--- o The High Priestess I o ---
❝ Little Wren. ❞
--- o 43-04-1218 o ---
Elly thought she was used to it by now — The blood, the violence, the evidence on what depths people will go when given orders and a sword. No matter how long it was, no matter how many she had seen, it didn’t get easier. Quite the opposite, in fact, the lives she saved were far outweighed by the ones she couldn’t. And now its weight bore down on her, stealing her breath and pulling it down into her gut along with what colour and warmth remained, her senses drowned out by the pounding of chest and scratching of mind like knives to her audition.
She swore she smelt burning flesh for a moment, even if it only briefly assaulted her nose, a scent that reminded her of home. Did she feel the heat of it? The fire? She opened her mouth to scream, but barely managed a whimper as the sounds collected in her throat like thick smoke. The resurgence of fear often held court in her mind, but not like this, never like this.
Hyperventilating despite welcoming smoke into her lungs, the burning in her chest was the least of her worries. Eyes fell on bloodied hands, daring not to look up at the small body that felt way too familiar for comfort before her. ❛ Erielle? Erielle! ❜ Hands, plural, so it was after? Or before? She couldn’t for the life of her feel or discern whether it was flesh or metal. There was blood everywhere, the smell overwhelmed her so much so she could taste it, or did she? It was hard to tell. Was it even her blood? What the fuck was going on?
The scalpel she held fell from shaking hands as it clattered on the ground, producing a sound louder and longer than it had the right to. Where did she get a scalpel? Holding it felt like a mother’s hand, yet the one she held felt far too small. ❛ It’s not her. No way, no way, no way, no way. It can’t be! ❜ She couldn’t look around her; she was frozen in place as she watched a scene she knew she had not fully witnessed, as memory told her how consciousness was stolen from her by then.
Her head swam, as eyes tightened in vain attempts to steady herself, but it only served to temper the nausea; her head spun the more she tried to figure out what the hell was happening. The ticking of a clock reminded her of the concept of time, yet she somehow knew she was not in the presence of one. ❛ What time is it? Where am I? ❜ Why would time matter? Fatigue and stress coiled around her as simple answers stepped just out of her grasp as her mind raced on the spot, unable to parse out its environment or purpose, as though she was lost in a fog.
❝ El? El! ❞ Elly hadn’t noticed Narda calling out to her until now; her firm hands on her shoulders shook her out of her trance as the muffled sound of the world flooded once more, and so did the stuck breath she held captive as reality once more took shelter. Her unblinking eyes remained locked on the bed before her, though the child’s hair was blonde, not black, nor burned.
❝ Hey! Snap out of it! ❞
❝ Wha— ❞ Elly hadn’t had the chance to speak before Narda unceremoniously headbutted her, a little more than her usual forehead flicks, but by how she was acting, she probably felt it necessary. ❛ Oi! That hurts, ya’ fuck! ❜ Necessary, but almost counterintuitive, as it almost knocked the lights out of her, and her lack of cursing made that quite apparent.
❝ Erielle! ❞ It still took a moment for her vision to steady enough for her to see the look of concern on Narda’s face, dark rings hung around her brown eyes, hidden behind a pair of smeared glasses. Her mousy-brown hair was somehow well-kept despite how dreary the rest of her was. ❝ Erielle? ❞ Elly repeated, this time less frantically. Now, she could somewhat gather her wits even if her eyes darted back and forth to confirm neither of them was her.
Who? Narda looked at her, puzzled. She had no idea who it was, but heard the name all too often, especially at night, when Elly woke up screaming. She never asked Elly and figured she’d tell her when she was ready. Family perhaps? Sister? Whoever it was, they must have meant the world to her.
❝ Narda? ❞ Elly asked with a puzzled expression, yet one that held a sense of relief. ❛ It wasn’t real. ❜ Elly visibly relaxed now that she remembered where she was. The Monastery of the Prophetess Amberlynn in Cadwaladr, a makeshift hospital for the ongoing civil war that encompassed all of Wyddel, and the place she now calls home, well over six years after that night.
Seven years her senior, Narda was one of the many sworn members of the Poetic Order, and one of the very few granted the highest honours of Filidh. She was famous all over Wyddel, her assigned totem being [Tipra Sláíne] “Well of Healing,” though she mostly went by her former totem, “Honeysuckle.” Elly had one too, but it was mostly just a nickname: “Little Wren,” on account of the small birthmark she had beneath her left armpit, though most didn’t know the origin.
❝ You spaced out again, ❞ Narda sighed as she moved to sit by her side, placing a damp towel on Elly’s forehead while she calmed her nerves. She gave her a half-smile, the very same she wore so often, as if it were her default expression. Kind, yet holding back a profound and unmistakable sadness. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t relieved when Elly finally came to, yet still concerned for the moment, even if she, too, held a sallow expression. ❝ You need to rest. ❞
❝ I’m fine — I think. ❞ Elly shook her head and took the rag from Narda. She bit her tongue when she spoke, as she always did when lying. ❛ Like fuck you are. ❜ wiping the grim from her face before she discarded it onto a wicker basket already overflowing with likewise shreds of cloth and clothing stained with dirt and blood. It stunk of vinegar and alcohol, barely snuffing out the underlying vile pungence that seeped into the very walls of Monastery’s nave, now full of the wounded and dying.
❝ Jus’ a little tired. ❞
❝ Well, no shit, ❞ Narda produced a glass of water and handed it to Elly, who swiftly downed it before handing the glass back, though the coughing fit that followed made it obvious she was a little too eager. Narda chuckled at this and rubbed her back. She knew her own work was piling up, and she wasn’t even assigned duty to this wing today, but she almost had a sixth sense that told her when Elly needed her. I’m worried was probably the first comment that came to mind when I thought of her. ❝ You haven’t slept for three days! ❞
❝ You’re one to talk, ❞ Elly replied bluntly, though Narda paid no mind to it, and by the slight hint of sarcasm in her tone, reassured her somewhat. Not unlike a doting elder siter, she knew Elly better than anyone at the Monastery, sometimes even better than Elly herself did. ❝ I don’t — ❞ Even without the fatigue, she spoke in broken sentences, now finding it exhausting to even think of words to say. She dislikes talking in general and rarely opens her mouth around those she doesn’t know, but lighthearted banter was a lifeline for just about everyone here, medics and patients alike. ❝ I’ve never seen you sleep. ❞
❝ And I suffer for it!~ ❞
Narda cheerfully quipped, ❝ Do what I say, not as I do~ ❞ clearly stealing the line from a throwaway comment the sisters often used when discussing Lady Fowler, the current head of the sisterhood, who has made a name for herself for being, well, to put it simply, a cunt. Elly swore she had a bone to pick with her from day one, though she didn’t help it by taking every chance to stoke the ire.
❝ What time is it? ❞ Elly yawned a pointless question, losing track of time was common here, but knowing it would somewhat stay the madness that percolated from the piling hours one misses.
❝ Half-thirty. ❞ Narda replied so matter-of-factly without even needing to consult her pocketwatch. She was already busying herself tidying up the room and checking on the surrounding patients.
So, two hours to midnight. Days here consist of thirty-two hours, and Elly often found it difficult to read the clocks on the wall, but Veld taught her how to measure the time from the position of the Day Moon in the skies. Not that she had even seen it for a few days. ❛ Fuck me, how long was I out for? ❜ She didn’t want the answer to that question.
❝ It’s Shaqal today, so I think you’re up for respite. ❞ Narda spoke as softly as she always did. She had a sharp mind, especially when it came to timekeeping. ❝ Last day of Amos, too, we’ll also need to start prepping for the equinox. Think this year it’s the 24th, so we have a little time. ❞
Shaqi was the sixth day of an eight-day week, and Elly was rostered this week for tomorrow, Tsaraf, for a break from the persisting chaos of an infermary. It didn’t mean she could sleep in; rather, her duties were simply shifted to focus on other things. ❛ Chores are better than this, at least. ❜ A statement Elly never thought she would say, let alone admit. It was rare for anyone to get a day of rest, let alone sleep in. Who knows, she might even get some more training to make up for her slack. She really could do with punching the everloving-shit out of something right now.
❝ I’ll try to make sure you get it, but whether we can manage that depends. ❞ Narda continued with a warm smile, ❝ But you can take a short break soon, maybe use it to have something to eat and get a short nap in. ❞
❝ What about you? ❞ Elly asked curiously, already knowing the answer: Not at all.
❝ I had a break earlier, but I might join you for a snack. ❞ Narda rarely, if ever, took breaks, though she was known to disappear every now and then, for what people figured out as power-napping, or something else.
It always astonished her how Narda seemed so full of energy at all times, and she wondered how she managed to get by. Elly hadn’t been here long, but by now she had figured out the sisters weren’t all pious and had all kinds of vices, from drinking to gambling and so on. Narda, however, was a mystery; she always had a glow about her that made her stand out from her peers.
❝ Have you eaten yet? ❞ Narda asked a question that Elly needed to ponder for a moment; she was sure she had, but exactly how long ago was hard to tell. It had been so chaotic lately, and the sisters were working day and night, barely managing to get by. ❝ I’ll take that as a no? ❞
Narda turned with brow raised to Elly once more, spacing out, the expression and complexion she wore reminded her that this whole situation was new to her; Elly hadn’t grown up this close to war. It would kill the appetite of most people, adding to the often meagre and bland food, which was a perfect excuse for a diet, or outright starvation.
❝ Hey! Earth to Elly!~ ❞
She flicked Elly’s forehead, causing her junior to whimper and come back to reality. Again? Narda thought to herself that such things were happening more often now, and it was becoming a problem not just for her but for everyone. Especially, the patients. But most of all, for Elly, her mind plays tricks on her even when she is well rested, and there is no telling how bad it would get when she’s this exhausted.
Elly rubbed her forehead; by now, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had a permanent mark from how often Narda flicked her or outright headbutted her. If it were anyone else, she’d have broken their fingers by now, but Narda was really the one and only real friend she had made thus far. There were others, but she didn’t trust them enough to confide in.
❝ Um, ❞ Elly watched solemnly as Narda pulled a black sheet over the face of the young girl she could not save. The others would know what to do now, and she didn’t want to be around for it.
❝ I — ❞
❝ Sometimes, ❞ Narda replied before she even had the chance to talk. ❝ Sometimes people can’t be saved, so don’t blame yourself for being unable to help them. ❞
She turned to face Elly once more, kneeling to take her hands in her own. As always, she kept her gentle nature and almost maternal way with words that would put just about anyone’s mind at ease. ❝ Even when you know you can’t, just stay by their side so they aren’t alone. ❞
Elly nodded but remained silent; she’d probably cry if she had the energy to do so. Would she go on a tirade on how much she hates war? That it’s wrong for innocents to die? No, that wasn’t like her, and it was something done so often it felt trite and jarring, yet still ever-present.
❝ You did your best. ❞ Narda gave her a short hug, another thing nobody else had the trust from Elly to do. She was among only three people who could, the others being her beloved elder sister, Iris, and her adoptive father, Veld.
❝ Let’s get you something to eat, yeah? ❞
Elly nodded gingerly, the rumbling in her gut confessing for her. ❝ Tea. Some tea sounds nice. ❞ She spoke, rubbing the back of her neck in a vain attempt to loosen the cramp.
❝ Do we have any left? ❞
❝ I think we do. ❞ With Narda’s help, and great difficulty, Elly rose to her feet. She lurched forward, and it took all her strength not to rid her guts of what little food she had time to eat. Narda patted her back reassuringly as she steadied her. She was still somewhat disoriented, but not so much that she couldn’t walk.
❝ Easy now. ❞
Wincing slightly from the cramp in her leg, she got up from kneeling too long. Nothing she couldn’t shake off, and she did so as the two made their way into a conjoining room that was, for the most part, a break room where the Paritioners and Sisters could retreat for a meal or even a quick nap, which sounded heavenly right about now.
Navigating their way through the haphazard influx of wounded soldiers was never an easy task, not only from its scattered chaos, but also from the sea of pleading eyes dogging her every step. ❛ Don’t. Please don’t look at me. ❜ The number of patients far outweighed capacity, but with nowhere else to go, triage helped those who needed it most, while the unlucky had to wait. Elly was grateful she wasn’t tasked with such things, and she could tell how overworked Narda was, and she was frankly more bull-headed than Elly, as if the very idea of complaining was incomprehensible. She admired that, but she still worries about her.
❝ Get yourself cleaned up first, ❞ Narda said, ushering her toward the showers and handing Elly a fresh towel and a change of clothes. ❝ I’ll make us supper. ❞
