Slowly, the morning light came into the room. It moved across the bed till finally it hit Khymarah's sleeping form. She opened her eyes and looked around, momentarily confused. Where was she? Sitting up, she ached all over and her shoulder hurt. Looking down at it, she was thankful for the gauze on it. Her dress was a disaster, it had become worse as she slept, and gingerly, with her good hand, she pulled the fabric back up to cover her exposed corset. Now she realized where she was. Ivan Mottoni's house. His bed. For a moment she froze, then she realized that he wasn't even in the room. Blushing to herself, she moved slowly to the edge of the bed and slipped off, finding her feet were bare. The ruby haired galdor didn't recall taking her shoes off last night, but then again, who wants boots in their bed?

Standing, she made her way to the door, but not before she noticed herself in a mirror. She slowed and looked at herself. The left side of her face was a sickly shade of purple that started on the cheekbone and spread up into her eye socket. Her hair was terribly disheveled and she took a moment to brush through it with her good hand. Sighing, she turned back to the door and opened it, making her way to the loungeroom quietly. Where was the doctor?

Ivan was sprawled on a sofa. He looked a mess, and if he was awake he'd feel it too. The delicate and increasing balance of uppers and depressants he'd taken to survive the last 24 hours were currently battling for control of his liver and kidneys. His face was glued to the armrest by the saliva of slumber. He snored loudly. Miraculously, however, his pipe was still somehow precariously perched in his mouth, long since out of fuel.
His dressing gown was dangerously loose, and threatened apocalypse at any time.

The red head heard him before she saw him. Walking as quietly as she could, she rounded the lounge and looked down at the doctor. He looked terrible, and who could blame him. He had been a machine yesterday, and after what she witnessed, the galdor would be lying if she said she didn't develop even more of a little sort of..crush on the older healer. She didn't want to wake him, but that pipe looked so ready to fall. What if it broke? Coming closer and leaning down, she grabbed it lightly and took it as gently as she could, turning to place it on the table.

Ivan was having a good dream. Perhaps to the concious observer it would seem strange, but right now nothing in the world felt more natural than suckling from the enormous udder. The warm maternal organ was attached to a landscape of flesh. The sky was red and he felt cosy from head to toe. But then someone was taking it away from him, and the image darkened.

"Nuhh, wan....uhhhh, mumm..pshh..uhh? Huh?"

It took a few seconds for him to register what was happening.
A stunned second later he grabbed the edge of his gown and pulled it across him.

"Khymarah! You shouldn't be walking around yet. How are you feeling?"

The galdor jumped and spun to face him, straightening up. She blushed and felt incredibly awkward being this close to only seemingly gown-covered Ivan. Looking at her hands she nodded.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I uh..I feel okay. I ache and my shoulder hurts, but I feel alright." Smiling shyly, she quickly put her hand on the torn dress again, trying to be casual about it.

"What about you Ivan? You seemed really exhausted, I didn't mean to wake you."

Ivan smiled. Sort of. As far as his face would co-operate, at any rate.

"Ah yes, I sent a messenger to your manor, he is instructed to return with some clothes. Should be back here soon. I didn't think you much fancied the journey home in a torn dress."

Ivan rubbed the side of his face, trying to wipe off the saliva and slowly mooshing his cheek up and down in the process.

"A pity, it was a very nice dress."

A hundred distinct images spilled out of his pre-frontal cortex and into his mind's eye. Images of the previous day.

Ugh.

"Can you....can you cast now? We should get those burns and bruises looked at."
He added,
"Then I'll make us some breakfast."



"Oh, I'm fine I just needed...needed..."

He paled, jumped up and ran into the bedroom. When he got to the balcony, he blew chunks all over the street below.

Lyle Jenkins wasn't having a good day. His dog had been run over by a chrove. He had caught his wife with his brother. His daughter had told him she hated him and run off with her boyfriend. He had stubbed his toe getting out of bed that morning. His breakfast had burned. And now he had just been told he had been fired. He was walking down Friar road headed to town for a drink. He paused in his walk. He was reaching a breaking point. He held out his arms and looked to the sky, yelling to the gods,"Doesn't anybody out there care?!"

Promptly orangeish-green chunks and a gunky liquid fell from the sky and landed on him, coating his face and arms.

He paused. "I suppose not..."

He continued on his way, intending to stop at the bridge after his drink...

Khymarah smiled thankfully, nodding. She had been wondering how she was going to get home like this.



The galdor winced as she heard the awful sounds faintly wafting back to her. The poor man. She walked over to the other lounge and sat down, gathering her field. The mona were definitely singing again, and she sighed in relief. When the doctor returned, she would attempt to heal the shoulder, deciding she should let him check it first out of propiety sake. Perhaps she had a spell that would be useful for him. Her mind worked on it whilst she waited.

Whoops! That guy did not look happy.

Ivan hocked up the last tattered remains of stomach lining and acidic ooze. He took a few deep breaths, and started to feel the better for it. His gut hurt from the strain, but so far his dry toast trick had never failed him.

He swilled some mouthwash and made sure to spit it out when no one was passing below. He passed back into the lounge and tried to look as unphased as he could.

"Where was I? Oh yes, let me have a look at that shoulder."

Looking up as the man entered, Khymarah's eyebrows furrowed in sympathy for him. She felt even more terrible that she'd woken him.



Nodding, she shifted over so he could sit beside her to get a better look at it, looking into her hands fidgeting in her lap, trying to focus on something other than her rakishly exposed shoulder, throat and clavicle. It was a medical issue, and she would be an adult about it. Blushing anyway, she concentrated on her lap.

Ivan sat next to her, hoping he didn't smell too much of stomach. He gently removed each piece of gummy tape, ensuring he didn't break the skin or cause discomfort.

"Did you wake up at all in the night? Were the painkillers enough?"

He had the dressing off now. It didn't look pretty, but it was actually in fairly good shape, all things considered. It was a scar without magic for sure though. He hoped she would remain calm enough to cast. The guilt of the previous day began to well up.

He didn't smell too badly. Something of a mix between minty mouthwash and morning breath. The minty was winning though, which she was thankful for. She thought about his question.

"I don't think I woke. If I did, I honestly don't remember. But then again, I don't remember removing my boots either...or where they are. The painkillers were quite sufficient. I only started hurting since I woke up." She turned her head to look at the wound as he took the dressing off, and quickly made a face and turned away.

"Ugh, that looks horrid." She said weakly. Steeling herself, she put her hand over it and closed her eyes, reciting the monite for Heal, silently asking the mona to please heal her shoulder. She wasn't sure if it would heal the bruising and her hand, but the shoulder was what she was most concerned about.

She could feel the magic tingling before it took effect. The air began to taste of salt as her shoulder began to sting- the cells were healing and rapidly knitting together, pushing out impurities along the way. When she pulled her hand away, the bruising was healed to a faint yellow, and her shoulder was covered in a fresh pink scar. The stinging continued to reverberate for a few minutes as the internal regions of the wound healed over.

Wincing slightly, the red head looked down at the shoulder when she was done and ran a finger over it. Scarring...but at least it was healed. Lifting her burnt hand, she frowned and closed her eyes again, focusing her field on the damaged appendage, casting Heal again.

The little boils didn't want to go away as easily, oddly enough. While the shoulder had been doused in alcohol, her hand had only been dunked in ice water. The little blisters had begun to build a small infection under the surface, and her hand stung as if she had finally doused alcohol on the pustules. The surface of her skin began to heal over quickly, however, leaving behind a few tiny pockmarks where the more stubborn blisters had been. when the skin healed over there was a thin film of the infectious fluid coating the skin where it had been forced to the outside.

"Alioe, that hurts a bit." She hissed. Looking at the hand she made a little noise in her throat.

"Well, better than before I guess." Turning to Ivan, she tentivly reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder.

"Would it bother you at all if I cast something on you, to help you..wake up?" She asked softly.

Just like that, he smirked.

It always fascinated him to watch medical magic run its course.
Fascinated and castrated him. To think of the years of training, deadly practice and experience, and a girl ten years younger than him could heal what he could not, after a good night's sleep.

He was transfixed by the knitting, the growing, the transformation. Without thinking he reached out a hand to her shoulder, and delicately traced the scar with his fingertips. They led along and up, and touched the side of her face, came in contact with the discoloured bruises. Their eyes locked. Ivan snapped out of it.

"Gods, I'm sorry! Forgive me! I...when I see healing magic, it...uh!"

He looked to the floor, ashamed.



"No, thank you. I don't deserve it. Not after yesterday. It wouldn't be right."

Khymarah froze completely, not moving a muscle. Her skin tingled where he touched and she breathed shallow breaths through a partially open mouth. Part of her shivered gently, but a lot of her didn't know how to react. She'd never been touched before. Not like..like this.



She blushed furiously and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Although it was not expected, she didn't think she wanted him to stop.



Clearing her throat, the redhead reached out heisitantly and took his hand.

"You don't deserve it? You were amazing yesterday. Without you, so many people would have died. They needed you. I needed you. And you worked without any regard for your own well being." Her voice was soft and her eyes sincere.

Ivan let his hand be guided into hers. But it was wrong. He had to tell her.

"You don't understand. It was my fault. They wouldn't have needed me if I hadn't..."

He paused and cleared his throat.

"She brailed because of me. The seventen girl, Ilithyia. I told her to keep casting, even when it was clear to everyone she was at her limit. I was angry and...I killed those people Khymarah."

He pulled his hand away and looked despondently to the ground again.

She let him take his hand away, frowning. Part of her flared up angrily at the idea he thought this was still his fault. The ruby haired woman shook her head.

"Ivan. Doctor. Listen to me. The girl was a fool. She should have been quite aware that she was close to breaking point. At anytime, she could have made the smart decision and fled. Or just not listened to you. I know you were angry, but for Alioe's sake, it was expected! You are not to blame if a childish Seventen can't stand up and control herself." Her voice was firm and almost motherly and her eyes hard. Taking hold of his arm, she squeezed it gently and her face softened.

"You did not kill those people any more than I did."

He looked up from the floor, back to Khymarah. His eyes were red and glassy, but he was in no danger of tears, yet.

He smiled, and placed a hand over the one on his arm. So warm!

"How about that breakfast then, eh?" he said, wanting to think no more about it.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a cook, but breakfast I can do. Do you have any special dietary requirements, allergies, anything?"

He hoped she liked fried food. Ivan was all too familiar with the inherent falsehood of the proverb "you are what you eat" - if it was true, Ivan would be a walking bacon-egg-toast monstrosity.

(( http://www.last.fm/music/Gomez/_/Rosalita ))

Khymarah smiled back, hoping she had helped a little. Feeling..she had helped. His hand on her's was a nice sensation.



She giggled a little and shook her head. She'd never thought about dietary requirements before, was it something she should know?

"No, nothing. I'll eat whatever it is your going to have." Her words came out before she could think..what if he had something really awful for breakfast? Oh well, too late now! The galdor smiled broadly, putting her...dietary requirements...in his hands.

"Would you like some help?"

"That would be most appreciated!"

Ivan secretly loved playing house. The solitude of adulthood did that to a person. He did worry though, that seeing him prepare the meal might not be great for her appetite. Ivan smirked to himself.
In some deep, unconcious region of Ivan's psyche, he was making a value judgement. If she could handle seeing his uncouth lifestyle, it'd send a signal to his body to start producing androstadienone by the bucketload.

He grinned.

"Through here is the kitchen. I'd say it doesn't normally look like this, but I would be lying if I did."

Khymarah practically beamed, pleased she could do something to help the doctor. So far, she'd felt like nothing but a damsel in distress. Dress...she looked down briefly, and in a quick movement, tucked the loose flap of fabric at the front into the top of her corset to hold it there. She still felt indecently exposed, but at least tucked there it wouldn't fall any further.



Nodding, she followed the doctor through, thinking to herself that surely he was just being a joker. He didn't seem like the messy type...she reflected on that thought as they walked. That wasn't true, this morning he was a giant mess and his gown had been awfully close too....shaking her head and blushing furiously she thought about breakfast.

The ruby haired woman wondered if he had any pie.

Ivan had some cherry pie somewhere, but it was probably too early to offer Khymarah a slice of it.

He opened the kitchen door and walked inside before she did, hoping the extra second might give him time to hide something embarrasing. It was in roughly as bad a state as he remembered. It seemed to Ivan that his kitchen was permanently walking the line between charmingly untidy and rat infestation. In a way it was much like himself.
Looking around, he could see no mould, though there was a mug full of dead cigarettes. Making sure not to upset the matter inside (which would expel a waft of death, he knew from experience), he put the mug in the corner, behind a cauldron which had a chicken carcass from a broth he'd made two days before.

Ivan stood infront of the worst of it, turned back to the door, and tried to look casual.

"Come in! It looks like I'm out of clean plates, so I'll scrub some quickly. Could you start up the stove?"