Freja stood outside for a long time, contemplating.

Whether she should go in.

Whether she wanted to.

Her hesitation was born more from uncertainty of her reception than anything else. Her first and last interaction with Melusina had been both informative and fraught with opinions. Opinions on herself, opinions of Cassius - Freja had to admit that she had no idea how she would be received. But Cassius had ordered every able body to tend to the diminutive woman and the only reason Freja was later to the party than some others was her obligation to keep five demonic cubs alive.

They were getting bigger, more savage and the piebald woman was almost certain there was little of her in them. Their father's genes had dominated entirely it seemed. So in a way, coming to visit the patient was both a break and a duty she should have attended to. There really was no point in lingering out in the cold - Freja stepped in. Good evening, Melusina. How are you feeling today?

@Melusina

code by scorpixia ♡︎ || art by editjackson

Good evening, Melusina.

She doesn't expect the voice she hears. It's enough to stir her out of her sleep—or whatever dreadful half-sleep she was capable of now. She had slumbered endlessly for the first days after her fight, but since she'd finally awoken, she'd been capable of no more than a few hours at a time. And the shuteye she did get was plagued with memories, nightmarish recollections of her last moments on the beach.

Magdalena's last moments.

How are you feeling today?

She blinks, and lifts her head. The voice is familiar, but it is not until the light dims behind Freja's encroaching form does she recognize her. She'd not seen the woman outside of passing since their first encounter, and in her bitterness she made no effort to try and mend the bridge between them. She had thought her merely Cassius' puppet, a plaything meant to take the shape of what he'd once wanted Melusina to be.

But then she remembers the visceral, furious way Cassius reacted to her when she'd first brought Freja up. This girl meant something to him, to whatever extent he was capable.

A flurry of familiar and unfamiliar scents accompany her. That of Vermeda, of herbs and poultices—but most uniquely, of milk.

Perhaps—perhaps that's why—

@Freja looks tired, worn. As if every bit of fight in her had been snuffed out long before she breached the entrance of the den. Is this what children do to a woman? she wonders quietly.

Are they Cassius's?

I—I daresay...you l-look worse than I, she stammers, shoving the thought away. Have y-you been—tended to?

code / artwork

It was regrettable - the sour notes between the pair of them. Aside from seeing one another in passing, they had steered clear. On Freja's part, it had not been malicious but she certainly did not feel like putting herself out there for more sharp words from the tiny healer. The regret lay in the thoughts that perhaps in another life they could have been at least amiable towards one another if not the best of friends. Thoughts on their rocky relationship aside, Freja entered to find the woman stirring and sitting up. Her wounds had obviously been catastrophic.

The stuttered, stilted words that came from the small woman seemed as though they cost her in energy, though the content was surprising. Melusina had not answered her question, but turned it back upon the Lead Hunter instead. A snort of breath that almost could have been a laugh came from Freja as she stepped further in. Growing and birthing five enormous, savage boys surely does not compare to practically having your throat ripped out. Freja said, a brow arching as she almost dared the other to argue the point.

I have tended to myself, though I nearly bled out at the birth and needed a bit of assistance. Freja conceded, before coming closer and sitting before the injured Vermedan. Have you managed to get up and out yet? She asked, knowing full well that being cooped up was just as bad as doing too much. Are your wounds healing okay? She persisted, mismatched eyes now shifting to the ragged marks upon the woman's neck and body to assess whether any might need further treatment.

@Melusina

+5 Follow up with a patient (2/2)

code by scorpixia ♡︎ || art by editjackson

It's as much an olive branch as Melusina can muster. At the very least, it's clear her sourness has persisted through her traumatic injuries. None could argue that her lack of bedside manner was humbled in any way from the experience.

Ever the sour medic. Ever more concerned about the health of others before her own—she's spent her entire life being mothered and doted on. Now, it only made her feel weak.

Melusina knows the true danger had lied not in the scar that sprawls across her throat, ugly and weeping and wrapped tightly under leaf and cobweb bandages. It's her lungs, blighted with an infection that will never clear, incapable of taking a full breath ever again. She knew the sentence of such a disease.

The healers who had tended her thus far only regarded her with pity or contempt. They would whisper among themselves, and only paint her flowery visions of what she knew was to be a bleak future. @Freja, by contrast, is a welcome mercy.

Growing and birthing five enormous, savage boys surely does not compare to practically having your throat ripped out, the woman retorts, and Melusina stifles something of an amused scowl, if ever a thing could be mustered. She's certain she'd rather relive that day at the Lagoon a hundred times over than suffer whatever terror Freja must be enduring.

Trying to birth them, let alone raise them.

She shudders.

I have tended to myself, Freja continues, though I nearly bled out at the birth and needed a bit of assistance.

Melusina frowns. I—w-wouldn't have let you b-bleed out.

She can play it off as being the egotistical healer as much as she wants, but Cassius cares for Freja as much as he is capable, and Melusina cares about Cassius, as much as she is capable. And if Melusina is one thing, she is loyal.

Finally, her companion feels confident enough to duck deeper into the den. There is a warmth that accompanies a new mother, a heat familiar with soothing shuddering shoulders and chattering teeth. Even her tone feels especially motherly, and Melusina struggles between finding it overwhelming or comforting.

Have you managed to get up and out yet?

A—as much as I can t-tolerate.

Are your wounds healing okay?

They're fine, she snaps.

She's confronted the reality of them over and over and over again. It is not death she fears, but restraint. Withering away into nothing. Becoming just as broken as her mother had always pretended she was.

B—but the infection w-will—kill me, she whispers, closing her eyes. Not now—not s-soon. But I will n-not—grow old.

code / artwork

Whatever animosity there was between the pair, it hadn't been enough to be considered hatred at least. Melusina's assurance that she would not have let Freja bleed out was reassuring; their differences did not mean they wished each other ill. And as far as Freja knew, Melusina's opinion on the man that had caused the differences between them had not changed. Thank you kindly. She murmured, although there was a wry sort of smile to the piebald woman's lips as she entered further. It felt like a sick den, with heavy close air and the scent of all kinds of herbs and concoctions no doubt aimed at promoting healing. Her first query was met with at least something of a positive answer, though immediately the sharp retort followed.

They're fine.

I'm fine -

Messaged received.

Melusina was just fine.

It had been the same sentiment when Freja had first enquired about her when they had first met, the defensive barrier the tiny woman threw up whenever her well being was in question. Twice now it had been the same response and Freja was not stupid. She nodded, commenting no further on the state of play. If the healer said she was fine, Freja would have to believe her.

But then, a crumbling it seemed - a softening that seemed almost like resignation as she admits that it was not the wounds that would end her. What will you use to treat the infection? She asked, knowing now that the woman would not appreciate sympathy or coddling or denial. Melusina knew her own body and mind, so Freja would not doubt her. I wasn't there - who tried to kill you? She asked, curious but knowing she was likely to be shut down by the tiny woman. It was the Vermedan way, afterall.

@Melusina

code by scorpixia ♡︎ || art by editjackson

She isn't sure why she's told Freja the truth of her condition. She hasn't yet told Cassius, or Icefang. She's hardly yet to fully accept it herself.

Perhaps it's because @Freja gives her the response she doesn't expect. She gives her the response she wants, in the end. No pity, no attempt at sympathy, no grief over the inability to change the inevitable, or even relief that Melusina would not be a thorn in Freja's side forever.

What will you use to treat the infection? she asks, and Melusina feels the weight of their shared tension begin to dissipate. I wasn't there - who tried to kill you?

And then it rebuilds.

C—Clove, thyme...c-chamomile. There are hundreds of different herbs to choose from, mercifully. Melusina could be picky about which ones tasted the best. But she knew eventually they would stop working. This was an infection so deep-rooted now that she could only ever temper its blight—but never destroy it. Marulas, e-eventually.

Is that a joke, Melusina?

Only just enough to take the edge off her chest.

Who tried to kill you?

The words repeat, over and over again, in her head.

My sister, she whispers, turning her head away.

But she's the one who is dead, she wants to clarify, but instead remains silent. And it was I who killed her.

However, if Magdalena is dead, then why has her ghost not yet come to haunt her? Why, in her distant dreams, is she still waking and walking?

code / artwork

It appeared she was correct in many ways about the lilac woman's response, which did not appear to become any more defensive and the information that came was useful to Freja at least. Clove, thyme, chamomile - not necessarily her first choice when it came to infection fighting and for that she was grateful. Whatever their differences, she found Melusina's knowledge at the very least something worth listening to her for. I haven't used them for infection before - I don't imagine they would treat so much as ease the symptoms? And then the unknown completely - Marulas. That one is unknown to me completely. She did not try to hide the ignorance, but certainly sought to fill in the gaps in her knowledge.

Freja had thought that perhaps her probing question would have gone unanswered until the tiniest whisper revealed the heartbreaking truth. Instantly, Freja gave a soft gasp (and it was certainly sympathy that coloured her expression) that she tried to stifle. She had very little doubt in her mind that Melusina would not appreciate it, but never the less, a resolute - I'm sorry. came from the piebald woman. To be wounded so greatly by ones own family was rough.

@Melusina

+20 Learn something from a Master of your trade

code by scorpixia ♡︎ || art by editjackson

I haven't used them for infection before, @Freja muses, and Melusina cannot tell if she's enjoying the welcome distraction, or if the familiar dread and lack of patience surrounding her profession will rear its ugly head. She practically chewed Dominic out under the guise of offering advice. I don't imagine they would treat so much as ease the symptoms?

T-They are b-broad—anti-infectious, she struggles to explain, but hopes Freja will understand. She knows her lungs are permanently damaged, but without knowing the underlying sickness as it comes and goes, her best chance is casting a wide net. A first—and a-a last resort.

Freja is right, in that sense. Melusina is now just trying to make herself comfortable.

That one is unknown to me completely.

She laughs, until she's cut off by a painful cough.

Gods have m-mercy.

What an awful, terrible thing that Freja bore her sons before she's ever had a true taste of freedom.

Melusina cannot bare to reflect on her sister between thoughts of marulas and stolen youth. She leaves Freja's sorry as just that, and decides she's far much more appreciative of the distraction the healer's inquisitive questions bring. She still can't decide if her wounds have humbled her into tolerating the woman's presence, or if her near brush with death dawned the cruel reality that she has made more enemies than she has friends.

And what a lonely feeling it is.

Y-Your boys—what are their names?

code / artwork

Anti-infectious — it was certainly a term she had heard of but not necessarily for those herbs. Especially chamomile, which Freja had only known as a calming agent. The information was once again stored away, along with the rather ominous description that they were also a last resort. I truly hope it doesn't come to that. And it was genuine. The diminutive healer was a wealth of knowledge, one that Freja benefitted from each time they had conversed so far. Even with the dry laugh at her expense, having not heard of Marulas. Won't you enlighten me?

She asked, though there was a hint of amusement on her tone as she took in the slight shift of Melusina's demeanour. It didn't last long, mentions of her sister a pall over the pair. But then, a question and one that surprised the young healer. Kincade — Caius — She paused, genuinely trying to line them up in her head because that was the only way she could match the name to the face. Cassian — Caydin and Caelus. And if that wasn't a clear indicator of who had fathered them, Freja didn't know. Then again, Cassius would deny parentage till he was blue in the face so she had no idea if this was knowledge that Melusina would be safe in having. It was all so confusing.

@Melusina

code by scorpixia ♡︎ || art by editjackson

I truly hope it doesn't come to that.

Melusina nods, but doesn't reply. She understands the want to fight, the belief that somehow, someway, she may find the answer to her lifelong malady. Her own mother believed it so, worked tirelessly night after night testing concoctions of all different herbs, some pulverized into a disgusting poultice, others shoved so deep into her nose she'd smell them for weeks.

But when she'd found a lion, still raw and waking and so very alive, who was not long for this world, she began to understand that things are not made easier by the unrelenting desperation to live. Sometimes all that is needed is mercy.

Chamomile, while not the strongest anti-infectious herb, tastes good and is gentle on the stomach.

Marulas are just fun.

W—When marulas are...l-left to turn sweet, t—they... she begins, struggling to describe the blissful feeling induced by a lack of sobriety, ...let loose—y-your inhibitions.

A marula or two sounds great right about now, she considers, but it may not feel as great going down her raw, aching throat. A pain she would endure, if Cassius kept sending his healers to fuss over her as often as he had.

And it is Cassius who would not leave her mind as Freja told her the name of her sons. She need not even look at them to know who sired them—he made certain the evidence of their names alone were enough. Melusina was practically rolling her eyes by the time she reached the last, but among her utter annoyance was something else, something new: Amusement.

Gods,—h-he's so full of himself, she manages in something of a half-sneer, half-laugh, A-assuming he—named them.

Assuming he fathered them.

---

@Freja

code / artwork