From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
With the hard work done and a little request to Isla to meet her back at the clinic, the streets are bustling as Asta wades his way through. It’s sunset, the violet and golden rays of the sun starting to vanish, coating the street with hues of flickering lights and a beautiful golden glow. He’d been a bit delayed, but he arrives fashionably late, as Danta would affectionately call it.
Pushing through the door, Asta’s cane clicks against the floor, knowing it was likely too late to have many other visitors this time of night (especially if she’d just arrived from working on the bar with him), so he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair as the bell chimes when the door closes, a small bag held alongside the cane joins him in the clinic (the likely reason he’s late). “Sincerest apologies for being late, Isla, dear.” He offers, flashing her that sharp grin again as he drifts further in, going wherever it is she directs him to.
Isla leans out from the doorway back into the consultation room, offering her fellow Ancient a polite and welcoming smile. She's barely had the opportunity to change out of the clothes she'd worn to fix up the bar, but at least she does look the part of medic once more, her fair hair in a loose bun and a light blouse tucked into a darker skirt.
"No need to apologise," she continues, gesturing for him to come on through. "There aren't any more scheduled appointments today, and it isn't as though I live far away. I can lock up as soon as we're finished here."
Providing it suits him, she'll lead them to the consultation room - an airy space currently bathed gold from the sunset streaming in through the windows. "You said you wanted to see me about something?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
The grin remains and a huff of a sound leaves him akin to a chuckle as he drifts further into the clinic. The cane taps against the floor, the bag swishing a little with the movement as he does follow her directions. “That is a fair point.” He offers, recalling her beautiful home he’d shared tea with her in as the second person he’d officially met since coming back from stone.
“There is, yes.” He pauses, stepping into the gilded room, finding a space to set aside the cane and the bag, to begin to unbutton the nice dark satin shirt he wears. “I sustained an injury to my shoulder and it just doesn’t appear to want to heal.” He explains, shrugging out of the shirt with zero qualms, body a wreck of scar tissue and deep carved gouges of old scars as he turns back to her to sit where she directs him. “I was hoping you might have some insight?”
And yes, it absolutely is the bite Danta had given him, scabbed and not healing well, likely due to the movement he constantly puts it under. As it stands, it’s certainly a bite, the teeth shape visible in the scabbing.
Stepping away as Astaroth puts down his belongings and makes himself comfortable, Isla is already preparing medicines and tonics and other solutions as he explains, the Remedy frowning softly. "An injury that doesn't want to heal, in a place I'm sure would be affected by all that heavy lifting I just saw you doing? I'm flummoxed, truly." Her tone is dry but her smile is audible, and Isla glances over her shoulder to apologise for teasing, only to be promptly silenced by the map of vicious scar tissue that marks his torso.
It's the kind of thing that doesn't seem to belong on the body of the unassuming gentleman who had walked into her clinic - and nor does the injury, for that matter - but ever the professional, Isla doesn't comment. "Let's take a look. Let me know if I'm hurting you at any point, alright?"
Stepping forward, with Astaroth's permission, Isla will examine the bite wound, angry and red and refusing to heal - and deep enough, really, that it should have probably gotten a couple of stitches days ago. "My insight thus far is that you're well on the way to a nasty infection if we don't do something about it."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
Humming another deep laugh, he inclines his head to concede. “I have an unfortunate tendency to forget about it, until it begins to bleed through my favorite shirts.” He admits with a dramatic sigh, as if that’s that worst thing that’s happened. Either way, he steps over and settles into the chair, lips still twisted into a small smile as he watches her get close to inspect it. “Of course.” He doubts she could hurt him, though, he feels it unnecessary to admit it.
She begins her inspection, though, and Asta’s head tilts to the side away from it to offer her all of the room she needs. Beneath the bite, rivers and canals of other scars weave along his skin. “Ah, how miserable.” Astaroth murmurs, his dark gaze watching her from the edge of his vision. “What do we intend to do about it?” He asks curiously – given that medicine was absolutely nowhere near his forte.
"Lucky you came to see me, else it would have made its presence very known when you were passing out from blood poisoning," Isla says with a scrunch of her nose, gently pressing at the area around the bite where - as well as the rivulets of scar tissue she can feel - she can tell that it's bruised to the bone as well. "Quite so," she agrees of his analysis of the situation - miserable indeed.
If she'd known him better, Isla might have waved him off and pretended there was nothing to be done, and that this is the end of the line for the great Astaroth. Alas, maybe next time. "Normally it would be a thorough cleaning of this wound and a strong course of medicine, and demanding that you rest until it looks better." She knows, she knows - miserable.
"Luckily for us, this is Torchline, and I have a little trick up my sleeve." There's still some fountain water leftover from the tournament, and Isla withdraws to collect it. "This should clean out the infection at least, and heal it enough that you can get by."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“Oh, is that all?” Asta drawls, his grin returning in its too sharp nature – excluding the fangs given by his shift to becoming an Ancient. The grin remains, even as she pokes and prods, hiding it the best he can as his nostrils flare a little as she presses onto the bruise. He takes a slow inhale of breath as she explains the process though, and he listens quite dutifully as she speaks. “Sounds like a riveting adventure.” There’s sarcasm in his tone, only to have him perk up the second that she steps away and mentions the trick up her sleeve.
Dark eyes track her movement as she collects it, nodding ever so slightly. “Ah, I do love tricks.” He hums a bit playfully, squinting at her with that same air of humor. “Especially when it has its benefits.” He remains quite still, before his lips twitch a little and he starts to muse. “A shame we didn’t have this back in the Climb when I first arrived.” How he might have gotten through his weeks of suffering with far more ease than he had.
05-12-2024, 07:45 PM (This post was last modified: 05-12-2024, 07:45 PM by Isla.)
Isla
"As do I, and athough I'm usually loathe to substitute magic for good old fashioned medicine, even I have to admit that this stuff is a lifesaver." Dousing a clean cloth with the healing water, Isla steps back to Astaroth and leans in to carefully clean the bite mark with it. "This is from a healing fountain in Torchline," she explains, for his benefit. "The water only works within the region, but if you need it while you're here, you can always go there."
Again, a lifesaver on more than one occasion.
His remark about The Climb has her eyebrows raising, even as her focus remains on the wound on his shoulder. "I assume that's where these are from?" she ventures gently, nodding at the rest of his scars. "You don't have to talk about it, of course. But if any of them still cause pain, you could always try some of the water on them."
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
Astaroth nods, listening to the explanation before he tilts his head again – this time allowing the smile to fade into something smaller, tugging on the corner of his lips as his eyes close. The water is cool against his skin and a muscle flares in his jaw as he feels it work down to the bruising by the bone, before making its way through the rest of the wounds, the scabs starting to heal and the infection burning out. “Quite good to know.” Perhaps next time he decides to have a late night rendezvous with the Maverick here in the region, he’ll make sure a flask of it is on hand.
She continues to clean and his eyes remain closed, feeling the infection and wound start to knit back together, having little to no qualms distracting himself over the idea of his previous wounds. “You would assume correctly.” He starts to say before he snorts a little. “No pain, thankfully. The gore crows did quite a number on my nerve endings.” A brief explanation, before his eyes open and slip over toward her as she works.
Falling quiet to concentrate, Isla does a predictably thorough job at cleaning the wound, watching the healing water work its magic as she goes. By the time she's finished the remaining injury is still striking and bruised, but shallow enough that it ought to heal well by itself. "Alright, let me just put a dressing on this, and you're probably good to go." She smiles, retreating to gather her supplies as he continues to talk about The Climb.
"Gore crows did that?" Hissing in a breath, it's with an entirely academic wince that she turns back to Asta, knowing well the path from laceration to scar and everything in between that even one of the marks would have had to take. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."
Returning to his side, it's with a small amount of gauze and some ointment that she goes about dressing the wound, ensuring it won't rub or catch or open up again - at least for a few hours.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“Wonderful.” He hums with every second of gratitude for her help with it – content that the bone deep pain would no longer remain. Not that it had been too bad to deal with for him, but it had been enough to make him feel stiff and sore, an ache that made it difficult to sleep if he accidentally ended up laying on it.
But he talks of the Climb and gore crows, and he can tell there’s some amount of intrigue, even as she apologizes and he offers a wave of his hand to shake his head. “Don’t be. It was my own fault.” He hums, offering a gentle smile to ensure she knows he means it. “Though, perhaps if you harbor a gore crow shift, ensure I’m nowhere to be found if you use it.” Far easier to joke about traumas than it was to endure it, Astaroth’s sharp grin returns as she nears him to dress the wound, bandaging it up. And when she’s finished, he feels like a new man, with a slow craving growing in his stomach.
Ignoring it for the moment, he makes to slip off the chair, drawing to his full height with a sigh of relief, he steps over toward his items and collects the bag, before returning and standing in front of her to hand it out to her. “A token of thanks, for being a wonderful medic.” He inclines his head and waits for her to open it.
It’s a bit of a throw back from when they’d met – a gift collected in the shop that she’d been debating a dress that she eventually bought. And within it, another dress that he thinks she might appreciate – an airy thing, of pale white and seafoam green, soft and delicate and stunning in ways that he thinks might bring out the blue of her gaze from the gold of her hair.
05-12-2024, 08:20 PM (This post was last modified: 05-12-2024, 08:20 PM by Isla.)
Isla
"Own fault or not, I can still be sorry that you had to endure it," Isla informs him, though she doesn't press the matter further. Instead, appreciative of his heads up, the Remedy inclines her head in a nod. "As it happens, that is one of my shifts, so I'll be sure to keep it under lock and key around you unless it's an emergency." You know, one she might have to fly out of.
Asta gets to his feet and Isla cleans up her equipment, putting things away and ensuring there's nothing she's missed before turning back to him - and seeming shocked to see the gift held out for her. "Oh, that-- you didn't need to do that," she says with a warm smile, though the duchess in her knows not to refuse a gift. And as it happens, the gentleman butcher at her shoulder has an eye for taste, Isla's eyes lighting up as she withdraws the dress to hold it up.
"This is beautiful," she breathes. "Thank you so much. But whatever would you have done if I had been a terrible medic?"
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
“In that instance, I could entirely understand.” He admits with a soft little chuckle, because gods knew he’d do whatever it took to get out of a spot of danger, even if he went a little haywire later. For now, though, no gore crows to be found, and his arm feeling leagues better than it had while he’d worked on rebuilding the bar, stepping back up to her before he slips his shirt back on in order to offer her gift of thanks.
He inclines his head a little – because he knows he didn’t have to, but it was polite if she was doing him a favor (especially coming in after hours to look at only him. It was fair, wasn’t it?)
His sharp toothed smile widens as she reveals the dress within the bag, satisfied with her reaction of it to the point that the butcher chuckles when Isla asks an important question, one that has him squinting with a teasing lilt of his grin. “Well, then I suppose I would have had to save it for Flora’s grand re-opening?” Bouncing a brow playfully, he turns from her to collect his shirt, slipping it back on to begin buttoning it up. “Though I would have worried it would have given the wrong impression.” Courting, perhaps.
Opening one of the cabinets with a mirror built into it, Isla admires the dress for a few moments as Asta turns to put his shirt back on, finally folding it and carefully putting it back into the bag. "Oh I see," she trills to him, and were it not for his follow up remark, she'd likely have made the same assumption as well. "What a happy coincidence that I managed to do a good enough job for you today, then," she says, closing the cabinet door and flashing a fanged smile over his shoulder.
"Hopefully we'll see you at the grand reopening regardless? It only seems fair since you had a hand in rebuilding the place. I'm hoping perhaps I'll have someone to bring along anyway, providing he's back in the region by then." Everest sends regular letters, but that doesn't really give any solid timescale. But anyway.
"Come on, I'll walk you out," Isla invites - she can blow out all the lanterns and lock the clinic at the same time.
passing by, you light up my darkest skies you take only seconds to draw me in
