Squire Hayseed

Medicine

"Let me have a look," hands pickled from every manner of tincture and ointment one could find at an alchemist shop yanked at Hayley's sleeve. The force was enough to rip it off and she'd have felt perturbed at the handling if she didn't hate the tunic. Maybe her Knight would give her a stipend and the first thing she'd buy would be a new one. Or maybe shoes, then a shirt if there was coin left over.

"Gah!" Hayley shrieked, her hand lashing out to slap the old woman away from prodding at her injury. She stopped herself just before making contact, but it wasn't easy. They sat in a small alcove in an outer ring circling the arena proper. A torch blazed on the wall, causing more sweat to drip down Hayley's ass crack. While her swampy backside stewed away, her Knight stepped back and forth on his feet. He'd been steady as the mountains in the arena, but suddenly he couldn't cease fidgeting.

"It's a bruise," the healer announced, her head swiveling up to Gavin. She hadn't looked Hayley in the eye the whole time.

He sighed, "I am aware. Can you do anything to help?"

"Time," the woman 's fingers eased up and she softly palpated around the injury. "Or maybe leeches. Hm..." now she pivoted around in her chair to stare right at Hayley's face. The drooping eyes darted all across Hayley's high forehead, down her crooked nose, and to the indent in her chin.

"She's got pockmarks all over her face," the woman announced with a shrug. Hayley flinched, her fingertips swiping up over the cheek no one would ever describe as smooth as cream. "But seeing as how there aren't any on her body," the old woman yanked at the hem on Hayley's shirt, exposing a sliver of her sunburnt stomach to the world, "I'd guess it's due to the changing tides of adolescence than a case of the pox."

The hag flipped in her chair to stare right up at Gavin. He seemed hesitant to look over at either of them, but sensing the gaze said, "That's...good?"

"No idea if there's anything worse on her..."

"You could just bloody ask me," Hayley snarled, yanking her shirt back and trying to cover her pocked but apparently acceptable enough skin.

For a breath the woman glanced over at that, but she didn't say anything save a tut tutting of her tongue. "Wrap the wound if you please, Knight-Captain, but given her dour color and temperament I would advice against blood letting."

"Thank you, milady," Gavin said without a waver in his voice. He bowed his head deeply, bringing a bit of color to the old witch's cheeks. Hers were covered in wrinkles and sags, but Hayley was nice enough to not make a big deal out of it unlike some people. Absently, Hayley traced her fingers over the dips and divots on her cheeks. When she too felt the amber gaze landing on her, she looked up expectantly, but tried to hide away the scars with her palms.

"Come with me," was all he said, already walking off towards the next big humiliation. Maybe the fashion houses of the upper crust would all throw stones at her for dressing in the burlap. Or high class debutants would mock her terrible posture and speech. For a moment her eyes trailed out to the emptied arena, Hayley wondering if being wrapped up in chains and dragged away wouldn't have been preferable to this 'treatment.'

No. Focus on the now. Just...do whatever's told of you, make a show, and when the opportunity arrives run like the hounds of hell are on your heels. Maybe that'd be the next stop, to feed some of her blood to the hell hounds.

They turned a corner and Hayley cringed. Sitting around a small table were the other chosen squires, Larissa laughing and shaking her fire hair so it shimmered by the torchlight. Her eye drifted away from Alice and the slab of bread towards the scraggly girl trapped in the doorway.