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[Saphra] Awakening

Rhianon's picture

Those first days were some kind of waking dream to her; above the rush of her fevered mind, she could hear the murmur of voices and feel the prickly weight of blankets upon her slight form. She knew she was somewhere - but where? The name Elodor flitted through her head like a moth only to incinerate in another burst of fever. It was an odd sensation. She was distantly aware of the ministrations of the healers but she felt removed from it all, much like a ghost among the living. Her only solace was when the darkness would take her again and the discomforting feeling of being and yet not being faded into oblivion.

After some time, weeks perhaps, the shadows began to lift. She could see the room about her: simple furnishings and linens, a single window overlooking burgeoning fields. It was deadly silent to her though. No song of the sea, no whisperings in the darkness. She feigned sleep during the day, not wishing to bother those who padded quietly around her, and at night, she watched the moon. There had to be a time and place before this room and before this stillness, but her memories were as hard to grasp as grains filtering through a sieve. 

On the second night following her awakening, the healers caught her at her game. She had drifted off into daydream for a moment, watching the stars dance across the heavens like pearls on a strand, and a healer tramping through the adjoining hall saw her through the doorway. From then on, they hovered over her with a kind of oppressive thoughtfulness.

“We are so glad you have finally awakened, Saphra” they babbled at her, adjusting the ugly linens and shoving bowls of broth into her hands. That was her name, apparently. Saphra. She liked it. It sounded like the name of a gemstone or a flower. “You fell to infection from your injuries and a fever took you. We were not sure when - or if - you would recover.”

Injuries? She couldn’t remember that, but when they said it, she noticed her arms and legs were wrapped in bandages. The healers saw her confusion and one of the younger ones explained it away quickly as if it was nothing at all. 

“The priests have suppressed your memories to aid in your recovery.” The young draenei fluffed the pillows on the bed. “Some of the others succumbed to shock and we were fearful the trauma of what happened contributed to it. You were one of the first to benefit from this new course of treatment. Your memories should start coming back now that the worst is over.”

Shock...trauma...Those words were equally foreign to her and she fought to remember a time before the fevered dreams and tiny room overlooking fields. She struggled to sit up but a healer pressed her back into the pillows. 

“Now, now, you are still in recovery. Conserve your energy.”

The group then bustled about the room, chatting amongst themselves and arranging potion vials for the day’s course of medications. She watched them. Was this too a dream? Would she wake again - in another room, under another moon? The thought shook her.

The same young healer, her dark hair curling around straight horns, sensed her terror. “Your mate was by to see you when you first came here for treatment,” she said slowly, her voice soothing. “I’m sure he will be glad to hear you are doing much better. I am sure seeing him will help to soothe you. You were in Tuurem, you know - ”

One of her colleagues pressed an armful of potions into the girl’s arms, snapping, “Out, Viza.”Startled, the girl stumbled from the room and another healer followed her. The door shut behind them.

As the remaining healers tended to her, Saphra leaned back against the pillows.. Her hearing, gift that it was, did not fail her. She could hear the soft conversation just beyond the door as if tendrils of wind carried it directly to her pricked ears.

“You cannot speak of her mate. Do you not remember the anchorite’s command? Do not cause those healing undue stress.”

“Yes, but I thought - “

“Stupid girl. Do you not remember what he said when he saw her? That we should tell her, should she awaken, that he had taken up the fight against the Iron Horde and to not follow after him. That he did not want to see her face unless she could bring his daughter back to him.” 

“He was just angry...to lose a child - “

“Hush. Now, take these potions back to the storeroom.”

The voices fell away. Saphra tried to not let her expression change, smiling at the healers around her. “Thank you,” she murmured and patted the bandages. “Might I ask - do you have any other blankets? These are quite rough. Silk, perhaps? Or even a fineweave?”

The healers smirked at her and mumbled something about seeing what they could do. After they left, Saphra sighed and looked back out the window. Boring farmlands. She glanced over at the draught of starflower juice that had been placed at her bedside. The healers said it would help her rest peacefully, dreamlessly. That once frightening oblivion seemed much more welcoming now. And perhaps when she awoke, she would be back somewhere that made sense.

Comments

Darlain's picture

((This is fascinating,

((This is fascinating, curious to see how this turns out.