tortallan_npc: ([Abigail] Look down)
There are many wounded after the first assault. Abigail may not have had much success with Raph's katana sword and she may not be a healer by trade, but she can fetch water, clean wounds and bandage with the best of them.

When the dragon shakes the walls and rattles their friends on the observation deck, she's helping the healers with Sarge. They send Farant, a trainee, to ask Numair what's happened; their spells aren't working again. The large man is one of the worst hit, and would count as one of their worst losses should he die.

Soon thereafter they bring someone into the baron's study and gently place her on a cot. It's the strange girl, the one who has speech with animals -- Daine. She's unconscious. Exhausted. Wiping her forehead, Abigail grimly thinks that she's not alone.

Time passes. Abigail catches a brief cat nap in a chair. She bandages a head wound, treks to the kitchen for bread and fresh milk. As she passes the study on her way back to the main sickroom, she hears Onua talking to Daine. Feeling no shame, Abigail listens.

"The Swoop's animals are in the same trap we are," the woman says. "Men broke into their homes, killed their families, threatened you -- and you won't let them do anything for fear you'll be hurt. That's selfish. How would you like it if I took your bow and said I cared too much about you to let you fight?"

"I see your point," Daine admits.

Outside the door, Abigail frowns.

"You've made your friends helpless, just like the bandits made you helpless when they killed your family. Of course the animals fight you. We have no choice in being hunted -- not animals, not humans. That's how the world is. The choice we do have is to take it -- or fight. Why don't you show them how not to get killed, and let them decide?" Onua pauses. "I'll be honest with you. We need all the help we can get."

Abigail starts. She moves away from the study and down the hall, considering what she's just heard, and walks right past her original destination and up the stairs. The bread and milk are forgotten.

It's been some time since she saw Raph and suddenly that's not at all acceptable.
tortallan_npc: ([Abigail] Soft as steel)
[After this.]

He's a fool.

His friends, his family, might be high and mighty, but the man is a dimwitted fool.

The one-two slam of the kitchen and inn doors is cathartic. Mad as she is, Abigail appreciates the noise and hopes it sets his teeth on edge to know she was imagining that bald head of his caught in each of them.  He'd know, of course, because he knows her.

Right now, she's not so sure she wants to know him.

Not with the way he hadn't bothered to follow his apology with an explanation. Not with the way it had made her feel when each day passed without word.

Not with the rumors brought by each weary traveler, or the reports of the Lioness riding off in the night.

Abigail thins her lips and sweeps under the low roof of the stables, her skirts trailing in the damp earth and straw. Just because his rider deserves to be beaten around his thick head doesn't mean Cloud shouldn't have his oats.

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May 2009

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