After flying and taking about five breaks to catch their breath, Bremira, Samuel, and the stranger made it back to the herbal shop in one piece. Bremira and Samuel decided it was best to check on the man first. They had made so many stops that Bremira was worried that he might be at the edge of death. They brought the man to a small room with an examination table at the center. They lit a few gas candles lining the walls and got to work.
"Alright, we need to remove his clothes." Bremira voice was raspy from all the yelling that had occurred.
Samuel gave a quizzical look.
"Not all, we can leave his undergarments on. We just need to get rid of the top layer, it most likely making it harder for him to breath."
Samuel nodded and rubbed his wounded arm. He had been quiet since the incident. Bremira had noticed; she was worried. She had been thinking of whether she could handle this on her own and let him tend to his injuries and sleep or if she needed him. She wasn't really sure what to expect with this stranger. Bremira squeezed her eyes shut before speaking.
"Do you think you can handle your cuts on your own?"
"Yes but-" he began to retort before bremira cut him off.
"Go. I'll yell for you if I need your help."
Samuel stood silently looking at her for any sign that she didn't want him to go, that she didn't want to be left in the room with a man who he worried could pop up and attack her at any given moment; despite the man's physical state. but her resolve firm and she showed no emotion other than the weary tired look on her face. So he left the room without a fight. Bremira sighed then looked at the man. She would probably have to be up all night making sure nothing bad happened to him. She got to work removing his clothes. in the light, of the room, it was clear that his clothes hadn't originally been this muddy color. The texture was that of dry chalky dirt. but she could tell that his clothes were silk.
Only kings wear silk here, you really aren't from here, are you? She thought to her self.
She struggled to remove his poncho and scarfs wrapped around his face, it didn't help that he smelled like a rotting corpse. Once she finally stripped him down to his shirt and pants she got a good look at him. His black hair was fairly long and matted; some sections of his hair were turning into dreadlocks. It was messy and smeared with things she couldn't even begin to identify. his face wasn't any better. He had an awkward-looking beard and mustache covered in the same mysterious substances as his hair. He probably looked better without it. His caramel skin was etched with cuts, scars, and blisters probably from the heat of the desert. She began wondering how long he had been out there. Days? Months? God, maybe even years. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Then she noticed something else very odd about him. Patches of his skin were different shades from his caramel tone. It was white, as white as hers. A strangely shaped white patch covered his right eye and eyebrow. His right eyebrow was as white as snow. She noticed another covering half his neck that reached past his collarbone and under his shirt to hide from her wandering eyes. More on his arms and the white skin seemed to overtake his hands aside from random blotches of his normal skin that dotted his hands like splattered paint.
She had never seen anything like it before. She'd have to try and ask him when he woke up. She thought that maybe the white eyebrow meant that he could be an older man but there wasn't any other white hair to be seen. Even with the beard and mustache, he didn't look like he was even 30 let alone 50. He had no wrinkles and his body was that of an active adult man, not an old man. She looked at him, he lay in front of her like a work of art, a smelly gross work of art but once she was able to handle the major injuries and clean him up he was probably stunning. But right now he looked like...
Bremira turned hearing the floor squeak near the doorless doorway. Samuel's head popped in. She noticed he looked much better then he did when he left. He took a bite out of a carrot he was holding and looked over at the man.
"Wow, he looks like shit."
"Yeah, he does, doesn't he?" She chuckled.
"How's your arm?"
"Feels better. I'll definitely feel it in the morning; had to stitch it." He mumbled with a mouth full of carrot.
"I'm impressed you did that by yourself. Your eyes look a little red, did you cry?" Bremira teased
"Screw you, I have an amazing pain tolerance."
Bremira scoffed and rolled her eyes amused.
"Anyways, do you need my help?"
"Nah, it's nothing serious. Luckily just have some cuts to disinfect and give him some lotion for the blisters. He was just way too hot out there and needed to cool down and breathe. Might also give him a wash, he's absolutely filthy." Bremira analyzed the man below her making a mental list of things she needed to treat him.
Samuel raised his eyebrows at the last comment. "You really have no shame, do you? You're just going to bath him and see his-"
"It's my job, you know that. I've had to bath men in the past, this won't be any different."
"Well if you need me just wake me up then. If he does anything scream and I'll get the big knife."
He took a final bite out of his carrot.
"I'm sure it'll be fine he's out cold, I don't think much will wake him." She said poking his cheek.
Samuel shrugged and walked out of the room tossing his carrot stub into the garbage by the door.
"Compost," Bremira shouted.
A loud groan came from the other room as he went and grabbed the carrot to throw into the compost.
Bremira sighed and rolled up her sleeves.
"Alright, pal. Just you and me. Let's go."
A bath, a trim, and a lotion up later, and Bremira was on the brink of passing out. Maybe she should have asked Samuel to help her after all but, she didn't have the heart to wake him up and ask. She had wanted to look over the man's book and brush up on some Advich but she was so sore, tired, and ready to let the dark morning whisk her away into dreamland. She slouched low in her chair next to the examination table, her tired black wings sinking down to the floor. She gave one last look at her handy work. She would have laughed if she wasn't so tired. Head to toe he was slathered in lotion. His hair looked a little tamer since she tried washing it and trimmed a bit off his hair and facial hair. She mainly just cut parts with grime stuck in it that she couldn't get out through washing it. A few times it seemed like he might wake up in the bath, luckily he didn't or she wouldn't even begin to know how to explain herself in her language let alone his. He had plenty of large scars covering his toned body, scars that didn't seem like anything a person could inflict. His scars told an unreadable story of horror. She had so many questions, with how excited she was to ask him she was amazed she was tired at all. But sure enough, she soon slipped into a dreamless sleep.
_____
The man jolted out from his sleep in a cold sweat, dreams of drowning in sand, Sandmaidens, calling him back to them with their melodies that could drive any man insane. Their empty wide eye sockets filled with black sand; their mouths filled with rows of wet black teeth smiling at him as they dragged him lower into hell where he knew he belonged. Singing his sins to him as they descended. He blinked and gasped for air, tears stinging his eyes as he came back to reality. He stared at the ceiling above him. It took him a minute to realize that that was a ceiling and not the unforgiving desert that always greeted him with blisters and burns in the morning. No, this was brown wood. He struggled to remember the last thing he did before he passed out.
He remembered that he had thought he saw a mountain range but when he got closer there were giant thorns walled up from as far across both ways as he could see. He thought maybe those damned imps fuckers were giving him another mirage to watch him have a delusional breakdown again. He would have bitten their heads off and cooked them for dinner if they had ever got close enough. He had been so hungry.
His stomach rumbled.
He was still hungry.
He decided it was time to figure out where he was and if he needed to run away. He sat up and looked at his surroundings. He was in a small little quaint room, there was a window across from with the early morning sun shining it's rays down onto the floor. One of the walls had shelves top to bottom filled with jars of herbs. He recognized many, they were medicinal. He could hear birds chirping outside and the calm atmosphere made his body automatically relax yet his mind was still very on edge though. He had gotten comfortable once a long time in a very similar place only to find a cult had taken him in, it took days to get out of that one.
The next thing he noticed was that he was not wearing his awful, scratchy, gross clothes, he was wrapped in a towel on his lower body and a blanket; then that he was covered in a white substance, he began to panic until he realized it was just lotion. He really began to worry that a cult had picked him up again until he noticed a girl slumped over in a chair next to his bed. He jumped until he realized she was asleep. She was drooling a little and the position she was in was unflattering. She had cuts on her face with dried blood. Her hair was in a messy frizzy braid with strands sticking out everywhere.
"Wow she looks like shit." he muttered.
Messy hair; mostly black except for a few her roots that had grown out that was an orangish-red. He could tell she dyed her hair. He always liked red-heads; they had fire for hair, he didn't know why she'd cover it. He saw freckles that decorated her face like sprinkles on a pastry with long dark lashes. He decided that she looked dorkier then shitty actually; she was probably a catch cleaned up. He looked lower at her tattered clothes and then he saw it. Large wings as black as night that from the ground led back to her. He was astonished. He has seen demons and monsters but this was by far was the most amazing thing he had ever come across.
The Airborn. He finally found them.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
