Chloe arrives in Thorn's cave to check on Sepdet, and proves that life mages are scary as hell.


l me
Sepdet(#3589Pce)
Wiry, wary, tiny, this strange gaunt elf of a girl observes the world with deep, dark, sober eyes. With a broad flat nose, oval face, and small but full lips, her once-smooth mahogany skin is now textured by scar upon scar, from the four old clawmarks across her face to her missing fingers to the bare patches crisscrossing tightly-braided cornrows on her mottled scalp. Light black fur dusts a velvet sheen over her body wherever old burns haven't seared it away.
She moves with fey, cautious grace, like a child testing a pool's water. There is a watchfulness about her as if, even when joking, even when focussed on her own inner broodings or the voice of a friend, she is listening. You could believe she was waiting for a signal, a sign to draw her out of her rather fragile-looking body with fire in both hands.
Intense or teasing, silent or sparkling, her haphazard second-hand garb and alternately formal or lax manner of speech defy human habits.
(+details)

WOUNDS: Just now, Sepdet's forelimbs look to have burned in acid, and her temple is bruised and bloody and swollen.


"Hello?" Tension touches the familiar voice, and a moment later Chloe slips down into the cave; she stands still near the entryway, dark eyes taking in the interior with a hint of apprehension.
Joseph spares the entrance a watchful glance, and then allows Patrick to deal with it as he turns back to Sepdet. "STar, look at me."
Patrick steps to one side as he recognizes the figure, reappearing as he does so. "Hello again, Chloe. Looking for Thorn?"
Sepdet's head moves from side to side nervously, in response, face downcast. Her fingers fumble to bring the blankets closer around herself at her friend's plea.
Cari pages: Any chance Chloe might have heard about this? Maybe a little bird told her?
You paged Chloe with 'You might have heard that a mad Garou was running through the woods last night, and got taken to Thorn's cave. Some of the glade spirits might have recognized one they call "Tender" because she's the old groundskeeper.'.
You paged Chloe with 'That Sebek is dead, and what happened down in the sewers after you left, you probably haven't heard. It was way down in the dark. :('.
Worry shadows Chloe's features as she shakes her head minutely; her gaze focuses on the Strider. "I came as soon as I heard," she says quietly.
Joseph repeats the order, more sharply, "Look at me. He's dead. He was dead when your father held out his hand. The dye was cast, and it was Despair. I /do/ celebrate this day, because my Hope still lives. Look at me. You say if I die, all the more folly. If I lose you, I die. So live, Hope."
Patrick shrugs and moves to one side of the cave, then quietly slips out.
Patrick pages to Chloe, Joseph, and Sepdet: Sorry, peoples, but I have to go. Later!
Patrick clambers out of the cave, ascending to the world above.
Patrick has left.
From the outside world, Patrick comes scramling out of a manzinita bush.
From the outside world, Patrick goes home.
Sepdet faces Joseph with a sudden start, eyeing him wildly. ~Don't go away. I lost one brother. He loved me as much as you--you know that. You, at least, must know that.~
Joseph's eyes meet hers. "I know, Sepdet. He did. But I wont lose you to him..to Despair."
Chloe's voice is subdued but even. A steady determination colors both her words and her expression. "Hope," she says softly, "I can't fix whatever happened, but I'm going to heal what I can now. You are strong, and I know you won't give in to the despair." She takes another step closer, still watching the Strider carefully.
Sepdet flinches and looks over her shoulder. ~Where does she in the world, then?~ Her eyes skip across the woman's knees, not coming higher. ~What does she say? I can't hear; I've been underground too long and the reek has blocked all my senses.~
Chloe's gaze flicks to Joseph, and a glimmer of the worry returns; she stands perfectly still, hands held the smallest distance from her sides.
Joseph's eyes flicker to Chloe, dark and full of worry. He motion Chloe down to where Sepdet is.
Sepdet sits between them hunched and half-aware. She laughs into the fire unexpectedly. ~She's a little like me, you know? Not much. But a little. Take care she never tries to jump at stars.~
Chloe drops to kneel beside Sepdet, a little before the Strider, careful not to place herself directly between the two Garou. She turns her attention to Sepdet's face; her own eyes are guileless, sober, and shadowed with concern. Slowly, she reaches a hand toward the crystal at her neck, and settles her weight onto her heels. The dark gaze unfocuses, fixed on the Strider but dazing into a trance, seeing something beyond the external. "Sepdet." The whisper hardly sounds, as a tanned hand closes on the quartz crystal.
Sepdet flinches at the name. ~She's in here somewhere,~ she mutters numbly, as if talking about someone else. ~Be careful.~
Joseph watches silently with eyes that reflect his weariness and concern.
Joseph reaches out a hand to touch her now. "Can I talk to her?" he asks.
Chloe's expression shifts toward stress, as she raises a hand palm-out in a warning. Lines of concentration mark her forehead, and after a moment the dark eyes close tightly. Her grip tightens about the crystal.
You paged Chloe with 'Ugh. The worst problem are her never-quite-healed left hip, and the inner scars left a year ago by the Dancers, minute traces of spirals carved into her, and the hidden signs of rape. Healers were able to repair most, but it was, in effect, battle scars.'
With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, Chloe flinches, and her head turns away the slightest bit. Past a veil of dark tangles, her features are tensed in pain, eyes tightly closed, moisture glinting at the corners.
Sepdet emits a soft mewling sound and ducks her head, a soft whisper barely recognizable to even friends. ~Dusty's gonna be mad...~ But she doesn't pull away from Chloe's ministrations.
Slowly, Chloe recovers her balance. The free hand joins its partner, both clasping around the stone at her neck. She straightens, eyes still closed, and bows her head. The lines gradually clear from her expression, and her breathing grows slower and deeper, until she hardly seems to breathe at all. For long minutes she remains in this trance, still and silent, a statue almost without life.
Sepdet's head stays lowered like a stag at bay, trembling slightly. Almost imperceptibly, the scars on her face and hands are slipping back into soft skin, black velvet coming in where pale celloid was earlier. Every line on her face seems to be changing like a churned-up beach smoothed out by an incoming tide.
Vines creep inward from the cave opening, snaking across the floor toward the girl, growing in the twisted patterns of desert plants. A tiny wind rises, blowing sand from nowhere across the stone floor.
Joseph's eyes blink a few times.
Joseph calls, a little unsure of himself and it shows in his voice, "Sepdet?'
"It's okay," Chloe whispers. "Tell her it's okay, just stay there..." The black eyes flicker open, settling on Sepdet's face with a preternatural intensity. The girl reaches out to one side, and the unerring hand plucks a spiny leaf from one of the odd, crawling plants.
Sepdet's fists clench, hands shaking before her. She stops whispering, leaning into whatever the mage is doing with shoulders braced into the wind. The metamorphosis of scar upon scar and burn upon burn back to her old face, a face she has not worn since coming to the Wheel, is like watching a snake shed its skin, but far more profound.
Sepdet's hands open like flowers. Breathing shallowly, she stares at the mage without recognition, only awe, and stammers something in her old tongue. "Netcher't, Yiw, nebt nep-th's?"
The worldbender breaks the odd leaf open, and drips a thick, white milk from it into one palm. Her gaze remains fixed on Sepdet's shifting face, moving to the Strider's eyes and holding them, as she dips her free hand into the liquid and reaches toward her subject. Steady gestures paint the curves of change onto the Strider's dark features. "Shhhh. It will be healed." The words are barely whispered, and the girl's features remain even, relaxed into trance, markes only by the faintest concentration and the few dark bruises.
From afar, to Joseph and Sepdet, Cari shrugs helplessly. "He said ritual, I'm giving you ritual. Sorry about the drawing-out... there won't be much else."
Long distance to Chloe and Joseph: Sepdet is enjoying it. Wow.
Sepdet watches Chloe now with eyes fully open and too stunned to be afraid. She has stopped trembling, and her breathing has slowed almost to match the rhythm of the healers.
Without releasing Sepdet's gaze, Chloe reaches out to gently push the blanket from Sepdet's shoulders. The white-dipped hand reaches to one side of Sepdet's head, then the other, tracing lunar curves through scars, washing away injuries with smoothing movements. The girl's voice, barely whispering, edges into the silence, the words unintelligible, vaguely Slavic-sounding. She continues to paint the Strider's dusky skin: a strange curving glyph at the throat, a smooth circle at the belly, a mere touch to one of the girl's hips.
From afar, Cari laughs. The plants, btw, look real familiar. I'm no botanist, but they're desert plants.
Cari pages: Idunno where the white stuff came from, but I figured white paint-> purity.
Sepdet shivers faintly as each glyph is painted onto her skin, trying not to flinch. Tears are beginning to squeeze out of the Strider's dark eyes, but she doesn't pull away, not once, a measure of trust behind the fear in her face.
Cari pages: Where are the spiral-scars... face, or everywhere?
You paged Cari with 'Here and there, everywhere, carved even into bone. Not visible at the surface--Alex Windrunner patched them.'.
Joseph watches, transfixed. He is careful to make no sound or movement that would betray his presence.
The worldbender's voice tightens, rising slightly in volume from whisper to soft chant. "Kranitya had, ochistovani, chistyt Nadeye." At the last, clearly a naming, a white-painted hand traces a sign in the air before the Strider, and then paints the tribal glyph on the young woman's forehead. Chloe's eyes drift closed, and tension once again creeps into her face. The words go on, still indecipherable, but these are words of fierce defiance, of banishment. The whitened hands move flatly over Sepdet's body, perhaps an inch from touching the Garou, but tense and forceful as if pushing something away by the strength of voice and gesture.
Sepdet continues to cry silently as the mage strikes old wounds and deep, making no sound or move to stop her.
Chloe's hands, both coated by now with the white, viscous sap, move in rhythmic circles. The gestures never touch the Strider's skin, but strength and tension show in the girl's arms.
Gradually, the circles slow, and finally the whitened hands move away from the Strider. The chant falls into whispering once more, and then fades into a deep silence. A flicker of tension, perhaps pain, passes through Chloe's expression, and the dark eyes flicker open to study Sepdet for a moment. Then the mage rocks her weight back onto her heels again, and traces a two-handed circle in the air before her subject; her gaze lifts to the space of the circle itself, and unfocuses as she whispers, "Dech'kuyi, Gaia." A strange, heavy static slowly dissipates from the air.
Sepdet doesn't stir for several long breaths, not looking at herself or the incredible changes Chloe has wrought. Without warning, she lunges forward to grab for the other girl's wrists, not even yet taking her own gaze from Chloe's eyes.
A shiver passes through Chloe, and the dark eyes drift closed. She has just begun to slump as the Garou's hands close on her wrists; she is listless in Sepdet's grip, head bowed forward, dark tangles veiling her face.
From afar, to Joseph and Sepdet, Cari |"I'm tired," Chloe mumbles exhaustedly. "Don't TELL me you want blonde hair or a smaller nose. I don' wanna hear it."
Sepdet all but barks at her. "Netcher?" Then, very gently, she draws her arms around the mage's shoulders, holding her with a dazed disbelieving expression, muttering words as if trying to make sense out of what's just happened. "Netcher, s'maryt, Nwt, Nepty's, H'quert? 'M isuwt."
Sepdet seems to be barely strong enough to keep from dropping her.

You paged Chloe and Joseph with 'Oh dear. I think Sepdet's going to start calling Chloe after the frog-goddess now. :)'.
Chloe pages to Joseph and Sepdet: I don'wanna be a frog, either. And it wasn't a REAL mumble, dear. :>
You paged Joseph and Cari with ' It's a nice symbol, dear. It's like butterfly. It means metamorphosis, rebirth, renewal, and such. Frogs pop out of the mud after the dry season, when the water comes, and the Egyptians were pretty damn sure they were dead before. Hequert was the goddess of reincarnation, so to speak.'.

Joseph sits, still dumbfounded. Finally, breaking from his dreamlike trance, he sits up to steady both of them. Confusion governs his face as he attempts to help Chloe to a more comfortable position, and get Sepdet to sit back as well.
From afar, to Chloe and Sepdet, Joseph giggles. Heh.
"No..." Chloe's murmur of protest is barely audible. "Klowych'ka. Chyrosht. Chloe." Her eyes flicker open, and focus dazedly on Joseph's face. "Tell her," she says, pleading. She seems to recover herself quickly, movements coherent if exhausted; relaxing to one side, she supports herself on one arm and allows her head to bow listlessly forward. "Tell her I'm just me." Dark tangles fall nearly to the cave floor, veiling her features. "Tell her."
Sepdet keeps a tight hold on Chloe with small brown hands, the tears beginning to stop now. She leans into Joseph's shoulder.
A violent shiver courses through the mage. "Oh, mother," she whispers. Dread touches the words, and a kind of resignation; she seems to tense in preparation, as if a scourge is about to strike her shoulders.
From afar, to Joseph and Sepdet, Cari shrugs. Sepdet is one of those people who has extended an olive branch to Chloe. She's in a very select group, one that Chloe feels extremely loyal to.
Joseph, having no idea what either is saying, grows even more concerned. He nods to Chloe, lying her back and then takes Sepdet's hands, beginning again the melodic, reassuring murmur he practiced all night. "It's just Chloe, Sep. just.." The words fadea s he looks back to the mage.
Sepdet's grip has shifted to the girl's shoulders, and she seems to tense too, as if the bond struck between them hasn't quite unlinked yet. Her voice rasps as she breaks into a whispered soothing singsong, no more than a child's lullabye, but a very familiar one.

From afar, Joseph ums..what exactly did Chloe do, besides change the outward appearance? did she change anythign else?
Long distance to Joseph: Sepdet is not going to limp anymore. Gah. And I'll be able to dance again...
You paged Joseph with 'She healed every single battle scar, right down to the spirals the Dancers carved into Sepdet's heart and the rape-scars that no one can see.'.
You paged Joseph with 'She healed /everything/.'.
Joseph pages: jesus.
You paged Joseph with 'Everything physically, and even most of the cobwebs/cracks/damage on Sepdet's spirit. Life/spirit mages with 4 pips are terrifying.'.
Joseph pages: Yeeah, but is it still you. Joseph's sitting there wondering if you even know who he is.
You paged Joseph with 'Chloe restored Sepdet back to the way she was 3 years ago...there may be some mental traces, too. Wow. But no, Sepdet will still remember Joseph.'.

Chloe untenses, slowly, almost tentatively--as if the expected scourge has not fallen, and she dares to hope that, this time, it might not come at all. Gradually, her shoulders relax beneath Sepdet's touch, and she curls up against the floor.
Joseph sits back wearily, the worry and tension still present in his face as he slips a hand over Chloe's orehead gently. Taken a deep breah, he looks at Sepdet with uncertainty.
Sepdet's hands continue to rest lightly on the other healer's shoulders as Sepdet sings over her in a dry, old whisper tinged with faint fear. Finally she drops back to silence, numb gaze quiet now and focussed calmly on nothing.
Chloe's voice is a soft, bodiless whisper. "Sleep, Sepdet. Just rest." She pulls both arms in toward her face, sheltering, and seems intent on following her own advice.
Joseph pulls away from both of them, gaze darting from one to the other as if unsure of anything they rest on. Finally, he stands and wanders to the cave entrance for some air.
Sepdet glances back at Joseph uncertainly, and shivers again. After a moment she carefully lowers herself down on her side, feeling for the ground, huddled in front of the mage. Watching the fire, it is not long before the seer's eyes close too.

l me
Sepdet(#3589Pce)
Petite but strong-boned, wiry and wary, this strange elf of a girl observes the world with deep, dark, sober eyes. There is an uncanny newness about her, like a snake just having shed its skin, for all the age behind her gaze. Her features include a broad flat nose, oval face, and small but full lips; her unmarred skin is a deep rich brown the color of mahogany, dusted over in a velvet sheen of fine black downy fur.
She moves with a dancer's deliberateness and a fey, cautious grace, like a child testing a pool's water. There is a watchfulness about her as if, even when joking, even when focussed on her own inner broodings or the voice of a friend, she is listening. You could believe she was waiting for a signal, a sign to draw her out of her rather fragile-looking body with fire in both hands..
To any who have known her, she is herself, and yet not herself. To any who have known her a long time, the reason is clear: she looks like the unscathed, unscarred cub of two springs past who first came to the Wheel Renewed. 1