There was warmth behind the curtains, and sunlight, but it was quiet except for birdsong and the occasional cart being moved along. How long had she slept for this time? She had promised Levinia and the Doctors faithfully that she would rest. She’d informed the infirmary that she would be remaining at the barracks, if not staying with a friend in Midtown. Quietly, she had agreed to stay with Mortalborn. It seemed the best chance of being able to recover quickly, and she’d been too tired to argue with him and refuse.
Malcolm had expected her to travel straight to his home, and the infirmary had expected her to back to her rooms. Setting out, in the afternoon she’d felt almost normal. Just a bit tired as she made her way through lowtown. Against the promises she’d made, she did visit her rooms first to collect a small bag of belongings. A change of clothes and toiletries. Setting out to cross back to the midtown, Elyna had realised her mistake. She wasn’t quite right, her footsteps were slower and she felt as though she carried an enormous pack of equipment, threatening to sink her into the mud. The simple journey was a struggle and when she arrived at Malcolms door in the evening, she’d anticipated frustration and anger. Once inside the threshold though, he’d carried her upstairs and left her to sleep.
The Skyrider risked a quick glance at her wrist, her healing wound had closed, the stiches removed so that the air could dry the final line that would make a thin scar. But it the skin surrounding the cut was a mirage of colours: greens, blues, blacks, purples, spread in flowers over her wrist, onto the base of her hand and inched down her forearm. Elyna sat up and changed into the fresh clothes she’d bought, washed as best she could and brushed her teeth, grateful that her host had set some water out.
It was strange to be in his house, but not as much as she had feared. There was something about the room she was in, that marked it as definitely his. It smelt of him, the faint spiced scent that was his own, tinged with soap. She could recognise a few of his belongings, from their travels together. All neatly set in place. She wondered if there was any news about the crew, and if they’d come back safely. A flutter of panic caught her chest, what if they came to Malcolms house? But she pushed it aside, too tired to add any energy to worry. The simple acts of washing had left her hands trembling and she lay back down. How long was she going to feel like this for? But then, other than the small meals in the infirmary, when had she last eaten?
Elyna counted to a hundred before sitting up once more; swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing barefoot on the floorboards. Feeling as though she was walking on the deck of a ship, she made her way towards the door, balancing her hands on the walls at first and then the doorframe. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to fall over. She straightened and made a careful descent of the stairs. Her shirt was pushed up to the elbows and hung from her shoulders. Her hair trailed down her back and she wore a pair of old pants, softened with age but cut just below the knee for sleeping in.