Kya Nali sat in her room, propped up in a chair, her head bandaged. It hurt worse than that day, early in her training with Sensei Osgood, when she first sparred with a live opponent. The boy had misjudged his distance and gave her a good bump on the head with his wooden practice sword. She smiled at the memory and then winced at the effort.
There was a soft knocking at her door. She had half a mind to get up and flay the interloper for making such an ungodly racket but held her temper and called out. "What?"
"Flowers for a Miss Kya Nali?" called a small voice from the other side of the door.
This caught her off guard. She wasn't the sort of girl that got flowers. That was Kennia or maybe, if you were bold enough and had stolen them, Taai. No, she was the sort of girl who got knives or new buckles for armor. This was unexpected.
"Come in" she called out. The door opened and in walked an odd bouquet with legs. She blinked, wondering if she was still suffering the effects of coffeetable to the brain, when the smallest gnome she had ever seen set the flowers down on the floor. Kya tossed him a coin for his trouble. He bowed and left.
There was something peculiar about the plants in the vase. Their colors, though pleasing, were all wrong and there was the faintest clicking noise coming from them. She leaned closer for a better look.
The flowers were all made of the thinnest sheets of metal, heated until it had changed color. She reached out to touch one of the blooms. Minuscule gears and springs stirred to life and the tiniest puff of scent ejected from the center of the flower.
Kya recognized the scent as Redridge Heather. How long had it been since she had smelled that? She watched, as other tiny mechanisms in the clockwork bouquet kicked to life and ever so quietly arranged themselves in a new, pleasing fashion.
She reached for the card and opened it. It read simply: Get well soon. Talula Spannerbang.
A rush of emotion swept through Kya, swelling her heart with the kind gratitude that fills your eyes with tears. The contraption before her was the most beautiful creative use of metals she had ever seen. The carefully measured scents, the smooth mechanical rearrangements, the illusion of fragility while at once being beauty which was designed to far outlast the organic arrangement! Talula was something else, all right. Kya smiled and sniffed and shook her sore head, overwhelmed with the thoughtfulness of her new friend.
She remembered who Talula was - she was the little adorable one with the bright eyes and ideas who was with her, supposedly, when she fell. Now if Kya could just remember everything BEFORE the accident, she might be able to face everyone else again. Stubborness and frustration were her friends, inciting her to push past obtacles; but she'd forgotten that. Soon she'd remember she was not the kind of girl who gave up so easily.
Meanwhile, Kya amused herself by drawing mocking pictures of orcs and lining them up on her wall. From her bed she would toss throwing darts at them. Good thing her employer was in the shipping business. The strange faces who'd come to wish her well all asked if she needed anything. At first she refused to answer, but after the nightmares of an immense Orc laughing like some hyena at her began, she decided to be proactive in taking charge of her damaged sub-conscious haziness. The very next person who had come to visit, a tall elf who insisted every day she would remember him soon, set his jaw and left with her one request.
Along 3 of her walls were overlapping sketches of orcs; bedside were no less than 57 cases of throwing darts, stacked higher than Kya herself. She was getting pretty good at tossing darts, in fact. She wondered if that new joint in town had a dart board. With that new concept of hope, Kya let fly a particularly well balanced dart and with a satisfying twang, it stuck smack dab in the middle of the orc's forehead. She squinted and could almost see the eyes in the sketch cross, its mouth forming a soundless "Doh!"
Von sat perched on the windowsill, still as a gargoyle. Emotions rushed through his head, ranging from joy at Kya's recovery, guilt at letting her come to harm, and a bloodthirsty desire for revenge. The Orc would die a very slow, very painful death, that was certain. But for now, he'd make sure his beloved regained her full health and faculties.
Occasionally he'd look in, seeing her draw, or throw darts, and a slight smile would crease his features, turning swiftly into a grim frown when he looked away.
The city continued to make its noises, but the elf ignored them, totally focused.
After that night Kennia made her way to the room where Kya was resting. She could hear the thud of something hitting the wall. Slowly opening the door and peaking in Kennia saw a flash of metal and a balde hitting some paper on the wall right infront of her nose. Turning her head she looked at Kya in the Bed. "Good to see your arm in not hurt or your eyesight." With a grin she walks in and only then does she notice Vonn sitting there brooding. Worry fills her eyes as she pulls out a book for Kya. "The Book here is a story about some knights up north and their code." "It is a good read and has great tips on the larger swords." Looking to Kya with a warm smile she hands over the book. "Look I will get you both some food..you both just relax" With that Kennia slips out the door and heads to Jackob bar the Kilt and Haggis for some good cooked meals.
Ollie poked her head in through the door, "Hey, kiddo, how ya feeling?" She hefted a basket in and set it on the table. "I brought you both some lunch. Didn't bring anything stronger than wine, seein as how I don't know doc's stance on that sort of thing."
She tried a cavalier smile, but it faltered a little and she shifted uncomfortably. "Well, let me know if you need anything."
She patted Von on the shoulder, a gesture to cover the note she passed him. She wasn't sure if people were tiptoeing around Kya, but she sure wasn't going to be the one who charged in like a bull swearing on revenge.
The note seemed simpler: Von,
You have my sword. Name the target.