Nothing ever comes without a consequence or cost [Aftermath | Closed and open]

[ellrigaeta]

WHO: Lorne, Dain, Tuo and and you! Closed and open prompts
WHAT: Lorne is recovering and receiving some visitors
WHEN: After these events
WHERE: The magistrate's house
NOTES: CW for mentions of corporal punishment and resulting injuries, will add more as needed

A | Dain and Tuo | Closed

After being tended to by Finian and watched over by Colin at the guardhouse, Lorne was able to make it back to the house before too long. His legs are just fine. The only part about walking that's truly painful is the need for clothing when he's outside, so as soon as he's home again the shirt is abandoned. Fortunately and very much thanks to Lance, Lorne has far more welts than cuts, and those will all heal in time.

A nap might be in order, if laying on his stomach weren't uncomfortable, so he settles for dozing and trying to ignore how everything aches.

B | Open

Lorne is going to be home resting for the next few days or more - probably more, if Colin and Finian and the rest of his family have anything to say about it. Lorne is wise enough to know he should listen, even if he can see extraordinary boredom on the horizon. He can't reach enough of his own back to take care of most of the welts, in any case, so he's relying on the assistance of others. It's going to become frustrating without a little distraction, so conversations are welcome where he can get them.

He sneaks out after about a week just to stretch his legs and shake off some of the stir-craziness. Any and all soldiers are avoided.

Comments

A

[shepherddain]

Something's happened. There's a difference in the tension of the garrison, a change in the way the soldiers talk amongst themselves and to passersby. Even on its own, it would be worrying.

Then there's the bragging, and Dain begins avoiding conversations for fear that he won't be able to control his expression. Is this what he has to look forward to, back in Cliffside? Soldiers with no restraint or judgment, fighting a war everywhere but Black Rock? People who do the right thing, punished or executed for their trouble? And Tuo -- Tuo will blame himself for this, once he hears of it.

It could be worse. It could always be worse. Lorne could be dead.

It may not strictly be a Shepherd's duty to look in on the suffering, and Dain may get a few strange looks for it, but he finds he doesn't quite care today. He knocks; opens the door. "Lorne, are you home?"

[ellrigaeta]

Leaving the door unlocked means Lorne doesn't have to get up for anyone who comes to visit, and he suspects no one would attempt to enter the magistrate's house with ill intent. He hears a knock and a familiar voice, shakes off the drowsiness. "Yes, come in," he calls back hoarsely. "Be down in a minute."

Slowly and with a lot of wincing, Lorne carefully rolls to his side, swings his legs to the floor, and stands. Every movement pulls something taut and painful on his back, but if he takes his time then he's not at risk of reopening any of his wounds. It's manageable. He grabs a loose shirt as he leaves his room, debating if it's worth putting on.

Not yet, evidently, since he arrives at the bottom of the stairs shirtless. Lorne's expression is a bit unfocused as he blinks at the Shepherd. "...Dain. I'm--" Surprised. Confused. "...Would you like something to drink?"

Maybe he should put the shirt on now.

[shepherddain]

Well, that's a surprise. For many reasons, not least among them that it's still freezing outside and Dain cannot fathom removing layers even when indoors. That's not, however, the reason he looks for perhaps a bit longer than necessary, before quietly chastising himself -- Lorne's just been flogged.

"No," he manages, "thank you." He won't make Lorne consider the trivialities of being a host when the man is, no doubt, on enforced bedrest. "Although, if you point out where things are -- would you like something to drink?"

[ellrigaeta]

It is cold, that hasn't escaped Lorne's notice. Right now the choice is between being a bit chilly and having anything more than the lightest of cloth on his back, and the former is definitely winning. The house is warm enough that he's not actively freezing, and the kitchen is even warmer. Briefly he considers rejecting the offer, insisting he's capable of doing it himself, but that's pride speaking. The less he needs to reach and bend, the better.

"There's tea," Lorne says, gesturing towards the kitchen. Alcohol might be nice but Lorne prefers to keep his wits about him, even if it might dull the pain. A kettle is already set out near the hearth; cups are easily available on shelves and Lorne indicates the pantry and a box of tea. Dain's still very welcome to have some too.

The chair he sits in is turned around so he can spare his back. Lorne drops into it wearily, arms resting across the top with the rumpled shirt for a bit of extra cushioning. "...Thank you. For the help." Beat. "I wasn't expecting to see you."

[shepherddain]

In the end, Dain does set down two cups. There's enough water in the kettle for several, and it seems a pity to waste it.

He laughs, in reply to Lorne's observation, a short huff of a thing that passes quickly. "Understandably," he says dryly. "I can't help but feel partially responsible -- and even if I'm not, I was involved. I don't want to turn a blind eye."

Ironic, perhaps, given Lorne has seen Dain turning the blindest eye to ever blind, but Dain lets the sentiment hang in the air regardless.

With the kettle on its way to boiling, Dain turns his full attention on Lorne, considering. "Do you mind if I take a look?" he asks, gesturing around the chair at Lorne's back.

[ellrigaeta]

"You helped keep it from getting any more serious," Lorne points out. He's too tired to spend much time on the subject of responsibility, and it does sound as though Dain is self-aware enough to know where blame truly lies.

At that question, Lorne gives Dain another bemused look, and nods shortly after. He's not ashamed of his wounds or how he came by them, and he doesn't want pity. "Go ahead."

Reddened welts stand out angrily from his skin still, some of them fading to darker colors of bruising. Most of the strikes landed between or just below his shoulders, not enough to mar his entire back. The cuts he sustained are numerous but already starting to close, and nothing actively bleeds. He's a mess, but a healing one.

[shepherddain]

They are not the first such wounds Dain has seen, which helps a little with his initial reaction. It's different, always different, when the victim is not a stranger. He stands behind Lorne, one hand in the air as though he had an arrested thought of touching the angry red welts, a thought which never fully makes it to consciousness.

Damn. If only there were something more he could do. He can't, he knows that -- even were it safe to choose a side, it certainly wouldn't do Lorne or the village any favours -- but still, the wish exists.

With his initial emotions acknowledged and set aside, Dain looks over Lorne's back with a more objective eye. "Not as bad as it could be," he concludes, surprised. "I didn't think the commander would pull any punches."

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne waits patiently, gaze on the plain wooden table in front of him. No sense in turning and causing himself more pain. Dain's words are mercifully empty of an apology or melancholy.

"He wouldn't have. Captain Lance interceded," Lorne says, a touch gruffly. He closes his eyes for a moment. Lance couldn't stay his hand too much, or Brickenden wouldn't be satisfied. It had hurt Lance immensely to do this to Lorne, and Lorne still doesn't have an idea of how to balm that kind of wound. "Probably saved my life. It was this or the commander was going to empty the winter stores for the whole village."

Fury sharpens the edge of Lorne's tone at the ruthlessness of that man. Not all the soldiers are like him, not all worth scorn, but this particular fire is unlikely to go out.

[shepherddain]

Lance. Dain drops his hand, relieved; that certainly explains it. It must have worked, as well, because the commander doesn't strike Dain as the type of person who would wait so long to follow through on a threat, if he was left unsatisfied.

"You're a very singular type of man," he murmurs, moving back towards the kettle. "Not many people would have made that choice, much less be able to endure it. And... not many people would have defended Tuo, either."

B obv

[strumpeting]

One day, at some point during recovery, the door bursts open as an absolutely devastated Elena rushes in, lute slung over her shoulder as usual. What were you doing there Lorne? Nah, no, doesn't matter, this is your current problem.

She rushes over to wherever he is and grabs his head in her hands, eyes full of concern.

"I heard about what happened! Some of the soldiers told me, and honestly they seemed distraught about it too. Or maybe they were upset I just took all their money. Regardless, I came as fast as I could! How are you?"

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne is currently reading in the kitchen, sitting backwards in a chair, when Elena storms in unannounced. Thankfully he can now wear a loose shirt with only minor discomfort so he isn't half-naked when she finds him and takes his head in her hands. Which is a thing she does, for some reason.

For a few moments he can only blink at her in confusion; they've interacted all of once. "Healing," he answers honestly after a moment. Lorne starts to reach up and remove her hands and winces when it pulls something taut - not painful, but close enough to stay further motion. He drops his arms again. It would be awkward to bleed right now. "You could have knocked you know," Lorne adds wryly.

[strumpeting]

"What? Oh, I guess so." She removes her hands from his face, though, at his flinch. Because her attention is now directed to his flogged back. To her credit, she keeps her hands to herself on this one, but it certainly doesn't stop her from walking around him to face his back.

"How much does it hurt?"

That's a stupid fucking question but she actually seems sincere about it.

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne might be more uncomfortable with Elena attempting to examine his back if he hadn't already been on display for everyone in attendance at his flogging. Her concern is a touch baffling, but she's here and telling her to leave would be unnecessarily rude.

"It's not so bad if I stay still." The shirt he's wearing is thin and covers the worst of his injuries but there's some bruising visible at the top of his shoulders where the wide neckhole exposes skin. Trying to lift the cloth to show the rest is more effort than it's worth right now. "Which family and friends have been insistent I do," Lorne says, faintly grumbling. He gestures to the book in front of him. "The boredom is fast becoming worse than the pain."

[strumpeting]

She circles back in front of Lorne and gives a sympathetic sigh, shaking her head. Before her eyes light up like a candle of inspiration.

"Well, I can help with that! Of course I can help with that!" In one fluid motion she swings her lute from her back right around into her hands in perfect playing position. Waggling her eyebrows she gives a wide grin. "Nothing like music to pass the time!"

[ellrigaeta]

Does Elena ever slow down? Lorne arches an eyebrow at her, but since she seems so intent on providing entertainment and-or cheering him up there's probably no stopping her now.

"Sure, why not. I'm not going anywhere," he replies, gesturing for her to begin. Maybe it'll ease some of the worry for others in the house, too, if they hear it.

[strumpeting]

That's probably one of the first times anyone in this town has been willing to listen to her play. But of course it doesn't register to her, everyone obviously wants to hear her play!

So she begins a soft, slow tune with lulling arpeggios and a contemplative chord structure. Slowly, so naturally it's hard to tell when it even started, her voice joins in. It winds and weaves over the lute's music, sometimes taking point and other times a clear accompaniment to her deft fingers.

However, once she begins to sing, Lorne might notice a change: the pain slowly vanishing from his mind until suddenly it's as if it doesn't exist at all. Or maybe he'll just be wrapped up in the music. Anyone in hearing range may also feel any pains of their relieved, like they've forgotten they had pain in the first place.

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne meant what he said when he first met Elena: she's talented. All of her other eccentricities and brashness aside, she is a bard for a reason. With little else to keep his mind off his injuries, and all his focus on her, he barely notices the pain melting away. It happens so slowly that it is easy to assume he's just wrapped up in the music.

Whatever the reason, Lorne doesn't lend it conscious thought. He's too grateful for any relief from pain to look closely. Some of the stiffness in his posture relaxes, and though he doesn't properly smile there's definite appreciation in his expression.

B because I hog all ur threads

[matkalainen]

It is on one of Lorne's solitary sojourns out into the street that his paths cross with the friendly neighbourhood itinerant skald again, who must be on his way back to the stables if the large grey carthorse ambling along at the end of a lead rope is any indication. He clicks his tongue at her to coax her to a stop, rests a hand on her broad neck, and then smiles curiously at Lorne.

"I would not have expected to see you up and about so soon," he says by way of greeting, "but I am glad of it nonetheless. How are you fairing?"

:B

[ellrigaeta]

As Tuo does not have familial leverage to insist he return home, Lorne doesn't attempt to divert his path when he spots the skald. His stride is still shortened and posture stiff, which is at least partially a matter of clothing on his back, but it feels good to get outside. Even if it is still freezing.

"As well as can be expected, I think. I needed to get out of the house for a little while," Lorne explains, stopping in front of the horse and her master. "I'm not accustomed to my entire family keeping a rotating watch on me," he says with some amusement, then lifts a hand up towards the horse. "May I?"

It's only good manners to ask to touch her rather than assume he has permission. Assuming the horse gives him permission, too.

[matkalainen]

It is indeed good manners, and Tuo regards that proffered hand approvingly. Drolly, he replies, "I believe that is up to Malta." That must be the horse's name, for one of her ears gives a curious flick then. She leans forward to press her soft, velvety nose against Lorne's hand, giving it a curious sniff.

"I believe she approves of you," Tuo decides, "or at least, whatever it is that you had for breakfast."

[ellrigaeta]

"I shall endeavor to bring her some next time, if it's horse-appropriate." And barring that, maybe some grain borrowed from Rooster and Sooty. Making nice with the village animals was hardly a bad idea. He strokes her nose gently, mindful if she moves suddenly away or to lip overenthusiastically at his fingers.

"Did you finally finish that saga for Widow Lacy?"

[matkalainen]

Malta's behaviour is rather predictable, if one is much familiar with horses and their preferences. The only slightly odd thing about her is her right eye, which is clouded over and clearly blind.

Tuo strokes a hand from her withers down the side of her neck soothingly, then peers at Lorne with a peculiar little smile at his question. "You have a sharp memory," he observes. Then, shaking his head, "Not as yet. While I am prone to the occasional bit of embellishment--" and there his smile grows sly, because that's an understatement, "--I wasn't exaggerating. I expect I shall still be reciting the thing for her come springtime."

A pause, before he taps his chin with a slim finger and peers at Lorne, thoughtful and askance. "Have you heard Stig's saga before? It is quite the tale, albeit not one I could hope to get through in a single sitting."

[ellrigaeta]

Lorne has learned to pay close attention to details, in case they become important later on. That whole visit was worth paying attention to.

"Can't say I have." More often he's reading. He strokes along Malta's muzzle and up to her cheek on the side where she can see. It pinches less to reach at that angle than it did a few days ago, which he'll take as a win. "What is it about?"

[matkalainen]

"Really? Well, I suppose that is not unexpected. He would not have been viewed as a hero this far south." All this mused aloud pensively; Tuo may be one of the only people in the village to view Northcliff Pass as being 'south' of anywhere, but then again, he's clearly not from around here.

He waves a hand, dismissive of his own navel-gazing. "What is any saga truly about? Family, honour, heroism, a great deal of killing--how else do you hold the interest of children?" He smiles, amused. "But this one I find unusual for its ending, for Stig died rather ignobly by the standards of his age. He died for love, you see."

[ellrigaeta]

Tuo gets a slightly arched eyebrow for referring to this area as 'south', and Lorne makes a mental note to check any maps his father has.

"I can think of far worse and far stupider things to die for," he says after a moment. If his glance drifts towards the soldiers' encampment, he does not choose to voice those thoughts. "Not a happy ending, but perhaps a satisfying one." Though Lorne is hardly an expert in the art of storytelling, so what he considers satisfying may be lacking flourish. "It sounds like an interesting story. Is there a short version?"