|Summary:||It seems, occasionally, Dania can still be lucid|
|Related Logs:||Missing Children saga in general. Who shot Dania saga in general|
|Sept of the Seven, Terrick's Roost|
|The Sept of Terrick's Roost was never a grand spectacle, but has been hit especially hard by the occupation. Recent repairs have made the sept usable, if in less glamorous fashion: the broken roof has been replaced with thatch, the broken statues with cruder clay representations, the smashed windows boarded up. The few surviving pews have been supplemented with simpler seating. On the floor is lain out with a bright seven-pointed star in representation of the Gods, defaced by hammer and chisel and not yet restored.|
|Mon Dec 03, 289|
It is early in the morning and the fog is starting to burn off. The sun still low in the sky has not yet begun to heat up the slowly waking land. Already the Roost is alive with industry as folks bring their wares to market and other go about their daily work and business. In the quiet of the Sept morning prayers have been said and those that are sick are hidden in the back have been cared for and some are still being tended. One of the ones who are being tended is Dania. She is has been bathed in a cool water and the dressings on her wound have been changed. The strong scent of poultices mixes with the sour scent of infected flesh. It is a testament to the Septa that her leg is still attached and that she is still alive.
With another long day of hunting for any sign of the abducted children and their kidnappers ahead of him, Mortimer is at the Sept early to get his own bandage changed. Not that he thinks it particularly necessary any more, since the wound is finally healing well, but it seems his wife is more stubborn than he is. The deed is done quickly enough so as to give him a little time before he needs to be elsewhere he stops for a moment where Dania lies, face grim at the failure to find the children, the archer, or so it would seem a maester.
Dania is awake as it is hard not to be. She is not ordering the Septa's around nor is she even trying to give advice. Instead she is quiet as she is exhausted. Her long hair has been braided into a night braid. Her breath is shallow and her eyes are bright with pain and unshed tears. She hears and sees Mortimer. "Any luck on your hunt for the children?" Her voice is weak and may or may not even be heard
It seems someone, probably the Septa, has left a stool by the bedside so Mortimer takes the opportunity to take the weight off his feet, he's going to be using them enough later after all. At the question he shakes his head, exhaling slowly as he does so. "'Fraid not Mistress. Nothing since I saw the woman and her wolves." Leaning his head and back on the wall behind him he silently wishes for another hours sleep before adding, as it occurs to him, "word is though of trouble in Erenford lands. Two or three missing, depending who you here from. I'm starting to think that our searches are in vain."
"I am starting to think that perhaps the houses should combine their efforts." Dania says to him softly. "Each of you may have a piece of the puzzle. I heard about the dead Septa." She points out. "I hear a lot as I lay here." She grows quiet for bit as her blue eyes study him. "How are you healing? I have been thinking. You need a helmet."
"We have help from Highfield," Mortimer answers, "and we've tried to speak to Kinsgrove, but we've heard nothing back, even though both their missing are now found and buried." Or about to be buried, he's not sure on the exact timescales. At the mention of a septa though he raises an eyebrow, it's certainly caught his attention and he leans forward a little to ask, "dead Septa?" As for himself, he rolls the healing shoulder back and forth once each way to show her he was full movement. "I'm told it's doing well," he offer before then shaking his head slightly, leaning back against the wall as he does so, "I looked at getting one a while back but they cost Mistress, food and fuel for the fire come first."
"Tell Ser Terrick that it is needed. You cannot afford another hit to the head." Dania reminds him. "As for the Septa, she was with the missing girl from Heronshurst. Something about the body being neatly wrapped" She tells him. "Do not quote me on that I hear a lot but my mind is a fog most of the time. If you need me lucid this is the time of day. Remember to take care of yourself."
"Ser Justin isn't the richest either Mistress," Mortimer replies, although somewhat grudgingly given he has no particular desire to 'gossip' about what internal issues there may or may not be with the Terricks. "The armoury might have a spare I suppose," he speculates after a moment's thought before turning the conversation once more to the news from Heronhurst. "Missing girl? I had heard it was two lads, squires or some such, nothing about a girl." He sighs lightly, the situation seemingly getting worse and worse. "I will talk with the Lord Sheriff, and the help from Highfield, but it's sounding like I was right. We are looking in the wrong place."
"I am sorry I have not been able to do more, I would offer to ride that way and look at the bodies." Dania says to him in a whisper. "But I would not be able to go far." That little bit of honesty makes her look even more pained than she already is. "I know he is not rich, but he will help you figure out a way to get one. You will not do your family any good by getting hit on the head again. You would not be able to support them. Your wife could be left with the task of feeding and changing you instead." Says the woman who looks like she is at deaths door.
Mortimer shakes his head at that suggestion, "You look after yourself first, before you start worrying about riding half way across the Riverlands. I'm sure they've a Maester or such out there who can take care of it." With the back of his head still resting against the cool wall of the room he ;lifts one hand to stifle a half-yawn before he then starts to push himself to his feet once more.
"That is the pot calling the kettle black. I think you are right, I think you should look to the old gods or the drowned one." Dania says quietly to him. "There is a reason behind it; it does not feel like it would be of just angry woman. Then again those that are touched with madness never really have a rhyme or a reason." She notices the yawn. "Rest you look like you need more sleep."
"I doubt it's either of them, "Mortimer replies once he's on his feet, "I've never heard tell of the Old Gods having a fancy for such terrors and while the other might, there's been a lack of water so far." Not that the mention of the Drowned God passes without a frown mind, there's a score to settle there that'll linger a long time. "I guess we'll have to see what news come out of Heronhurst, see if they can tell us something we don't already know." Not that he's expecting much mind, and his tone probably betrays that, but as they say, every little helps. Giving her a faint smile he admits, "I do, aye, about a week's more I reckon by now." Straightening up a little and resting his hands on his belt he adds "I promised her parent's though, efforts won't cease until she's found and this thing stopped."
“Sometimes when I child goes missing it is best to have the turn to the Sept for prayer and not promise what you may not be able to produce. I know and I know you and the others will work yourselves to bone trying to find her and trying to find an answer. But you should not give yourselves the added stress. I also have no right lecture, I just cannot help myself." She points out. "Here I am dancing with the Stranger." She chuckles. "How is your son doing and your lovely wife?"
Mortimer glances briefly towards the main body of the sept, then back to Dania. "Prayers have been offered I can assure you of that, an' someone must have been watching over me that last time I reckon." Bending to move the stool a little so it's once more out of the way he continues, "It's my job Mistress, and I'd not change it just so I might sleep a little easier, or longer, of a night." As for his family, that gets a little shrug, "Can't say I've seen 'em much these past few days. Out before the lad wakes up and back in long after he's abed, Master Nathaniel has been kind enough to start teaching him his letters though, which should be keeping him busy."
"That is good; the power of the written word is beautiful. Do not let him give up." Dania says. She smiles a little bit. "I will make sure you get a primer." She tells him. "I still hope you find your daughter Mortimer. I really do. You have a good family. They need you. Just keep that in mind. I should be the last one to tell you not to give up too much of yourself."
"I won't, much though the glamour of something new will like as not fade before he's through," Mortimer responds with a brief nod, "It'll see him well in the future." Or thats the plan at least. There’s then a slight shake of his head as the subject once more turns to his daughter, "It's coming up a year now Mistress. She is gone from us and in the protection of the Gods." There's a brief pause as he examines the floor a moment then adds "I do wonder sometimes if this woman we seek was driven to what she is now by refusing to accept such." There but for the grace of the gods go I, and the like.
"Some women do get that way. I have seen it on more than one occasion. I remember one incident very well. A woman died giving birth and another had lost her child when she had turned her back on the child and the child ran off and drowned in the stream. The woman was mad with grief. The only way we could turn her around was giving her the child whose mother had died. It brought her out of her grief." Dania's voice is now but a whisper. "There have been other cases where the child was a still born and mother ended up committing suicide later. Some mothers also get overwhelmed or touched with madness and take the lives of their own children."
Were he more in the mood for such conversation, Mortimer might admit that he had feared some such might have befallen his wife all those months ago. It seems she was made of sterner stuff though, or maybe the invasion and the lad had kept her focused on other things. Instead he says simply, "I'm afraid Mistress, that I have tarried long enough. I have a long day ahead and it isn't getting any shorter as I stand here."
"I am sorry I have kept you. May you be well," She tells him in a gentle tone. "Talk to Ser Terrick about a helmet." She goes to close her eyes.