Out Of Thin Air pt. II (Rickith)

[Jinyel]

Continued from here.

Cylus was a time of darkness. With the darkness came scarcity, and with scarcity came risk. Anyone wishing to survive the harsh season had to gamble with their health to gain any sort of reward. Sometimes they won prey. Sometimes they lost their health. Sometimes they did both.

Jinyel struggled to keep track of everything going on, but he was at least partially comforted by the dead warthog. It was meat, and even torn-up skin had a use. If he could just get it ― and himself ― back to the headquarters, his Cylus just became a lot easier.

Assuming, of course, he actually made it back. The tourniquet on his leg had saved him from lethal blood loss, but his lower leg was still entirely snapped. He was mostly sure Agnis could heal it, if he got to her. There was no telling how rough the ride would be, and so he needed a splint. Just enough to keep it from getting worse.

“F-fire,” Jinyel chattered when they reached his makeshift camp. “Light. Then, splint.”

He staggered against his horse and dug through the saddlebags with shaking hands. The flint and steel were in their proper place, alongside a handful of tinder. With that secured, he staggered over to the little pile of brushwood he kept at the edge of camp, and sat down heavily next to it. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, and pain radiated up his leg with every movement.

Gritting his teeth, Jinyel put the tinder on the ground and struck the steel. It sparked once, twice, and on the third time finally smoldered. Jinyel breathed on it, but his lungs didn’t want to work. His body wanted to hold his breath, to clench up against the pain, but he couldn’t afford that. He would be in far worse pain if he failed.

Jinyel chewed the inside of his cheek, because the deliberate pain took an edge off the greater one. He breathed the spark to life, and then the tinder burned, he shoved it underneath the pile of brushwood. He didn’t care if he burned the whole pile; he wouldn’t be using it anyway. With a warthog to eat, he wouldn’t need to.

"Jinyel," he stuttered, after realizing he hadn't introduced himself. "Me. Jinyel. You're... Rickis?"

[Rickith Lanza]

As they reached his horse, and the camp, Rickith pulled the dead warthog up towards the edge of the camp, and finally into it. Breathing a sigh of relief, he would watch as Jinyel talked about starting a fire, then working on a splint for his leg. That's exactly what they needed right now given his lower leg was still snapped, and didn't look like it was supposed to bending the way it was bending. They'd have to set the bone first, then get two larger thicker sticks to put on either side and finally wrap it tightly with bandages to secure it parallel with his leg on either side of the leg. That would hopefully put his leg in a much straighter position than it was currently in and hopefully help him through the healing process.

"I'll find two branches we can use to splint your leg..." said Rickith as he looked around the camp for some adequate fallen branches that would do for a splint for Jinyel. As Jinyel sat down, and got the fire going, Rickith realized he was introducing himself, properly this time, and he came over to sit down on the opposite side of the fire, after having found two branches that should do the trick of holding Jinyel's leg in place. At least until they could get back to the medical place he was talking about.

"Yes, my name is Rickith," he said, ignoring the fact that Jinyel had mispronounced the end of it, and pronouncing it correctly. It wouldn't do to correct pronunciation right now given the state Jinyel was in, and Rickith was okay with being called Rickis too, it was close enough. He also figured the more he said his name in front of Jinyel, the more Jinyel would understand how to pronounce it. But that was neither here nor there right now. They needed to splint his leg, and get it set in the right position. Rickith also needed to know where exactly he happened to be.

"So... do you know where we are? It seemed like you did back there... I don't even know how I got here; I was on a beach in Scalvoris, looking for alchemical reagents, and found a rainbow-colored stone... picked it up, and looked up, and next thing I knew I was standing in the forest with that thing breathing down my neck..." he said, jutting a finger out at the warthog...

[Jinyel]

The kindling caught, and in the center of the woodpile there was suddenly, finally light. Not enough to see their surroundings, not yet, but it would get there. Eventually.

Jinyel leaned close and blew into the brushpile. The flames flickered, but the crawl of embers along the sticks quickened. For a few moments, Jinyel just breathed on it, and with every breath the fire grew stronger.

It gave him time to listen to the stranger. Rickith, not Rickis. Two branches. Splint. Good. Yes. That’s what they’d come for, wasn’t it? That’s why Jinyel had lit the fire in the first place instead of getting on the horse. He couldn’t ride with his leg like this.

After confirming the splint, the rest of what Rickith said was utter nonsense. Jinyel had heard of some faraway place called Scalvoris, but he was absolutely sure it wasn’t part of the Immortal Empire. Merchants sometimes spoke of it to each other, and because Jinyel had no reason to ask, he only knew its name and that it took longer to get there than it did to Rharne. Which meant that this man, this Rickith, had definitely not gotten here from a Scalvoris beach. It was impossible.

As the heat warmed his face, Jinyel assumed that Rickith must have also gotten hit by the warthog. Or had been chased into a tree. The only reasonable explanation was that he had received some sort of head trauma and forgotten his trip between Scalvoris and the middle of the Sacred Forest, which famously had exactly one building and no others.

“Two miles out from the castle,” Jinyel answered. “Er, the medical headquarters. We aren’t close to anything else, unless you were wandering out of the Sacred Forest. Bad idea. The non-sacred parts of the forest are… unfriendly.”

[Rickith Lanza]

As Jinyel told him where they were, Rickith tried to think as to if he had ever heard of it. He wasn't entirely sure where the Sacred forest was in relation to Viden or Scalvoris. He had really never been outside of the Viden or Scalvoris area, even when looking for a cure for his mother's deadly illness. The one that had taken her life unfortunately. The thought of that crossing his mind as he stared into the fire, his eyes watering up a bit, but he stiffled the thoughts as right now he had to be more concerned about Jinyel, and his broken leg.

"Whenever you're ready, we can set your leg, and put the splint on it..." Rickith said. He knew that it was going to be exceedingly painful to set the bone and straighten it out, so he would look towards his satchel, and pull out the bandaging from it again, then stand up and move over towards Jinyel if the man was ready to get it set and splinted up. "It will be better if I set it, it's going to be quite painful..." he said. If Jinyel allowed him to, Rickith would place both of his hands upon Jinyel's leg, one below the fracture, and one above the fracture, and then would look up towards Jinyel. "So, tell me Jinyel, if you feel up to it, what exactly is the sacred forest like?" If Jinyel would start to tell him about the sacred forest, Rickith would wait a moment until he was well into his description, and then he'd move his hands to set the bone in place, straighten it out. The idea was to take Jinyel's mind off of what Rickith was about to do, and set it to help reduce the amount of pain that Jinyel would be paying attention to.

Once the leg was set, Rickith would grab the two branches, and put them on either side of the leg, saying to Jinyel, "Hold these as tightly as you can to the sides of your leg..." Once he was doing that, Rickith would take the bandage, and begin wrapping it around, as tightly as possible to better secure the leg, so that it was immobile, and couldn't be moved away from how Rickith had set it...

[Jinyel]

The fire began to really take hold, and strong orange light licked over the top of the brushpile. Jinyel was finally able to see his face, his hands, and the absolute wreck that had been made of his leg.

He was also able to see Rickith’s for the first time. He was somehow younger than Jinyel had expected. His hands were soft as he settled around Jinyel’s leg with the sticks, safer than any hands Jinyel had ever seen. Jinyel wondered what they would feel like. He had never felt soft hands before, but even his socially-starved, injury-addled mind knew it would be strange to request such a thing. Even with dark hair and eyes both, there was something… fiery about Rickith, in the way the shadows flickered against him. Or perhaps that was just another streak of confusion in Jinyel’s part.

Speaking of confusion, Rickith still had a wealth of bizarre questions. What was the Sacred Forest like? For a moment, Jinyel forgot that the man was about to touch his leg.

“What’s the Sacred Forest like?” Jinyel echoed. “We’re… we’re inside it. What do you mean? It’s like this. The trees, the―”

He gestured at the forest around them, in the same moment Rickith bent his leg back into place.

Jinyel screamed. His hands clenched around the brushwood on instinct, and a spray of sparks floated into the night. In the trees, a bird called out an alarm and took flight. Jinyel tried to jerk away from Rickith’s hands, but that only hurt worse, and so there was nothing to do but sit and let the man work.

Inhale. Exhale. In five seconds. Hold one second. Out seven seconds.

Rickith said something. Jinyel focused on his breath, and the ringing in his ears slowly began to fade. There was a rightness to the injury now, he could feel it, and with his senses came the rational knowledge that Rickith hadn’t hurt him just to hurt him. This pain had a purpose. Jinyel needed this splint.

“Yes,” Jinyel choked out. “Quick.”

He took the sticks and held them on either side of his leg, breathing hard to fight through the additional pain he knew was about to come.

[Rickith Lanza]

Rickith knew it would hurt when he set the bone in place, but having a distraction so one wasn't entirely paying attention to the setting of the bone usually lessened the pain of the anticipation that it was going to hurt. As jinyel would feel the sharp pain, and then followed Rickith's instructions to hold the two branches to the sides of his leg, Rickith would begin to wrap the bandage, quite tightly, around the branches and Jinyel's leg. His goal was to entirely immobilize the leg so that when jinyel moved, it wouldn't unset the bones. Working quickly as he knew Jinyel would be in pain as long as he was working on it he finally got the entire thing wrapped tightly, to where the bones wouldn't unset, as well as the branches would stabilize it, finally tying it off tightly so that it completed the splint.

Retracting himself from overtop the leg, he would look up to Jinyel, and said, "There, that should do it," Putting the remaining bandages back within his satchel, he smiled, and then said, "I know it hurt, but at least this way we'll be able to get you back to the medical headquarters you were telling me about..." If they weren't attacked by another animal in the mean time, which Rickith hoped that the flames from the campfire would keep any curious critters away from them, and they wouldn't have to needlessly worry about a warthog ambushing them again. In all reality, the warthog was probably just protecting it's territory, but now it seemed that Jinyel would have quite a bit of food for while.

Sitting back before the flames, Rickith would say, "When you feel up to it, we can try to head out, but i'd maybe rest your leg for a few bits before heading out..." It wouldn't do well for Jinyel to move it too much right after it was splinted, due to the sheer pain that could be had from moving it. But whenever Jinyel was ready, they could try to get ready to head out...

[Jinyel]

The pain didn’t stop, but it was slightly less agony to have his leg wrapped than it had been to have his leg bone moved at an angle. That slight “less” kept Jinyel conscious as Rickith wrapped the splint. Jinyel tilted his head back and looked at the stars, drank in the freezing air, listened to the wind rattle the branches, focused on every sense except for touch. Breathe. In. Out. Inhale. Exhale.

And then, it was done. Time seemed to speed up a bit, or perhaps Jinyel simply disassociated, but the bandage stopped moving and Rickith began to put his supplies away. In the light of the fire, Jinyel responded to Rickith’s words with a nod, but was silent for a good few moments after it was all done. Sweat had coated his neck, and now it cooled to freezing against his skin. It felt good, though. The cold was a distraction, and now that the splint was done, his leg was… not better, but less-worse than before.

The flames crackled, and both men took a moment to stare at it. In a medical sense, Rickith was right; resting the leg would likely help. But in a survival sense, they couldn’t afford to linger when Jinyel was injured and Rickith seemed to be experiencing some sort of memory loss.

“Quicker we move, the better.”

Jinyel rolled onto his good knee. If Rickith offered help, Jinyel would accept it. He staggered over to his horse, unstopped his waterskin, and drained half of it in three gulps. The water cleared his head, and he surveyed their options. The warthog would go on the mule, but who would ride which animal? Jinyel didn’t think he could ride with such a bad leg.

“You should ride,” Jinyel said. Then, in sign language, he gestured to the horse: This. “The mule will follow wherever he goes. I can sit on the mule. You know how to ride, yes?”

[Rickith Lanza]

When Jinyel said they should move quickly, Rickith nodded. He was probably right, being out here in the wilderness with the better of the two at combat severely debilitated was not an ideal situation, and the longer they lingered, the more time that gave for beasts and other such creatures to find them, much like the warthog had found Rickith when he appeared before it. That was definitely not the highlight of his day, you could say. And the chance happening of Jinyel being in the forest at the exact same time that Rickith was there, much seemed like a blessing of Ziell, and Rickith would even thank the immortal if he ever met him, even if it probably wasn't his doing that Jinyel was in the right place and the right time to save Rickith.

When they both got up, Rickith would again offer Jinyel an arm to help him stand, and get up off of the ground. Looking towards him with dark hued eyes, he would ask, "Are you okay to walk, or do you need help getting to the horses?" It was an honest offer, and there was a genuine tone of caring in Rickith's voice. Though they had only just met, he had been thankful for Jinyel's timely arrival, and given it was Rickith's predicament that had gotten Jinyel injured, Rickith genuinely cared about getting him back to this medical headquarters where he could be further assisted with his injury.

As they approached the horses, with Rickith helping Jinyel if he needed it, Jinyel would tell him that he should ride, and then ask if he knew how to. Rickith grimaced a bit, and then said, "Actually no, I've never ridden a horse in my life..." The admitting of that seemed to sting Rickith a bit, but since he was younger, he had always travelled via foot to where he was going. Even when he was looking for a cure to his mother's ailment, he was on foot. Bringing her to Scalvoris had been quite difficult on foot, especially when the illness had left her frail and barely able to travel.

Rickith shook the thoughts from his head, as for now, they needed to focus to get out of there, and back to a safer area. "What do I need to do?" he would ask Jinyel then, in order to figure out exactly how he was to ride the horse...

[Jinyel]

Rickith was caring. Jinyel wasn’t used to that. The concern in the other man’s voice was clear, and old, bitter instincts whispered that Jinyel should figure out how to show the same concern back. That Jinyel should be friendly, be warm and courteous, and all those other things that people seemed to automatically understand.

Jinyel would need to thank him later, he supposed. For the help, the medical care, and for lugging around a dead warthog in the middle of Cylus. Jinyel had never thanked anyone for so much help before; he’d never needed to. Never dared put himself in the position of needing help.

But that was a problem for tomorrow, or perhaps the day after. Right now, there was another, more pressing problem:

Rickith had never ridden a horse in his life.

“Oh.” Jinyel blinked. “Uh…” Be polite. Be courteous. Be thankful and caring. “We’re going to have… an experience together. I suppose. First, er…”

Jinyel put a hand on the horse and held the bridle, both to support himself and to keep the animal steady.

“The first step is to get on, I guess. It’s just… well, there’s that saddle there, and you sit in it. And face forward. And you hold the reins, to turn, or to stop. Not to go forward, though. You make the horse go forward with your feet. Which by the way, once you’re up there, you’ve got to keep your feet in the stirrups. These things.”

Jinyel wobbled one of the stirrups.

“Bump him with your heels to make him walk. Kick him to make him go fast. Don’t kick him, though. It’s too dark to go fast. Too dangerous. He’s scared of shadows.”

[Rickith Lanza]

As Jinyel began to explain the way to ride a horse, Rickith listened carefully and watched where Jinyel was pointing. "So to make sure I have this correct; I'll pull myself up onto the saddle, facing towards the head of the horse. To turn different directions I use the reigns, but to make the horse go forward, I tap it with my heels, but I don't kick it, because then it'll run, and that's not good because he's scare of shadows... And I put my feet into the stirrups, which are those," he said, pointing down towards the rounded items hanging off of the saddle. "Let's get that warthog secured with the mule, so the mule can carry it, and then I'll get up and onto the horse, which by the way, does it have a name?" The question was a valid one, as Rickith knew that some people named their animals, and he didn't want to just keep referring to it as "The horse", unless that's how Jinyel referred to it.

Regardless of the answer, Rickith would move to help Jinyel secure the warthog to the mule so that it would be taken with them, and when he was ready, he'd turn to Jinyel and ask. "I'll go ahead and get on him now? Or do you need help getting onto the mule, if so, I can help with that." He knew that Jinyel might need a bit of help with his leg in a splint, so if Jinyel needed the help he'd definitely assist him in doing that. Once Jinyel had gotten ready onto the mule, Rickith would smile and head back towards the horse, carefully grabbing the pommel of the saddle, pulling himself up and onto the saddle, making sure the spear on his back and satchel didn't fall off when mounting the horse.

Once up upon the horse, he'd work to weave the front of his shoes into the stirrups (as Jinyel had called them), securing his feet within them, and then turning his head back to look towards Jinyel and ask, "If we're ready to go, which direction should I steer him in? I think you said the medical camp was 2 miles east of here. I'll be honest, I'm not sure which way is east, west, north or south from where we are, so just point me in the right direction and i'll steer him that way..." Once Jinyel had given him the proper direction to go, Rickith would use his heels to tap the sides of the horse, not kick it, because last thing he needed was the horse galloping off, and him going flying off of it, so he made sure to gently tap it in order to make him move forward, and use the reins to steer him in the direction that Jinyel had given him...