Rane opened his eyes, only to close them tightly again as waves of pain washed over him, instantly giving him a headache. He felt dizzy even though he was laying down. He slowly opened his eyes again as the sense of dizziness faded a bit. He recognized his place. He was back home.
Memories came back to him, not in a flood, but a slow trickle. It hurt to try too hard to remember. He must have hit his head pretty hard the last time he went down. Such a thing wasn’t easy to notice when his leg was pointing the wrong direction. He thought a moment more. Staal had found him. He hadn’t actually been too far from home, so they had gotten word quickly of someone that looked very much like Rane lying unconscious in the street drain of a pottery shop, his clothes and face stained with red clay.
Recovery would be a while. Nyalla could set the bone, but was nowhere near the level to repair the damage done to the rest of his knee. One had to understand the original placements of all those things, and have the level of ambient control to place everything perfectly back in place. Ambient found within the body was also much trickier to control than ambient without, made even more so if the healer is not of a higher stage than the patient. He thought of a time so long ago, when his mother had fixed his shoulder and sighed. They still couldn’t afford a healer. Sleep found him once more.
It took a week before he was able to walk again. When he could, it was straight back to the forge. The sound of the hammer on the anvil made his head pound, and the light from the forge fire felt all too bright. He never liked forge work, but it was different now. He wasn’t lacking in focus; rather, his work was as good as ever. Rane tired quickly, and went back to bed, too fatigued to consider his lack of… something.
For the next week, his routine was the same, and mind numbingly boring. Wake up when the first light of the sun leaks through the myriad slits in the boarded up remnants of what used to be a window. Glass was expensive, and in this district, it wouldn’t last long anyways. A lot of people just seemed to enjoy the sound of it breaking. The forge needed to be ignited, then he would prepare materials, and fetch water from the nearest well. It was undrinkable, but they only needed it to quench the steel. He would fetch drinking water later, from a well further away. That one cost a bronze to draw from. Most of the daylight was spent in the forge.
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Breathe in, focus the ambient in the metal, maintaining its temperature, strike, and repeat. He still felt the same way he felt at the beginning of the week. His skull no longer felt like it had its own pulse, and his eyes no longer punished him for looking at a candle, but he still felt more listless than ever. He needed to start looking for side work again. The robbery set him back a bit more than two weeks, and set his mother back more even than that. He had to be taken care of while unconscious, and every moment not earning a coin was the same as losing a coin.
As he left their home wearing a dark expression, his mother called out, “are are alright?”
“Fine, just tired,” he responded quickly as he ducked his head and hurried his step out of the door. He didn’t know why he was so annoyed by the question.
He headed back toward the West district. He was in no mood for the antics of the Kenly’s, but he had other go-to clients.
“Hey, I’ve been –,” the door was quickly slammed in his face. Well, that was uncharacteristic of the Raver’s.
“Good Afternoon, Mrs –,”
“Beat it, caanul piss,.” Another door shut, this one catching his toe as it swung a bit outside the frame from the force. He stumbled back and fell on his backside in a bit of a daze. It would seem that this neighborhood was no longer welcoming to him.
He screamed and beat his fists on the ground, loose ambient throwing up a bit more dust than his clenched hands. The street wasn’t crowded, but this just made him stick out more. He quickly made his exit.
Maybe they found out about his business plan, or maybe there was just a nasty rumor being spread about. He HAD been involved in a robbery, after all. In the gossip circles of the middle class, he could have been made into a bloodthirsty veteran bandit hiding in the skin of a young boy while he had still been unconscious. It wasn’t worth sticking around to find out.
Rane walked briskly, but without purpose. He wasn’t going to another neighborhood, just away from this one. He felt clouded, muted, as if everything was a little further away than it really was, like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. He continued his resentful walk until his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of marching. He was near the South barracks of Auryk.