ArchivedLogs:Of Forestry and Fractures (Or, A Reluctant Cleric)

Of Forestry and Fractures (Or, A Reluctant Cleric)
Dramatis Personae Harm, Kavalam	2017-12-18 "You know what day it is, and where we are, right?"
Location <XS> Forest
Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails. With classes over for the day, more students are coming out to enjoy the sudden warm spell, but most are still staying near the mansion, suspicious of the overcast, with the memories of more unpleasant weather still fresh in their minds. So the forest is pretty much deserted, as far as people are concerned, even if the animals are more active than they've been all month. Squirrels root around for nuts they cached earlier in the season, and birds sing in mild confusion while they forage. Harmony's passage along one of the winding trails is pretty unobtrusive compared to all of this, hand-made faux leather boots crunching softly in the leaf litter. They're wearing a large, loosely draped mantle or cloak, hunter green with silver and black trim, and undyed linen pants. The bottom of their bike tire shoulder bag can be seen beneath the edge of the cloak. "Here we are," they say as they crest a ridge, pointing down where the land slopes away, gently to the left and more sharply to the right, toward the lake distantly visible through the trees. "I'm not sure how you're supposed to measure out your...sample area or whatever, but here you can get both high ground and low. And there's sassafras trees, but not /too/ many." Kavalam is trailing behind, sneakered feet scuffing slow through the brittle leaves. He's in jeans, a long-sleeved grey waffle-weave shirt, a black sweatshirt over that, a black jacket over that. He has a notebook under his arm, a pen flicked slowly between his fingers. His eyes skim the trees. One way, then the other. "Right, good, yes. Tha... Nanni." His dark brows pull inward. After a pause: "Which one is the sassafras?" Harm is already making their way toward a tree growing on the ridge. "Here's one." They go up to the tree and lay a hand on it, smiling fondly. "I knew where this one was by heart, but here, I'll show you how to identify other ones. By the bark, mostly, with kind of braid-looking ridges, like this." Their fingertips trace the weaving pattern of bark. "Between the ridges it has kind of this rusty red color, and if you flake it off it has this really distinctive sweet smell. People used to make sodas out of this." They pick off a bit of bark, crumble it between their fingers, and sniff. "You try. Then see if you can find another one?" Kavalam is slow to turn. Slow to follow after Harm, pulling his jacket closed and zipping it despite the noticeable lack of chill. He comes up beside his roommate, fingers trailing against the bark. "Soda? Bark soda? What does it taste of?" He rubs thumb and forefinger together, brings them close to his face to sniff at it thoughtfully. His hand drops back to the trunk, resting against it as he circles around the tree. His eyes are drifting away -- along the ridge, to the side. "Oh, is that one maybe --" He lifts a hand to point towards a nearby tree, dropping his pen in the process. It bounces off the toe of his shoe, skitters down against the dirt and lands among some rocks just a short ways down the drop of the ridge. Kavalam's quiet mutter is both too low to properly catch and not in English besides, but somewhat disgruntled as he starts down after it. "I think I have spotted one," he is telling Harm hopefully as he does, "though do you think Mr. da Costa would notice if I just --" This breaks off kind of abruptly, with a skitter-thud of rocks, a snap of dried dead wood, a somewhat dismayed: "-- oh --" as his footing gives way. There should probably be a larger thud, and maybe there /is/; but it's eclipsed for the moment by -- -- nothing, really, a brief and briefly dissonant mental void; Kavalam hasn't so much /faded/ from notice as been sharply yanked from it for a space of a few rocky seconds. By the time he asserts himself into Harmony's reality he is farther out of sight, a good ways further down the steeper side of the ridge, jacket dusty, jeans scuffed and torn at the knee. His /voice/ carries well enough: "Ow," first, and second, not /entirely/ hopefully: "Harm?" Harmony hooks an arm around the tree to lean out over the steeper side of the slope. "Yep! Root beer used to be made with sassafras, though in my experience it tastes pretty much like the mass-produced artificial stuff, just not as fizzy or sweet," Their eyes follow the line of Kavalam's hand, studying the tree in question, then nodding. "Pretty sure, yeah. We can get closer and check." They are already heading off in that direction when Kavalam slips, and for a fraction of a second the sudden movement of his fall pulls Harm's attention toward him. They start to turn, eyes and mouth widening in alarm... Then relaxing again, staring off into the winter-bare trees, blinking. Then they shake their head slightly as if to clear it, and turning away starts to stroll along the ridge. At the sound of Kavalam's voice they stop again, frowning. "Kavalam? Where are you?" Their eyes search the ridgeline, then the slope, picking out the notebook their roommate dropped in his tumble, and immediately starts scrambling down from a more gently sloping part of the ridge, weight held low and feet planting sideways. When they get far enough down to spot Kavalam again, they adjust course (swiping up his notebook when they pass it) and climb down to his side. "Are you alright?" Their attempt to sound casual is not very effective, voice small and shaky, eyes skidding back to assess the path of Kavalam's fall. There's a slightly paler cast to Kavalam's skin. Along his knuckles and the side of his head there's grit and a stippling of blood, skin scraped and chafed where it's knocked against the rocks. He starts to sit up, immediately slumps back against the base of a tree. "I think," he says a little muzzily, "I found a sassafras." His hand pats gently behind him at the rough bark of the oak tree he leans up against. There is some blood -- not heavily -- dotting at the frayed edges of his jeans where the knee ripped. He starts to move again, sinks back down -- and very briefly out-and-in of notice -- as his weight shifts to that leg, his skin turning just a little more ashen. Harm stares up at the tree behind Kavalam for a moment, opens their mouth, then closes it again, a confused frown on their brow. Then they seem to notice Kavalam, again. "Oh, great job! But I don't think you should try to get up right away. You kinda...disappeared from my brain, when you fell down, and then again just now, I think?" They look down at the blood-stained rip in the boy's jeans, then back up at their head, but their expression remains pretty calm. "Can I take a look at your injuries? I have some first aid training." "They teach /everything/ out in your..." Kavalam trails off, head thunking back against the tree. "California." There's a long pause before his uncertain answer: "You can look. My leg hurts." "Not /everything/, but I was in our healer's collective, as like, an apprentice." Harmony kneels down, settles their weight. "I'm going to roll up the cuff of your jeans and I'm going to put my hand on the side of your calf. I'll be gentle." They do indeed move the clothing very carefully, and meanwhile they continue speaking. "But I'm more worried about your head, honestly. I know this sounds /super/ dumb, but you know what day it is, and where we are, right?" When their fingertips make contact with Kavalam's skin, they flinch slightly and clench their jaw tight. Their breathing goes faster, but then starts evening out again. Their expression is still calm, but their face has gone kind of pale. They pull their phone out of their bag and frown at it. "Um, does your phone have signal out here?" "Yeah," Kavalam agrees complacently, head waggling slowly from one side to the other, "Okay, yeah." He tenses as Harm first touches him, swallowing and pressing back harder against the tree. His arm wraps around his midsection, fingers balling into a fist around the fabric of his jacket. He releases it to dig in his pocket for his phone, fumble at it a moment, squint at its screen. "No, I don't have." He is eying the hill back up with some wariness. "-- It hurts," he reiterates. "To stand." There's a determined levelness to his voice, but a bright sheen of tears glistening in his dark eyes. "Can you tell me? Where we are right now?" Harmony also keeps their voice very steady, and it seems to take them some effort, too. "I would run and get help, but I don't want to leave you here alone and also, once I get out of sight..." They look at the way up to the ridge, back at their roommate, and bite their lower lip, hard. "Alright um, plan C? I can...make it hurt less. Hopefully enough for you to walk. It's my um..." Their mouth presses into a thin line, and their eyes slide away from Kavalam's face. "My power." "Yeah." Kavalam half-nods again. His eyes widen at Harm's suggestion. "You can? What like some pain killer? You could be making some good money from that no?" His tongue clicks disappointedly against his teeth. "It hurts. If you can fix that..." His eyes squeeze shut a moment. "Please don't leave. Me. Here." Quieter. "Not...exactly? Though I /could/ probably make money doing it, or that's what my dad thinks." Harm frowns a little, glancing back up at their roommate's face with visible concern. "It's not like, an instant fix, and there's lots of things I don't know how to do, but basically, I'm a healer." They clench their teeth tight, th their fingers still resting only lightly on the side of Kavalam's leg. Then they nod, "Anyway, I won't leave you. This is going to take a little time, but it shouldn't hurt.../more/, I mean." Their face goes even paler, and they breath out slowly in one long, quiet hiss. Even though they're clearly concentrating very hard, Kavalam doesn't really feel any different. Maybe very slightly warmer? Maybe. "So um," they start talking again, kind of haltingly, their voice a little strained. "On the bright side, maybe you'll get out of doing this project, huh?" Kavalam's eyes stay closed, though his sharp exhale -- may be pained. May be impressed. "You fix people. That is a -- that is a useful. You should be..." Whatever he thinks Harm /should/ be is left to the imagination; he just trails off here, breathing slowly. He does finally open his eyes again eventually, with a weak attempt at a smile. "I can just tell any of the teachers. I did the project yes? I turned it in? What you mean you don't remember? They get very apologetic. But this excuse, this is better." "It's..." Harmony's cheeks turn pink, which is all the more obvious given their current paleness. "Xie-xie, but I don't know. If you wouldn't mind...I'd rather if the others kids didn't know about this? My powers, I mean." They speak slowly now, their attention clearly focused on the powers in question, even if it doesn't feel to Kavalam as if much is happening. The warmth becomes more pronounced, though, and then, very gradually, the pain begins to recede. "You prefer this excuse? Even with all the pain?" They don't sound all that taken aback, actually, and more just curious. "You okay? You look..." Kavalam lifts a hand, waves it generally in the direction of Harm's face. Then drops it back to his lap with a thump, blinking quizzically at his roommate. "Don't want them to know? That you have a /good/ power instead of -- some -- some nonsense." Despite this he shrugs one shoulder. "You know even if I told anyone it would not matter." His words are coming a little more easily, even if Harm's are slower. "This excuse is better." /These/ words are firm. "This thing, it happened to /me/." "Yeah, I'm alright," Harm says quickly, smiling a thin smile that isn't exactly forced but definitely doesn't look alright. "Maybe it would be different here, but back in my commune...people got mad at me. It's hard to explain, but I think, it wasn't good /enough/, you know?" They chew on the inside of their lower lip again, quiet for quite a few minutes. Eventually, their eyes focus on Kavalam's face again, although they wander a lot getting there. "Your power...it makes you feel like you don't even exist sometimes, huh? Because people keep forgetting you?" The pain in Kavalam's leg has faded to a deep but definitely manageable ache, though the small cuts on his skin remain, more or less unchanged since they stopped bleeding. "Mad at you for healing them? People will get mad over any small thing, no?" Kavalam looks away. Through the bare tree branches, up toward the sky. "It's good to remember. That I exist." Though here he frowns. Slowly shifts his leg, bending it upward as he tests its motion. "If you have fixed it maybe now I have to do the project?" This sounds kind of /glum/. "Look for sassafras after all? See maybe this is why people don't like healing." "Oh no, they only started getting mad when I failed at it. But sooner or later..." Harmony trails off and shakes their head, blinking their eyes a few times fast. "I remember now, usually. That means other people can, too. Even teachers." The leg feels a little stiff when moved, but does not hurt significantly more from it. Harm sits back on their heels, color slowly seeping back into their face. "It's not fixed, not completely. It'll probably still hurt to walk, and we should still go back and get it x-rayed. Besides, I think you have a concussion, and that's definitely more than I can deal with right now." They stand up, wincing a little, swaying a little, and stretch. Once they're steady on their feet they offer Kavalam a hand. "Come on, you still have an excuse, without having to stop existing."