"Healing in the Rain"

Log Date:
	10/22/04

Log Cast:
	Doreel, Ynderra

Log Intro:
	An extremely oddly mismatched pair of companions is journeying 
northward across the savannah, heading towards the more northerly lands. One
of them is Ynderra of Lostholt, healer and shaper, on a personal quest to 
find her missing kin. The other is Doreel, solitary Firstborn, arguably one
of the oldest elves still alive, who has spent millennia in mad solitude in
a remote grove and who has committed frightening acts of magic upon unwitting
elves who have stumbled into his refuge as a result. Captured by a party led
by Ynderra's former tribesmate Rillwhisper, the elder has since been healed
by a gathering of magic-users in Sorrow's End; now, though his mind has 
returned to a measure of sanity, he is still struggling under the immense
crushing weight of remorse for what he can remember of the things he did in
the grip of his madness.
	And though many of Doreel's most recent acts have involved her own
tribesmates and even nearly provoking her into killing him with her power, 
Ynderra has hesitantly allowed him to travel with her upon seeing evidence of
saner behavior on his part. But as their journey continues, she begins to grow
sympathetic to his plight. She even offers to tell her tribe that he wishes
to make amends for his past misdeeds, if he can convince her of the strength
of his intentions.
	And when she discovers that he has been deliberately allowing the 
rigors of the journey he's made from Sorrow's End to cause him pain, she 
cannot help but offer her magic to grant him a measure of peace....

----------
Base of the World's Spine Mountains
You are at the base of the World's Spine Mountains, which loom above you to 
  the north. Directly north of here is a wide mountain pass, which leads 
  through the mountains as far as you can see. Sprawled out to the south is a 
  wide savannah, its low dry grass stretching out to the horizon. A depression 
  in the grass appears to be a trail, heading due south.
         The leaf-filtered light sifting down from the dimming evening sky 
  sharpens the shadows below the canopy, as night creeps in on stealthy paws.
Contents:
Doreel
Obvious exits:
North <N>  South <S>

Days pass, and the mountains loom closer - Doreel has fallen fairly quiet on 
  this last leg of the trip, letting Ynderra gossip about whatever she wishes 
  to speak about. He adds a few things in here or there, but nothing 
  substantial. In fact, it's becoming steadily apparent that he's withdrawing 
  back in on himself after his nightmare the few nights beforehand. The 
  slender elder is the one who sets the pace as he's slower than the quicker, 
  younger, she-elf.
As the mountains start growing closer, the skies get more cloudy and foretell 
  of storms to come. The sky is darkened, starlight showing in patches in the 
  sky as Doreel has managed to get himself mostly converted to a night 
  schedule for travelling. The moonlight plays on his hair, which makes him 
  appear far more ethereal than he might in daylight. It's at this time that 
  he feels the desire to ask something, ** Ynderra? **

The maiden, by contrast, seems to gain more ebullient energy as she and her 
  companion begin to travel by night. She has yet to actually howl at the 
  moons as they arise, but the broad smile that flashes sometimes across her 
  face when she looks skyward betrays her distinct pleasure at being wakeful 
  by darkness and moonlight. Sometimes she chatters amiably about patterns in 
  the stars that her tribesmate Skywise has picked out; she points out some of 
  her favorites of the twinkling lights high overhead, and periodically even 
  breaks into song as she lopes like a little she-wolf through the savannah 
  grasses. Sometimes, she half-dances rather than simply walks... for after a 
  few days of journeying with Doreel and finding him far less dangerous so far 
  than she'd feared, her natural high spirits have begun to reassert 
  themselves.
Tonight, with the scent of rain on the wind, she's paying more attention to 
  the breezes that blow back and forth. Some of them, coming down off the 
  peaks that have slowly grown closer over the days of travel, begin to smell 
  of changes in the land to come along with rains. And she's grown accustomed 
  to Doreel's almost shy silence--so pleased she's been to actually have a 
  travelling companion that it hasn't much bothered her that he's let her 
  ramble. But when he shows signs of being moved to conversation, though, she 
  comes back from the little hop-skip-dance that had carried her a few paces 
  ahead, and looks up inquiringly at her rangy companion. "Yes?"

No, she hasn't howled, and perhaps that's of some comfort to Doreel. He gets 
  weary quickly, this one, and as such they end up having to take short stops 
  every now and again. This happens to be one of those times, as he asks, ** 
  Do you mind if we stop for a short while? ** Either that, or something's 
  starting to gnaw on him with curiosity. He doesn't stop walking though, in 
  case she urges him to continue on a while further, and hopefully she doesn't 
  feel there's anything terribly dangerous out on the horizon. The elder might 
  be a powerful shaper, but he's been relatively sheltered for most of his 
  life. Who knows how he would have fared out in the wilds on his own, alone.
He has watched her skip, and hop, she seems rather perky compared to his 
  lumbering gait that seems to do little more than gain him his destination. 
  There's no joy in him, life and perhaps sanity.. but no joy. His staff taps 
  away at the ground with each step, gaze sweeping over the horizon - 
  searching, but finding nothing. Doesn't seem to matter how far they travel, 
  there's acres and acres of nothing and nobody but them and sparse wildlife.

It has, actually, occurred to Derra to wonder how he made it this far towards 
  Sun-Goes-Down, travelling by himself from the Sun Village; how must he have 
  gotten across the desert with so little shelter? But she hasn't remarked on 
  this, not yet. And for the nonce she's been keeping an eye on him, just to 
  make sure he's holding up well enough, that he gets a proper share of 
  drinking water, and enough to eat on what she can scavenge from savannah 
  plants. Without a trace of hesitation she shakes her head, saying, "No, of 
  course not. We've been walking a while." Pointing ahead, she adds, "I think 
  I'm making out a little bit of a rock outcropping; want to make for that?"

Not saying anything further, or even giving a brush of assent against her 
  mind, Doreel issues his acceptance of the idea with a nod of his head and 
  continued walking towards that specified spot. He has seemed to grow far 
  quieter the last day of travel, his gaze growing rapidly distant as though 
  drawing on inner thoughts even when Ynderra was talking. There's little 
  doubt that he's only been half-listening, for any inquisition towards what 
  he recalls about the speeches on the way to the forthcoming outcropping 
  would be hedged or admitted to that he doesn't recall. He keeps up the same 
  pace, if nothing he's reliable on that part of the trip.

Derra lets him focus on getting to the outcropping, quirking her dark brows 
  and musing to herself that if he were any other elf, she'd half-suspect him 
  of moving in a haze of exhaustion. But whether it's of mind or body or soul, 
  she has not yet managed to tell. But once the two of them come in close to 
  their destination she lopes ahead a little to sniff it out and circle the 
  entire tumble of rocks, looking for the best place to sit and rest for a 
  bit. When she comes trotting back she reports, "There's a little bit in the 
  side up there where we can sit and rest, I think; not much of a den but 
  it'll do well enough. Doesn't smell like anything's been in there for a few 
  days at least."

Allowing her to roam off ahead to check out the area as she's oft to do, 
  Doreel comes ambling along shortly afterwards. His gaze doesn't seem as 
  faraway as it had the way up to the outcropping, back to the present moment 
  rather than dwelling on whatever he was thinking of before. ** We needn't 
  stay long. ** He assures, letting her know that he's still prepared for more 
  of the journey to take place this night and that he's not so weary as to not 
  continue on further. He follows her to where she assumes will be the safe 
  area, assuming she'll be leading there.

Lead she does indeed, gesturing to a little nook in the rooks that seems just 
  barely big enough to shelter an elf or two. Or at least, one tall elf with 
  some space to spare. Derra herself just settles down by the outer edge of 
  that rocky nook, and as the Firstborn does his own settling, she looks him 
  up and down. "All right--as long as you're holding up all right. This has 
  _got_ to be the longest walk you've been on in a while, huh?" Her smile 
  quirks up a bit. "Good for the legs."

Setting his staff down first as he's been known to do, Doreel settles his 
  packs down before getting himself curled up in the nook in the rocks. At the 
  look over himself, and then the comment added afterwards, he nods. It 
  wouldn't take terribly long to realize that, anyways, with as often as he 
  asks for breaks to rest. ** I'm fine, for now. But it has been a long walk, 
  I look forward to finding a place to settle for a while. ** He mentions, 
  with the strong feeling that he'd wished he would have stayed in Sorrow's 
  End for a while longer - he'd forgotten how vast and large the world was!

Derra sets her sack and weaponry just inside the nook, though she leans her 
  bow against herself as she leans backwards against the rocks. Good place to 
  sit and look at the stars and sniff the wind, this. "Any thoughts about 
  where you'd like that to be?" she asks encouragingly. Maybe, she muses, she 
  can get him to open up a little as long as they're stopping for a rest.

Where? That is a good question, for Doreel doesn't even have a clue where he's 
  going - or where he wishes to be. A shake of his head later is all that's 
  given in response to the question, even if it appears he's fairly content 
  traveling with the she-elf. ** Where there's more trees. ** Simple enough, 
  hmm? A glance around this area denotes that it's not a favored place for 
  him, nor is Sorrow's End. Perhaps she's just lucky that she'd managed to 
  catch him before he found a forest to start shaping into a new grove for 
  himself.

"Well, there are plenty of those as you get more Hubward," Ynderra promises. 
  "And I have to agree with you about that. I mean, there isn't anything like 
  the breath of the trees all over you..." She lets out a bit of a hopeful 
  sigh. "We could get there faster if we had something to ride, but you're too 
  big for a wolf and I don't know how to catch no-humps." Turning her head 
  slightly, looking out and to the north, she pulls in a deep breath of air. 
  "Rain on the breeze. I can smell it. And it's starting to smell familiar. I 
  think we're closing in on the way I came down before."

She sure is chatty, Doreel thinks to himself. Simple statement illicited all 
  that about a quicker way to get places. ** We do what we must, if I am too 
  slow for you - you can go on without me. ** He offers, though he sounds 
  hopeful that she doesn't wish to leave here without him with the intonation. 
  Betrayed by his own thoughts, this one, and he glances off towards the north 
  where she'd looked out towards.

Ynderra swings her head around at the flavor of that sending, her big blue 
  eyes blinking; above them, her brows go up. She tilts her head, considers, 
  and then says mildly, "I didn't say you were too slow for me. It's all 
  right. Really." Oh look! She can actually keep to a reasonably concise 
  statement. Sometimes.

By the time she looks around to him, Doreel's studying his fingers and hand 
  with morbid fascination, all the walking has left him with a few blisters 
  given by virtue of the staff he carries. It's only become apparent at the 
  moment that his hand was somewhat painful, wherever his mind was - it wasn't 
  on his corporeal form. ** If you're sure. ** He sends quietly, before adding 
  after a short moment of thought, ** All this walking wears on me. ** Of 
  course, with so long being hedged up in a grove, it's little wonder that all 
  this travel is taking it's toll.

** I'm sure, ** Ynderra affirms, and then she peers rather closer at her 
  companion, following the track of his gaze down to his slender fingers. ** I 
  kind of figured. ** Hesistance. Maybe a trace of shyness as well, as she 
  reaches up to fidget with that cat pendant she wears. But then she ventures, 
  ** If you need any help... I mean, if your feet hurt or anything... I'd be 
  happy to try to help. I had to do my feet a lot walking down here before I 
  got used to it. ** Derra's attention, though, lingers on the Firstborn's 
  hand as she speaks.

It's a part of this experience, the pain makes this whole trip all that much 
  more real. Doreel turns over his hand to look at the other side, which shows 
  the blister towards Ynderra's curious gaze. He seems distracted, quite so as 
  he inspects his hand. "Mmmh?" He asks, before his gaze is lifted from his 
  hand to Ynderra. ** Oh, no. It's alright. Unless you really wanted to. ** He 
  sends, rubbing the fingers of his other hand on the reddened one. No magic 
  used though, seems he's just lingering in the moment.

The wind picks up a little as Derra sends, growing slightly stronger and 
  smelling more heavily of rain. Somewhere far off in the distance a flash of 
  light briefly illumines the northerly horizon; in that instant, the shapes 
  of a mountain peak or two can be glimpsed. Derra misses it, though, for her 
  gaze is on Doreel. She shrugs gingerly, but both her smile and her sending 
  are steadier than her posture. ** I just don't like to see anybody hurting, 
  is all. Just thought I'd ask. ** Again she pauses... and as she does, the 
  faintest of rumblings sounds, after several heartbeats' worth of delay after 
  that flash.

** I deserve it, don't you think? ** Doreel asks, without much thought before 
  sending it - speaking about the pain. He drops his hand to his side, and 
  from the slowing in his gait the last day one might wonder how many other 
  aches and pains he might be covering up. He's not used more magic than was 
  immediately needed, all shaping for domiciles and nothing beyond that. His 
  gaze darts up to the sky with the flash of light, a slight grimace 
  accompanying. ** Rain, I think. ** Yep, he wasn't really listening to her 
  rambling earlier since it's apparent by his comment just then.

Ynderra is distracted, just enough to glance outward to judge the distance 
  between their shelter and the rainstorm. ** We may have to stay here a 
  little longer, unless you want to walk in the rain, ** she notes. But then 
  her gaze swings back, and she studies the elder more intently now. After 
  several moments she goes on, ** I don't think anyone deserves needless pain. 
  **

** I don't mind staying here. ** Doreel admits, wrapping his arms around his 
  legs to pull himself into a huddled position. He doesn't clasp his hands 
  together, knees nearly pressed up against his chest. Not looking at her, he 
  doesn't respond to the last sending, just simply sits there in silence.

Another flash of light brightens up the horizon, and Ynderra remains where she 
  is long enough to count her heartbeats before another rumble rolls over the 
  savannah. ** Well, as long as we have some time, then... why don't you let 
  me have a look at that hand? ** She reaches forth her smaller hand, 
  invitingly. ** It does look kind of stiff. **

Doreel doesn't offer his hand up at first, instead he gives a shake of his 
  head and replies with, ** Don't touch.. **, falling back on his mantra from 
  when he'd woken from his nightmare. He's not touched her since then, and 
  wouldn't have allowed her to touch him if she chose to try. His arms stay 
  looped around his legs, for the moment, and his gaze fixed on her. Seems 
  he's not as easy to get close to once the nightmares have faded from his 
  memory.

Derra doesn't force the contact, but neither does she move her hand away. ** I 
  don't bite, you know. ** The sending is a gentle one, held forth as steadily 
  as her hand. Within it, too, comes a glimmer of teasing humor. ** I may be 
  wolf-blooded, but I don't bite like one. My teeth are too little. **

Not actually pulling away, or trying to recede into his own flesh, Doreel just 
  stares at her while she jests. ** I didn't think you'd bite. ** He admits, 
  figuring her harmless in that regard rather quickly after meeting her. ** I 
  ache, I hurt, but I /deserve/ it. ** He insists, guilt overriding his desire 
  to help himself.

The guilt in that sending touches Ynderra's thoughts, and her expression goes 
  very earnest, very patient as it does. Just as patiently, she scoots 
  carefully closer... and rests her hands upon the Firstborn's nearest knee. 
  Out over the savannah the wind gusts; for a few moments, a spatter of rain 
  touches her hair. But she doesn't notice. ** Why? ** she asks simply, the 
  most succint sending she's offered Doreel thus far--at least in terms of 
  words that crystallize in her thoughts. With that word, though, comes a wave 
  of genuine concern.

There's warmth on that knee, beyond what would be expected as normal 
  temperature - one that betrays joint pain beneath the flesh even without 
  needing to use magic to sense it. Doreel pulls his leg away, face especially 
  solemn as his gaze is fixed out on the rain that's beginning to fall. 
  Fitting, the rain suits his mood quite well. ** Because.. ** He sends, 
  licking his lips as though to follow up the sent words with spoken ones - 
  but he doesn't. ** I've done horrible things over the turns. ** There's no 
  self pity in those words, and his thoughts don't betray how much pain he may 
  or may not be in - he simply sits there, and finally looks at her.

The limb might be moved, but this little nook in the rocks doesn't exactly 
  allow much room for moving it much. And Ynderra herself does not move. 
  Undaunted, she simply reaches over to lightly rest her fingers on another 
  part of Doreel's form: his shoulder. No magic yet, but she's already noted 
  the warmth of his knee. _Two-Spear's madness... what else is he hiding in 
  that twig of a body of his?_ ** That's silly, ** she sends, forthright, 
  almost blunt, but smoothed over by that gentle warmth. ** You did... some... 
  really scary things, aye... ** No denial here, no attempt to really 
  whitewash matters... but that gentleness doesn't go away. ** But for one 
  thing, I'm starting to think you didn't do it on purpose. And for another 
  thing, if you do something wrong to someone, you don't go wandering around 
  on the plains till you're about ready to fall over because your body hurts 
  so much. That doesn't do them any good and it doesn't do you any good 
  either. **

There's sorrow in Doreel's expression, pure undulated anguish in his sends the 
  last couple times he's sent. His shoulder is warm also, but not nearly as 
  much as his knee was - walking's bothering him immensely and it's untold for 
  how long it might have been. ** There's nothing to live for. ** The send so 
  full of despair, that it seems he might have walked himself to his death if 
  she'd not noticed him look at his hand. She could attribute his slowness to 
  age, or any of another things - she was doing very well at it, even. ** I'm 
  tired. ** He tries to pawn off, hoping she'll let him be to just get some 
  sleep and leave sleeping dogs lie on this subject.

Derra is quite willing to let her companion sleep, but not in such pain. Not 
  if she can help it. Out beyond the rocks the rain grows nearer, more gusts 
  of wind bringing droplets of moisture sprinkling closer and closer. Skyfire 
  flashes, still some distance away, but not quite so far now; the thunder 
  that follows takes fewer heartbeats to rumble over the nook where the pair 
  of elves are hiding. But the likelihood of her back getting wet doesn't 
  concern the she-elf at the moment. Instead, she gets up on her knees, the 
  better to keep her hand steady upon Doreel's shoulder. ** You'll find 
  something new to live for, ** she send-whispers. ** Let me help you sleep. 
  Let me take this pain away, Doreel. **

Doreel closes his eyes, not pulling away from her hands anymore because it's 
  simply impossible to. If he truely wished her not to touch him, surely he 
  could reach out with his own power and get her hand to pull away but he 
  doesn't. Some part of him desires the contact and that part is the one in 
  control tonight. The shifting onto her knees causes him to open his eyes 
  enough to look at her, lips thinning out and a silent nod of assent to her 
  intentions. ** If.. you wish. ** He agrees with a soft sigh punctuating his 
  words.

It's not much in the way of consent--but it is, at least, consent. Ynderra 
  nods once, and then brings her other hand up to the elder's other shoulder. 
  Light begins to kindle around her fingers, a more golden sort of glow than 
  the greenish tinge of the magic she's tried to call up for the bits of wood 
  she carries with her in her knapsack. It's a softer light, too, than the 
  more elemental flashes that keep brightening the sky beyond her. Though the 
  rock outcropping does provide some shelter from the wind and rain, still a 
  few cold gusts make it down into the nook... but once Ynderra's magic begins 
  to build, a warmth far different than the pains plaguing joints and muscles 
  begins to steal through Doreel's frame.

Trembling with each gust of wind, Doreel is susceptable to such elemental 
  conditions even despite the healing magic beginning to course through him. 
  He relaxes against the wall he was propped up on, pale blue eyes remaining 
  closed. There's a fluttering of Doreel's own magic reaching towards Ynderra, 
  but it's quickly restrained and quells down back to nothing nearly as 
  quickly as it'd begun. ** Sorry. I'm so sorry. ** He murmurs in his mind, a 
  darkness in his emotions that has nothing to do with being evil and 
  everything to do with feeling guilty.

Oh, but that guilt wrenches at something in the maiden's chest. She had 
  wondered, sometimes, seeing how the maiden called Ree seemed to react to the 
  Firstborn--terrified of him one moment, and yet, oddly worried and anxious 
  for him the next. Over the last few days of travelling, she has begun to 
  wonder whether that strange shaped she-elf was on to something, aware of 
  something within Doreel that none in Lostholt had yet sensed... none except 
  Trouble, perhaps. Whether it is some common madness that Ree and Trouble 
  shared, and whether it is something beginning to creep over her as well, she 
  cannot begin to guess.
But that guilt is there, and it makes tears prickle in Ynderra's eyes even as 
  she seeks out the aching places in her charge's immortal frame. And she had 
  not lied. She _is_ a good healer, a strong one. Small pains dissolve without 
  effort in the cleansing wash of her power. As the rain falls, as her hair 
  begins to dampen, so too does her sending wash across his thoughts.
** I know. I know, Doreel. It's all right. **

Some part of Doreel wishes to pull away, retract himself from that touch 
  that's penetrating light into the darker areas of his soul - yet he remains, 
  unable to tear himself from Ynderra. The longer she heals, the more she can 
  pick up from him - and he knows this. There's sorrow, but deeper and darker 
  than that sorrow is the remorse he feels and the need to atone for his 
  wrongdoings. Along with that remorse, is the overwhelming feeling that some 
  of his deeds can -never- be atoned for, and partially why he allows himself 
  to ache and hurt. The joints and aching muscles react well to the healing 
  power, as well as the blisters on his hands from walking and slipping the 
  staff through his hand as he does. The intimacy of healing draws tears down 
  the elder's cheek, though he remains silent and his expression is placid. 
  He's trying to hide these emotions from her, these inner pains. ** No, it 
  isn't. ** He sends in return, though is unable to pull away.

And again, Ynderra is undaunted. She comes closer still, looping her arms 
  lightly about Doreel's neck, encircling his bright head in a sphere of her 
  green-golden power. This close, especially for another healer, the energy of 
  the life in her little frame cannot help but be sensed through the current 
  of magic; so young is she, so small, and yet her soul is bright and strong, 
  a wellspring from which that healing power arises. ** It is, ** she returns, 
  another wisp of gently teasing humor lurking somewhere within that thought. 
  Don't even try to argue with her about this; you wouldn't believe the number 
  of is/is not/is too arguments she's had with her sister.

And he, the opposite, so old even in his soul that can be felt - though she's 
  felt it before. Doreel doesn't try to rebuke her a second time, for now 
  he'll keep his opinions to himself and believe what he wishes despite her 
  insistance. The pains and aches fade from him until he's whole once more, 
  his body as good as it's ever going to get and a soft sigh of relief 
  escaping him even without his desire for it to. He offers no help, no 
  assistance for this healing endevour as though he'd rebuked his own powers 
  in that area for the time being. ** Thank you... **

** You're welcome. ** Ynderra looks up a bit, meeting the Firstborn's gaze 
  with her own, blue to blue. Out past her small shining frame the rain 
  continues to fall; as if some of it has touched her face, though she has not 
  turned her attention towards the weather, her eyes and her cheeks glimmer 
  wetly in the light. Her mouth curls up on either end, a soft little smile. 
  ** Rest, Doreel. Sleep. You'll feel even better after you've gotten some 
  strength back. **

This time, Doreel doesn't touch her - he shifts so he might find a comfortable 
  sleeping position in the small niche to wait the storm out. Taking in a deep 
  breath, he lets it out slowly with a sigh punctuating it before closing his 
  eyes. ** Get some rest too, 'derra. ** He sends in return, hoping she'd not 
  worn herself out attending to him, but then.. she has to feel a slight rise 
  of spirit having offered Doreel healing he wouldn't offer himself.

Wait--when did he think to call her by the short form of her name? Ynderra 
  blinks, surprised by that, and then surprised to find that she does not 
  mind. It's a good sign, maybe! She pulls in a long breath, and then sends 
  easily, ** I will. ** There isn't much weariness there... just a pleasant 
  sort of tiredness that comes from having exerted oneself well. It's 
  night-time, and it's raining, and for Ynderra, there are few times she feels 
  more alive than when she's healing. Or when she's in a storm. Tonight, both 
  apply. But she will rest anyway... if it will help him do so more 
  peacefully. ** I'll be right here. ** And she slowly, gently pulls away, as 
  if from a wary wolf, so as not to scare him.

Doreel pulls himself up into a ball again, a form that will lose shape as his 
  body falls slack due to sleep. It'll be up to Ynderra if she wishes to have 
  a tired-sleepy Firstborn touching up against her in his sleep, or if she 
  wishes to scoot out into the rain. It's hard to say which might be best, if 
  the ancient elf has some gripping nightmare again it might be better to be 
  further from him - however, it might be just as good to have her near. Hard 
  to say, difficult decision. The name-send was more a sign of weariness, 
  brought upon by comfort after who knows how long of being in aching pain. 
  He'll most likely sleep well, and quickly.

And that's all good, so far as the maiden is concerned. She leans back against 
  the cool rock at her back, watching the elder curl in on himself, and 
  wondering when exactly she had grown to believe what she sent to him. But 
  she does, now.
Thus, as he drops off into slumber, she does not flee into the rain.

[End log.]