played it so nonchalant
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#1
MELITA
The firebrand had waited for the sickness to go away on its own – as most were want to do – trying to force it out of sight, out of mind, despite trembling hands and clammy skin, a complete, utter loss of appetite that left her dizzy. Her movements were no longer light, but sluggish, barely comprised of any exultation, any joy, the energy and exuberance robbed of her figure, gilded eyes dulled to barely-alive embers. It raked over her lungs from time to time, and the quivering, shaky measures of her limbs had left her without the ability to summon her bow, to straighten out a taut string.

Perhaps now it was wise to go to the Infirmary.

She’d never been before. Melita had somehow managed to avoid particularly jarring wounds, despite constant exploits into treachery, danger, or training; the worst might’ve been a sprained ankle that mended without assistance in due time. The youth hoped, dreamed, that there might’ve been some miracle, medical cure along the mending, assuaging roots, and she’d leave, perfectly fine, ready to conquer the world again.

Slow, lacking her flares and fervency, Fangorn kept pace beside her, eerie stare glancing her over meticulously, as if searching for a root cause for all the peculiarities. The girl was usually a hardy figure, capable of slashes, of lacerations, of swings from her mighty staff, but it looked drained from her soul, from her essence, with every labored step she took towards the ward.

At some point, dragging the furs over her shoulders to keep the chill off her bones, she managed to make it to the back of the temple, twisting the door open with the still, impetuous measures, not bothering to knock. Her gaze, a little wild, a little untamed, a little savage, followed lines and rooms, and raised her voice to shout over the seemingly empty expanse. “Anyone here?”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#2
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
Melita was in luck, for the Infirmary was not so empty as it seemed. Her call echoed in the space, but the first sign of life was not a human - but a pink dragon. Pim's head, now blocky and large, imposing with silvery horns newly sprouted, popped up from behind one of the beds that lined the walls. His pink gaze fixed on Melita, predatory and fierce, even when not particularly intending to be. For you see, unlike his smaller kith that roamed the Hollowed Grounds, Pim was quite large (relatively). He rose, claws clicking against the stone as he came around the bed to stand in the walkway. His shoulders were about hip high on Melita, his head rising up somewhere just below her chest. But even without the immense size of dragons in lore, Pim was still imposing - what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk, his limbs thick, belly paunched muscle that rippled beneath pink scales.

The dragonling watched the honeybee girl for a moment more, eyes flitting to the gourd at her feet, a low growl a warning for the little creature, before he turned and lumbered to the back, disappearing through a doorway. Shortly after, Phoebe appeared there, pink dragon at her side.

"Oh! Melita, hello." Phoebe said softly to her. She too was wrapped in layers, unseasonably heavy sweaters making her appear even smaller than usual, her skin pale and dark circles beneath her eyes a stark contrast to her usually sunny disposition. "Please come in, are you hurt?"
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#3
MELITA
If Pim thought to scare her, he’d come to threaten the wrong individual – Melita, born in the regions of the Dragon’s Throat, giving rise to legends of those who breathed flame and instigated acrimony. Instead, she was suitably impressed with his growing size, tilting her head a fraction in quiet study and perusal, appreciative hums under her breath. Fangorn wasn’t to be daunted either, raising his own hackles and growls, sneers and hisses, back at the fledgling, despite being much smaller. “Hello Pim,” the honeybee youth muttered on a puff of air, on a whim, before the beast turned, lumbering away. And if Pim was there, that meant Phoebe-

Who appeared quickly thereafter, wrapped in layers, perhaps affected by the cold and chill as well. “Hi Phoebe,” she murmured with a delicate smile and a vicious lack of exuberance, dragging herself in further while Fangorn hovered at her ankles, clingier than usual, eerie eyes twisting back to the healer. “Not hurt,” shrugging, shaking her head from side to side, no sing-song on her lips, no display of enthusiasm; worn, drawn, exhausted. “I just don’t feel well.” She curled back into her furs, draping them further over her form. “Normally when I get sick, it doesn’t take long for me to recover. But this has been weeks and I’m not getting better.”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#4
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
Oh, if Pim had intended to really scare, it would have been very clear. He wasn’t the most subtle of creatures to ever walk the face of Caido. Instead he trilled his greeting to Melita as he lumbered off.

Phoebe noticed right away Melita’s lack of exuberance and vibrancy, much like she herself had lacked her usual demeanor. The blonde patted Pim’s head as he stood at Phoebe’s side, her lips curving in a slight frown as Melita explained what was wrong. Her mind of course immediately went to the blight – it was the only illness she knew of that was spreading at the moment. ”Well, let’s take a look at you then. Take a seat on one of the beds…if it is alright I will take a small draw of your blood to examine.” she said to her, opening a cabinet to get what she needed.

”Have your hands been trembling at all?”
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#5
MELITA
Ordinarily, the youth would’ve been a spiraling cavalcade of movement, motion, and wild, untamed demeanors; this version of Melita was a bizarre, strange thing, irregular, and she had no explanation for it. Head hanging low, for she lacked the energy to even raise it upwards, she followed Phoebe’s directions and dragged herself over to one of the beds, clinging to the spread and lifting her frame on its sanction. Fangorn dutifully followed, his enigmatic gaze shifting along the young healer’s movements. A soft sigh, a crackling breath, ghosted from Melita’s mouth, and her gilded eyes, lacking any sense of determination, kindling, or provocation, were sad, less demonstrative pinnacles, watching Phoebe for a few moments before shifting along her hanging feet. “You can,” she obliged a blood sample, raising her arm to slide her sleeve up, giving Phoebe access. The youth likely had far more damaging wounds, and those had been granted without permission.

At the other woman’s inquiry though, her head raised up a fraction, tilting, as if pondering how or why she’d known of such symptoms – proffering her hands, watching them shake, tremble, and undulate before her, as they’d done so many times over the past couple of weeks. “Yes. It started in the Cloisters,” a mumble, confusion, distracted in the ignorance of her follies.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#6
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
Phoebe waa glad Melita agreed, knowing that this would be the easiest way to tell. The taint of the blight was painfully visible in the blood stream, so it was a surefire diagnosis. She came over with her needle and vial, setting the latter on the small bedside table before moving to the proffered arm. As gently as she could she inserted the needle and drew just enough to get a clear view of it. But even before it was in the vial, she sighed. Blight. Plain as day.

The blonde still put the contents of the needle in the vial, lifting it to show Melita the oily looking substance intermixed with her blood. "This is the blight. The same one that infected the Greatwood. I'm sorry to say you've been infected like Ronin and I." she said, breaking the news as gently as she could. Phoebe set the vial down then sat on the bed directly across from her. "The most noticable symptom is trembling hands. But you might also struggle with sleep or staying warm...or being too hot too. You might also develop a faint earthy smell and mood swings which...can be very aggressive." she said with a knowing sigh.
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#7
MELITA
Melita didn’t expect anything other than some ridiculous sickness, one of those that lingered and lingered, incapable of being combatted until she received the right medicine. Ordinarily she wasn’t even bothered, but this one remained, chiseled its way into her chest and her lungs, her head and her flesh, noting she’d ever had before. Her eyes lifted to watch Phoebe and the vial, tilting her cranium, waiting for some reaction, some modicum of reassurance that everything would be fine, and she’d just need to take some herbs for a couple days –

This is the blight reamed against her mind and she blinked, stupefied, bewildered. There was a reeling notion that somehow this was a mistake, but Phoebe knew because she had it too, and it was the illness striking, slaying upon Ronin, and this couldn’t be real, she hadn’t done anything to catch it –

Except beat up a vampire gourd infected with the pestilence.

Maybe it’d somehow tainted her when she was hit by vines, when she was grabbed, before Ludo could free her from its coating.

“Am I going to die too?” She whispered; knowing full well one day it would happen, but she expected it to be in the midst of battle, standing in front of a friend, an ally, ensuring they made it to safety when she was plunged headlong into her own grave; a warrior’s way. Not like this. Not like this.

The youth could barely hear the rest of the symptoms and warning signs, except for the aggressive mood swings….which would explain a lot of about her venture into the Cloister Trials. She could feel Fangorn imploring her, begging her for some absolution, but she had naught to give, naught to grant.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#8
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
Phoebe waited quietly as Melita took in the news, a small frown curving her lips. It was hard news to take in, hard news to tell someone. But Melita was strong, and she did not break, even with the weight of her diagnosis on her shoulders. She fell silent, thoughtful - but there were no tears, no bargaining, no requests for it to be double checked. But when she spoke, Phoebe sighed, knowing her words would bring no comfort.

"It is possible." she said softly. "I've been researching it, trying to find an answer, a cure or something but...I'm a bit stuck at the moment." she admitted, looking down at her own trembling fingers. It was one thing to remember Frey's words, that she wasn't failing everyone. But it was much harder to accept when faced with a friend who was looking death in the face. "I'm sorry."
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#9
MELITA
How many times had Melita faced doom and lived to tell the tale? There was a certain perseverance settled into her soul, even when the outcomes looked far less than favorable, because of all the eldritch, demonic incantations she’d stared down before. Her jaw clenched, and she straightened out her back until it was rigid, taut, a firm, stubborn little nuance prickling on the edges of fire. What was she expected to do – whine, cry, fall to pieces, pledge her last days to something other than fire and vitriol? Not this girl, not this ember, not this flare; her eyes took on a harder set, narrowing, far more flame than the gilded glare had fostered in many days. Die from a disease, some stupid rampant illness, like a plague victim? Be just a number out amongst the graveyard, tossed amongst catacombs with no name attached? Hardly. She bristled, she instigated, a provocation rippling through her.

You won’t have me, she thought into the void, a bitter, knotted, gnarled little thing, not yet ready to meet her maker. Not this time.

Phoebe was soft, likely expecting something to be spiraling away from the honeybee youth. The only thing she dared to fling was acrimony and hostility amidst her trembling limbs, but not for the healer, not for the one who strived to soothe, but for the world, the wretched revolutions that believed it would own her soul. You don’t know me at all she growled into the ether – into the ashes, into the stones, into the abyss.

Her gaze swung to Phoebe, diligent, a kindling spark and sizzling. “Let me know if there’s something you need done, and I’ll do it.” As best she could, as best she was able; she’d drag her own damned carcass down whatever path the doctor required. She set her chin upwards, an ascent into boldness, the audacity spreading far quicker than the blight ever could. “Don’t be sorry. It won’t take me.” It won’t take any of us.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#10
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
Phoebe smiled a little. There was the Melita she knew - bold and fiery, untameable and powerful. Everything she herself wasn't. To have such confidence in the face of death was indeed a unique thing. "I am sorry that I've nothing more to offer is all. I know you will fight with every fiber of your being and that is a good thing. I would offer something to help with the symptoms but...the blight does not respond well to anything tampering with it and I would rather not risk you exploding into flame." she said with a sigh. That she couldn't even offer that was frustrating.

As far as what she could do though? That was a more difficult thing to put her finger one. Medicine was not her forte...but adventering wasn't Phoebe's and she could use that. "Have you gone into the basement of the Spire recently?" she asked her, head tilting slightly to the side.
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#11
MELITA
She’d seen death too many times to be truly afraid of it; had watched it return and resurrect, had swallowed down the outcries as those who had perished had been enraged at their sudden renewal. She simply had no intention of joining the leagues of catacombs and tombs, of ghostly walks and wraith entanglements. At least Phoebe seemed to understand that portion of her, incapable of giving in to the notion of scythes and reapers, not bowing her head to the inevitability of time – choosing her hours and minutes, like she had an option at all. “It’s okay,” Melita waved and pulsed; she’d already survived this bout of it. Trembling digits and lack of sleep, tendencies to become enraged were fine – she could endure that much.

Medicine certainly wasn’t her forte, though her mother had tried, pointing out herbs and their uses while the youth chased butterflies and swore to slay any monsters who’d threaten her sister. She mimicked Phoebe’s motions, head tilting slightly too, a reflection of confusion and thought patterns rolling. “I haven’t. Do you need something there?”
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
Played by: Grant Offline
Change author:
Posts: 3,062 | Total: 5,479
MP: 1825
#12
PHOEBE
there's a bulletproof bond
"Well..." Phoebe said with a heavy sigh, looking down at her hands. Briefly she wondered if this was going to turn into another lecture session like she had had with Remi and Loren. "Bits of my research, as well as a few events I have heard about happening recently make me think that perhaps this blight is the work of the Voice, with the assistance of the Ascended." she said slowly, frowning as she did so. Too many things were coincidental. Too many things fell too nicely into place. Too many similarities.

"A group went into the basement to kills some poisonous plants and were successful but...I wondered if maybe there was some kind of black substance down there that perhaps they missed. The source of the blight...given that Safrin contracted it after falling down there." she said softly, finally glancing back up at Melita. "It's probably dangerous and covered in rocks but...if you or those you know who are more capable to go and try and collect samples of anything that seems suspicious...especially anything black and liquidy...it might just be the breakthrough we need."
between me and you

Coding base by Sky!
Melita Najya
the Honeybee


Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 57 - Dext: 58 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 57 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 2,913 | Total: 10,646
MP: 9824
#13
MELITA
She listened – brightened and emboldened for a length of time, maneuvering into her prior realm of impetuous, insouciant whims, mercurial balms brandished in her gaze. Is the work of the Voice…with the assistance of the Ascended burned against her brain; because Ascendeds meant Wessex, and her mind had been capable of linking the implications from there on. Had Wessex, or Samuel, or any of the others been a source of the blight’s spread, of the pestilence plaguing their streets, their groves? She didn’t say anything on that front. Phoebe would’ve already snagged and seared on those conclusions long before. Melita had bent herself into the dark.

She tilted her head a fraction, pondering the midst of those wandering into the basement, likely hoping to devastate the source – except naught had changed. They were still sick. They were still trembling and angry. They were still bound into the roots of some disastrous wake. Melita wasn’t necessarily bothered by the potential for falling rocks, treachery, danger, or anything that a normal person would perceive alarming or detrimental – her growing years had been spent in those very situations, and she’d learned long ago how to channel any apprehension or consternation. “I can go.” The girl nodded, removing herself from the bed, sighing as her palms became their quivering endeavors again. “Thank you Phoebe. I’ll see you soon.” Another promise she could hopefully fulfill. With that, she and Fangorn meandered out the door, hastening towards Spire delusions.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight


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