twilight crawling through windowpanes

EVIE

there ain't no doubt in no ones mind

Another LongNight, over and done. Not without its losses, poignant and purposeless in equal measure though they may be. Part of her aches with empathy and regret for the Outlanders who were brought here just to fight ever harder against the nightmares Caido had concocted long before their arrival. But life goes onward, and with it the seasons change, drawing life from the barren landscape and returning small bursts of color to a world desperately in need of it.

Evie isn't here to gaze in wonder. She departs from her bed when the sun's last rays have already bled out beneath a darkening sky, only the faintest rim of a glow on the horizon as she wanders out into the brisk air. There's no reasoning, no motive to her motions. Perhaps she is restless, or lonely, or any other adjective to describe her life as it winds down an utterly confusing path. Evie doesn't care enough to consider the options.

Maybe she is just here to remind herself that the darkness does not always contain monsters. Gazing up at the stars that shine overhead between the shadows of the branches she passes beneath, Evie lets the light of the moon guide her forward, grass brushing at her legs as she passes through in aimless arcs.

that love's the finest thing around

Table by Sky!

He had been here before so many, many times. Once he had lived here, in a hole in the ground, sheltering in his foxform even as he had held himself apart from those he should have cherished.

He had learned a harsh lesson in what they truly meant to him, and how little his resolve was worth when it came down to it.

Tonight, though, he sat upon a stone he had once shared with Isla, a granite outcrop in a clearing beneath the rising moon, murmuring softly to the wounded creature in his lap as he stroked the raven's back gently, holding it still as he sought to improvise a splint for its broken wing while it croaked and muttered grumpily beneath its touch. Isuma sat upon his shoulder, watching the operation with owlish interest and peeping encouragement to the corvid.

"Hush now, keep still," the white-haired outlander murmured to the bird, whether or not it could understand him. "I know it hurts, just bear with me a little while longer..."

The nightlife is verbose, vivacious, in ways Evie never expects but enjoys every time she finds herself among their songs and symphonies. Crickets, frogs, night birds. They are as welcome here in this hour as she hopes that she is. Wishing she had been born any other race, perhaps an Attuned with wings to fly and join the wilderness and escape her human problems.

It's a depressing turn of thought, and she huffs aloud at it, frowning and shoving her hair over her shoulder. It's a time for thinking and reminiscing, but sometimes she is just tired of her own melancholy. Her bravado may be no more than an illusion, but it is a comforting act to fall into.

It's not the croaking of the raven or the humming that attracts her attention as she passes, but the silver strands of hair glowing beneath the moonlight. Evie hesitates for a moment before striding towards him, taking in the soft words as she approaches slowly, reluctant to worsen the situation. Her hands seem to burn, and she swallows nervously, forces the words through the block in her throat. "Do you need help? I can help heal it, or if you need some extra hands?" Here she grins, wiggling her fingers towards the man in offering as she tries to shake her shadowed thoughts.

Isuma heard the footsteps first, raising her head to chirrup a curious greeting at the approaching redhead. Jigano glanced up a moment later, the raven stilling in his gentle hands as he blinked at Sam's sister in surprise and a little caution. They had passed each other briefly by in previous seasons, meeting at the gathering of healers in the Infirmary at Vai's invitation, but they had never really spoken before. He knew her primarily as Sam's sister, a source of more pain than comfort for the timid bookmaker - though that, too, was information months out of date.

Her grin surprised him, though given that they had both offered to volunteer at the Infirmary once upon a time he wasn't surprised at her offer. "Evie?" he confirmed, though he wasn't one to forget a face. "Another pair of hands would help, thank you. Have you ever set a broken wing before?" An innocent question, for though they had met in the healing hall he had been there as a magicless medic, and he only remembered her as being an herbalist and pharmicist.

Not that things couldn't change. Gods least fortunate, but how he knew they could change.

So consumed with the croaking and fidgeting of the crow, Evie admittedly doesn't think twice about Jigano until he speaks her name in tentative recognition. Her own follows immediately, and her grin softens into something more relaxed. "Jigano, right? It's been a while." Mostly because she had been hiding away in her family home for quite a while, not to mention her general lack of luck in finding conversational partners these days. But she's here now, which is what matters, and more than willing to lend a hand in repairing the broken wing.

"Only on ones already passed," she admits, lips twitching in want of a frown. "I've splinted many other bones, but I can...heal it as well. At least partially, if that would help." If not well, Evie is certain she can splint the wing appropriately with her experience if Jigano can keep the corvid calm and still. She certainly doesn't trust herself to do that. She'd probably freak the poor thing out and make it injure itself even further, and it certainly wouldn't be a party for her either.

"That's right," he confirmed with a slight smile. He had done his own share of hiding in recent seasons, and wasn't surprised they hadn't run into each other. She had seemed a busy woman when they had passed each other briefly by a year ago, and their paths hadn't crossed much since. "It's good to see you again." Not least because they needed all the medics, healers, herbalists and apothecaries in the Hollowed Grounds that they could get.

His own attempts with the splint weren't exactly well-trained. He had read the theory in books and seen the pictures, but as always turning theory into practice was more difficult than it sounded. He tickled the bird's neck ruff as it grumbled, but the raven remained docile under his control as he tilted his head at Evie and considered her words. The pause before she admitted to something beyond basid medicine had him raising a brow however, a flicker of yearning passing briefly across his expression before he looked down again. "Ah. I... was once able to do the same, but... that was worlds ago. Of all the magic I lost when I came to Caido, that is the one I miss most dearly," he admitted quietly.

"The faster the break is healed the better it will be for her. She needs to hunt to gain back her weight from the winter, and I don't want to risk her becoming too dependent on humans for food while she heals." Isuma chirped a counterpoint, earning a return croak from the raven, and Jigano chuckled slightly. "Yes, though Isuma would be willing to share." He looked up again, the sadness in his eyes carefully tucked away again as he nodded to the apothecary. "If you're willing to use your talent we would appreciate it." Bird, man, and gryphon together would be grateful, but he was hesitant to press, knowing how close to the chest Naturals could keep their magic, and the baggage of being Abandoned that came with it.

Ah, success. Evie may not be as proficient at facial recognition, but Jigano is luckily rather recognizable naturally. "It's good to see you as well." The pleasantries feel like familiar cogs spinning into motion, like the words that come out are not her own. Too formal, too stiff. Yuck. What does honesty matter if it sounds like they're being strangled by niceness?

Her blue eyes flit back down to the crow, a quirk of a smile appearing at the adorable grumpiness. She can't fault the poor thing, broken bones are awful, and for a flighted creature to be unexpectedly grounded...well, she's not gonna read too much into that. Projecting onto a bird is a little pathetic even for her. But it helps distract her, at least a little, from the tension that immediately stiffens her shoulders and lifts her chin at Jigano's silent, subtle inquiry. Evie has been undeniably lucky in her last revelations of her magic, generally to people who didn't understand the nuances of her relationship to it as a Natural. Amun, Peter, and Dante can't grasp the instinctual fear and disgust she feels about her magic. From his expression alone, she knows that he can at least assume.

But she's trying to change. She's not good at it, stubborn and self-conscious as she is, but perhaps this will help. Especially when the man references his own magic, lost though it may be. "I would gift it if I could," she admits, trying to keep the tension from her voice as she smiles tremulously. Hopes he understands how vulnerable she is making herself to him, especially with his relationship to Sam. But asking him for secrecy is an admittance of weakness, something he can hold over her.

So instead she moves closer to focus on the bird in his lap. Listens with an open mind, always willing to learn more. Her talents had always tied to the soil and soot more than the living creatures that roamed it. But there's always room to cram more into her brain. A smile is spared for Isuma, enchanted as always by the various companions she runs across. It's enough to spark a shuddering deep breath, a silent nod of her wildfire hair, as she kneels before the odd trio and holds out her hands towards the raven.

Her hands tremble. She ignores it. The magic comes easily, far more familiar with this than her new earthen magic, and Evie's gaze roves over the bird as if it will somehow turn its head and tell her it worked. But all she can do is keep her magic flowing until, as always, it hits a metaphorical wall and she knows she can do no more. Then she removes her touch, breaths still shaky, but with a hopeful expression on her face. "That should at least help, can you feel for the break?" No sense in upsetting the creature with too many touches when it seemed to trust Jigano already.

He nodded, smiling ruefully at the stiffness of the courtesies between two strangers. Perhaps this time around they would find a way to build more than just a passing professional nod, but the foundations would have to begin somewhere. Sam had not been glowing in his description of his family and his past, but he had also been vague, and people could change as they grew. Jigano was willing to see who Evie was on her own terms, and not simply as his friend's sister.

That she offered to help factored in no small amount as well, of course.

"It's no easy burden to carry," he agreed quietly, his smile fading to a tightness around his eyes, a haunted look passing through them for a moment. "The gods of this world... treat it very differently than the ones where I was from." Safrin's cold galactic gaze and the chains that had bound him in the space between stars as she bared the hypocrisy in his soul was not something that would leave him anytime soon, if ever. He suppressed a shiver, offering her an apologetic smile as he shifted to give her a better angle on the bird.

The raven responded to his nudge through the Attuned link to certain animals, leaning more into his supporting hands so Evie could reach the wing and see it clearly. Jigano's eyes narrowed as he saw the tremble in her hands and - was that a glow about them? No, not a glow but... he swore he could feel the energy she gathered there as it flowed into the wounded raven. She smoothed away the pulled muscles and torn skin, strengthening what had been damaged when the bird had fallen afoul of a hunting hawk.

"I..." he started to say, then stopped again, the words catching in his throat as he shifted his hand carefully, shaking no less than Evie was as he stroked his fingers over the wing. There. "It's..." Warmth gathered in the tips of his fingers, tugged towards the wound he could still feel. Evie's magic had laid the groundwork, leaving only the break itself behind, but Jigano could sense the lines of it, how the slim, hollow bones fit together - how they should fit together - and as he exhaled the heat in his hand was drawn into the wing, knitting it back to wholeness.

He gasped, hand jerking back in surprise, and the Attuned control he had been holding shattered. The raven launched herself from his lap, cawing her agitation but flying strongly to a nearby tree and leaving him staring at Evie in speechless shock and confusion.

His understanding is both a soothing balm and a prickling thorn, because he may have lost his magic but he does not understand the gravitas that it holds in Caido. But his sympathy is appreciated, and her clenched jaw releases, shoulders inverting like a shy bird as her gaze leaves his. "There's little we can do to sway the minds of Gods," she murmurs instead, the remainder left unsaid that perhaps they should not even try. Evie had certainly prayed enough in her youth, desperate to be changed, to know that they did not care about fixing her. That they would rather lose a disciple to fate's cruel hand than earn a devoted follower in lifting them up from the mire of being Abandoned.

It's easier to drown her thoughts out in the motions of healing. The soft feathers glossy and slick beneath her fingers, the sensation of repairing muscle and tendons, of giving structure and healing to a creature in need. Though it has yet to fail her when she calls upon it, Evie is still grateful that her magic works as needed. But her attention diverts temporarily at the stuttering words from Jigano, afraid he sees something going south, but his words are unfinished and uncertain. She watches him just as uncertainly as his own fingers search for the break, and they both jerk when his magic reaches out to heal the remaining fracture, Evie feeling it like static in the air. A familiar sensation, but one she has not experienced since Peter's little water show.

The raven departs in a flurry of ruffled feathers and Evie stares after it for a moment before turning her bewildered gaze to Jigano. And there in his face she sees herself during LongNight, completely taken aback by the new magic she had found herself in control of. One hand lifts to touch the top of his if he will let her, and sympathy warms her face. "It seems you may have had that particular skill returned," she notes softly.

"There's truth in that," he agreed with quiet feeling behind the words. He didn't know if he could ever earn Safrin's blessing. Twice he had prayed to her in pain, and twice he had been broken down even further by the meeting. Soon, he hoped, he'd be able to find Ludo again, but until then all he could do was carry on with the new weight that Safrin had placed upon his soul.

A weight that seemed to shift and stutter as the energy raced through his veins and into the bird, setting her free of her injury. He was shocked to silence, to stillness, in the wake of it, shaken only from his frozen disbelief by the touch of Evie's hand. He drew in a shaking breath, nodding unsteadily and not sure whether to feel fear or joy, confusion reigning over both for the moment as he looked to her beseechingly. "How... how do you control it?" he asked, having so many questions and not knowing where to begin but remembering how the heat had been pulled from him without conscious volition.

Evie spares Jigano a small commiserating smile at his quiet agreement. Though they are very different in how they are perceived by the gods, at least they can agree that deities are fickle at best. Seeing Amalia's anxiety over her duties to Safrin, Sam's constant split loyalties over the Voice, and her fellow Abandoned tossed to the wayside...Evie can't help but partially resent the gods in turn.

Though perhaps Jigano is not what he thinks he is either. He shakes from his shock quickly enough - Evie is grateful for that, for while her magic makes her a healer, she is far more comfortable with plants and potions than panic and people - and immediately poses a question. Because of course he does, the inquisitive man that he is. Evie settles back on her shins and considers her words carefully before imparting her advice. "The best I can describe it is intent. Willpower, perhaps. It's helpful to have anatomical knowledge, but I find that even without it the magic knows where it's needed, you simply need to give it a mental push from inside of you to inside of your patient." It's not easy to describe in the least, especially for someone who is far from eloquent like Evie.

"Touch helps activate it for me. And it feels like...like the magic is pooling, swirling around without a direction when there is nothing left I can heal. That's when I know to stop." She's happy to answer any other questions he has, feeling world weary and empathetic as he tries to come to terms with this new ability he has found.

Healing magic wasn't new to him; he had once had it among his list of stronger spells, though he had used it rarely, preferring to rely on wands and potions instead while he hoarded his energy for emergencies. When he had first come to Caido its loss had still been one of greatest regrets he had, and it had taken more than half a year for the resentment to begin to subside to acceptance that it was lost to him forever.

Except... now it wasn't.

But it was different. There had been no words to speak or gestures to make, the energy had simply risen and then flowed. He'd had no idea what magic use on Caido felt like before, seeing only the physical manifestation of it from people like Remi or Loren. And, now, Evie. He turned to her for advice and guidance, seeking to understand because that was how he coped with shock; turning it to learning, to understanding, so he wouldn't be surprised by it again.

He studied her intently, drinking in her words with desperate thirst for knowledge that was anything but abstract in that moment. Willpower and intent made sense, and he nodded slowly as he absorbed the information. He frowned a little in concentration as he took a mental note to go back and review the medical texts in the Atheneum to deepen his knowledge of the body - not just for humans, either, it would seem - but at the mention of magic pooling he tilted his head thoughtfully.

"It wasn't quite like that for me, just now," he said slowly, feeling the words out as he tried to describe something he had just felt for the first time. "I didn't push so much as the energy was pulled from me, and when the wound was healed it just... stopped. Like a faucet being turned off." He reached up to stroke Isuma's head distractedly as the little gryphon nibbled his ear, offering him love and reassurance as she always did, no matter his newly Abandoned place in the world. When he regained his hand he looked at it again, frowning down at his palm and partially flexed fingers. "It was like the energy, the magic, was a... a heat that gathered in my hand." But Evie probably didn't need to hear about that, though the differences were as fascinating as the similarities in their magic. They both felt it as similar to liquid, for instance, though Evie was understandably far more in control of her 'tap' than he was.

"How long have you... had this particular skill?" he asked, trying to be delicate as he looked up again to search her eyes, shock still catching at his words as his mind tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

Evie lets him have his moment of consideration, the chance to come to grips with this upheaval. She remains quiet, not just out of respect for him but her own reluctance to talk about magic. It has gotten easier to admit to the more she speaks to people about it - Amalia, Peter, Loren. But nothing will ever erase the years of secrecy and intentional blindness from her parents. Evie can't just leave his questions unanswered, can't fathom not helping him somehow, but even she is intrigued by the differences in their power that he spells out.

"Hmm...mine isn't like that at all, though I wonder if maybe yours manifests differently because you've had it before? Or maybe it's different for all of us?" Evie wouldn't know the first thing about that considering how she has avoided all other Abandoned like the plague in the past. A few months of remedying that habit does not an expert make. "Though I'd be careful of it being unintentionally taken from you. I understand it as an energy of sorts, and having it siphoned away uncontrollably sounds disastrous." She's not entire sure of that, but her concern for Jigano pinches her brows nonetheless.

Turning away from his gaze she stares down at her fiddling hands. "My whole life. I was...born Abandoned. My parents had me hide it, convinced themselves it was a gift of talent for herbs and poultices, so they could believe I was Accepted." Evie tries hard to keep her tone free of inflection, wanting to give any kind of information that may be helpful. "I never had training I'd say, but it's familiar to me."

He shook his head slowly at her first guess, a thoughtful frown still marring his features as he looked down at his hand again as if trying to see the pooling of power that he had felt before. He focused intently, trying to coax the power to the surface again as they spoke. "I don't think so... or at least, it's very different than the healing power I had on Golarion. The gods there gifted magic to their followers... unlike here," he acknowledged with a sigh. "There was arcane magic, human magic, similar to the powers over elements here or lifting things with the mind or creating objects, but other types of magic... magic to heal, or to summon animals or command plants... those magics came from the gods. They required focus to use though; specific words or gestures to channel the power. Being able to do this with just a thought is... very strange to me." He looked up, giving Evie an apologetic smile for talking so freely about a topic that he knew was generally taboo within the Hollowed Grounds. "Maybe it is different for everyone, though. That makes a certain sense. What Safrin did to me, the... the feeling of her anger... I don't want to imagine anyone else enduring it," he admitted softly.

His expression grew grim and a little worried at the mention of having it taken from him, and he nodded solemnly. "I hadn't even considered that," he said quietly. "I'll have to try and practice with it. See if I can gain more control over it." There would be plenty of opportunity around the farm, at least, to heal minor scrapes and bruises on the animals - and humans - without fear of losing too much at once. Her concern touched him and he found a reassuring smile for her kindness. "I'll be careful," he promised, and meant it.

He grew silent as she answered his own question, letting her speak in her own time and not rushing her. In a way he was glad that she had been with the magic, because it meant that she hadn't undergone a god's curse as Remi and now he had. But what she described, the systematic denial of a portion of her soul by her family, was a curse all its own and his eyes softened with empathy. "Does... did Sam know?" he asked gently, hoping that the bookmaker hadn't participated in the subtle bullying, but afraid that his friend's self-centered focus might well have led to him overlooking his sister's plight.