Mellia — Away With Venlar Xii
1627, Sea Season, Death Week
Sea Season, Death Week, Freezeday. [[[s02:session-32|Session 32]]]
Later that day, after a run with horses, Venlar comes into the Temple of Chalana Arroy. He is covered in mud, the spectacular covering of someone who fell, and some of it does not look like pure mud, but like he was definitely following horses. He is holding his right arm close to his chest, taking the weight on his left hand. His expression is battened down, unreadable.
“Oh no, sweetheart,” Mellia says. “Let me look at that arm. “
Mellia suspects the right arm is broken.
It is, the wrist fractured by a bad landing. There is mud driven into a cut there as well. He must have found at least one rock to land on.1Fumbled DEX and failed Jump and just horribleness.
Mellia asks, “Can you bear it if I clean up the cut first?”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “I’ve had worse.”
Mellia plans to clean and bandage the cut, set the wrist, then apply healing magic to the fracture.2Special on First Aid.
He watches that happening, and after a few minutes says, “It was a green field. I’ll never live it down.”
Mellia smiles and kisses Venlar. “Probably not, but I love you anyway.”
Mellia tries to find a clean spot to kiss.
She has to clean one first, and it does not seem to cheer him up much. “There was quite a hill to climb, and that was fine until I got to the top, tried to run across the field there, and came down sideways. I’ve asked for clothes to be sent here. Is that alright?”
“That is fine, although we should probably wash you. Wet grass can be very slick.”
“And then I know I was a bit drunk yesterday, but I’m tempted to try again tonight. Bad idea?” He looks at her dolefully.
“Bad idea,” Mellia confirms.
“Sing about how I hate mud? I need to make it seem like I do not mind so if we leave it’s not because I’m in a bad mood. Finarvi may well be talking with Dogva now.” Outside, horse hooves begin to go past, as that part of the herd that is being kept in gets driven towards pens. Venlar winces.
“I think they love your singing,” Mellia says. “That is a good idea. I hate to leave so soon, but we’re going to eat all the food if we don’t.”
“I can’t really make do with fewer thralls,” Venlar says, with the puzzlement of a man who has never tried. “So we should go. North, though… We must take in the news again at Dangerford.”
Mellia nods. “I might need to go north alone and afoot. I hope not. We’ll see.”
“I would hate that,” Venlar says. “But you would be safest.”
“I am. Even Lunars respect the White Lady.”
“When I have clean clothes on, and I’m dry, and feel better, I’ll have you tonight at least. All this, and the future, can go hang out to Air.”
Mellia grins. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
It takes a while…