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Minuet of the Nightingale

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About Minuet of the Nightingale

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  • Birthday June 13

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  • Location
    Western Canada
  • Interests
    Writing and collecting pretty notebooks; art - I like to paint and sculpt with polymer clay; video games, I play on Xbox mostly; reading, I heavily favor fantasy and romance; D&D I'm a player more often then a DM, but I've done both.
  • Occupation
    Call Centre Operative

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    Love In Idleness #0951

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  1. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Cap and Bells Market

    The market was exactly the type of place Trixie loved with it's mobile wagon-stores and colorful tents. The call of wares and smells of spices and perfumes was like a chaotic heaven for the girl. She could probably spend the rest of her life traveling with the Caps and Bells Market and never be bored. Unfortunately, this was also very much the kind of place where she usually got into trouble. Trixie just sort of had a knack for finding herself in sticky situations with the less then favorable sort, and most of the time she managed to just barely managed escape whatever danger she got wound up in.The Kobold didn't know why markets seemed to be the hub for the sort of people looking to take advantage of small, cute, trusting types, but she was starting to learn how to sniff out ne'er-do-wells from the upstanding folk... And how to keep her hands as far away from any shiny baubles that might catch her eye. Trixie never actively planned on stealing, pretty things just had a way of finding themselves in one of the many pockets sewn onto the inside of her patch-work cloak. It wasn't her fault that they wanted a new home! Okay, well yes it was her fault, but she hated being painted as the 'bad guy.' And that was how she came up with the idea to never leave her hands idle in busy places where items could be easy misplaced. Her slender claw tipped fingers were currently busy braiding colorful pieces of thread together into a flat plait that really served no purpose. When she finished a braid, she usually gave it to a younglings as they seemed as infatuated with bright colors as she was. Maybe one day she would get good enough at braiding and walking, she could graduate to something more useful... like stitching. Most needles wouldn't prick through the soft pink scales on the tips of her fingers, so it wasn't like she had to be worried about stabbing herself unlike the fleshy types. The biggest issue Trixie was with that was she didn't really know how to sew nicely. Just thick, crude seams to hold stuff together; it showed in her patched-up cloak. Just as she was starting to get self-conscious of scrappy piece of fabric fluttering from her shoulders, she heard someone almost echo her thoughts, asking after a tailor. Trixie came to a sudden stop, wondering how much a proper cloak would actually cost... she had a little coin, but she had been hoping to use it on a good meal. She hummed under her breath for a second before her vanity won out - Trixie really did love pretty things. "You should get a dark one," she commented to the small fleshy male and the mushroom-lady. "Lined with mink fur and gold thread! Warm and just fancy enough to demand respect!" Another woman passing to her right took at second glance at Trixie, as if just noticing the tiny figure and gave a startled gasp, side stepping away. Trixie turned her large pink eyes on the woman, then glanced behind her to see what had startled her so bad... But there was nothing unusual. Lady must have seen a bee or something. Lots of ladies were scared of bees. "That's what Trixie would get."
  2. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Young gnome seeks bodyguards for world travel

    Still planning on posting, just got a little caught up with life stuff. Hopefully today or tomorrow I'll get a chance to work on it! :3
  3. Minuet of the Nightingale

    The Pulchritudinous Priestesses of Coth

    "I hear voices," Milka sighed, sinking into the bubbles of the steaming bath water. She wasn't exactly ready to see to more of the faithful - her body still ached and she felt like she needed at least one more good scrub to get the dirt from the day fully off of her milky body. The woman took a deep breath, holding it in her stomach before sinking down below the hot water, her gray eyes snapped tight. Her dark hair haloed around her as she brought her hands up to scrub at it, but she could tell it was as clean as it was going to get - which was actually very clean. It was just her mind that had her feeling filthy. Milka's day had been a simple one of familiar labor; she was no stranger to working on a farm after all, so when a weary lady had shown up on the temple steps, a babe on her hip and a couple small children clinging to her skirt looking for help, Milka was quick to offer her services. She had recognized the mother, though not by name; she and her husband ran a very small farm that now found itself on the outskirts of the town that had sprung up as COTH grew. And so she had spent her time toiling in the dirt. Normally it was work she would take pride in, and honestly, she did feel good with what she had accomplished. What had her so unsettled was the unfortunate trip she took in a wagon full of manure. Milka wouldn't say she was clumsy, but others may disagree - and it was always spectacularly awful when it happened. She could have just tripped like a normal girl with two left feet - no, she had catch the wheel of the damn tool on a divet in the ground and pitched head first into the shit. Literal shit. She wanted to die. Milka had definitely washed as much as she could off with well water on the farmer's land before making the trek home, but the smell had followed her like some terrible cloud. She had received a fair share of startled looks from the people she passed, including one child who had rushed to hug her only to recoil with a look of terrified disgust on her face. Shame burned Milka's cheeks, but thanks to the heat of her bath, it was impossible to notice if her flushed skin was from embarrassment or the fact that she liked to boil herself like a lobster each time she cleaned. The grace of God had allowed her make it too the baths where the perfumes and oils hid the worst of the smell before anyone noticed... And she'd pay off little Marigold who'd taken her clothes to wash with little treats from the market. Seriously, no one would let her live it down if they knew. "I suppose I could see who it is," she murmured, turning her attention on the other female in the baths - Eirene had arrived shortly after Milka who had spent more time then was probably healthy in this bath. She really couldn't be any cleaner without peeling off her skin at this point and there was no possible way anyone would be able to figure out about her days adventures from looking (or smelling) her now. Still, she checked under her nails once more before groaning and pulling her frame from the water. She held her breasts to her chest as her wet hair hung in sleek sheets about her her ample body. Milka was not as slender as her fellow priestesses, though she certainly wasn't incredibly over weight either. Her curve of her hips and rump definitely made her look a bit wide then she was though. And she had a bad habit on focusing on that. "It was nice relaxing with you Eirene, we should do it again soon," she called over her shoulder with a smile on her lips before snagging a towel to dry off and pull a simple white garment over her head, the hem trimmed in rich green and gold. She used a leather belt with a thread and beaded serpent on it to cinch the whole affair at the waist and amplify her curves. It was her usual garb for when sh was within the temple walls, though she had a whole wardrobe full of other vestments of various styles. She was rather fond of playing dress-up when she had a reason to do so and there were a surprising amount of Cothites who opened up to her depending on how she presented herself. Milka gave the red haired priestess a small wink as she left the baths behind, still toweling off her hair to keep it from drenching her dress, as she followed the sound of voices towards the main entrance of the temple. Her gray eyes fell on Isabelle who had secured herself around Constans, and then flicked towards Eleanor who looked as if she had bitten into a lemon. A grin curled across Milka's sweet face and she sidled up to the latter of the Elven Priestesses, brushing a light touch against the small of Eleanor's back. "Hello Father Constans," she greeted. "Sister Isabelle, Sister Eleanor... Did you have a good day here at the temple?" Milka drapped her towel across her arm, mussy up her now damp hair.
  4. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Minnie's Magnificent Characters

    Trixie Silver Name: Trixie Silver Age: 10 - she's a mature adult by Kobold standards and biology Race: Kobold Family: They're.... not important. Wordbank: Mischievous, sassy, inquisitive, easily-amused, materialistic, secretive (about herself), nosy. Trixie seems to take little in life serious, and is always ready for adventure or a good time. She also seems to often forget she's a Kobold and a bit of an oddity for her species. Skills: Nimble, remarkably flexible, spellcasting, and she has a really sweet laugh. Non-talents: Taking things seriously, not taking things that don't belong to her, singing/music, melee combat. Spells: Minor illusion magic which allows her create simple images, sounds, and even smells. Minor affinity for Ice; she can create magical ice shards to sling at targets, freeze the water under her feet, and if she has enough time and concentration she can even summon a magical blizzard. Blessing of the Arch-fey: She has a tiny owl companion who serves as her link to the Arch-Fey that granted her her powers... and un-kobold like tendencies. She is often requested to do random things for her Patron, and can sometimes be granted various boons for a small point in time. It's very rare she gets any more 'perks', however. Appearance: Trixie stands about 3ft and weighs well under 100lbs. As a Kobold, her little body is covered in scales, and in her case those scales are white with an almost opalescent sheen in some place. Her irises are a soft pink, and the pink comes through a bit on the tips of her ears, along he belly, and the under side of her tail. Trixie's nails and horns are inky black and accented with bright pink paint that you can see marked on her tail as well. Likes: Jewelry, plush fabrics/furs, ale, roast meats, heights, cool nights, people Bio: [[work in progress]]
  5. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Minnie's Magnificent Characters

    Milka Prescott Name: Milka Rosamund Prescott Virtue: Angelic Sweetness Age: 20 Race: Human Family: Hiram and Peggy Prescott (Parents) Eden, Isadora, Layla Prescott (Older sisters) Jasmine Prescott (Younger sister) Wordbank: Sweet, ‘airheaded,’ nurturing, forgetful, joyful, ‘silver lining’ type of girl, outdoorsy, self-conscious, a good listener, honest, and tends to approach everything as a mediator, seeking peaceful resolution. She’s not a fan of harsh punishments and can be a bit too forgiving/lenient. Skills: Gardening/Green Thumb, Sewing/Embroidery, Animal Handling, Cooking, 'Bedroom' stuff Non-talents: Lying, Combat/Conflict, Agility, Anything that involves her being on a boat - she gets sea-sick very easily. She’s also easily frightened with scary stories (ghost stories in particular get under her skin). Appearance: 5’3 with curves and a little softness around her middle, Milka is not fat but she’s a far cry from slender (i.e she thicc, bro). The girl is a bit embarrassed by her body, a fact she can never quite escape from no matter how hard she pretends otherwise, but she is trying to embrace it. Milka is of fair skin despite her love for the outdoors as she’s the type to burn rather then tan. Thankfully, given her new blessings, it seems like this is less of a serious problem for her. Her thick waves of dark brown hair are easily her favorite feature about herself and a lot of care is spent maintaining her locks so they keep that healthy, soft gloss; she also rarely trims more then the split ends, allowing her hair to grow past the small of her back. Milka opted to keep her gray eyes, though they have been noted to turn green when she’s experience strong emotions. As for distinguishing features, she bears the tattoo of the Fidei Lena along the length of her back, and the vast majority of her left arm is scarred from what looks like a serious burn. She normally wears a glove to hide the scars on her hands, and sleeves to keep it hidden from the eyes of the general public. Likes: Fresh foods, pretty clothes, Horses, having someone brush or style her hair, stormy weather, flowers, working in the kitchen, naps Bio:
  6. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Minnie's Magnificent Characters

    Iridescia "Dawn" Prysm Name: Born Iridescia Prysm, but known by various monikers over the years; Rabbit, Scar-girl, and Crescent are short-lived names that all marked significant chapters (or people) during her time as a slave. She eventually chose the name ‘Dawn’ for herself as a symbolic sign of the new chapter in her life. Age: 26 Race: Half-Elf Family: Unknown Personality: Jaded, suspicious, and distrusting of most strangers. She is still a healer however, and will never deny someone her help without good cause. She can be temperamental and will speak her mind if she feels it is necessary - Dawn is really not the type to be pushed around anymore and is still trying to learn which battles are worth picking. She can be called stubborn and even painfully oblivious at times as she can ignore the truth when it’s staring her in the face if it’s too far from what she was expecting. With that being said, while she is a strong personality, she is hardly a bad person; she is never intentionally cruel, and she certainly wouldn’t hurt someone if she didn’t feel threatened. She can be a bit sassy and sharp tongued when upset, but she does also know how to apologize as well. Dawn loves slowly in most cases, though her guard is often lowered around children. In terms of love, she believes that it is important to express it if you feel it - be it to friends, family, or a lover. She treasures the few people in her life that she cares for and is very much protective over them; She will fight tooth and nail for her chosen few with no regard for her own safety. Skills: Medicine/Surgery, can read body language, decent lock picker, appraisal of precious stones and metals, and herbalism. Non-Talents: Reading/Writing, harnessing her magic, taking orders, Appearance: Dawn is petite - at 5’0 with a rather typical Elven frame, she is unfortunately accustomed to being mistaken for a child. It’s been speculated that her diminutive form is likely thanks to her less than stellar upbringing where the much needed nutrients to grow where rarely part of her regular meals. Even to this day, Dawn eats frighteningly little, both from habit, a touch of self-image issues, and because she hates the sick feeling she gets when she’s put too much food in her belly. She is pretty fair skinned, though during the summer months she does tan a bit which makes the vast majority of her scars a lot more obvious. In particular, the crescent shaped scar on her face would be the easiest to spot when not blocked from view by her ashy blonde hair; curling from the corner of her left eye and down to the left side of her mouth, this scar pulls the corner of her lips up into a permanent slight smirk. Her other scars are generally hidden under her garments; the remnants of the many whip lashing she received on her back and the back of the thighs; thick marrs that ring her wrists and ankles from a life in shackles; various nicks and cuts across her hands and arms from her work in the mines… really, the majority of Dawn is covered in these terrible little reminders of her time as a slave, and she has more than she can count… or remember how she got them. Likes: Quiet time; foraging; preparing poultices, salves, and perfumes; baths; finding other hobbies - she’s still sort of learning what things she enjoys, trying to make up for a childhood where she didn’t get to explore it. Magic: Dawn has no magic she can control; what she does have is an enormous well-spring of magic within her that could be tapped and used by others, but it has to be discovered first. She also has prophetic dreams and has had them for many years, though she never quite allowed herself to accept it. Bio:
  7. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Minnie's Magnificent Characters

    Index I. Iridescia "Dawn" Prysm II. Milka III. Trixie Silver IV. Dollie the Serpent's Tongue (inactive)
  8. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Young gnome seeks bodyguards for world travel

    I have an idea for a Kobold Warlock if you want a party of small races! The idea could fit a rogue too if we're magic heavy, and she was also initially inspired by a D&D game.... Though mine never took off and I reallllly want to use her still. Just a heads up that I am super new to this site as well :3
  9. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    Dawn arched an eyebrow at him, her olive eyes still wary but perhaps a touch amused at this strange man. She was thankful he had taken her hands-on observations as calmly as he did. She would have a hard time reasoning away her behavior without sounding paranoid. Which she was a bit in all honesty. The way he was casually looking her over also left her a bit uncertain. Of course, his next line of questioning caught her entirely off guard - so much so she let out a snort of laughter before composing herself; "That would be your call, Holy Man. Have I done enough to earn your trust?" She met his eyes for a brief moment and felt that wave of recognition all over again. Annoying. "I can say I don't trust you yet - I've never met a magic user who performs small miracles for free. And you did just admit you're looking to cause some trouble for little Blairville here." She gave her shoulders a little shrug. "But if you want to tell me all your deepest and darkest secrets, I won't say no. I might question your ability to judge a person though." Ah, she was rambling. Wait, was she trying to impress him or something? What was wrong with her? Dawn wrinkled her nose in obvious displeasure and put her hands on her hips, trying to size this man up. How was he just so... calm with everything? And disarmingly charming? "Do I know you?" She asked suddenly. "Have we met before and I've just forgotten somehow?" That would at least explain where her mind got his face from - just some random encounter she had on the street who'd been haunting her dreams. It sort of made sense. Of course, she'd feel kind of weird just saying adding that particular fact to this already strange encounter. "Because I can't remember ever meeting you or hearing your name, and yet you strike me as uncomfortably familiar."
  10. Minuet of the Nightingale

    The House of Heaven

    Milka's always ready to lend a hand. 😇
  11. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    At first, Dawn had to refrain from rolling her eyes as the man started to speak, praising her handy work and lumping it with 'the Elves.' Dawn knew no other Elves, and most full-bloods wanted nothing to do with a half-breed such as herself. Granted, Eleanor had been trained by Elven kind back when she had been a girl so it made sense that there was an obvious connection. Still, Dawn had to really hold her tongue to keep from saying she was taught by an old human woman and not any 'fair people of the forest.' Riz seemed rather captivated by the mans words anyway and she supposed there was no need to break that illusion unless the man over-stepped some boundaries.... Which Dawn believed he almost did next when he grabbed Dollie's twisted arm and started moving it around. It was silly to be so jarred by the motion since it was pretty similar to how she would have attempted to set the bones back in place, but the casualness of it all caught her off guard. She always had to fight with herself before doing something like that; Of course, she didn't have magic to help her. Whatever suspicion and worry Dawn had fled when she realized Dollie's arm was whole once more and not just re-aligned. She almost didn't even notice the soft glow of warm green light emanating from the child and the strange man as she was too caught up trying to see any strange bumps or bruising on the pale little limb. It just looked good as new... Dawn took a step closer, the scaple in her hand clattering to the ground. She felt Constans eyes turn on her for a second, but she barely managed to glance up at his molten green eyes. If she had thought she had seen all the miracles the day could bring with the healing of the girl's shattered arm, she would have been wrong. The next feat the stranger pulled made her question her reality for a moment. Magic was crazy and powerful, it could do things nobody really understood... But knowing that and seeing a man re-grow a missing piece of a human's body were entirely separate matters. Especially when this man, dressed like some pauper and preaching about his God, had walked into her small little shop and done this with no agreement for payment. Dawn didn't even wait for Constans to step aside before starting her examination of the girl - her broken bones were healed better then they would have on their own. The vast majority of bruising was gone. There was still some cut that she had stitched, wounds that were not life threatening in anyway, but all the injuries that Dawn had been worried about were just gone. And Dollie's tongue was back even though she could still see the previous mangled piece in a small metal bowl on the counter nearby. The slightly green tinged skin was curious, but the muscle looked as healthy as could be. The Half-Elf woman stepped back, took a breath and swung around to face Riz; "Grab your friend from the front room and lock up the shop. I need you two to sit with Dollie to make sure she is not alone when she wakes up." Dawn paused to grab the implements and bloodied rags she had used, mumbling under her breath in disjointed words before she managed to work up the courage to address Constans himself. "You, Holy man, follow me," She stated, her tone not really leaving him any room to question. She marched out of the little room while Riz scampered off to grab Maggie and lead the magic healer towards a back room with an actual door. She bumped it open with her hip, set her dirty tools on a metal countertop that had probably costed a small fortune for someone who lived in this part of town and took another deep breath, clearly gathering herself as pushed her ashen blonde locks away from her face. She turned quickly back to the man, now that her hair was away from her face a rather notable scar was visible curling on from her left eye down to her lips and clearly the cause of the almost constant smirk on her face. Dawn said nothing as she approached and she firmly shoved Constans down into a nearby chair of this little room that was clearly meant for the healers only - the walls were lined with tools, bottles, dressing for wounds, and other such medical paraphernalia. There was a small writing desk in one of the corners as well. The Half-Elf said nothing to the man once she had him seated and simply started her own inspection of him - she grabbed his hand, looking at his finger tips then feeling up his arm as if checking for something he might have used to trick the eye during that whole show he had just put on. Dawn knew she was being silly and that that had been actual magic she had just witnessed, but there was still a part of her that couldn't quite accept everything that she had just seen. When she discovered nothing but arm beneath the sleeve, she wrinkled her little nose and met the man's eyes for a whole second before she reached up with both hands, one to secure his chin in place and the other pulling his eye wide as she practically straddled his lap to take a good look at the bright green irises. She wasn't entirely sure what she was looking for, there wasn't going to be a button or a switch in there, but... Realization sort of hit her all at once - she was just dealing with her own form of shock. She had been so upset, so stressed over that little girl that she hadn't checked her own state of mind until that very moment. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her actions as she stepped back, putting a good distance between her and Constans. She let the silence hang between them for a moment while she fiddled with her blood stained sleeves; "Sorry. You can go now, I don't have anything to really pay you with - I gave most my coin to that old man who'd helped bring the girl here."
  12. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    There were a lot of people out there who needed the help of someone who knew a thing or two about medicine; Dawn had treated a lot of people under the watch of Eleanor, and more recently on her own accord. Some survived and went on to live happy lives, while some couldn't pull through even with all of her expertise and desire to see them live. It was always a little hard to let go and come to terms with those that didn't survive, but Dawn usually managed to move on... Unless it was children. She was sure she wasn't the only healer out there whose heart was stirred when it came to the plight of the innocent little ones, but nobody really ever talked about it with each other. If Dollie didn't pull through, she would carry some sense of responsibility for the death for the rest of her life. But she had done all she could at this point; all that was in her power. She stood next to Dollie, carefully wetting the girls hair to try to clean it to the best of her ability because she felt obligated to stay a little longer when the curtain that separated this room from the hallway swung open. Dawn immediately assumed it was Eleanor and that by some miracle she had returned early from her trip just in time to help, but her eyes landed on bright green eyes in a face she hadn't seen before... at least not in person. She was taken aback and immediately on edge as to why this man was walking in on her while she worked before she noticed Riz was there with wide eyes. Dawn glanced at the boy and then the man, and reached towards the small tray of surgical implements for a scaple. It hadn't been cleaned yet, blood still coating the blade. "Riz, who is this?" She asked, her voice very soft as visions of strange dreams bubbled in her mind. She had seen this face dozens of times in her sleep as he turned to look at her with a small smile as if he was keeping some secret, and she had seen his profile silhouetted on the top of a hill far more. Those dreams were plagued with images of serpents and green fire, sprawling fields with hundreds of people looking up at her for guidance, and a disjointed voice whispering to her from a green lit candle about how wrong this world was. It felt like those dreams should have been nightmares from the imagery, but she never woke from them feeling frightened or worried. At worst, she might be confused, but most mornings she awoke feeling decidedly peaceful and well rested. "Constans. He has magic and said he'd help Dollie!" The boy stated, trying to pull the man forward a bit more. Dawn narrowed her eyes into dangerous little slits, the scaple still held in her fingers with a rather assured grip. "And he's offering to help for nothing? Doubtful," She replied, her tone a lot colder and definitely targeted at this 'Constans.' He wasn't dressed like any mage she knew... Well, except for Eleanor... But were the chances of her meeting two self-sacrificing magical healers in her life? It had to be very slim. "I seen it though! He healed his finger!" The boy exclaimed, trying to grab her attention once more. Dawn couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. Perhaps she was being more judgemental then she normally would - but it was unsettling to realize the man in your dreams was a real person and not some messed up quirk of your imagination. Still, if he could help she would be stupid stop him. "Fine, but if you do anything other then help the girl, I will carve you up like a roast chicken,and feed the bits to the pigs." Dawn did actually have a pretty good idea on what parts of the body would be the easiest for her cut through if she ever needed to reduce a body into smaller, more manageable pieces. She didn't suspect she would ever need that information when she had studied it, but she was a curious creature. After giving her warning, she took a step back to let the man get closer to the child, her eyes never leaving him. She didn't even risk blinking.
  13. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    Dawn was far to busy to take note of anyone paying attention to the scene she was causing - she was focused on the girl while keeping pace with the hand-drawn cart. She didn't want to the little thing to wake up quite yet; she would be in a lot of pain. But at the same time, the lack of movement was starting to worry Dawn. She had to keep telling herself to keep her face as even as possible for the two other children who kept on her heels. Any sign of worry would just make it worse for them and Dawn didn't have the resources to take care of Dollie and manage the feelings of the other two. With some luck, Eleanor might be back and could lend a hand. If not... Dawn glanced over her shoulder for just a moment, olive eyes resting on the taller of the pair. Maggie was quiet, still not fully free from witnessing her friends tragic misstep. She probably hadn't been exposed to the many harsh realities on the streets so far - either she was recently orphaned, or a new runaway. Riz seemed to deal with his own worries in the exact opposite manner; he was nervously filling the silence with ideas of what they would do when Dollie got better. Dawn applauded his optimism and wondered how he had managed to keep it while being on these streets for so long. A few moments later, the group rounded a corner and the cart came to a stop. It took Dawn a handful of seconds to realize they had arrived already. She jerked her attention towards the front door of the little medicine shop, realizing the door hadn't properly closed behind her after she had dashed out of there to follow Riz. She really needed to be careful with that as she know had things worth something to thieves. It was hard to remember the little details when trouble was afoot though. Coming around to the front of the cart, Dawn pulled a handful of coin from a small pouch hidden in the many layers of her pleated skirts and deposited it in the old man's hand before he got a chance to say anything. She had the strangest feeling he was about to refuse payment, but cut himself short. Whether because he needed the money or didn't want to take up her time arguing, Dawn hadn't the slightest clue. "Thank you again for your kindness," she whispered and brushed a kiss on the man's weathered cheek, before heading back to collect her fragile charge. The girl remained limp and barely breathing. "Miss," Riz started, at her side rather suddenly and a sense of urgency in his tone. "I'm sorry, Riz, but we can't talk right now," she hushed making for the entrance of the clinic. She heard a sigh behind her, a resigned sound and then two sets of footsteps on the floor boards. "Riz, you can stay up front please. If anyone comes in, you'll have to ask them to wait. Maggie, you can stay with Riz or make yourself comfortable in one of the chairs. Please don't touch anything!" "Yes Miss! But I just want you to know that a man followed us here," Riz called back, his words forced out so quickly it almost sounded like one massive word and not a sentence. "Just tell him to wait!" Dawn called back, her distracted mind not quite catching up with what the boy had just told her as she disappeared into the back room where a small raised bed rested. She laid Dolly down, tossed her bag on a chair, and grabbed a wash basin of water that had been left in the window to keep warm. She wasn't going to have time to boil water to clean the girls wounds, so this would have to do. But first, Dawn had to get the poor thing out of her rags. Under the girls garments revealed a much more worrisome sight. Her skin was black and blue, pulled tight against her ribs except for some light swelling starting on her right side. A gentle touch confirmed she had at least one broken rib and probably a few cracked ones at that. The girls right knee was also horribly bruised and bleeding sluggishly and the blood on her lips was coming from her tongue which she had nearly bitten in half. This... This was starting to get out of her league. She only had a few years of training under her belt, and while she had seen a few serious injuries in her time, it was usually just one of these things and not everything all at once. "You don't have a choice, Dawn. There's no one else nearby that you know who can help," She took a few deep breaths and then started to work cleaning the poor thing up, stitching the wound on her head, and cutting away the mangled piece of tongue while knowing she was probably condemning Dollie to a much harder life. Maybe she'd get Eleanor to help teach the girl to read and write while she recovered so she wouldn't be so lost out there after all was said and done... If she recovered.
  14. Minuet of the Nightingale

    Gaia is Dead

    Blairville had been her home for a handful of years now, but the winding streets outside of the little ghetto she lived in were just as confusing now as they had been when she first arrived. Normally, Dawn wouldn't risk wandering far without the company of Eleanor, but sometimes events happened outside of her control. "Come on Miss Dawn, we hav' to hurry!" The voice of the little boy a few paces ahead of her pleaded, reaching out for her hand and pulling her attention away from the street sign whose name she was trying to decipher. Unfortunately, the jumble of letters was lost on her. Her progress with reading hadn't gone far lately and in a city with so much cultural diversity it could be sometimes hard to make sense of the nuances with the few rules of the common tongue she knew. Her eyes, green softened with a bit of gray, found the gaze of the boy before her and her sense of urgency took over any desire to keep track of where she was; he was right, they couldn't delay with a life on the line. The slim woman, petite and looking as if a stiff breeze could snap her up any moment, nodded her head and the kid raced off down the streets with Dawn on his heels. "She's right here, miss! Right here!" The boy yelped, ducking into a tight alley and out of sight. Dawn did hesitate to follow, already disliking how little room she was going to have to work with. The boy had come to a stop next a taller girl with trails of tears on her dirty cheeks, a crumpled lump of ragged cloth on the ground before her. Dawn's delicate nose could pick up the sharp smell of coppery blood cutting through the sickeningly sweet smells of rotting garbage and the sting of old piss. She was used to all those smells, unfortunately. "Thank you, Riz," she murmured to the boy and knelt down beside the little bundle of cloth, concerned eyes roving over the tiny form hidden beneath. The little thing had a nasty wound her head, and her left arm was broken in two places from the unnatural bends. There was some blood on her lips, though Dawn wasn't sure if that was from an injury in the mouth or a much worse sign. Carefully she moved around the unconscious little girl, careful to not bump her as she leaned forward and tipped her head to the side; the softest of warm breaths tickled her ears and while it was alarmingly weak, there was no rattle or wheezing. The girl might be lucky, she thought and sat back on her heels to open her the satchel she had brought with her. It was going to be difficult to transport this girl even with her properly braced up, but from the extent of the injuries she could see already, this wasn't something she was going to be able to properly care for in some dingy alley. "Riz, see if you can flag someone down with a cart - tell them there's some coin in it if you have. Use my name or Eleanor's if you have too - someone here should recognize it, I don't think we're far from home." The little boy was quick to respond and hurried back out of the alley to the main road, bare feet slapping on dingy stone. "What's your name sweetheart?" Dawn asked softly as she pulled out some bandages and uniform pieces of wood for a quick splint. "Magpie, or Maggie," the girl whispered, her eyes unfocused and watery. Probably shocked. Poor thing. "Alright Maggie, I need your help. If you could hold these for me, I don't want to put them on the ground." Dawn passed over the cloth bandages and the sticks and the girl took them, nodding her head and actually looking towards Dawn. The Half-Elf woman smiled when the girl seemed to get some bearings back and returned to her work. "Can you tell me what happened?" "W-we was playing on the roofs and Dollie tried to jump b-but she tripped. I heard her little head the other building up there and then she fell," Maggie stammered, pointing up towards the tops of the building. Dawn tipped her own head back, soft blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders and she let out a sigh of relief that it was only about two stories. "Did you move her after when you all came down?" "N-n-no. Riz wanted to shake her, but I said to get you so he didn' get a chance." Oh the blessed, precious, smart girl! Dawn heaved a relieved sigh and nodded her head. "Thank you, Maggie. You did good." Dawn returned to her work, evaluating Dollie to the best of her ability till she was certain the unconscious child hadn't broken her neck or spine (Thank whoever was watching), and moved quickly to pack the head wound tight and secure it with bandages in order to staunch some of the bleeding. It would need stitches, but she wasn't going to do those here. The twisted arm required a bit more work, and Dawn was thankful Dollie was unconscious for it; The Half-Elf straightened the limb as much into place as she could manage before securing it with the a makeshift splint. There were other injuries of course, but they could wait. Then, as she had little other choice, Dawn lifted the tiny thing up, tucking a small blonde head under her chin and heading towards the mouth of the alley. Riz was a few feet away, talking with an older man who appeared to have a hand cart. There were few goods in it and he seemed uncertain, but the second his eyes landed on Dawn carry the girl whatever resistance he seemed to have faded and he nodded down to the boy. Riz spun about, eyes gleaming with a bit of hope as he was undoubtedly about to return to her when he noticed the three females making their way towards him. "Thank you," Dawn stated to the man who seemed a mix of confused and concerned as she laid the injured girl in the back of the cart, carefully tucking a limp strand of red stained hair away from the girls grubby but sweet face. "Do you know where Wick Street is? I work at a little clinic right on the corner of it and Cat's Eye." The man nodded, a flash of recognition in his hooded eyes. "Perfect, we need to move as quick as you can."