Post by Melinda Toren on Mar 2, 2008 19:38:18 GMT -5
“Sit still my child, or you’ll have your arm healed crooked. Then what kind of warrior will you be when you grow up, what with your arm all bent off at an odd angle.” Melinda scolded the small boy on a chair in front of her. Tears ran down his dirt stained face and his anxious mother stood nearby with a worried look upon her own features. He was a scrawny young child, with hair as dark as coal and tear filled green eyes that stared up at the woman who held a very bruised and bent arm. With one more stern look from Melinda he settled down in the wooden chair and sniffled quietly. The woman gently shifted her hands on the boys arm and her brow wrinkled ever slightly as a pale white light bloomed from her hands and settled on the boy’s arm. It remained for only a moment before disappearing as easily as it had came.
And when Melinda removed her hands the boy’s arm no longer bore the telltale lump of a break. All bruising was gone leaving the skin the tan of someone who was well used to outdoor work. A smile crossed her face as she stepped back and folded her hands in front of her. “There, now that’s better. Be more careful around your pony child, they are not toys. Now run along and mind your mother.” It didn’t even appear that the boy was listening to her though as he was just staring at his arm in wonderment. He got up from the chair and ran through the door to the room they were in, out into the halls of the Chapel. Melinda let him go; she didn’t expect a child to understand what had just happened.
The mother tried to pay her and it took several long minutes to assure her that what she did was purely for charity. After many thanks and promises of prayers the mother left the Chapel with her son, Melinda watching them from one of the many windows. Many townspeople who went to the Chapel knew of Melinda and the healing magic she possessed. It was a gift she had since she was a child, a mere toddler left on the steps of the very Chapel she now resided in. Mothers would often bring in ill children or those who were just too adventurous for their own good. Her gift was not skilled enough to save someone on the edge of death or do very well against magic inflicted wounds, but she did what she could with her gift. Breaks, colds, and even some diseases were not outside her reach.
Melinda walked away from the window of what happened to be her room and returned the chair the boy had been sitting on to the desk where it belonged. The bedroom was very simple but fitting for someone who was no more than a servant of the Chapel. She was about to consider heading to the Market when the melancholy sound of bells rang through the building. Another small smile crossed her face as she reached behind her and drew up the hood of her dark blue robes to cover long soft blonde locks of hair. It was the way she kept herself decent in the House of God, and now was the time that many would come to pray at the Chapel. Melinda was very connected with the more common folk of Avaren and took this time to meet them and pray with them. It was a way she got to know future patients and got to heal them more than physically.
The woman walked quietly through the stone halls and down the stairs to the main area of the Chapel where some filed in. Her footfalls were quiet after years and years of learning to walk on the stone floor, and her eyes were soft and kind. Melinda was near nineteen years old, though she looked a year or two younger, and was quite the ray of sunshine hidden behind the walls of the Chapel. Had she been raised outside of those walls she would probably be a wife and a mother, but now she was chaste and determined to remain unwed. Her devotion was to God and his subjects, her job was to heal them.
The woman waited near the main doors, out of the way so wasn’t bothering anyone. Some people would smile or nod at her, most just didn’t notice the willow built woman. That was fine for her, this life was what she chose. Wallflower or not, she was still doing her job.
And when Melinda removed her hands the boy’s arm no longer bore the telltale lump of a break. All bruising was gone leaving the skin the tan of someone who was well used to outdoor work. A smile crossed her face as she stepped back and folded her hands in front of her. “There, now that’s better. Be more careful around your pony child, they are not toys. Now run along and mind your mother.” It didn’t even appear that the boy was listening to her though as he was just staring at his arm in wonderment. He got up from the chair and ran through the door to the room they were in, out into the halls of the Chapel. Melinda let him go; she didn’t expect a child to understand what had just happened.
The mother tried to pay her and it took several long minutes to assure her that what she did was purely for charity. After many thanks and promises of prayers the mother left the Chapel with her son, Melinda watching them from one of the many windows. Many townspeople who went to the Chapel knew of Melinda and the healing magic she possessed. It was a gift she had since she was a child, a mere toddler left on the steps of the very Chapel she now resided in. Mothers would often bring in ill children or those who were just too adventurous for their own good. Her gift was not skilled enough to save someone on the edge of death or do very well against magic inflicted wounds, but she did what she could with her gift. Breaks, colds, and even some diseases were not outside her reach.
Melinda walked away from the window of what happened to be her room and returned the chair the boy had been sitting on to the desk where it belonged. The bedroom was very simple but fitting for someone who was no more than a servant of the Chapel. She was about to consider heading to the Market when the melancholy sound of bells rang through the building. Another small smile crossed her face as she reached behind her and drew up the hood of her dark blue robes to cover long soft blonde locks of hair. It was the way she kept herself decent in the House of God, and now was the time that many would come to pray at the Chapel. Melinda was very connected with the more common folk of Avaren and took this time to meet them and pray with them. It was a way she got to know future patients and got to heal them more than physically.
The woman walked quietly through the stone halls and down the stairs to the main area of the Chapel where some filed in. Her footfalls were quiet after years and years of learning to walk on the stone floor, and her eyes were soft and kind. Melinda was near nineteen years old, though she looked a year or two younger, and was quite the ray of sunshine hidden behind the walls of the Chapel. Had she been raised outside of those walls she would probably be a wife and a mother, but now she was chaste and determined to remain unwed. Her devotion was to God and his subjects, her job was to heal them.
The woman waited near the main doors, out of the way so wasn’t bothering anyone. Some people would smile or nod at her, most just didn’t notice the willow built woman. That was fine for her, this life was what she chose. Wallflower or not, she was still doing her job.
