Act 2: Along The Croal

Syrillian wrote:

"Suffice enough I suppose. now how about we look at that shoulder."

"Now I need to know how much does it hurt? Can you raise your arm at all?" [Heal Check 20]

"Apply this to reduce swelling. Other than that just dont try to ruin it any further. as for where to go I agree with Tiberius, this cart could be of some use."

Tiberius' wariness waned as Syrillian stepped forward to carefully assist him with his injured arm.  He studied the man's face and intentions as he allowed Syrillian to work with his arm until it were tucked in a sling next to his body.  His own face contorted in some pain at times, but he were mindful not to flinch.

"Yes, it hurts right where you are touching.  I cannot raise it far.  You are very skilled.  Who trained you to be a healer?"

Tiberius threw his shield up on the bench and used his good hand to open the jockey box.  He pulled out a skin of water and uncorked it, taking a long drink then splashing some of it on his face.  He offered the skin to Syrillian.  

"You said you are looking for Caylus as well.  What business do the lot of you have with the boy?"

Tiberius climbs onto the bench and holds the reins with his one good hand.  There was enough room on the seat for two, and he nodded to the spot beside him for Syrillian to take should he want it.  Tiberius smiled and then turned to look back through the curtain at Freya inside the wagon, the fabric of it blowing lightly in wind to show her turning to look at him.  His eyes quickly traced the curves of her body draped in her changing gown.  He nodded his chin and winked as their eyes met, then he turned his attention back to the human nomad.  

Syrillian, was it?"

......

The heal check will allow Tiberius to gain 4 HP after an 8 hour rest.

Tiberius wrote:

"Yes, it hurts right where you are touching. I cannot raise it far. You are very skilled. Who trained you to be a healer?"

Syrillian smiled as he finished his handy work, ripping the excess cloth with his teeth. "My parents were traveling merchants. One town we visited had a local healer, nothing fancy or extravagent." Syrillian said as he packed his bag up again and slung it onto his shoulder. "his name was Marroh, I used to watch him tend to people. He actually fixed me up once after I had fallen off my parents cart. He taught me simple ways to treat people, from there I kind of taught myself." He finished Syrillian took the skin of water taking a swig letting it coat his mouth.

He wiped his mouth and returned the skin to Tiberius again the question of caylus came up. "We've also got some business with him quite along the same line as you." Lifting himself up he took the seat next to Tiberius. For a moment he felt at home the sturdiness of the wood underneath him gave him all to real memories of his past. He noticed Tiberius peaking into the back.

"Yeah Syrillian. Nice to meet ya." He said turning back foward "So Tiberius, are you and the girl?" He finished letting the question dangle.

His eyes narrow slightly as he studies Syrillian's own.  "Very close?  Yes.  I will defend her health and her honor with my life."

Looking back to Glady's, he snaps the reins to get the wagon underway.  Once they are rolling, he clears his throat and continues the conversation.  "As for Caylus, his testimony may be the only means to clear the name of a wrongfully convicted man.  I pray your party has no intention of murdering him on sight?"

Freya smiles weakly at Tiberius, the deep unsettling fear of him being harmed slowly lifts as their eyes meet through the curtain. Another face appears next to his; the rugged fighter with the green eyes, the kind of eyes you never forget. She grows still as a split second drags on. His gaze lingers... sliding slowly down her dressing gown. It was only then that she realized how messily she'd tied it; the entirety of one naked hip and leg are exposed. She quickly turns away in modesty, hoping that Tiberius hadn't seen the way the other man had looked at Freya. She reties the gown and looks again towards the curtain to see the backs of their heads through the fluttering fabric. She can hear that they speak of her; sensing the hushed fervor of Tiberius’ voice. He speaks of Freya with the same near-silent reverence with which he recited the texts of Tantorous.

The wagon begins to creak; slowly moving at an unsteady pace before evening out ever so. The men that ride with them mumble and complain. Freya sits on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes as the wagon rocks slightly back and forth. For a just one slippery moment, Freya is transported.

The smell of jasmine blossoms through the ocean air as the boat rocks back and forth traveling home to Aulbard after a long summer trip. She is a tired child with a belly full of fresh clams. Her mother's delicate fingers braid Freya's hair as she chants the mantras of their God in her bluebird-high singing voice. She sits at the bow of the boat, her tiny legs dangling off the edge, much to Tinitis' complaining about her safety. It's not safe, sweet child. It's not safe.

A tiny smile touches Freya’s lips, her eyes close and she allows her head to fall softly onto the cool pillow. With the scent of jasmine still lingering in the air, Freya pulls the furs up around her as she’s transported back to Aulbard, if only for one dreamy moment.

Syrillian adjusted in his seat his face felt hot and he was sure his cheeks were red. Wether this was from his chance sight with the woman named Freya in the back of the wagon or the cold night air. He cleared his throat and shook his head to Tiberius's reply. "No..no, I am not that bashful to waste a life that is still only beginning." He replied sitting back.

"So, you cook eh? Any good?" Syrillian breathed a warm breath into his hand, rubbing them together slightly. "I tried my hand at that once; However mothers was always better than my, failed imitations." Syrillian chuckled.