Chapter 6 (Continued)

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Calim turns his head to look toward the door Georg disappeared through, then back to Asra. His pupils are huge, even more so than they should be in the relatively dim light. "Latch... behind the crates," he mumbles, then licks his dry lips several times. "Shows... the door."

That's all he has to say for now, as his eyes roll up and he goes limp. His pulse is still thready, his breathing shallow.

A wave of panic washes over Asra at Calim surrendering to unconsciousness in his state. Looking over her shoulder, she sees that Georg has already gotten the message.

"O's and A, I am not killing anyone else today," she swears, her voice thick with emotion as she adjusts Calim into a more comfortable position. She's never tried healing magic before, and its not really something she ever thought she'd have to try. But damn it all if she isn't going to give it her best shot.

Pushing aside all of her anxiety about how terribly her magic has affected her, Asra braces her stomach for that upsetting lurch of power as she peels back the cloth to examine the wound. Her heart hurts at the fact that she did this to him, but she pushes those thoughts down to focus.

She's familiar with the human body. Has to be for her illusions to hold any weight. Has to know about blood and muscle and sinew and skin so that her images don't lurch or shift unnaturally. This is just... another application of that knowledge.

She presses her hands to either side of the cleft skin and focuses on replacing what was lost. She breathes deeply and fights through the flip of her stomach as she lets magic flow into Calim, resetting bone, and stitching muscle and replacing flesh. She's exhausted by it, but in a flash, Calim's wound is repaired and pink with new skin.

[Kaigen]

The crates are actually quite easy to move -- they're almost certainly empty -- and just about anyone should be able to push them aside. Once a couple near the top are moved, a recessed latch in the wall is revealed. The metal is worn to a shine, evidence of frequent enough use to keep it from getting oxidized or rusted in the damp environment.

There's some resistance when it's pulled, reminiscent of trying to open a sticky door, but Georg has no trouble making it work. When it's pulled horizontal, there's a heavy clunk to the right and a door-sized section of the wooden wall next to the stack of crates pops out. A lot of these buildings near the docks have secret rooms for the unlawful, semi-legal and outright illegal goods that used to flow through the district back before the Wards and this apparently is no exception. The wall section swings on creaky hinges to reveal a room beyond. It's completely dark, but grabbing a light globe illuminates the scene: a tumbled stack of crates that produced the noise moments ago, and Iana tied to a tipped-over chair lying on the floor looking toward the door.

The crates being so light strengthens Georg's sense that there's something fishy about the wall, and the revealed latch confirms it. "A-ha," he says with soft triumph as he pulls it. He swings the door out, and lo and behold: a completely dark room. He sighs through his nose as he goes for the nearest light globe to illuminate several tipped over crates and an elf. "Thank heavens and earth, there you are," he says, moving to untie her. The knots prove tricky, probably swelled and tightened from sea air and struggle, so after a few moments of tugging at them, he shrugs and snaps the back off the chair to release the tension and make things easier. "Good thing you made that noise," he says conversationally. "It would have taken us way too long to find out with just our own wits."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

The door swings open with a sudden burst of light that dazzles Iana's eyes. Instinctively, her hands clutch at the arms of the chair, bracing for whatever comes next.

But what comes next is…a familiar voice? "Georg?" Iana's voice is thin and shaky, and she tries to clamp down into control.

She can hardly believe it - after all this time (how much time?) her friends have actually come for her. It is not another captor, not another task to force herself to complete or puzzle to solve; it is Georg.

"Thank heavens and earth, there you are," he says, moving to untie her. The knots prove tricky, probably swelled and tightened from sea air and struggle, so after a few moments of tugging at them, he shrugs and snaps the back off the chair to release the tension and make things easier. "Good thing you made that noise," he says conversationally. "It would have taken us way too long to find out with just our own wits."

As Georg's huge fingers start to pull at the knots binding her, Iana's body feels the relief before her mind does: her hands begin to shake Must hold still. He is working. She must not get in his way. "H-how - how did you - "

The sharp splintering snap of the chair breaks in, and she lets out a gasp of startlement that is far too close to a whimper. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to hold still while he disassembles the chair.

She knows what he is doing, and later she will be deeply grateful. Even if she cannot follow him into levity just yet, it means something that he wants to help her do that.

"Is Garnyn all right?" is what she says, when she can manage to speak again.

[Georg Elsebethson]

As Georg's huge fingers start to pull at the knots binding her, Iana's body feels the relief before her mind does: her hands begin to shake Must hold still. He is working. She must not get in his way. "H-how - how did you - "

The sharp splintering snap of the chair breaks in, and she lets out a gasp of startlement that is far too close to a whimper. She squeezes her eyes shut, and tries to hold still while he disassembles the chair.

She knows what he is doing, and later she will be deeply grateful. Even if she cannot follow him into levity just yet, it means something that he wants to help her do that.

"Is Garnyn all right?" is what she says, when she can manage to speak again.

"If you're asking how I found you," Georg says as he gingerly works the bits of chair out, earning himself a splinter in the process, though he's got the calluses to keep it from bothering him much. "A little rat grew a little conscience a little late." Without the frame of the chair holding everything taut, it's a bit easier to loosen the ropes and help Iana out of them. He frowns when she asks about Garnyn. Asra had mentioned spotting Iana being chased by Ishan, but he's not sure she ever laid eyes on Garnyn. "As for Garnyn, I don't know, but I can check up on him after we get you somewhere safe."

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"If you're asking how I found you," Georg says as he gingerly works the bits of chair out, earning himself a splinter in the process, though he's got the calluses to keep it from bothering him much. "A little rat grew a little conscience a little late." Without the frame of the chair holding everything taut, it's a bit easier to loosen the ropes and help Iana out of them. He frowns when she asks about Garnyn. Asra had mentioned spotting Iana being chased by Ishan, but he's not sure she ever laid eyes on Garnyn. "As for Garnyn, I don't know, but I can check up on him after we get you somewhere safe."

"He didn't send you?" Iana's voice rises high in surprise. "But then how - " A little rat: does that mean that Ishan finally felt the remorse that she had been trying to push him towards? That's something, at least. "Garnyn - Ishan hurt him when he was trying to get to me - oh, please I hope he's all right - "

The last of the broken bits of chair falls to the floor; the last loop of rope slides away from her scratched hands - definitely trembling now, despite her best efforts - and Iana lets out another ragged breath, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. "Thank you."

She should give a report. That's what a field agent would do, right? "I - I found out more - " she stammers. "About Chavon, and his people, and - " Her voice wavers, trembles, cracks, and her fingers curl into the fabric of Georg's shirt, as if holding tight to him could keep her voice steady.

[Georg Elsebethson]

"He didn't send you?" Iana's voice rises high in surprise. "But then how - " A little rat: does that mean that Ishan finally felt the remorse that she had been trying to push him towards? That's something, at least. "Garnyn - Ishan hurt him when he was trying to get to me - oh, please I hope he's all right - "

The last of the broken bits of chair falls to the floor; the last loop of rope slides away from her scratched hands - definitely trembling now, despite her best efforts - and Iana lets out another ragged breath, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. "Thank you."

She should give a report. That's what a field agent would do, right? "I - I found out more - " she stammers. "About Chavon, and his people, and - " Her voice wavers, trembles, cracks, and her fingers curl into the fabric of Georg's shirt, as if holding tight to him could keep her voice steady.

"Hey," Georg says gently, putting his hands on Iana's shoulders. "That can wait " He grimaces. "Asra and I made a bit of a ruckus, so we should get out before someone comes to find out what's going on. You can tell us when we're somewhere safe." It's a risk, something could happen before then, but Georg doesn't have it in him to push for an immediate debrief. "Can you stand? Can you walk?"

[Ianaeveli Tigenet]

"Hey," Georg says gently, putting his hands on Iana's shoulders. "That can wait " He grimaces. "Asra and I made a bit of a ruckus, so we should get out before someone comes to find out what's going on. You can tell us when we're somewhere safe."

Iana nods, not trusting herself to talk. If she breaks now, she will never be able to pull herself together enough to do what needs to be done. So she just holds tight to Georg, and buries her head in the safety of his broad chest for a few moments while he tells her what has to happen next.

It's a risk, something could happen before then, but Georg doesn't have it in him to push for an immediate debrief. "Can you stand? Can you walk?"

"I - I think so?" She is stiff, and her hip still aches from the impact of the library cart, but enough time has passed that the pain is fading…

Time. Iana realizes, with a small sudden flare of clarity, that she has no idea: "What time is it?"

[AftermathGM]

She's familiar with the human body. Has to be for her illusions to hold any weight. Has to know about blood and muscle and sinew and skin so that her images don't lurch or shift unnaturally. This is just... another application of that knowledge.

She presses her hands to either side of the cleft skin and focuses on replacing what was lost. She breathes deeply and fights through the flip of her stomach as she lets magic flow into Calim, resetting bone, and stitching muscle and replacing flesh. She's exhausted by it, but in a flash, Calim's wound is repaired and pink with new skin.

Calim's entire body convulses as Asra's rather brute force healing approach remakes the broken parts of his body, but he does not cry out in his unconscious state. Waves of heat emanate from his skin, enough to worry Asra that he's going to succumb to a massive fever rather than his wounds, but as soon as it comes, it fades again, leaving Calim limp and clammy to the touch. But his breathing is calmer and his wounds do look well-tended to. Nearly perfectly healed, to Asra's not-quite-expert gaze. He's not awake, and it's hard to know how long he might remain unconscious -- had she taken some of those other elective courses as a Novice, she might have an idea. If Iana's not able to walk, there might be two people to carry out of here.

"That can wait " He grimaces. "Asra and I made a bit of a ruckus, so we should get out before someone comes to find out what's going on. You can tell us when we're somewhere safe." It's a risk, something could happen before then, but Georg doesn't have it in him to push for an immediate debrief. "Can you stand? Can you walk?"

There's no evidence so far that anyone's coming to check things out, but with every passing minute the odds that someone comes to replace one of the guards or comes with new instructions grows. A check of the stairs suggests the way back is currently safe.

[Asralynn Beauchaud]

Calim's entire body convulses as Asra's rather brute force healing approach remakes the broken parts of his body, but he does not cry out in his unconscious state. Waves of heat emanate from his skin, enough to worry Asra that he's going to succumb to a massive fever rather than his wounds, but as soon as it comes, it fades again, leaving Calim limp and clammy to the touch. But his breathing is calmer and his wounds do look well-tended to. Nearly perfectly healed, to Asra's not-quite-expert gaze. He's not awake, and it's hard to know how long he might remain unconscious -- had she taken some of those other elective courses as a Novice, she might have an idea. If Iana's not able to walk, there might be two people to carry out of here.

Asra practically collapses like a marionette with cut strings as she confirms that Calim isn't going to die. That's one stressor removed from her steadily growing mountain of anxieties. He's at least comfortable and stable, so its on to her next stressor: Iana's safety.

"I - I think so?" She is stiff, and her hip still aches from the impact of the library cart, but enough time has passed that the pain is fading…

Time. Iana realizes, with a small sudden flare of clarity, that she has no idea: "What time is it?"

Asra had only taken a few steps into the adjacent room when she hears Iana's voice. Iana can hear the sudden scuttling of her slippers against the stone floor before she bursts into the room, looking a bit frantic.

"O's and A, Iana!" she exclaims with explosive relief, pulling the elven woman into her arms into a hug that would be crushing if Asra had any sort of muscle to her frame. "I'm so glad you're alive."

She pulls pack, taking Iana's face in her hands, and looking her over like a worried mother. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

[Georg Elsebethson]

"I - I think so?" She is stiff, and her hip still aches from the impact of the library cart, but enough time has passed that the pain is fading…

Time. Iana realizes, with a small sudden flare of clarity, that she has no idea: "What time is it?"

When faced with such questions in other circumstances, Georg has been known to be less than helpful. Now does not seem like the time to respond with such bon mots as "Time for you to get a watch," however, so he just fishes his own pocket watch out to check. "Late afternoon," he says. "It probably felt like ages."