many guest rooms; I can survive an evening in one of those, so please make yourself comfortable. The staff will see to your every need Sebastian and I'll check on you when I can, but for now..." Again she looks towards the door. "I have some things to tend to that cannot wait. I'll be back soon, I promise." With that said she steps away and heads out of the room, not allowing him the chance to protest or otherwise disobey her orders. Her footsteps fade and the soft click of the door signals her departure, leaving the sea-faring Empyrean alone in this noble abode.
