|Comforts at Camp|
|Summary:||From reassurances to food, there has to be some basic reminders of being alive.|
|Related Logs:||Afflicted and Death by Flux Anything with the Flint sickness.|
|Large clearing with lots of tents. A big pvaillion and multiple smaller ones, also a cook fire and the foundations of a small manor.|
|December 29, 289|
As Visenya finishes off her reading, she hugs the notes against her chest as she looks toward the camp. There is a moment of hesitation before turning her gaze back toward her supplies. No matter how vast and generous they may have seemed in Stonebridge, when suddenly here, it seems so very… small. How best to spread so little into so much. How to save a people from an uncurable disease. So many different questions race through her mind that she no longer seems to be in the present.
"I will make something.. no worries." Again, Bella stretches, stiff from sitting so long and reading the notes. With a smile to the Ashwood, she finally inputs into his words earlier. "Thank you for the offer of the help with herbs. I am sure I am not the only one to appreciate all the help we can get." Looking at the Nayland and her expression, her voice softens. "Perhaps you should look after the lady while I prepare a meal.." Just a suggestion.
"…Not what you expected?" Daryl asks, not yet looking her way. The Ashwood unfolds his arms and shakes his head. He can't let his thoughts have idle time to dwell, but he had not yet said a prayer today. Being stretches of land away from his already sick sister, who was lost…The deputy snaps back to reality when Bella speaks up and he nods towards her, looking over his shoulder. "I will. And thank you." His tone is bit softer than usual. He looks ahead oncemore, dipping his head in silence.
Visenya looks in Daryl's direction, shaking her head. "Not what I truly expected at all," she freely admits. "I have seen conflict and death… far more death than I ever could have wanted or expected but this is… it is more. And different from what I thought it would be Was I naive for ever thinking that I could understand or be prepared for what I will see here?" Her smile is weak but she does manage to provide one for the man. "And you, Ashwood. You look about you with a look as though you were completely lost but within the safety of your home all at once. What troubles you beyond your one-day-bride?"
Daryl shoots Visenya a sharp look towards the end that suggests that speaking about Aemy is off limits. "Call me by my name. You know it well." Though his features soften some then as he admits, "My little sister. And cousin. But I have said my prayers…And for now that is all I can do." A look back towards Bella then as she prepares a meal and he looks back at the Goodbrook. "I just set my mind to the task…The rest can catch up with me when i'm finished doing what I need to do." Visenya is seated on a log with notes near her, and Daryl is standing beside. Bella is cooking dinner.
Visenya returns Daryl's look mildly, her shoulders lifting into a slight shrug. "Sometimes we must do more than pray, Ashwoo-" She grimaces. "Daryl. And you well know it. Should we sit here and pray to the Gods that a cure will be found or shall we go forth and find one. I did not come here to sit idly by." Her bright, cornflower blue eyes focus in on the Ashwood, a fierce smile on her lips. "You are like me in many ways. You will not fall despondant and sit meekly. I have every confidence in you. For all you are my enemy, you are also my friend."
"…As you are mine," Daryl admits, albeit quietly as he nods his agreement. "I just wish I could be in three places at once." He clears his throat then and looks to see Bella's progress, before moving to sit beside the Goodbrook, "You are right, however…We'll take care of this. We each have a job to do." He picks at some grass, letting the blades filter through his fingers as the wind takes them towards the camp, where the ever present coughing and hacking can be heard. Daryl sneaks a little look towards Visenya, albeit briefly. "…No pressure."
"I fear what will happen should we fail in our jobs," Visenya notes grimly. "Much rides on all of us. So many children that could die…" And there is her weak spot, so open and afraid. She could watch the men die if necessary. Perhaps even the other women. But children? No, she does not have the heart for that. Especially as all she can envision is her own child, frightened and sick. One hand tightens into a fist. "No, we will find the cure, even if it kills us."
"…I'm betting there's children out there in those tents…Sick. Who we will have to remove from their parents arms. Steel yourself, Visenya. Don't let anything cloud your judgement, as you will be deciding who is showing symptoms and who remains." Dark green orbs shift to lock on her visage. "…And we can't afford to miss any. This has to be isolated at all costs and what we're about to do is not going to be easy." Daryl's eyes trail down her frame briefly before settling on the tents some ways off. "Let me know whatever you need. I can find it." Probably referencing the cure.
Dania says, "Are you even certain the Sheriff and the Deputy will allow you to treat the poor small folk, Milady?" The speaker stands about six feet tall and despite being thin she look sturdy. She is dressed in a dark brown gown and plain blue apron dress and a long white heavy linen apron. She smells of herbs and soap. Her hands are red. Her long brown hair is primly pinned up. She smiles as she this and then she offers a curtsy to all the nobles gathered. "Have you raised the flag? If they will not go let them stay with the children and help but let them know they will get sick, healthy needs to be removed from the sick but extra hands will be needed.""
"Are you even certain the Sheriff and the Deputy will allow you to treat the poor small folk, Milady?" The speaker stands about six feet tall and despite being thin she look sturdy. She is dressed in a dark brown gown and plain blue apron dress and a long white heavy linen apron. She smells of herbs and soap. Her hands are red. Her long brown hair is primly pinned up. She smiles as she this and then she offers a curtsy to all the nobles gathered. "Have you raised the flag? If they will not go let them stay with the children and help but let them know they will get sick, healthy needs to be removed from the sick but extra hands will be needed."
Visenya smiles. "What I truly need is strength that i know not if I truly possess. But I do understand. I understand above all else what is at stake. If we fail to stop this outbreak and it spreads beyond your barricades? All could be lost?" She looks to Dania on the woman's approach, smiling grimly. "I will treat all. I am a healer i. this instance, not a lady. In a situation such as this, thT takes priority." She hesitates but shakes her head. "We cannot allow the sickness to spread to the healthy, no matter the cost. Even if it means separating the young from the parents."
Daryl seems a tad startled by the sudden arrival of Dania, and the deputy shifts a bit on the log, nodding his head in general, "The situation is a bit worse than we predicted, Mistress. And desperate times call for desperate measures." The Ashwood's belly grumbles lightly, but is sternly ignored by the man. He looks to Dania, at her hands, and then says, "You should likely wear gloves, no? I have an extra pair." He offers to her, after a quick glance to Visenya.
<FS3> Dania rolls Body: Failure.
<FS3> Visenya rolls Body: Failure.
"Think, there are not enough of us to go around, we will need help. Those that can help with the little ones and also help tend others." Dania points out. "I have been through something like this before. We will be at our wits end soon enough." She looks at the lady and then smiles. "It is good to hear you say that. It is also good to see your training was not wasted." Her words are honest and her smile bright but it fades. She looks to Daryl. "I have my own and I have been wearing them I am done working and have just washed my hands in hot water." She tells him. She looks annoyed and she does not even try and hide it. Her attention is on the other healers. She looks tired and her eyes are dark eyes. Most likely because she has not gotten much sleep. "For the children use a tincture of pennywort infused with Fenugreek. It will help. Dill and Fenugreek is also very good and the adults can take it. An infusion of Black nightshade has also been known to help. The Fathers Weed (Bishop weed) is another option. If I get sick do not give me Tansy please." She adds as a side note. "What suggestions do the two of you have? And you Lord Deputy?"
Having been keeping to herself, cooking.. not paying any attention to the conversation, Bella finally gets a moment for herself after checking the doneness of the potatoes, she looks over at the others and calls out just for them to hear. "Food is ready.." Not feeling much like eating now that it is done, she leaves the food for the strapping men who need it, stepping aside to allow the Ashwood near if he is interested. "I think I will just look through my books a little more. Surely there is something there. Something I am missing.." pushing herself hard to do something. She heads into the tent to get to reading.
"Until those who we allowed to stay with the children and grow sick will become so ill that they are no longer of any assistance and then we find ourselves with even more who are sick," Visenya points out to Dania, shaking her head. "Again, as much as I hate to do it, we must separate the children from any parents who are healthy at the moment. The others who are ill will be able to offer aid and support. If we do not find a cure soon, it will not matter for we will all be dead from this." Her expression is grim and yes, to a certain level, frightened. But it is not a fear that she lets take hold of her. "Have we found any who have been particularly immune to the disease? Who have been in the midst of it and yet are not ill yet?"
Daryl just looks at Dania for a few moments, rising and patting his pants off some as he exhales, "…I'm going to get some food." Is all he says, dismissively with a shake of his head. "We have a plan set in action and we're going to follow it. The creating of a cure? I leave to you lovely ladies. I can find the materials you need, and have equipment to use for the devising of a remedy. All you need to do is ask." Then the Deputy moves to gather some of the food, nodding his appreciation to Arabella. "Thank you, again. Hopefully you cook better than you drink." A playful laugh, rare and uplifting in their grisly little scene.
"They are here in this encampment. They have shared the water, ate the food, held the them already. It is a matter of time." Dania points out logically. "We could eventually become sick ourselves and where would we be but as you said a burden. Those not sick. There are approximately 40 in the pavilion who are sick, 60 who are not. The pavilion is not far enough away from the rest of the camp. There are six children in the pavilion and only a handful of families. Now there is one one child who needs to be brought back to the pavillions, she is a teenager who was tending her mother who died. All of the children who are sick are in the pavilion. This is not a large town. It is work encampment which is good and is in our favor as this can be quickly contained. Which you know!" She smiles as she says this part. "I would say any in those 60 is who you want to see who are healthy and show a resistance so far to the sickness. Lord Deputy Raise the Quarantine flag."
Visenya tilts her head in curiosity as she looks up to Daryl as he departs but then turns her attention back to Dania, rubbing at her brow. "Hearing the numbers does make it all so very dark," she muses quietly. "I fear that we may find ourselves outmatched. In all of the studying I have done, I have never heard of a cure for this. Who are we to change what our betters were unable to accomplish…" Her hands squeeze together tightly. "But… perhaps there is something unique about those who have resisted thus far. Perhaps something in their diet, or something they have done that will offer assistance. We should look in to that possibility."
Daryl takes a eating utensil, prodding at the meal in front him before testing a bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Nows thats some good taters." He compliments Arabella, more or less ignoring Dania for the moment, and taking another bite. "Mmm! This is delectable!" He announces, perhaps with an extra bit of added emphasis to egg on the commoner even more. "Where'd you learn to cook like this, Arabella?" He grins at that, eyeing the young woman with a coy smile, "You poured wine into it, didn't you?…You know the quickest way to a man's heart is his stomach…Well or liver…Or…" Daryl cuts himself off there, toothy grin rising charmingly and a bit of a chuckle. "I've said too much." Finally, he looks towards Dania. "Mistress. You seem an intelligent…Albeit, loud woman." He taps his utensil against the plate that holds his food, "..Can't you see that i'm eating?" He sets the plate down idly and very nonchalantly speaks, though there's a grim undertone to his words, "Now I don't go about prodding into your field of expertise, so I suggest you leave quarantine and containment to -me-. You do your job. Find a cure." Surely there's a lot of stress on him, and even his normally casual and fun loving demeanor has been stretched thin. "Do me a favor, and.." One hand moves to each side of his cloth covered cheeks, the man making a pulling motion in mid air, "Tighten that cloth up a little more…So I can enjoy a few moments of peace in an otherwise very fucked up day." Cue a loud hacking and retching sound from the tents.
"Well, so much for that." Daryl says with a mirthless smirk and shake of his head. There's a look towards Visenya, and he nods a touch at her hypothesis, shrugging. Back to Arabella, he's all smiles again. "Really. Best i've ever had." Another bite, chew chew.
"Not all die from it okay a small number, but there are many treatments for it. Some are local some are from different areas. We need to use what we have and figure out a way to treat and keep everyone alive until the sickness runs its course. I personally like to think I am peer to the Maesters, I was just born the wrong sex and I am very focused on healing, herbalism and midwifery. You should think the same. But think of this as a puzzle that is taking us a while to solve. Through the ages our peers have studied this and have added new treatment to the list. What was known then and what is known now changes. Keep positive, one foot in front of the other. But you see why I say we should allow the parents to help tend the children as long as they know and understand the risks. Also you might be onto something. Always question and never give up and know that sometimes your question may have to change or be revised as you learn more." Dania tells her as she goes to carefully sit on the log. She looks at Daryl and she cheerfully says. "I have been, that is why I asked about the flag, it is part of the job. Containment and Quarentine are part of the job Milord. Better get used to the sound, there will be more." She then goes to rise from where she had just sat down.
"Peace, both of you," Visenya says sternly. "We have enough to worry on without inner quarrels that have no place when there is sickness all around us." She stands, even though it seems to take effort to actually do so, and stares first to Daryl, meeting his eyes, and then to Dania. "We each have enough to do without having to snarl over whose territory we might impede upon. Human life is now more important than our own personal prides and arrogance." Yes, her gaze does shift a little bit more toward the Ashwood at the mention of pride and arrogance. "And if you are unable to stow it and play well with others, then you had best stay out of my way for I simply will not tolerate it." She is not a tall woman, or particularly menacing, but she holds herself with the utmost confidence of a person who fully expects those around her to stop and listen and more importantly, to do as she says.
…Unfortunately it lands on rather deaf ears. Daryl is busy munching away at his meal rather hungrily, putting away potatoes like its his job. He takes a moment to look their way then. "Tolerate it, don't tolerate it, do whatever you'd like. I'm going to be doing my job, which is containing the illness from further spreading. You two and Arabella search for a cure. Don't get sharp with me when this one's.." He looks to Dania, "Roaring so loud that it probably woke half the camp. I got attacked by a bear quieter than you." He takes a few more bites, "..But since you asked so nicely, Visenya…I'll be good. For now. Just let me eat my food." The Ashwood moves to his tent then, reaching inside the flap to pull out a skin of some liquid. Notably there's a bit of sarcasm towards the end there.
She is not ignoring what is said she is just focused on the issue at hand, despite the baiting. "Slippery elm and barley tea can also be given to keep the individual hydrated. Everything that goes in will come out." Dania is musing now and she has her back turned to the two nobles. "The question is what do we have and how much of it? How to use the supplies we have? What herbs do you have with you and how much?" Dania asks the Lady. "Depending on what we have we could put everyone into different groups and treat them according to the group. That way we utilize all that we have. Honestly as horrid as it sounds it also will allow for us to take careful notes on the different treatments." She shakes her head. "What do you mean by roaring I spent only two candle marks in my bedroll." She shakes her and then goes back to ignoring him.
Daryl wants to hear roaring? "Enough of this," is the angry response from Visenya as she stares first at Daryl, and then Dania. Her bright blue eyes have darkened with her silent rage until it all finally bursts forth. "We have an entire campful of people so sick that they will likely die in the next few days, to say nothing of ourselves. And yet you insist on picking at one who might possibly make all of the difference in this life or death moment." She strides across to Daryl, glaring at the Ashwood. "Is that what you wish for? To separate her from her duty to the point where your Sheriff could die. Bella could die. I could die." She meet his green gaze. "Is that what you want?" She seems finally on the downward spiral of her anger, up until he brings out the skin of liquid and it spikes back up again. "In the light of our situation, you will NOT drink in this camp or I shall see you thrown in with the sickest of the bunch where you shall STAY."
Daryl quirks a brow, his expression hidden behind mask as Visenya approaches him, but he remains calm and collected. If a bit twisted, she did have a point of the entire camp full of dying people. His gaze meets Visenya's evenly, having to look down a touch to do so, but the Ashwood takes a deep breath in, then out…Before? He was just poking fun. But if there's one person who can -actually- get underneath his skin, it's Visenya. The Deputy clenches a fist out of sheer stress, and the fact he hasn't gone berserk yet is a testament to his will. He just pours some of the liquid from the skin, it hits the ground, splattering a little on both their toes. Clear, water. After all he did kill the entirety of his wine last night. "I would…Take caution who you threaten here, M'lady. But as much as you preach peace you hide a dagger behind your back." His gaze lingers, piercing and even. "I will do my job. We will get this settled, and you…Back to Stonebridge…M'lady." He idly tosses the skin to the ground, moving to collect a small bag from his tent and step away. Over his shoulder, he speaks to Dania, "I will have all my herbalism ingredients presented to you. We'll find a cure." Oh so now its 'We'? Perhaps Visenya did do a little good. Either way, the Ashwood is stepping into the darkness, about twenty paces from the group, small bag in hand.
"Yes, that is why I asked the questions I asked. I am not sure you heard them. We have limited supplies here." Dania is confused by the anger now that she is out of her musings. "He is just being himself. I baited him and he baited back. There will be more angry words between us. I think it is just our nature. I am stubborn as they get and he is too full of pride. I am sorry I got us both in trouble and I am certain I will be apologizing again." She points out. "I am going to go back to the pavilion where I belong before my mouth causes me more issues. I was just coming here to fetch my bed roll since my supplies are already up there and I have been mulling over what was said the night before." She then creeps towards her tent and gathers up a very nice, clean and well put together bed roll. She is starting to creep towards the pavilion. "We have three days after symptoms first present themselves to the victim." She says over her shoulder to both of them. "That and be nice Lord Deputy she has the skill and there is no cure at this time. Just different ways to treat and contain the disease, but do not lose hope. That is one thing we need and need to cling to as fragile as it is. We might get lucky and find it or the Lady might find it. Thank you lord for the herbs, they will be put to good use."
Visenya looks back to Dania first. "Stonebridge provided a great deal of supplies and me to aid in this effort," she says simply. "In the morrow I can go through the stores with you." And then she turns back, looking after the Ashwood as it looks as though he is going to depart. "Daryl…" There's further hesitation before she tries to follow after the Lord.
Daryl gives a arm waving motion of recognition towards Dania, a little thumbs up, meant for Dania's talk of the herb supplies. He's got a good lead on Visenya, and that may be the reason he doesn't respond. Well that or he's pissed. Or just wants to be left alone. Hard to tell. Either way, when he gets to that distance, a faint fiery glow can be seen and a wooden pipe set to the Deputy's lips. It glows orange a couple times in the blackness of night as he leans casually against a tree. When he exhales, a long puff of smoke does too, leaving his lungs into the night air, wisping and coiling with the slight breeze.
Visenya slows long enough to allow Daryl to catch his breath and maybe even exhale the worst of his anger at her. But she does not deter from her path and does eventually hone in on the glowing embers of the pipe. Her fingers lace together behind her as she comes up on the Ashwood. She seems to just fade away into the darkness, save for her bright eyes and the soft white skin that is so pale it almost glows in the darkness. "You're angry with me," she comments. It's not a question, merely an observation.
Another strong draw of his pipe and the Ashwood lets out another stress relieving exhale of wispy grey. His shoulders visibly slouch some and his muscles relax…Quite the opposite of his usual tense, stressed demeanor. His cloth is still on, he just raises the pipe underneath it each time he takes a hit. It's so dark she can't even read the expression of his eyes until he draws on it. There's a silence that follows after her statement, and he idly toys with the wooden pipe in his fingers, "…So throw me in with the sick, why don't you?" While there's a bad taste to it, there's a little bit of teasing and humor there. The smoke is her friend.
"You grumbly, drunken ass." Oh my! Such words are so unbecoming of a noblewoman, and yet Visenya speaks them with such affection for the Ashwood. "I would so throw you in with the sick if you continued to act in such a way." She shakes her head, leaning on another tree so she might face Daryl. "We cannot afford fighting amongst ourselves. Even you should be able to see that. Any divisions or distractions could see us all killed." There's a pause. "And I would not wish to see any harm befall you. If your anger is what it takes to see that stay the reality, then I will suffer through it gladly."
Daryl takes another deep inhale, drawing that smoky substance into his lungs, holding it for a second before releasing little 'O' rings of smoke towards the Goodbrook, in such a frequence that it almost looks like it's forming a spiraling, single shape. "You are the most confusing, self-righteous, exhausting woman i've met." He counters, looking straight ahead. His tone is neutral, numb. "…Do not take me for a child, Visenya. I know what needs to be done. Half the time you speak that poison you call advice it is laced with insults." He straightens some, looking to make sure no one is eavesdropping, which is probably paranoid, considering their a good ways away, "…And then you -follow- me to try and make -amends!-" He seems almost incredulous, "I don't -get- you. You speak of loyalty to your house and then dwell with its enemy…You…You…" He just shakes his head. "You frustrate the hell out of me." He admits, "I can't place you. Go away." Now those last words are definitely joking…He's just making a point.
"And you are an arrogant, self-serving, obnoxious man," Visenya retorts. "Half of the time it seems that insults are the only way you will heed my words and make any sense of my words. I will add stubborn to my list as well to the completely frustrating qualities about you." The very mention of her House makes her grow tense. "I AM loyal to my House. To be disloyal would be to-" She cuts off, looking away. "I am here as a representative of my House and in my capacity as a healer. I followed you only to ensure that the Deputy of Highfield and one of the guards that we rely on at this moment does not cause himself harm and thus making it more difficult for the healers to work. That is all." Her last words are spoken without any energy behind them.
"Self-serving…? -Self serving-?!" Daryl shows a brief flash of emotion, but it is dulled by the smoke as well as his weariness. "Four of the past six weeks i've spent looking for a child that wasn't my own. To get -pissed- on when I returned home. To be sent to cure an illness which I have -no- business…" He takes a breath, shaking his head. No. He wasn't letting her get to his emotion again. Not this time. His voice is calm, steady. Weak in a way but also defiantly strong."…Today I watch a woman die a gruesome, painful death. Clawing out for help as if by some miracle somebody could save her." He leans off his tree, drawing close to the Goodbrook with a fire in his eyes, "…If I was…'Self serving', M'lady…I'd be out looking for my missing sister. The only good thing that has come from my raising. Who was struck with this illness a -week- ago. Forgive me, if i'm a bit obnoxious." He's nearly pressed against her, almost backing her into the tree trunk.
No, she will not back down. Not when there is so little distance between them, she will not let the Ashwood see her cringe under his height or weight suddenly pressed against her. Visenya's eyes drop so she does not have to face the piercing stare of Daryl Ashwood, a feeling that has a tendency to send shivers down her spine. "Then perhaps you should be," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should be out, following your instincts. For that is why we have them. It is what brought me here in the first place."
Daryl lets his head fall some, a small sigh emitting as he shakes his head, and she might just see…Grief? Worry?…It's too dark. The Ashwood just silently retreats back to his tree trunk, leaning back against it wearily, one leg kicking up for support. "…I'm afraid its a little late for that." The Deputy breathes in another puff of smoke, coolly emitting it out past lips that are almost clenched together. There's a small silence, "…If I lose her, I will never be the same. Because i'd never be able to forgive myself for it." He just shakes his head, looking away then. "Instincts, huh." There's a moment of contemplation, "…You really need to choose if you want to be my friend or my enemy…Because this half/half thing is a nightmare." There's a pause then, and he looks at her silently, meaningfully, but in the dark no more than a stare. "I'm scared. For my sister. I suppose you don't really know what she means to me…But it is why I am acting so. This I know." He sighs as it seems the pipe needs to be repacked. He clanks it against the bark of the tree, emptying the ash.
Hesitation before Visenya shakes her head. "You will never truly be my enemy," she says quietly. "Your House, perhaps, but never you. An enemy is one you look at and know that given the chance, they would not hesitate to strike you down. When I look at you, I do not see that. I do not fear that you will ever cause me harm." She hesitates a moment, loathe to bring up her own family, but she does. "I have three siblings. Two older and one younger. My second oldest brother is very dear to me. My best friend. I know that if something were to ever happen to him… if he disappeared, I would be beside myself until he were found." While the pipe is out and there is little to guide them or give away their position but the sound of their own movements and the small bits of starlight in the sky, the Nayland-born woman crosses their small distance again and places a kiss on the Ashwood's cheek.
Daryl lingers on the tree, listening to what she says and nodding his agreement some but when she crosses the small gap between him, he catches it in the corner of his eye, and he tilts his head just a touch towards her, unaware of her intention until he feels her lips pressed to his skin, more towards his jawline than the rounded part of his cheek. One hand gently falls to take her forearm, squeezing it lightly. Her words may be enough to infuriate him but her actions spoke something different. His free hand pulls away his cloth, taking just a few spare moments to breathe, but he hasn't let her go…Why hasn't he? Void of any sort of positive encouragement or drive to keep going save his own, he seems shaken to the core almost. His hard exterior fades some as he attempts to lightly pull Visenya into an embrace within the darkness. A sorely needed comfort in what is easily the worst time of his life. "…thank you." Is whispered quietly.
When she is pulled into his embrace, Visenya goes willingly, wrapping her arms around Daryl tightly for a moment before they loosen into something far more comforting. She does not speak a word, especially when words are likely to only ruin the moment and she has every intention of letting it extend for as long as it is able.
Okay…Touching moment over. The Ashwood releases her, and..Does he use his shoulder to wipe at his eye? Nah. Probably not. Clearing his throat, his arms fall to his sides, and he ties back that cloth over his face. "…Where you will -Stay!-" He mimics Visenya's former statement with a soft, rising laugh. He's just being an ass at this point, but she's lightened his mood, and he's atleast had someone to speak to about his missing family and other woes. He takes the small bag he was holding earlier, and he begins to pinch some of the contents and move to transfer it to his pipe. "Smoke, M'lady?" He offers with a wry grin.
As Daryl drops his arms from around her, Visenya steps back into a more respectable distance. "I politely decline, M'Lord," she replies to the offer, eyes rolling. "i am sure I can find a quiet enough spot to sleep while I am here. I hardly expect rich accommodations. That is not why I am here." Her smile is dry. "Which I should likely see to soon. I feel it will be a very long day tomorrow."
"Don't get too cold on me too quick, I need some time in between the transition," Referencing their way of arguing/making up/being distant what have you. It is said jokingly however, and he ventures a look back towards the fire, which has been waning without his oversight. "..Take my tent if you want. I'll have to set up another, as i'll probably be up later than you." He points to his tent around the fire. "Got a guarding shift anyway. We're not taking any chances." The Ashwood ventures another look at her.
He packs his pipe further, lighting it accordingly and taking a long drag. Puff puff.
Visenya's smile is amused but the way she looks at Daryl is not. It's shrouded mostly in the darkness but her affection and understanding for the man is clear. "I fear that such a thing is not an option," she replies. "It would cause scandal, even if you had no intention of ever stepping foot inside the tent while I was there. Even here, amidst death and sickness, one can never be too careful. I don't… I don't want to see you further unhappy and causing you scandal would only bring that sadness and pain. I will see about having my own tent set up for the time being."
"Scandal?…Really? For just sleeping in my tent without me?" Daryl strokes his chin, "Arabella's in Erik's tent, so I figured it'd be fine. I'm dense like that though, I don't see scandal until it comes up and smacks me across the face." Another joking, soft laugh, and he gently squeezes her hand once, and her look of affection is returned before he steps back, "…You. Are going to set up your tent?" He doesn't believe her, snickering a touch. "C'mon, I will if that's the case. Lets go." He moves to step back towards the fire, taking another drag and glancing back over his shoulder at her. "…You know this may be our last hours alive…" He's totally joking, easily shown by his inability to hold back a snicker.
"No doubt," Visenya replies teasingly. "For you are a walking scandal, M'Lord, from what I have heard. I think it is the look that you give women. It makes their hearts beat faster and then all is lost from reason." She shakes her head and follows along. "Give me more credit, Ashwood, for I have no doubt that I can keep us all alive for at least another forty-eight hours. Enjoy the time while you can."
"Hardly," Daryl argues defensively, "I'm just misunderstood. I can't control what my eyes…Or…Other parts of me does to women. I'm the victim." A predatory sort of grin rises some, and he chuckles it away, before giving her -that- look. Another snicker, though he quiets when they grow closer to the camp, and he moves to help set up her tent or offer his before tossing some twigs and tinder into the fire, as well as another log. Then he sits on the log bench, exhaling softly, "Forty eight hours," He repeats with a nod.
Visenya chuckles softly and shakes her head, "Don't you dare look at me that way, Ashwood," she replies but her eyes twinkle with delight. She shakes her head and once her tent is set up, she steps up to it. "I bid you good night. Rest easy, when sleep does finally come to you. If you find yourself in need of aid, do not hesitate to come find me. I can easily mix you a dreamless night."
Daryl chuckles quietly and nods his head from his spot seated on the log, "You too, Visenya, sweet dreams. And thank you again." He pauses, and does admittedly consider the dreamless night mixture. Nightmares of your little sister retching and coughing does not make for good sleep. "…I'll find you if I need you." Then his hues lock on the fire in front him, and a glance to the other tents to see if anyone else is awake.
Stars and clouds dot the dark night sky. The trees in this area look like standing guardians in the night. The pavilion is warm and busy there is also the sound of sickness here. A sour smell mixes with the scent incense and fresh air. Here there is a sense nervousness, fear, anger and frustration. Dania is among the mix she has on gloves and apron. She is handing out a tea that is made of slippery elm and barley. She is also handing out water that has been boiled and cooled but laced with some mineral salts. Her tone is kind and loving as she works on giving out this first round of drink.
Daryl uses a stick to prod at the fire some more, slight frown on his face before the Ashwood eyes the bigger tent, and he stands to move over that way. Sleep doesn't seem to be a luxary that will be afforded tonight. As he approaches the pavilion, he stops just aside, then opens the flap and peers in. He looks around, a frown on his face. His eyes settle on Dania but he doesn't speak up yet, watching her work.
The feeling of eyes on her has her turning to look in his direction. She then looks at someone who is helping her. She motions for him them to take over for her. Once they have taken over for her, Dania moves over to where Daryl is. "Can I help you Ser?" She asks him. "Did you bring the herbs for me?" She is nothing but polite but her blue eyes are guarded. "Trouble sleeping?"
"Its my turn to guard. Ser Erik and I take shifts." When she mistakenly calls him Ser, he doesn't correct her, because it happened often with him and he did think himself knightly. He reaches on his belt and grabs a folded up linen like bundle, "Here's a small portion of everything I have on hand. But I can find more here in the local wilderness as well as send for some if it is native elsewhere." A look around, and he looks quite solemn.
"Thank you my dear." Dania says to him as she takes bundle from him. She leans back on her heels and she looks at him. "You will find your sister, sometimes you just need to have some faith whether it is in the old gods or the seven. Also I still think you are an ass. But, you remind me of others that I know." She pauses for a moment. "I am sorry I did bait you early, but look around and see the worth in the men and the woman who toil and work the soil for you. I know you do not see any worth in us." Her voice is so soft that it is only met for his ears and his alone. "Do not be too hasty to judge us."
Towards the beginning of the conversation, Daryl is quite agreeable, and her assurances about his sister are welcomed with a small smile. When she calls him an ass, he chuckles good heartedly rather than taking offense, but as she utters the last part his eyes search about to the numerous cots and cots of smallfolk on death row. He clears his throat, his eyes showing promise in that they openly view the tragedy around them, but he averts the statement in a manner of, a "…These people are of House Flint, not House Ashwood." An excuse? Either way his eyes soak in the chaos while his words say different.
"It really does not matter, what color do you bleed and what color do I bleed. What do those scriptures that you and your kin read? Compassion makes you stronger as does Mercy it is when you do not show that, that is when you are weak. You have love for your sister. Both of us get the same sickness. It does not matter who or what house they belong to they are people and you are a person." Dania tells him. "Did I mention to you that I am equally ass like and stubborn at times? There is a reason I still am not married and I am older than you by a number of years I would bet." Her voice is still low.
"…I'm twenty three," Daryl asides, but his thoughts are far from their age difference, even though it was only a couple years. His eyes continue to search across the cots as he hears her words, The sounds and smells of the sickness beginning to look like it will make him come around, but he grits his teeth a little under his cloth, looking towards the exit tent flap. "…I should probably get back to watch over the tents. Can you spare a few moments and join me?"
"I can and then I will get back to work." Dania tells him. "After you." She says to him. She watches him with a patient eye. She looks over at the other healer who looks like she is has been run ragged. The two exchange a quiet nod of their heads. But she will wait for him to exit first before she follows.
Daryl opens the flap and exits the pavilion, relieved to be away of all that. The Ashwood leads the way back towards the fire, moving to throw another log into the fire pit to keep it lit. He looks back and puts a finger to his lips and look to the tents around, indicating the others are sleeping. He settles down on the log set up as a long seat along the grass, keeping his tone low when he speaks, "Are you planning on getting any sleep? Where?"
"I had brought my bedroll so I could sleep up by the Pavillion, I have a tent but there will be foot traffic if I am needed. It is wise to be where I can be reached." She tells him as she moves closer to the fire to savor the warmth. Her voice is low and quiet. "I have food that was packed for me that I brought in. I can nibble on that." She adds. "Why?"
"I don't I very much like the idea of you sleeping in there with them…Seems like an unneces…" He cuts himself off, looking her over a moment. He -could- put an end to it. But she wasn't stupid, she knew the risks she was taking. "…I just don't want to see you fall ill. You have skills we're going to need…And your going to need to be healthy to help them." He clears his throat, glancing her way then towards the tents where the others sleep. "All of us…Perhaps we should ready a quicker remedy to aleviate symptoms…In case we have caught it…No one is of use when coughing and with fever."
"It is the stomach the vomiting and the diarrhea that will make this debilitating. Do you know why they call it the Bloody Flux?" She asks him. "I am already exposed, just by working in there. I would not sleep in the Pavilion but next to it. I would be in the fresh air. It really is not proper for me to be down here." Dania points out. "Tansy helps with the stomach, dark nightshade helps with the intestinal cramping. The key thing is to keep the patient hydrated. I made a promise I would try not to get sick. Just remind them if I do fall ill no Tansy for me or nightshade."
"Alright," Daryl responds, familiar with the ingredients. He jabs a stick at the fire, clearing some of the ash and embers, but more or less letting it wane some so its darker for those sleeping. "…And why would you not want to alleviate your symptoms if you fell ill?"
Then he moves to grab that skin he had tossed earlier, moving to take a sip from the water within. "Doesn't sound particularly enjoyable."
"I will just not with that, there are other things that can be used." Dania is then frank and candid with her words. "Now as for the Blood flux, what happens is that it can soften the feces in the intestines. What is expelled can have a yellow mucus to or it can be bloody." She tells him. "Tansy is a main ingredient for in some moon tea. But I should be getting back. I will see you around. "
Daryl yawns for a long few moments, setting that poking stick down now to observe her a few moments, expression masked but when she goes into detail about the illness, his brow raises. "…Ah, I see. Very well, then Mistress. Don't forget to get some rest, and let me know what you need as far as herbs and such. Goodnight." He slumps some, then looks up at the moon. "Erik!" He hisses, moving to advance on the tent, "Your turn, buddy!" He moves to wake the sheriff.