Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two

The world faded into shifting shadows, though at times it was lit with the soft glow of faded watercolours. People came and went, and Martyn was dimly aware of the touch of the sun's golden light followed again by night and snow. His dreams were twisted and more than once he woke screaming and drenched in cold sweat--though his skin always seemed to be burning--memories of the war overwhelming him.

People came and went from his room, their steps light and voices soft. Lilith and the doctor seemed to be his most regular visitors, but a handful of others passed in and out. Once Martyn woke with to the terrifying feeling of being unable to breathe, of each gasp being cut off. Someone was shouting--Lilith or the doctor--and there was a great deal of cursing. Martyn wished they would all just leave him in peace.

One night Martyn woke to find Lilith at his bedside. Gently she pressed a cloth against his brow, trying he realized to bring down his fever. The trim was dark, and she was little more than a shadow against the darkness, but he could still feel her fear. The light offered by the single candle and the low burning fire was enough to see the tremors passing through her hands.

"I won't die," Martyn whispered, his voice little more than a breathless rasp. "I promise."

Lilith Jameson || she/her || Twenty

Lilith had been a very regular visitor, even against her fathers wishes and demands. He didn't understand why she was persient on caring for a stranger and she stated that he was her responsibility having found him.

There had been a moment her and the doctor argued — him worried for her own health as she even walked in the cold to check on him and seemed to be stressing. Than they argued about her father snapping at the doctor a few times. She didn't live with her father, but he was well known in town, and tried to still dictate or life. He was worried for her even though she was a young woman.

She knew Martyn was in probably a very fatal position. She had no clue how long he had been out in the cold, and now he had a fever. She felt upset and a little hopeless....afraid maybe she hadn't found him in time.

When he spoke to her she looked to him, barely able to hear his voice. She was shaking a little while wiping his forehead, even around his face slightly. "You better promise." She spoke, watching him him a worried gaze. Her face was barely visible, but from the candlelight her reddish-brown hair was more visible as well as her single braid, pale freckles skin, and her silvery-blue eyes. Her full face was not yet visible however.

Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two

"You better promise." Lilith said, shifting a little as she leaned closer.

With the candlelight no longer behind her, Martyn was able to see the beginnings of her finally cut feathers. Lilith's eyes were the colour of newly formed ice, and in the dim light they sparked and danced. Her hair was reddish, although it was impossible to tell whether it was true auburn or another shade. A soft glow indicated fair skin, but Martyn could see little beyond that.

"I won't," Martyn said, reaching out for her hand with his unsprinted one. "I can't stop fighting now," he added, half-fading into sleep, "not after I was spared during the war."

Holes in my coat from bullies, he thought, yet never a serious wound. I was meant for more than that senseless slaughter.

If was the belief that had carried him though four years of death.

Lilith Jameson || she/her || Twenty

Lilith was a little startled by his words. Not after I was spared during the war. Thats what he had said. Well, mroe thsn anything explained his scars. Did that explain why he was also our there? Searching for a new beginning as many people who lived there had—maybe running from something or someone? The words definetly peaked her curiosity but she didn't ask. He was already drifting back off again.

"Alright....get some rest Martyn, your going to be okay." She spoke softly, a wave carrying the gentleness of a breeze. She gently adjusted the cloth on his forehead again before squeezing his hand once more. "You'll be better in no time." She spoke, and thankfully there was no major freakout of the amputation—not yet anyways.

Lilith was glad to see he atleast had been awake enough for a little bit to speak. That's a lot of progress for the time he's been out. She could only hope this cycle would end soon, and that he'd get better. Wpuld saving him have been for nothing did he die anyways? No Lilith, you tried and you did something good, and he's fighting, he'll be okay.

Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two

Something in Lilith changed for a moment, but Martyn could not say what. Still, her voice was gentle when she spoke and her touch soft as she adjusted the cloth on his forehead. Her hand slipped into his than, and as she had again and again though the long shadow filled nights she gave it a quick squeeze.

Strange, Martyn thought of her behavior, but the war might not have touch here so deep. It's a long way back to the bloody ground up in which we fought.

It was true, and by reflex he pushed away the memories crowding his fever glazed mind. He'd done what he must for his patients whether they wore blue or grey, and that would need to be enough. It would always need to be enough.

"I'll rest," Martyn said, slurring his words a little, "but it'll be a long time before I'm better. I'm a doctor, 'member, I know that."

Already he was drifting back into warmth and shadow, forgetting the harsh realities of life in blissful oblivion. It was not a state he could maintain much longer, and in a dark corner of his mind, Martyn knew that.

I'll wake up soon, he thought, eyes drifting closed, and this won't be a nightmare anymore. It will be my life.

|| break ||

The soft gold glow of winter sunlight woke Martyn a few days later. Opening his eyes, he took in the room in which he'd spent the better part of the last two weeks. Gaze glancing over the bare wood walls and worn floor, Martyn's mind drifting as he patched together fragmented memories of part days and nights. He was not missing much, he thought, not really.

Fever tends to strip you of reason, and it's better not to remember must after. Martyn thought, doing his best to sit up. Your week as a child and handled like a baby, not something most want to remember.

This was proving true even as he thought the words. Illness had stripped him of everything and even something simple as shifting in bed left Martyn exhausted. He signed, learning back to stare at the whitewashed ceiling.

It's been a long time since I was so ill, and it can't have been infection, not with the way my chest hurts.

Martyn suffered with recurring bouts of pneumonia for years and this would only be another of those many battles. Nothing new, just an inconvenience that had plagued him before and during the war, a part of the breathing weakness he already possessed.

Infection.

That was when Martyn remembered.

"Oh," he whispered, voice filling the silent room. "Oh, God."

It was more than he could bare.

Tears slipped slightly from his eyes, and Martyn let them come. It had been years since he'd really cried, and though he did not know fully for what or whom he wept he let them come. Holding back his emotions would have only done more harm and Martyn knew that better than most.

That was how Lilith found him; sitting up in bed in silent tears as snow differed down outside the window.

Lilith Jameson || she/her || Twenty

Lilith had been continueibg her regular visits, helping care, just being there. She even helped with a few other of the doctors patient, mostly just concerned mother spring small children in as winter sickness kicked in, or men having been harmed out hunting or chopping wood. The usual. Other than Martyn.

Her and her father still argued, still in constant conflict over her caring for a stranger. She merely reminded him of how she atkeast saved someone and that rveyr little life mattered.

Every life...to make up for the one lost by foolishness and carelessness.

That morning she had been up and about. She wasn't expecting him to be awake, hence she didn't come early per usual. She was caring for her mare Lunez and the older Clysdale, Palladin. She had bathed and everything deosite the cold, but dressed in her brothers clothes. He always penned penned to her, especially in the winter when skirts or dresses became useless against the cold.

After her chores; helping chop some wood, feeding the animals, moving some livestock, she would finally go to the clinic.

Lilith slowed Lunezdown, the mare an eyesore. She was dappled in a mix of silvers and grades with a pearly white mane. The mare had a sturdy body and was relatively large with bright blue eyes. The horse barely flinched when as kids ran by the mare or from the sounds of people around.

She tied the mare to the post out front before Lilith went inside. She greeted the doctor her gave her a pleasant smile. Like a grandfather or father smiling to a granddaughter or daughter. He was busy organizing some medicines and speaking to his wife who was informing him of an appointment to the edge of town.

She didn't eaveadrop log, slipping fof her muddy and snowy boots. She soon went to check on Martyn, pausingbonce she entered the room. She didn't relize he was crying till she looked to him, and she sighed softly.

Lilith went to sit beside him I a chair—snow still melting in her hair and on her clothes. She sat and offered a faint smile.

"What's wrong Martyn?" A bunch was probably wrong—he was sick, lost a leg, somewhere new. So much, added with she recalled him mentioning a war...and that he was a doctor. Had to be rough, knowing exactly what was wrong with yourself. "If your hungry or need anything I can get you something?" She offered.

Her hair was done in a way to hide the right side of her face, hiding almost all of it other other a few thin scar lines peeking out over her nose. Otherwise it was jist questionable why the woman was hiding one side of her face, but it helped a little that the sun shone into the room slightly, causing shadows to cast.

Martyn Swift || he/him || twenty-two

A chair scraped against wood as someone--Lilith---sat down. She reached out to take his hand, warm fingers callused from years of work. They remained Martyn of his mother's hands, roughed by work but still gentle.

"What's wrong, Martyn?" The question was hesitant, the voice asking soft yet filled with iron. Other words followed, but Martyn's ears rang with those simple words.

What's wrong?

A better questions might be what is not wrong, he thought, closing his eyes.

So much was wrong that Martyn could not out in all into words. Instead, he gripped Lilith's hand and tried to hold back his tears, wanting to face the young women who'd saved him with dry eyes. Yet tears continued to burn his cheeks, leaving damp spots on the soft wool blanket where they collected. No matter how Martyn tried to stop them, face turned away even as he clutched Lilith's hand they would not end.

"I want my mother," he whispered, not even sure if he was talking to Lilith, "and I want to go home."

Neither where possible, but vulnerable as Martyn was, he did not care.

Lilith was quiet as he spoke, guilt gnawing inside her.

"I want my mother'" added with his next words she felt her heart break, "and I want to go home." The words were painful painful hear, especially from a grown man, but she sypoised everyone craved their mother...especially in a time like this.

"I'm sorry Martyn....I don't know how your feeling at all right now...but you must be beyond terrified and in pain." She spoke, reaching out to gently rub his head. "Of you need anything I'll get you some soup or water." She offered.

She was genuinely worried for him, watching him with a concerned gaze. He didn't seem to even notice her presence anymore. Soon enough she reached out to gently squeeze his hand again, her visible eye laced full woth worey in its silvery blue gaze.

"Martyn...listen to me..relax." She whispered softly, pleading to help him relax a bit but keeping a calm and sweet composure. She reached her free hand out to very gently wipe the tears from his face. "I haven't the slightest idea how to make any of that happen....and I'm sorry about that...but please relax Martyn, everything gonna be..just.....very confusing for you right now."

Lilith wasn't even sure of her words were helping, but she spoke softly, tryibgbto help ease him into some state of faint calm or even a state of relaxation if possible.

Martyn Swift | | he/him | | twenty-two

Lilith's gentle acknowledgment of his emotions--his fear--helped Martyn to focus. He did not need to hide from her, act like he was strong when his soul felt like it was being ripped apart. She was admitting that she did not expect such a show of strength from Martyn, which allowed him to open without feeling like a completely burden.

I'm that already, Martyn thought, tangling his fingers in the bedsheets. No use to anyone now...

He shoveled the thoughts away, focusing instead on Lilith's words. She was talking, unsure comforts mixed with determination as he helped whip away his tears. Martyn shivered, thanking it had been a long time since someone had touched him without the intent to harm. The shadows in his mind where dark, but Lilith was giving him something to hold one to. Letting go of the sheets, he wiped his eyes on the back of his arm, wondering briefly who's clothing he was borrowing. There'd been little in his bags, after all, and the soft overlong shirt he wore now had not bern among those few things.

"Thank you," Martyn said, not even sure what he was thanking Lilith for. "I don't know..." He shook his head, than added, "water, please."

Lilith watched his every action with a gentle gaze, soon nodding. "Water it is." She spoke, standing from her seat and heading for the door after she had slipped off her coat.

Not long after Lilith returned carrying a cup of water for him, setting it on the nightshade carefully. "Do you think you can hold it, Martyn?" She would look to him, head tilting ever so gently to the side. Anyone who bothered tp jtoice would see she purposely kept herself hidden, kept shadows casted on herself like she wanted to hide some awful secret about her appearance. Maybe it was why she even wore a hat indoors to some degree. "If you need anything else fear not to ask, and the doctor will be back in here after a while to check up on you. He sayin' your pretty lucky." Liliths words were soft and once they left her mouth she bit her lip, wishing she hadn't added that bit.

She sighed, looking down and apologizing. "I shouldn't have said that, my apologies." She lifted her head after a bit and drew in a gentle breath.