#februaryday2202

[siennablaze219]

DWC Day 2 Prompts Suppress/Pastel

@daily-writing-challenge

(TW graphic violence, depression, self harm

(Events from the beginning of Legion, pieces about Mirri’s family history)

*”The skies they were lovely, how had I never noticed how the sun turns the clouds to such beautiful pastel colors when the evening came?”** That was the last thought that the Sentinel Spy had before the sayaad that was holding her drew a blade across her neck, then there was an explosion and the beauty of the very world was lost to the Kaldorei.

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Water dribbled on her lips, Tyshaelle lifted a hand to brush away the droplets, or at least she tried. Golden eyes snapped open and saw a cone of leaves over her head, rafters, light from two sides, a hut or cabin. Water… where was it coming from?

“Oh” a voice sadly softly, then more excitedly, “Oh! Asyeel go and get the healer, she is waking!”

**”Where am I?”** The thought only on her head, why could she not ask the question out loud. Was she captive? Maybe a spell or drug? Tysha tried to strain to break whatever bonds that held her, but her muscles would not respond any better than her voice did.

Shuffling sound next to the bed, her ear flicking to pick up what it may be, senses honed to notice everything and have complete control over herself. Wait… her ear moved, why was that? Only her ear, nothing else responded, then she looked to the side, moving her eyes alone. A small building, maybe a home, some windows a door, the framing, oh, Feralas, New Thalanaar. Came through on the way to… the Crossroads. The Legion’s attacks there, I came through here when I came up from Silithus to respond to the expected attack the seer there told her about.

**”I came back? Was it to see those warriors? They said they were happy to have me join them for a few nights.”** She tried to wiggle her toes but could not feel anything shift at all. Taking inventory it seemed anything from the neck up worked, except her voice. More sounds and more light flooded the room then a shadow dimmed it until the door closed completely, Tysha tried to look to see the doorway but she actually felt bindings that held her head in place.

“Ah good, you are back with us, wasn’t sure that Elune wasn’t taking you to walk the paths.” The woman’s voice was deep and pleasant, “Sentinel Aiorise, we are glad to have you back but not under these circumstances. You were gravelly injured in the Crossroads and as you had some items from your trip through it was assumed you were stationed here and they brought you expecting that we would have someone that needed to sing of mourning for you. You seem willing to knot your fingers in the treads of life and hang on.”

Aiorise? Then Tysha remembered, that was the name the Sentinel Spy used when she moved through here. Even to the true Sentinels what the spies did was kept a secret, and she had been a spy since she was chosen by a friend of her mothers and she could not get away from her family fast enough.

The priest looked into her eyes and then cupped her cheeks and smiled, “Give me a moment of patience and I can explain more.” The eldest of the Starmender twins saw the shadows move and assumed she was being examined, then the sound of a chair being drug over, “I am Kaestreel, now let’s start with the injuries. Plenty of bruises and minor cuts and slashes, those were easily handled, the worst was that your throat was cut but not cleanly as an explosion tore the sayaad away from you. Another Sentinel saw you and pulled you from the fight and field dressed your wound. Once the Legion was beaten back the injured were sent out, we received a number here.”

“Your throat has been healed mostly, it will take time to regain your voice and you have been asleep a while, so practice is needed. We have kept a small gag across your mouth so the dreams and the pain of the healing did not tear your voice more with your screams.” Tysha lifted a violet brow inviting the woman to continue. “When the demon was thrown from you her blade curved and nicked your spine, not clear through there either, but you are paralyzed from the neck down, but we believe that it is healing, it will just take time. Your head is restrained to allow no strain to it.”

**”Trussed like a pig on a spit, got it.”** Her mental voice said, as acrid in tone as any of the times she had dressed down Mirri for being a useless tag along. Who has the last laugh now, who will truly be useless, not just an ungifted little mothers’ baby. She closed her eyes for a moment then looked into the healer’s eyes and lifted a brow again.

“I have been working for weeks on your healing and will continue, this will be the hardest challenge of your life, nothing in your training has prepared you for this, this is a true fight for your life, though the battle to save your life is over, now we work together to save your body.” The priest rose, “We are giving you an healing potion laced with herbs to make you sleep once more, we will lessen those now that you have joined the land to the wakening once more. Rest, next time you wake we will begin to work on gaining your voice back, you have a long journey ahead.”

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And a long journey it had been, months… almost six months… and Tysha still did not have full control of her minor motor skills, she could feed herself, sure, but she could not do anything with more difficulty. Walking and running had come easier and she spent most of every day running through the jungles. At first she had been accompanied because they were afraid she would fall and hurt herself, plus to guard her from trouble that surrounded the camp. Now she could at least, clumsily, use a sword enough to, maybe, not get killed by wildlife.

Standing on a bluff overlooking the waters of the Thousand Needles her eyes traced across the surface, then the cliff faces looking for watchers. She had been here many days in a row now, she was certain if she threw herself off the cliff the impact of the water would kill her, if she didn’t hit an6 of the rocks on the way down to end her before she made a splash.

She had tried stealing enough herbs to make some of her old poisons but it was like Kaestreel could read her mind and just before she got out of the storage with them. After that they watched her closely for over a month and eventually she settled on this new plan, running from the trees at top pace she should be able to pass the higher selves, what a waste it would be to just hit one of those and then brought back to heal again.

Not today though, not today.

Turning around she began the run back to the camp. Once there she was called over, a goblin trader was set up near the entry to the camp, not allowed in, but close enough to let everyone a chance at new wares. One of the guards waved her over, it was one of those warriors she had considered bedding so long ago, now the thought of anyone touching her made her ill, but they had become friends, well they became friends with Aiorise, no one here knew her name and she left it that way.

“I bought you something,” Gamtreal said. “Mother said that your dagger skills need some work, but you need to work on some other things first so here.” The guard, who was easily a thousand years older than Tysh, but she would never admit that, in fact voicing anything about her past wasn’t something she did. More than one in the camp wondered if she couldn’t remember and just didn’t want to admit that… as if that, after everything, was something to worry about. In fact, it was the opposite, she suppressed the knowledge of her past as much as possible and so it was just easier to be the ‘poor Aiorise’ the woman that they had to help learn to walk, dress herself, even bathe herself again.

Gantreal shoved a pad of paper, pencils and pastel chalks into her hands, “Write, draw, do whatever, but start building skills not much else can, especially since you refuse to help it( sewing.” It was half a joke, but not really, after trying it and feeling the pain of the needles poking into her skin to many times she went into a rage and destroyed not only the piece she was working on, but the entire tent that the tailors used to work.

She had been sedated and kept under watch once more, this time not for wanting to kill herself, but for the despondency that the release of the anger heralded. Feeding herself was too much of an effort, cleaning herself was worth nothing, why should she even try? The answer came in the fact that even if she had given up on herself, no one here had and they would do all the could to keep her from being a danger to herself. People came by to talk, joke, share stories, help her, it dawned on her that if she ever wanted peace and quiet again she had to take steps to make these people think she was over that depression and moving forward.

Taking the gifts she frowned. “Knock that look off your face, try it, it will hurt nothing. Elune forbid you find something you might like in this world, maybe if you find that you can start to like yourself better.”

With that the warrior walked away and left her to try and figure out all that was there, sitting on a bench and beginning to run a pencil across the paper. By the end of the day she had created a mixture of colors on the paper that matched the last sky she remembered as a whole person.