Word travels Fast. (Athran.)

[Chrysalis]

Vehka Khalihera!

Shahara's first day in the city and someone had already shrieked something about her being an elf and requiring cleansing. Although thankfully no one around the shrieker paid any attention to what they were saying. The young woman guessed that you had city lunatics the world over, not just plentiful back in Et-Annarion...she tried not to think about home too much. It made her feel vaguely sick and then angry as her thoughts turned back to her final night in Mijak. Being forced to flee like a coward! She just needed to bide her time. At least in the city she would hopefully blend in and to take care of some necessity, she needed money and a roof over her head for the night. At least that would be nice, sleeping outside in Mijak was never an issue. The climate was so hot, over here? Shahara couldn't get used to it! The Aathjhaka looked around, at least being in a large city was reminiscent of Home. She wandered into the market district of the city to take a look around. She might have been an Assassin by trade but she was a dab hand at making poisons, the antidotes to such and dealing with battle injury.

It didn't take Shahara long to come across a small healer's sanctum who were grateful to pay her some coin to make poultices, treat wounds and draw out some minor poisons. She did receive a hard look from one of the older women she treated.

"Where did you say that you were from?"

Shahara looked up from applying the poultice to the old sow's leg.

"Somewhere very dull, you'll need to take three more of these and change the poultice once a day until the swelling-"

The old woman interrupted her again, obviously not listening to a word Shahara had just said.

"Those are evil looking knives! Should you really be carrying those around in such a place?"

Honestly...Shahara set her jaw and stood, turning to face the daughter of the old woman. The young woman was perhaps a year or so older than Shahara and had the grace to look embaressed at her Mother's behaviour towards Shahara. She held out the coin purse in exchange for her Mother's treatment and prescription. "I apologise for my Mother's unruly behaviour." Shahara pocketed the money, this wasn't exactly what she had trained to do but it would earn her money. Unless someone wanted a quick, silent assassin who could be cold right down to the bones. But over here the politics seemed to be somewhat different.

"Think nothing of it, Akhra. I've treated more gruesome than a mild infection before."

The other woman looked a touch confused at Shahara's Mijaki term, meaning Lady/Madam. She needed to stop dropping it into her conversation where she could. She cleaned her hands in the small sink and replaced her gloves. Facing the middle age, heavy set woman who ran the Sanctum.

"Is there anyone else?"

[Anadwen]

   The world was spinning. It turned around and around like Maigrod spinning in the air in a thunderstorm... Athran closed his eyes and stumbled through the doorway into a small Sanctum, trying to hide from the heat. He blinked in the darkness, looking around, and after a while stepped into the colder air of the room behind the door.
   "Is there anybody here?" he asked, much more silently than he expected. A few days of traveling with only a little food and boiling in the heat in armor have taken their toll.
   "Is there anyone in here?" he cried out again, this time a bit louder. He recognized a few moving shadows of people around, but everything was too foggy and fuzzy to see their faces. He has just arrived to the first town after two weeks of traveling - on feet, not on a dragon's back. He was hungry. He was tired. And he was lost.
   "Please... Someone?"
   He rubbed his eyes and yawned, proceeding to make one more step into the Sanctum. His feet didn't carry him forth with long, confident steps like usually - instead, he just dragged them behind, still holding onto the frame of the door. He could see a couple of people afar, of which one was definitely a woman, and the second one...
   ...The second one could have been whatever. In this state, he didn't care at all.

[Chrysalis]

"Oh my!" cried the Sanctum's owner, noticing Athran's poor state. Shahara, despite being a good foot shorter than the elf, was at his side and placed his arm around her shoulders. The older woman followed suit on the other side and together they carefully walked him to one of the pallets against the wall. Once they had him laid down, Shahara immediately set to work, checking the elf's pulse against her own, pinching his skin between her finger and thumb to check for dehydration. His skin didn't bounce back to place straight away which suggested dehydration, probably lack of food as well by the his eyes seemed to struggle focusing. Nothing serious, it all seemed to sit under exhausation. The older woman watched Shahara as she worked.

"What does he need?"

Shahara glanced back over her shoulder. "Food, water and rest. It's just a bad case of exhaustion and dehydration. Must have travelled too far without enough supplies. If you could bring water to start with." The Aathjhaka spoke in her lilting, musical accent as she checked his eyes and their reactions to movement. The Sanctum owner rushed off to get the water she requested while Shahara returned to examining him. All Aathjhaka needed to know some forms of healing, especially while training. They were their own Healers, left to themselves. They were not valuable until they were fully trained, and by then most had learned the basics. It had served her well, she had not exactly imagined that this was what she would be doing today...but right now, healing was more profitable and easier to come by than Assassination work.

"Can you speak?" Shahara tried to prompt Athran, tilting his face to look at her.

[Anadwen]

Athran opened his eyes to a small gap.

"Fortunately I still can..."

He could recognize the face of the woman in front of him, her pale hair and tanned skin. She was examining him, and though usually he would find another person touching him rather unpleasant, this time he didn't mind it. He slowly breathed in.

"This... This is the Sanctum, right? And I'm... I'm Arca, am I not?"

The black scarf that covered his head till now sled off the wisps of his hair as he turned his head around, staring at the room around. The shadows covered most before his sight, which was normally as sharp as that of a falcon, but he didn't even find the strength to attempt to identify what he saw. It was a mesh of shadows, and the only thing he could think about was the pulsating pain in his left forearm and head.

It was colder inside, less dry and very dark, when compared to the bright, sunny streets of the city, where he was like burning, covered in his heavy, dark clothes. He almost felt like when he was seventeen... And set himself on fire.

The old woman rushed back in, carrying a bucket of water. Athran tried to raise himself to his elbows to see better what was happening around him, as the healers treated him, but found himself too weak even for that. He cursed silently.

Darn summer. And darn traveling, he thought.

[Chrysalis]

"Quora Mae. Not delusional at least."

The young woman muttered more to herself than to Athran. Shahara and two other healers removed most of Athran's armour and set it aside, bathing his skin to cool down his temperature. Once that was starting to lower suitably, one of the healers propped Athran up enough to drink without choking, the Aathjhaka filled a tin cup of the cold water and held it to his lips. "Slowly, or you'll be ill." She warned seriously, something that she and her Sect had all learned about gulping water on an empty stomach, most of it came right back up again...the rest of the Sanctum healers still watched Shahara with open discomfort. She didn't have the aura of a healer after all, she moved like a predator, scanned every person's face like one too. But the skill said otherwise.

"Where did you learn, my dear?" The Owner inquired, trying to gently nudge some information out of the stranger who spoke a language she had never heard, dropping it occasionally into her common dialect. Shahara didn't turn her attention away from Athran but responded to the older woman.

"The hard way." It was an honest answer, she was not about to go into details about where she gained her experience from to her. The last thing Shahara needed was her to start gossiping, the idea was to remain at least relatively low profile while she could. She checked Athran's temperature again, it was almost back down to normal levels. Once he had plenty of water and a good meal inside him, combined with a decent night's sleep he would feel mostly back to himself.

[Anadwen]

Athran reached after the cup, letting the water slowly flow into his mouth. He drank half of it, then dropped back down, his eyes searched for his armor that the healers took away.

"No... Give it back... It's personal... Give it back to me! Please... Don't touch it..." Letting strangers see him without his clothes was the last thing he'd wish for, but he didn't have the strength to fight the hands that took off his bracers, gauntlets, coat, belt, scarf, and everything else. It traveled with him many miles, and not to be touched by some peasants! There were weapons, precious weapons concealed within the fabrics...

"Can you... Give me back my armour?" he whispered. He felt that his body stopped burning, but he still felt the pain, especially from the wound on his arm. Falling onto stones hurts. Falling onto someone's sword hurts more.

He let out a long sigh. Nobody was responding to his requests. If he at least had some food... If I had food, I'd throw up right here, right now. It wasn't a good idea to eat a meal after two days of dry bread, especially if one is feeling like after a wild night in the inn.

He tried to grab the arm of the woman, bending above him, but the pain kicked in, and instead, he just dropped his hand back onto the ground. "Please... My armour... I want it back." He was desperate to get it back, no matter how many times he will have to ask.

[Chrysalis]

The Elf seemed genuinely distressed at the removal of his armour by the Healers, he grabbed Shahara's arm but didn't seem to have the energy to cling onto it. She understood if someone tried to take her Snakeblades from her, she would have made them sorely regret it. She grabbed one of the healers by the arm as they went to take the last of it and shook her head. "No, bring the rest of it back." They nodded and consented, bringing back his armour and laying it down by the side of the bed. At least he seemed to be talking more sense now and the worst of his temperature had cooled, there was just that wound to attend to. She nodded to another of the healers who brought her an evil looking needle, thick black thread and an assortment of herbs. Shahara was used to sewing herself and other people up...in training you were not cared for. She crushed the herbs artfully between her fingers, callused from years of fighting and started to apply the green mixture around the wound, her fingers stained slightly green from the juices that the herbs released.

They would stave off the worst of the pain, even though she technically wasn't a healer like those who were running around, caring for other patients. She probably had more experience dealing with life threatening injuries and her knowledge of the body, both for easing pain and for causing it. She did alot more of the latter than the former. "Stay still and it will be over quickly."

Shahara pushed the needle into his skin and began to stitch the wound.

[Anadwen]

Athran only winced a little when the needle first pierced his skin, for the rest of the time, he didn't move anything but his eyes, which were still crossing from one thing onto another. His armour was back, and that was the most important thing. For now.

"Thank you... A warrior's weapons are precious to him... Though useless for others." he whispered. It was an ease to see it back by his side, especially his sword, for now hidden in a dark sheath. His thoughts were slowly beginning to clear, and he recognized much more of his surroundings than before - faces and clothes of the healers, shapes of furniture around, the rough surface of walls. He felt the needle sewing his wound up, but it was far from what he would call pain - only a little discomfort. He remembered worse, much worse. He knew how to treat himself, and would have done it long ago like many times before, if not for being weakened and delirious from heat, thirst and lack of food. Getting into the closest town was the most he was capable of.

He turned his head towards the healer, staring at her face, but remained silent. There was nothing to say.

[Chrysalis]

Shahara didn't look up from her work, carrying on carefully stitching up Athran's wound with a gentle hand. When he mentioned that a warrior's weapons were only precious to them, she understood that. She had worked for years to earn her Snakeblades, she would rip apart anyone who tried to take them from her. "I do understand, perhaps better than you think..." She could feel the Elf examining her carefully, many people had done so since her arrival. She was obviously a foreigner with her lilting accent and dark skin, but so far most people chose to leave her to it. Either that or they believed she did not speak their language. Shahara remained quiet while she worked until the last stitch was in, she tied it over and cut it with a tiny but very sharp knife.

"I am not a Healer, but I did have to learn the hard way. In my experience, you work on what's going to kill you first, everything else is secondary. You'll recover soon."

She rose to wash her hands in a bowl filled with water, washing off the specks of blood coating her fingers and turning the water a cloudy pink as she did so.

[Anadwen]

Athran nodded. "I know. Thank you." He grabbed his clothes and begun putting them on, clumsily, and the armour clinked under his hands as closed the buckles and tied every piece to fit, at least loosely. Now to get lost. He wasn't in the best state to search for an inn to sleep in, but his desire to keep traveling was greater than physical needs. Staying somewhere for long was not an option, nothing was safe and nothing was secure. There was no one to trust...

He put a coin into her hand. "It's not much and I know it. But I don't have more. Where's the closest inn? A cheap one, if there's one..." he asked. It shouldn't be that difficult to stumble into an inn and rent a room. Finally, he put on his gauntlets and grabbed the sheath of his sword, which now seemed much heavier than usual. He was ready to leave.

There's always just leaving and no returning, he thought. And that's how it should stay. He pulled the hood of his cape back on and covered his face with the scarf.

[Chrysalis]

"You're asking the wrong person for recommendations on a place to stay. Having that same problem myself."

Shahara pocketed the coin, at least from stitching a few people up, making some poultices and herbal medicine she had made enough money to at least travel on for a while. Unless someone was willing to pay for a high class assassin, although so far in this region. It seemed peaceful enough for that not to be going on. Strange, the Aathjhaka were an intregal part of Mijak's politics. Getting rid of people that caused problems for the Empire for example...Shahara's gaze was suddenly drawn to the door, two men that she recognised were talking to the owner of the Sanctum. They had the same braid with black beads and carried their own Snakeblades. She knew them well enough, Nagarak and Dimitrak. They had been part of the Emperor's Death and were part of the group that came after her Sect.

"We're looking for a young woman, her name is Shahara Daghan..."

The young woman was on her feet in seconds, they were blocking her only exit and if they wanted to drag her back to Mijak. Well...they could try. She tended to have them dead if they tried.

[Anadwen]

Athran eyed the two men in the doorway. It was apparent that they meant no good, he could sense it from their voices, their movement. The woman beside him sprung to her feet - she looked similar to them. Too similar for it to be a coincidence.

He stood up as quickly as he could, grabbed her by the arm and rushed towards the door, pulling her behind himself. Whoever they were looking for, they were dangerous. The whole Sanctum could have been dead in a matter of few seconds... He didn't really care about the other healers, and not even about this girl, but he liked her better than a coupe of old hags, staring at him with disgust just because of the mere fact that he was neither human, nor native here. He pushed one of the man out of the doorway and ran out into the streets, still gripping his fingers around Shahara.

"Run. They want no good. Run!" he hissed. If they would go after him, they wouldn't stand a chance, even like this - there was hardly a warrior that would.

[Chrysalis]

Shahara didn't expect Athran to grab her and yank her out of the Sanctum, Nagarak and Dimitrak both recognised Shahara and tore after them. There was no point in running from them and she had her own score to settle, send a message to the smug bitch sitting on the throne where she did not belong. She appreciated the stranger's attempt at trying to get her out of the way. But he was in no state to fight, where as she was. The young woman wrenched her arm away from Athran.

"They are after me! They are Mijaki Aathjhaka...and so am I."

She dropped quickly into a stance and drew her blades much to the distress of people around them, Nagarak was the first to reach Shahara, he smirked and threw his cloak to the ground. "Sek quartha, Shahara." Drawing his own Snakeblades ready for a brutal fight, he lunged at Shahara who dodged, bringing up her leg in a high kick aimed at the side of his head. It connected and made him stagger off to the right. She raised her blades and spat at his feet. "Gothrak..." The way she emphasised it slowly made it very clear to even a speaker of the common tongue that it was a grave insult.

[Anadwen]

Athran stepped back. There wasn't much he could do if he didn't want to risk getting hurt, but there was something. There was fire. He stomped onto the ground and slowly drew his sword, fire beginning to appear above his hands. It quickly spread onto the blade and covered his entire body, until he stood behind her, wreathed with blazing white flames. He felt their heat above his skin, but they couldn't harm him. He learned to control them, make them obey and bend to his will like perfect weapons.

"Leave. Whatever you want, leave this town, and don't come back. I don't care who you are. Leave, or you will burn."

The ground below him begun to catch fire from his feet, and the flames at the tip of his sword, held high, reached above his head, hungry and fierce, feeding on the warm air around. The wind twisted them, turned them from one side to another, and they danced on the steel that was cold despite their heat. Athran make a step forth. He met ones like them before - ruthless, mindless pawns of a greater lord. Everything about them spoke for that; they weren't working for themselves. He flinched by the thought that made his very core twist in disgust, how warriors are brainwashed and used. Ones like that deserve no blade, no sword by their side. The flames changed from white to a light, unnatural shade of blue, burning with greater strength and warmth than before.

"Go away. Now!"