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 Personal Logs: Flintlock

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Join date : 2017-07-27

PostSubject: Personal Logs: Flintlock    Tue May 15, 2018 9:38 pm

Caring for Lycares


Valene: As the sun began to ascend on the city of Corivana the cool winds swept through the streets before the summer heat could settle in. The sun was just rising, but most of those at the Aura had risen hours before. The Gifted that resided within the towering walls of the Aura took their commitments to the Gods that Gifted them seriously, and rose early to tend to their home and begin to perfect their Gifts. The halls were absent of conversation, but a steady lull of sound filled the Aura with the movement of feet across the stone floors, the turning of pages of many tomes, and the general bustle at the start of the day. On the second floor of the Aura just off of the main stairwell was a room that could be found by just its aroma alone. Strong scents of sage, lavender, and lilac emitted from the room dedicated to the health and wellness of all individuals of Corivana who were in need of mending. The Valetudinarium was home to all those who needed it, but the spaces was permanently occupied by the one Gifted by Helenia: goddess of healing and herbs. Within the Valetudinarium a young girl stood before a table where a rack of dry herbs were hanging just above. Evadne, the one Gifted by Helenia, reached overhead to feel the drying leaves of peppermint, sage, meadowsweet, lavender, and lemon grass before deciding which were ready to be taken down to make salves to send to the Medici at each Ludus who were willing to pay the Aura a coin. As Evadne pulled down the meadowsweet her long auburn hair shifted along her back, a reminder to the twenty year-old to pull it back before she began her process. Once her hair was fixed she ground the meadowsweet, then combined it with beeswax, olive oil, and chamomile, and then stirred the contents together. Before she could finished a light knock on the door was heard, and before the girl had time to turn towards her visitor the voice of her superior spoke, “A gladiator in training is being escorted by his Domina to see you, Miss Eva. They are in need of your skillset.” Evadne turned to the woman, slightly annoyed that she had used a nickname that she had not given the woman permission to use, but as Evadne was obedient she nodded her head and thanked the woman, ensuring she would prepare her space for the visitors. Once the woman left Evadne quickly bottled her salves, then moved to her cabinet to help herself to a serum she had prepared in advance for times like this. It was simply a serum to maintain bits of her vitality while healing others with the Gift she was given. It was exhausting and draining on her end, and improper preparation could prove detrimental to her own health. Nervous as she was to not disappoint, Evadne straightened up what she could before the arrival of her guests. It was pertinent to make a good impression with the Domina, and to do that she had to restore the gladiator to his pinnacle of health.

Biird: Octavia fastened a heavy fur around her shoulders. She was small and almost always cold if the sun wasn’t out and right now it wasn’t, not yet anyway. It would be peeking over the horizon by the time she and Lycares made it to the Aura. Down, in the Ludus, waiting at the gate that was the appropriate exit for any and all slaves, especially gladiators, Octavia stood before a man that was chained to a palus. He was completely nude, his back to the horizon where he would be thoroughly scorched by the days sun for his sins against another gladiator. While the daughter of the house understood his frustration with constantly being passed over for appearances in the arena, she did not condone his behavior. Later in the evening, most likely, she would bring him water and a terse warning against such actions again but for the time being all she could do was cluck her tongue and shake her head. “Pride is the downfall of all men.” She said to the gladiator’s back, before turning and moving toward the gates. She and Lycares would venture through the streets in the early mornings when all the shops would just now opening. It was the best time to see them, getting the freshest bread and pastries. They would be accompanied by two of the house guards and two slaves. Octavia shared her bought breakfast out and sipped cool water on their journey. In truth, she was probably the worst person to send on any errand because she loved to dilly dally and talk to anyone about anything, but her father was busy and her brother’s couldn’t be trusted. Her mother thought herself above such petty things. They arrived in a decent time however, because Octavia was concerned enough with state of Lycares’ arm to not be too distracted by the color and life of the town. Once they had arrived at the Aura, the wait wasn’t too long. Soon they were escorted into a sweet smelling little room that seemed occupied by a single person; a girl with auburn hair. Octavia dipped her brown head at the woman and smiled, lighting up her dark blue eyes. “Apologies, my lady, I was not given your name. I am Octavia Salonius and this is my gladiator, Lycares. He is in great need of your famed gifts.”

Flintlock: Lycares stood to the side, watching with a grimace on his face as his Domina spoke to the slave who was responsible for the current state of his arm. Speaking of….The gladiator glanced down at his left arm, and his grimace deepened. It looked a mess. Blood was falling down the length of his arm from a gash right on the ball of his shoulder, and the appendage lay useless at his side, limp and practically dead. Gritting his teeth, he looked from his arm to the gladiator. Humiles was his name. He had been a gladiator for the house of Salonius for some years now, a formidable warrior in his own right. Hot tempered, however, with little control. Not good traits to have as a gladiator. It led to situations such as this. This could’ve all been avoided if the man had been able to control his anger. Lycares shook his head. He was angry at the man for the dishonorable act, but he understood why he did it in the first place. It was a hard life, being a gladiator, and one naturally wanted recognition for the life that they led. Not all received it, however, and that drove some men to do desperate things. Ergo, this situation. Lycares tilted his head to the side as he heard Octavia address the man. Her words rang true. Lycares himself had seen it happen many times over the years. The gladiator pushed off of the wall as his Domina turned and walked toward the gate. He fell into step easily beside her as she exited through the gate, his arm hanging limply by his side, the other resting naturally on the hilt of his gladius. As they walked through the streets, Lycares resisted the urge to hiss as the wind irritated his arm. He hated being injured. He hated the feeling of powerlessness. For example, if someone attacked them, right now, Lycares would have to fight with his off hand. Yes, he trained to use his off hand, and he was very adept at it, but it didn’t mean that it was any less uncomfortable. Even though he knew that he wasn’t, he would still feel uncoordinated and clumsy, and he didn’t like that feeling. With that possible scenario running through his head, Lycares kept on high alert. There was little to no chance that someone would actually attack them, but one could not be too careful. And it helped to keep him distracted from the state of his left arm. They arrived at the Aura in good time, and Lycares quirked a dark brow as he took in the impressive structure. Just to think, he could’ve ended up here instead of as a gladiator if his Dominus willed it so. It was a strange thought. The entourage was soon directed towards a pleasant smelling room with a single occupant in it. A young, auburn haired girl. So this was the renown healer. At his introduction, Lycares bowed his head as well but otherwise said nothing. Then he stepped forward and turned slightly, his limp arm brought forward. He waited for her to do as she does, his intense gray gaze settling on her.

Valene: Evadne was tending to the candles hanging beside the cots when her door opened once again, this time a beautiful, petite woman and a man nearly doubling her in size entered in. His stature was something to behold, but she could tell by his posture which appendage was injured. It wasn’t difficult to find really, the arm being a bloodied bruised mess. Evadne bowed her head back in a formal greeting, “Evadne Stravos, your grace. It is nice to meet the both of you. I am sorry it is under such circumstances.” The girl gave a polite smile, then allowed her gaze to meet that of the gladiator’s. She gestured to the cot, instructing him to lay down. “Make yourself as comfortable as you can. Your grace, you may have a seat on the other cot if you wish.” Evadne exited to her table, fetching a relaxant serum for before the procedure and a numbing salve to apply after. She returned to the cot on the side of Lycares’ injured arm, and it was a gruesome site. The gash in his arm exposed his glenohumeral joint, ligaments and labrum torn and exposed. The gash cut through the deltoid muscle, and bruising continued down to his forearm. Evadne allowed her hands to lightly run over his forearm, bling herself to palpate the radial head burst fracture. It was a mess, but not beyond her abilities. She looked at the man before her, and placed the serum on the table nearest his good arm. “When you are ready you will need to drink this. The process will be painful at first, but the serum should help that. Along the duration of your healing I’ll be willing away your pain as well. It will be tiresome for the both of us, but I need you to stay awake during if at all possible. A willing body heals more rapidly, and a subconscious body is not as willing. The duration of the procedure varies from person to person, so I cannot say with confidence how long you will take to recover. We will start whenever you are ready.” She wanted him to feel comfortable with her, as the healing process was best performed in an area of comfort. Men like him were trained to not have any weakness, but the human body is not always resilient to harm of others. In some ways the healing process was more successful when one accepts that weakness, but it was not something she could outright say to someone who had been trained against weakness his whole life. Evadne looked to the Domina for her permission to begin when Lycares was ready, knowing her concern was probably nearly as great as his.

Biird: Octavia’s smile widened a touched when the healer spoke. She had the voice of a healer, soft and comforting, she too was beautiful in her own right and her hair reminded Octavia of her brothers. She couldn’t really fathom meeting the woman under different circumstances given the focus of her particular gift, but it was unfortunate indeed that one of her favorites was the reason for the visit. “We all meet when the gods deem fit to have our fates intertwine. That is joyous in its own rite.” Gah, talking out of her ass was becoming all too easy. Folding her hands in front of her, her guards waited outside but the house slaves were standing near the door. Lycares stepped up to be examined and she moved to the cot with him when he was instructed to lay down. Sitting or laying, her hand would find his head, gently stroking it as if to comfort him from the oncoming onslaught of pain. Gladiators were used to pain, but the pain that came from a bruised ego dealt from injuries that should have never been, was completely different, it was a pain most men, not just gladiators, couldn’t handle. Lycares wasn’t like most other gladiators however. He would grit through the pain and show as little sign of what he was really feeling as he could manage. Other would have had to bribed to sit still and not become more of a nuisance to heal. Moving her hand over the top of his head, Octavia looked onto the healer as she spoke of the procedure that would follow and nodded, giving Lycares’ good shoulder a confident squeeze. “I am here, LyLy, you will be well soon.” Her attention moved back to the woman, “Evadne, please, do not strain yourself too much. We have days yet before the man must be presented.”
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