Turning the Page

[Yeva]

64 Vhalar 720

"Yeva? Darling?"

She was doing it again. The blank staring. The eyes of a woman looking for something below the surface of the water. Hestia's hand reach out to touch her daughter's forehead, still unable to believe she wasn't a figment of their imagination, "How are you feeling?"

The medic blinked and rubbed her eyes, smiling when she looked back at the aging brunette. Her answer sounded reassuring, but the older woman wasn't convinced. Something was different, she could feel it. Mother's intuition, "I'm fine, Momma," Yeva reached over where her father stood, as gruff and as tumble as ever, allowing him to wrap her up in a great hug, just like when she was a little girl. He stroked her curls and kissed her on the top of her head while the skinny healer across the counter stared at their daughter in disbelief.

Yeva of Rharne was back. They had shared the news themselves and over a hundred trials had passed since. She had missed her own birthday and now? Well... when was her birthday?

"Yeva?" the healer asked, causing the redhead to remove herself from her father's grasp, although it looked like the older man was less than willing to let go. Hestia reached out to touch his arm and felt the sigh that left his body. A breath that had been held since the news of her death. How was any of this possible? "If you want to come with me, we can get you settled into your room?"

A gown was passed across the counter and Yeva was led to a small room to change in. When she emerged, dressed in simple white cotton, they were led to her accommodations. Yeva, followed by her mother, Hestia. Behind them, her father, Theo, and her two older brothers who had been surprisingly affectionate since her return, Isaac and Petyr. Marching down the hall, while other Order members stopped in their rounds to stare or say hello. She was a miracle.

"Here we are," the medic said brightly, giving two sharp knocks against the door frame before walking in, "You'll be sharing a room with Ezner," she added, her blue cloak swishing as she pushed a curtain aside to make way for their little entourage, "Helloooo," she waved towards a battered man and then began to pull back the thin blanket on the empty bed by the locked window, ushering Yeva towards it, "We'll put your things in here," there was a modest, two drawer nightstand for her clothes and at once, Petyr began to push down on the mattress, judging it.

Isaac was unveiling the collection of books he had brought for his little sister and Theo... he seemed to be eyeing the man in the other bed with a stern, calculating expression.

"Well, this is it," Yeva said, drawing the attention of nearly the entire room, "I'll see you all in a few trials?"

"Oh, sweetheart, we'll be back tomorrow."

"Or tonight."

"Not me," Petyr cut in, defiantly, "I've got a hot date after work," he grinned wolfishly, before his older brother socked him in the arm, causing the twenty-something to growl, "It was just a joke!" he rubbed his arm, glaring at his sibling. Men, and they still bickered like boys, "I'll visit too."

"Thank you."

"Of course, sweetness," Theo nodded, reaching out to give his daughter one more hug, each of them following suit like a deck of falling cards, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

Isaac, the firstborn, sat on the edge of the bed after Yeva climbed in, holding up a backpack, "I brought some of your things. Some books," he began to draw them out one by one, setting them on top of the nightstand, followed by a bag of pencils, "I know you like to read... And this," he lifted a notebook and set it on top, "In case you want to write, or draw."

She smiled and leaned forward to hug her brother again, "They're perfect. I'll be home soon."

The healer in the corner watched the heartfelt display of affection and hoped to reassure them all, "She's in good hands," she added as each of them began to say their goodbyes and head towards the door. It was a drawn out, begrudging process but each one finally was corralled back into the hallway. When it was just the three of them, she stood by the door herself, "I'll give you some time to get settled and then grab the doctor, alright?" she asked Ezner if he needed anything else before she left herself.

Yeva smiled again but once alone with Ezner, the expression faltered and she fell back onto her pillows to stare at the ceiling. Suddenly everything was quiet, muted beyond the door to the rest of the facility. After a beat of silence she turned her head, half hidden behind a mass of sunset curls, You're Ezner, right?" she rolled over to face him, analyzing his injuries. Looked like a fight, and in Rharne that wasn't anything uncommon, "My name's Yeva. I'm sorry if they disrupted you."

[Ezner]

Ezner was sitting on the exam table in a room by himself in the Order of Adunih. His entire body hurt, but he'd been training so hard that it wasn't much of a surprise. He was in here fairly regularly. Most of the staff seemed to at least have seen him before, and his bills were sent to Smoky Manor with regularity, and paid for in full. Totrial's maladies were a pained shoulder, blood in his urine, and a bit of dizziness. Ezner had fallen a few times walking himself to the Order building.

The healers had patched him up, but insisted he stay for a while so that they could monitor his dizzy spells.

Ezner sat upright against the wall at the head of the wall, his legs crossed. He was now thinking about his upcoming fight in fourteen trials. He didn't know why he felt the need to focus so heavily on it, he didn't know the fighter, had no idea what to expect. But he fought every single trial against someone else without knowing what to expect? So why was this any different? He couldn't seem to shake it but there was more worry for this fight than any other. Was it just because it was part of Mr. Dey's bigger idea? Higher end slave fights?

Or was it because he would be fighting someone else just like him?

But his thoughts were interrupted with two sharp raps against the door, which reminded him of the signals used to mark the passing bits in a fight. His blood pressure shot up at hearing it, before one of the healers stepped inside, a procession of people following her. Ezner looked up shyly, "Hello," before his eyes went back down to staring at his taped up hands. Ezner could feel one of the men staring at him, but he kept his eyes downcast. He knew how he was supposed to act in public. He didn't need to embarrass Mr. Dey again, and be punished, again. He couldn't risk that.

The healer asked Ezner if he needed anything. Ezner looked up at the woman, his face in the usual thin lipped, resting stern look, "No, thank you." The medic had expected that answer from Ezner. He never asked for anything for himself. He accepted whatever it was the healers felt he needed and not one hair more. And she knew he was a slave, and cast him a mournful look before leaving the room.

And Ezner returned to staring at his hands.

The curly haired woman turned toward him, and asked him his name. He looked up and over at her, "Yes, I am Ezner." Then following the expected politeness, "It is nice to meet you, Yeva." His face returned back down to his hands, "They weren't a disruption. They were very nice."

Ezner returned to staring down at his hands. And the more he stared, the more he found his bandaged up left hand was itching. He had multiple scrapes and cuts around his knuckles, from his hands splitting open from hitting bones, teeth, walls, floors, all during the fights he was having to do. It was one of the more common injuries he had treated here. But the itch just grew, and he reached over, scratching at the surface of the bandage, insistently. And the itch didn't go away, so he just kept scratching. He just wanted it to stop.

He wanted it all to just stop.

[Yeva]

64 Vhalar 720

He was polite, soft spoken.

Yeva nodded, willing to leave him be when she noticed the way he scratched the fabric bound around his hands, "Be careful," she said, readying to sit up before realizing that for once she was a patient, not the other way around. After hesitating, the redhead was gentle in her next words, "Sorry... It's just... You'll reopen the wounds if you keep pawing at the bandages." She knew it must have been hard, to resist the urge. Yeva laced her own fingers and tucked them into her lap. Ezner had bronze skin, and his hair was short, but messy. His nose looked crooked, like the rendition of an abstract portrait and his eyes were dark. He looked sad, like an alley cat with a broken tail.

"I used to be a doctor here," she admitted, not sure if that was meant to reassure him or herself, "I don't know if I still am," she added under her breath, tired again, "But I know a thing or two about healing. You just have to find the thing that helps ease the pain in the process... Something that doesn't cause more."

She thought about what that meant. Sometimes it was medicine. Sometimes it was love. Sometimes it was found at the bottom of the bottle or the pews of a church. She exhaled, wondering what would be the thing to help her out of her hurt, from wounds inflicted on the soul. Raw. Painful. She reached for one of the books Isaac left, recognizing it almost immediately. The storybook Friell had given her back in Scalvoris. They had kept it, and she smiled, genuinely, suddenly relieved, "Do you like to read?" she asked, flipping open the tome to thumb through its pages, "You can borrow one of my books; Stories always help me escape, you know?" It hadn't occurred to her that he couldn't. She had only thought of it being a nice moment of respite from boredom while the Order was kept busy; Being in Rharne, the fighting capitol of Idalos, meant that it would likely be awhile before the doctor came, "Helps me be someone else for a little while... Takes the mind off things... This one was my favorite as a girl," she reached out, sliding the next book from the stack and held it out across the imaginary line separating them, "You might like it."

[Ezner]

As soon as Yeva said for him to be careful, he stopped scratching. He looked over at her, automatically waiting for her next command. She apologized, which Ezner didn't understand. He pulled his hand away from the bandage. "Thank you." His eyes took her in briefly. She had an an intense mess of red curls, spread out on her pillow. She didn't seem to be injured from what Ezner could tell, but he knew she must be, if she were here.

He listened to her continue on, his eyes returning to stare at his own hands. Her words made him only think of one thing. One person. The woman who made the pain go away any time they were together, who made the new wounds worth acquiring. Elisabeth. At the thought of her, his eyes left his hand, searching the room now. He didn't know why or what he was looking for, but he looked around nonetheless. "I found..." He paused. He realised he shouldn't be saying Elisabeth's name to strangers. He was a slave after all, and not hers. "You're right."

And his eyes that had been searching for something to remind him of her came to a stop, settling back down on his hands once more. And then Yeva asked him a question. One that made him uncomfortable, just as it did when he received that note that trial he and Elisabeth had met. He looked over at Yeva again, "I don't know how to read."

She offered to let him borrow one of her books, and he shook his head, "I'm not allowed to do that. But thank you." Elisabeth had offered to help him read too. But it was hard for them to find time together. He had learned a few things from her but was still a farcry from being literate. And he was ashamed by it. It was starting to feel like something everyone could do, and do easily. Everyone except for him. The slave. He remembered clearly the desperate confusion when Elisabeth briefly mentioned how the letter E worked.

Trying to learn to read made him feel like what he had always been called by his owners. Dumb. He hadn't thought about it before he had started to try, it was easier to just ignore it. But now, now he felt dumb. And embarrassed by it, and himself. He pulled his knees up to his chest, a defensive posture as he wrapped his arms around them. Then Yeva said something else. She said it let her be someone else, for a little while.

In barely more than a whisper, he said to her what he'd not ever said in direct words to anyone else at the Order of Adunih. "I can't be someone else. I'm a slave."

'That's all I am.'