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 Posted: Sat Sep 08, 2012 9:23 pm
It was neither royal, nor regal to blink rapidly. It was hardly the mark of a well bred aristocratic mare to show such obvious surprise and startlement in the face of what amounted to a peasant, and a young one at that. However, despite how it went against all she tried to be, against the nature she tried to build for herself, blinking rapidly in surprise was precisely what Steph was doing. Her eyelashes bobbed from the speed of her eyes, then she closed them and silently cursed herself thrice for an idiot.
She took several deep breaths, then nodded slowly to the foal. It went against the mare that she thought she wanted to be to admit a mistake easily, and yet, it felt the very thing to do. "I had not considered that," she said softly. Then, without further ado, Steph focused on her horn. Her head dipped, feeling suddenly heavy, resting the tip upon his shoulder as she focused.
She felt for the pain. It wasn't hard, it throbbed through all that she was. But she needed to focus on the root of it, the cause. It did nothing to "heal" a part of her that wasn't actually injured. She focused, pushing aside all pain that was reactive, as best as she could. What she found first were his pains. The healer in her took over, and she had only a brief thought to spare to recall why she rarely used her healing ability. Her instincts shoved her mind aside and did what they wanted with no regards to her station or will.
Once his wounds were tended to and healed, finally she turned inward and addressed her own catalog of pain. First went the horn, healing the area at the base of it should not have been so difficult, and were the pain not her own, it would have been a simple task. However, calling the agony to the forefront to be addressed made her more acutely aware of it, which conversely made focusing harder. It was a vicious cycle.
She swallowed and pushed on ahead. It took her nearly a half hour to be able to push through and do what she knew she must. Finally the pain was gone, but she was spent. Her sides heaved as though she had just raced a mountain goat to the summit. Her beautiful flanks were stained with sweat that poured off of her like a melting icicle. She opened her eyes and looked at the foal, her horn still resting on his shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, and she was not sure what she had intended to say, and maybe she would never know, because before she could make a sound, exhaustion claimed her, and she fell limp, passing out, her head dead weight upon him.
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Posted: Sat Sep 08, 2012 10:17 pm
The question seemed to stir something within her. Perhaps she had forgotten she had the ability to heal? Warmth filled the young colt, ridding him of the aches he had ignored, for he had a more pressing matter to attend to. The pain that he was enduring slowly elevated and disappeared altogether; surprise filled Westrion, he wanted to voice the need not to spend her energy on him, but it was already too late, the deed was done. The son of a great healer continued to stare at the regal mare as she worked her own healing powers on herself; it appeared to be a slower process than the one she did to him. Westrion could almost feel the heat the energy gave off her horn as she sent her power to the injured spot, it was almost like the pain was evaporating into a cloud.
She was done, and completely healed, truly miraculous; a slight sensation of jealously filled the colt, for he wished he possessed such power. As he gained a better look at his patient, he knew that the art of healing came at a cost, she was covered in sweat and her legs were giving off a slight shake, as if they could no longer bare her weight. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out and her eyes went blank as she came falling toward the young foal. With a cry of surprise, Westrion was caught under the heavy weight of her head, he dared not move quickly for the fear of making her fall more rapidly to the ground and gaining another injury. It took some tricky maneuvering, but the colt was finally able to get the unconscious mare to the ground without further injury. With a sigh he looked at the uni flutter, “What do I do now?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 18, 2012 11:27 pm
Were she awake to witness herself in such a state, Stephanie would undoubtedly be appalled. There were reasons she tried to forget the healing side of her heritage. Not the least of those reasons was the toll it always took on her. Another was her lack of constraint, control, willpower, wont power, call it whatever you like. When she opened up that part of herself, little could stop her from healing every wound she could reach. It was a side of herself that she might have more readily embraced... were she suicidal.
As such things went, she had to admit, that probably would be the ideal way to kill herself, were she ever so tempted. Of course, she never would be so tempted. She loved life and the living of it far too much. But healing for her was akin to... she didn't even know what. Alcohol in stories often did it to humans, she knew. Basically she lost all control, all focus, all scale. Her healing was an off season river carved into unyielding stone. There was nothing, or there was a flash flood, never was there a trickle.
So because of that lack of delicacy, subtlety, control, she lay out, filthy with effort, at the feet of a foal she just met. Helpless and distinctly not regal. She would be having internal conniptions were she aware of her situation. However, she was sleeping, and rather deeply at that. In her sleep, she did something even more unforgivable, something she would have been disgusted to witness in even the most base peasant, let alone in herself. It was once, and it was soft, quiet even, but the great and regal Queen Stephanie gave a small, delicate, snore.
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Posted: Thu Sep 27, 2012 8:58 am
Slowly the foal backed away from the sleeping mare, knowing that she would be livid if she awoke and discovered he had witnessed her in this state, especially since he heard the slight snore that escaped. He went to the river to wash his hooves, removing the sticky paste of the Poppy. It was most healers dream and wish to be able to heal with magic, not just with herbs and poultices that could only do so much. The young foal looked back on all the carnage and death he has witnessed in his young life, he could have saved more than he did if he had the power of healing; he shook his head, those who died, it was their time, he knew that and had learned to accept that fact a long time ago. He still felt a pang of jealousy toward the mare who could heal without much trouble and jealously toward his brother who had a vast knowledge of herbs, perhaps more than their own father. Westrion had trained hard and studied hard to learn as much as he could and yet he still could not compete with the skill his brother possessed. With a large shake the colt rid himself of the negative emotion, there was no need to be jealous, but it was still hard not to feel a twang.
Caramel eyes found their way to the exhausted snoring mare, what was he to do with her? And how long would she sleep? He had never witnessed a healing take place before and did not know the repercussions of such an act. Would he be able to get home in time? He really did not want to worry mother.
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