Atachii was silent as she watched Audun study Niaaki, barely conscious and in a mental state which one could not quite call lucid. The seconds were slipping away slowly, fading and dying, falling like feathers from a flurry of scattered birds that touched upon the ground and were forgotten. She felt the frail tug of urgency on the corners of her mind as she looked around at the battered and wind-swept group. They were like a mesh of tattered leaves that had fallen from the branches of a now barren tree. So different, so tattered, but they created a beautiful medley of colours. Her tired eyes turned from the splintered body of Niaaki as she caught the sight of someone entering the tent, heard the light footsteps on the ground as they attempted to remain unnoticed.
Atachii’s eyes followed the girl as she moved, listening as she spoke. She was feeling tired, but she moved slightly to wake herself up from her clouded thoughts. So many people. Everywhere they went they were sprouting up like rabbits. Oh well, the more the merrier, and if this girl knew anything about healing or something that would aid them she was not going to turn away help. Scanning the crowd in the large tent, Atachii processed the new girl’s question.
‘Hmmm…’
Audun’s diagnosis brought her attention back to Niaaki, momentarily forgetting that anyone had entered the tent. She nodded, her expression grim, set firm as her mind filed through all the knowledge she possessed, attempting to find a way to tackle the problem set before her. Niaaki’s mind was like glass, and as her fingers brushed against his forehead, feather-light, she could see the twisted strings, the missing pieces, dripping with the malice and confusion of a broken mind that burned and sizzled at the already fragile connections. Drawing her hand away, Atachii closed her eyes for a moment, steadying her breath, before she nodded to Audun.
‘I can take care of his mind, you guys focus on the physical wounds,’ she said, reassuring herself as well as them.
Atachii turned back to Gabrie, giving her a tired, but warm smile.
‘If you can take care of Yuuki over here…?’
A quick gesture motioned toward the black-haired, one-booted man sitting to the side of Niaaki, his boot planted firmly in his lap. Her face was a picture of confusion, how in the hell did he get his boot off? Oh well, her mind was busy with other things. Atachii was about to start preparing herself for the strenuous healing process she knew lingered on the horizon, when Yuuki’s last sentence sliced through the serious mood that had settled into her thoughts.
The oddest look ever conceived, one of confusion, awe and utter ‘what the hell just came out of his mouth’ crossed her face. She turned her full attention to Yuuki, staring at him for a moment before blinking, clear thought returning to her in slow, detached pulses, stringing along in single-file fashion.
‘Uh… I would hope not,’ she gave a sideways glance to the side of the tent as an awkward silence pressed against their bodies for those few claustrophobic moments.
Atachii finally turned back to Niaaki as he spoke, quiet and rough, sandpaper against their ears that hoped he would speak confidently, life behind the now fading and ghostlike voice, so far and distant from where it belonged. She shook her head as Niaaki’s words drifted through tent. Great, now he thought Yuuki had a kid and she stole it. Her voice was soft, but commanding, solid foundation beneath his drifting, wavering tones.
‘Okay, I have to start soon, and that means you have to relax and try to be quiet. Don’t worry about Yuuki. Besides being a bit frosty, he’s fine.’
She tugged off her thick, blue jacket in one deft motion, revealing a long-sleeved black shirt, fitting to her figure, though not tight, attempting to retain whatever heat it could in the cold and frigid Arctic environment. She looked to Gabrie, to see if she would tend to Yuuki, before looking back to Niaaki. Pulling the bag from around her shoulders where it had been tucked away under her jacket, she set a few bottles in front of where she kneeled by Niaaki’s head.
The bottles gave off a strong, thick scent as she rolled them between her hands, years of practice shifting their contents into a fine powder that fell into the air and dissipated, carried off into the damp atmosphere. It hung like a haze in the air around them, drawing Niaaki’s mind into sleep with each pained breath. It played through his thought, pushing sleep into his eyes, beckoning him into a visionless rest. Dreams to ease the pain, because this was going to a painful process for them both.
Breathing deeply, Atachii looked down at Niaaki, waiting for his eyelids to droop, heavy with the tendrils of the shimmering powder, waiting for his ragged breathe to ease, before moving closer. Her pale fingers, long and articulate, moved to cradle his head in her hands, bringing it closer to her face. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead to his, her darkened brown hair, unruly and windswept, falling around her face. Atachii drew in a sharp breath, the noise echoing in her probing mind as it searched out Niaaki’s broken thoughts.
Tendrils of her moving mind coiled and flicked around Niaaki’s, reaching in and pulling back, before pressing itself in on the already fragile thing, seeping in through the cracks and forcing its way through with a firm, consistent pressure. Before her she saw flickering wisps of though, broken threads and blaring holes. This mind was twisted and broken, and she knew it would be a long and tedious process to fix. Her mind weaved and conjured, tying the threads of sanity back together, patching the holes with care and fragility, taking as much care to keep Niaaki from too much suffering, even though she knew pain was going to be tearing through his head in waves when he woke from his drug-induced sleep.
And hour passed, and more. Time was irrelevant inside the mind, something fictional and fantastic, to be devoured without care and ground between the sharp teeth of phobias and desires. Still, the seconds faded.
Atachii woke to her conscious, physical body. She was laid out on the floor, her head resting on Niaaki's, throbbing with pain. Eyelids peeled back, revealing tired, green eyes, shining with the taste of success, worn and rusted with the exhaustion that tugged at her limbs. Her body felt numb, but she rolled herself away from Niaaki, sitting up with a great amount of effort. The drug had worn off, although she knew only herself and Niaaki would have been affected. It had a funny way of managing to discern the desired targets.
She pressed her cold hand to her forehead, wincing as another volley of pain shot through her. Her muscles were being massacred, stabbed. Dull and rusted knives, slowly and quickly, sliced and plunged through the flesh. Her eyes scanned the tent and she managed to focus on Yuuki. A tired, hoarse voice, only a shadow of her usual smooth and confident tone, spoke.
‘I need a drink.’
