51 Vhalar 720
She sat rolling bandages when the package arrived. A crate nailed shut, the courier smiled kindly and carted it over, handing her a slip of parchment to sign. 'For my boss,' he explained, 'Man will go mental if I go losing another shipment. Gotta have proof.'
She thanked him, tipping a gold after he settled it into her room. It sounded weighty - not heavy, but packaged well. After a bit of struggling, she pried it open and settled on the floor, lifting the lid and pushing it away. Inside were four bottles - one just on the market as of today, if the courier could be trusted (and after his admittance... could he?) - each corked and labelled in a variety of ways. Even the glass of each one varied, as if each drink held its own personality, and Yeva rose to gather one she already had sitting upon her shelf.
She retrieved a glass and lined the bottles up, along with a corkscrew, her journal, a bucket, a loaf of bread baked that morning, and a blanket. She had never done an experiment on herself and wasn't quite sure where to begin. For a long, quiet moment, she simple stared at her supplies.
To her surprise, it was Baskara who spoke up, "You must know your current state to know its changes."
"That's a good point," Yeva reached for her quill and then stopped, "Are you helping me?"
"I am curioussss," the snake extended from her shoulder and reached out to coil and float, tongue flickering as she slithered between the bottlenecks, pausing to eye each one, "Why a human choosessss to poisssson itsssself."
"I'm not poisoning myself," she began, although technically Baskara wasn't wrong, "Well-"
"Well?"
The Diri was amused.
Yeva huffed, "It's not for me - it's for the Order." As if it really mattered whether or not she defended herself against the spirit, Yeva flipped rapidly through her notebook to a page dated less than 7 trials ago, "You have to remember the man who came in clutching his stomach? His friend had to bring him in?"
"Do you?" Baskara challenged, sending flashes of the Firebrand brew memory, "He was in much pain. Self inflicted. And I watch as you prepare to do the same? You must see the lesson, but you do not heed it. Why?"
Good question.
Yeva chewed her lip but began to reach for her writing utensil, "He drank too much. It was rumored to heat him up, although he did not listen. Others like him were injured, and now it is up to me - someone who heals the community - to learn what the consequences are before others succumb to them."
"Foolish!"
"Baskara..."
"A thousand drunkards in the city, why not ask them?"
"It's not the same. You wouldn't..." Yeva sighed, wiping off the excess ink from her nib and writing her first sentences, "You wouldn't understand. I have to feel it for myself." To learn. There was often a subtlety to learning one's drinking limits. Yeva would need to feel how her body responded to each level of intoxication, a body that the diri did not have - "I am thankful for your care, but this is important to me."
She could feel Baskara's displeasure, an alien emotion which she defended against, "I'll be careful, I promise."
She thanked him, tipping a gold after he settled it into her room. It sounded weighty - not heavy, but packaged well. After a bit of struggling, she pried it open and settled on the floor, lifting the lid and pushing it away. Inside were four bottles - one just on the market as of today, if the courier could be trusted (and after his admittance... could he?) - each corked and labelled in a variety of ways. Even the glass of each one varied, as if each drink held its own personality, and Yeva rose to gather one she already had sitting upon her shelf.
She retrieved a glass and lined the bottles up, along with a corkscrew, her journal, a bucket, a loaf of bread baked that morning, and a blanket. She had never done an experiment on herself and wasn't quite sure where to begin. For a long, quiet moment, she simple stared at her supplies.
To her surprise, it was Baskara who spoke up, "You must know your current state to know its changes."
"That's a good point," Yeva reached for her quill and then stopped, "Are you helping me?"
"I am curioussss," the snake extended from her shoulder and reached out to coil and float, tongue flickering as she slithered between the bottlenecks, pausing to eye each one, "Why a human choosessss to poisssson itsssself."
"I'm not poisoning myself," she began, although technically Baskara wasn't wrong, "Well-"
"Well?"
The Diri was amused.
Yeva huffed, "It's not for me - it's for the Order." As if it really mattered whether or not she defended herself against the spirit, Yeva flipped rapidly through her notebook to a page dated less than 7 trials ago, "You have to remember the man who came in clutching his stomach? His friend had to bring him in?"
"Do you?" Baskara challenged, sending flashes of the Firebrand brew memory, "He was in much pain. Self inflicted. And I watch as you prepare to do the same? You must see the lesson, but you do not heed it. Why?"
Good question.
Yeva chewed her lip but began to reach for her writing utensil, "He drank too much. It was rumored to heat him up, although he did not listen. Others like him were injured, and now it is up to me - someone who heals the community - to learn what the consequences are before others succumb to them."
"Foolish!"
"Baskara..."
"A thousand drunkards in the city, why not ask them?"
"It's not the same. You wouldn't..." Yeva sighed, wiping off the excess ink from her nib and writing her first sentences, "You wouldn't understand. I have to feel it for myself." To learn. There was often a subtlety to learning one's drinking limits. Yeva would need to feel how her body responded to each level of intoxication, a body that the diri did not have - "I am thankful for your care, but this is important to me."
She could feel Baskara's displeasure, an alien emotion which she defended against, "I'll be careful, I promise."
