Stick and stones may break bones, but freeze burns… they cause severe pain in the nether-regions of Elephant Kings. Indeed, the great stallion was standing a little ways off from the Edge’s greenhouse with his right hindlimb raised in the air. Though it was not his limb that was injured, but what hung between them.

Edgar’s viciously icy attack had frozen the inside of his right thigh and skimmed along the sensitive tissues just next to there. The King had sought solitude after such a vicious fight and Elsa’s hateful words—though he found that the pain kept worsening rather than dulling as he sought lonely refuge on the cliffs.

So he had hobbled back, toward the Greenhouse where he was sure to be able to find healers. Part of him regretted that Alysanne no longer was Moon Doctor—for though the two were not friends, she had healed him before and there certainly the room for awkwardness was small after his post-meeting confession.

But, as it was, the Devoted no longer could heal him. So he sought one of the other Moon Doctors—perhaps Tilney? Asking him to crane his antlers near that sensitive part of his stallion-hood made him shiver once. Though the pain was already causing a patchwork of sweat to darken his silver buckskin to chocolate brown, despite the coolness Orangemoon brought.

He sighed, steeling himself, before calling out, “Moon Doctors!” He winced as he tried to take a step forward, “I am in need of a healer!” He groaned quietly as he, mulishly, tried to take yet another step towards the greenhouse.

And then he gave up, right hind toe just barely resting on the ground as he waited for aid.

Tembovu

The Elephant King

so i listen to the    wind for an answer

She is often somewhere near the greenhouse. When she’s not out gathering herbs, or trying to teach Gawen to fly or healing one of his many cuts and bruises, she comes here. It’s become something of a permanent spot for her, and she can’t imagine what life might be like if or when she ever isn’t a healer, and the garden is no longer hers to tend. Similar, she supposes, to what life was like when she no longer called Morham home. It takes some adjusting, and eventually, you move on.

But for now, she doesn’t dwell on that thought. She’s not planning on going anywhere, and hopefully she can continue to do her job well enough to keep her title. She plans too, which seems to have been enough for now. She’s learned so much in a year, and feels far more confident with her knowledge of herbs, her ability to use the healing magic. And she keeps learning. There’s always new herbs to learn, find, plant.

Today though, as she wanders around the vicinity of the garden, she hears a familiar voice call out of healers. Tembovu. She’s not entirely surprised. As far as she knows, their King spars enough that injuries are probably not uncommon for him. Granted, this is not going to be the normal type of injury one might get in a spar – not that she knows that yet.

She turns her course and makes her way toward where her King stands, one foot just barely touching the ground. Immediately, she assumes his leg is injured. But he walked here. Which, perhaps, is doable on a leg injury, but it’s not likely. She nods at him for a moment, studying the way he holds himself, silent as she thinks it through. She probably doesn’t need to know the details of what hurts to heal him, but she suspects the magic is more effective if she knows where to direct the energy. “Can I ask what hurts, exactly?” she says, not entirely convinced it’s his leg, but rather uncertain just want else it might.

Of course, she has an idea. It just seems so…unlikely.

lyanna

Lyanna, the elegant Moon Doctor, heeded his call and slowly appeared from around the partially finished greenhouse. The Elephant King was uncertain if he felt relieved or apprehensive. Navy eyes watched her approach; they saw her medically trained gaze study his lifted leg and then his stance. Black rimmed ears tilted backwards slightly, a deep breath filling his nostrils as he steeled himself for the impending discomfort—and not just from the pain pounding between his legs.

His navy eyes meet her lighter blue gaze squarely, “Hello, Lyanna.” He has been injured before—often. And, in Dorobo, medicine and healing was a much more tactile experience than the magical winds of the Edge. In the Plains, salves and bandages and splints were the way of all healing. At least now, here in Helovia, he would not need someone reaching between his limbs to place potions or medications.

His jaw clenched as she asked her question, his body trying to shift his weight but failing to be able to do so as he could not comfortably put his right hind leg fully on the ground. He blinked, long and hard, before continuing his stare at the Moon Doctor, “It’s my—“ he paused teeth clenching once before, before he shook his head slightly and a rueful and embarrassed grin stole across his thick lips, “It seems my opponent targeted a stallion's most sensitive and vulnerable area.” And, for good measure, his head twisted and massive horn tip gestured in the general direction of beneath his barrel, right leg lifting slightly more. “It’s a freeze burn, and it also got the inside of my stifle.” His gaze retrained on her face, an echo of an amused smile across his muzzle. But the fight was too fresh (Elsa’s hateful eyes were imprinted on his mind) to truly be mirthful in that moment.

Tembovu

The Elephant King

so i listen to the    wind for an answer

 She is and she isn’t expecting her thought to be correct. Of course there’s a reason her idea had formed in her mind. She’s spent the better portion of a year learning to heal, and in that process, learning how to determine an injury or ailment in the first place. Not that she doesn’t have much left to still learn, and therefore some reason to doubt her assessments now and again. But still. There’s only so many reasons one can’t put weight on a leg. Something broken or bruised on the leg itself or in that vicinity. And there’s only so many things in that vicinity.
 
It takes all her willpower not to laugh as her King using that massive horn to point at…well, his other horn. In this moment, she is endlessly thankfully for her upbringing as a Princess. Composure, always. Polite, delicate smiles even in the most indelicate situations. Her teal eyes perhaps twinkle a bit more, but nothing else. Instead, she nods once, digging for the familiar feel of the healing magic. Tugging on the strings of that magic, a familiar breeze rustles the grass around them, the dark mist slowly rolling over her King and concentrating in the area he’d directed her too.
 
She cannot know how it feels, but she can speculate that healing a freezer burn is anything less than pleasant. It’s not a pleasant injury in the first place. How does she know? Only from the experience of sticking her tongue to cold things at the urging of her brother when they were little. Which really, was hardly the same, but even that had been pretty miserable. A strange, burning sensation without the heat. It was almost worse than fire. Almost. Though she’d been burned a handful of times (minor burns) from her brother as well.
 
He loved her, yes. But he’d also been a source of constant pain. Though he had no others brothers to pick on, and Adelene never was one for getting her figurative dress dirty. Lyanna though? She never minded so much. Besides, she simply wanted to please Corbin. No one else paid her much mind, but he always did.
 
Slowly, the mist dies away, and she lets her concentration fade with it, no longer needing to maintain the magic. “Better?” she asks, suspecting it’s probably not completely healed, but that it should be healed well enough. Not that she’s even entirely sure. She’s only had so much experience with this magic, and it was still new enough to astound her. And new enough that she never knew just exactly how healed someone might come out to be. She was, at least, getting better with it. The first time, she’d barely healed small cuts completely. Now though, small cuts and bruises were no problem at all. Large wounds still tended to leave something behind that simply needed time – maybe that was just her lack of experience, maybe that was simply the limit of the Goddesses gift.
 
She waits for his answer, keeping an eye on him, though not particularly worried at this point. It was not a life threatening wound. Not his life anyway. Those of his potential unborn children though? Well. Probably fine too. “Do I dare ask who your opponent was?” This she says with a laugh, and it’s not a question she expects an answer to. They aren’t close, and she suspects the real answer to that question is more personal than simply a name. Though should he answer, she would listen. Mostly though, she had to tease just a little bit. 

lyanna

Despite his own rueful smile, he is relieved that Lyanna’s composure holds as he reveals the source of his injury. And he is doubly triply relieved when the cool, dark, healing mists gather from the breezes around them and rush to hover over his wounded familial jewel. Though the pain abates, he still does not feel right when the mists fade away from between his thighs. The skin over his stifle feels shiny, new, and tight. But the weight between his legs is not as even as it was before—

But he realizes that the Moon Doctor is talking to him, so he shifts his attention away from his manly bits and changes his weight to evenly distribute between his haunches. “Much better. Thank you, Lyanna,” his deep voice rumbled in genuine thanks, navy eyes meeting her amused teal gaze. Though he wasn’t certain that he was entirely and fully healed, he was not about to ask the Doctor to check for him. Instead, he chances a grin—though it doesn’t reach his eyes and it promptly fades at her question, despite her laugh.

Though there is apart of him that wants to meet her laughing question with a grin, the fight is too raw and recent to allow the King to indulge his amiable nature. So, in lieu of the awkward silence that stretches after her playful tease, he simply answers, “The Icebound.” He does not say her name—it seems too personal, too wounded, for him to be able to use her name. And he does not offer anything further on the matter.

Instead, his dark eyes stare at the gleaming, glittering glass of the greenhouse. “Do you enjoy being Moon Doctor here, Lyanna?” The question was generic, meant to change the topic. But, he found himself interested in her answer—what made her inclined towards the healing arts? He knew so little about the dark, teal-accented mare.

Tembovu

The Elephant King

so i listen to the    wind for an answer

She would check, if asked. That’s her job, and though she is somewhat amused, she does her best to be as professional as possible. And she would go looking about with a straight face and a keen eye if that was what he required. But she would not just go sticking her head down here, or volunteer to do so. That seems like crossing a boundary, when he otherwise says he feels better. Better is not healed, necessarily, but there is limit to what magic can do. Time usually solves the rest.

Still, she can’t help but feel a little relieved at being done with this particular task. At least for now. Though she still watches the way he moves, making certain he can put weight on both hind feet equally. Not that she’s entirely sure if a second healing wind would heal more or if it would just exhaust her. Though she would try, if she needed.

Thankfully he does seem mostly alright at this point. She notices the grin that doesn’t reach his eyes though, the grin that fades quickly at her question. Ah, perhaps more of a sore spot than his nether region now. Good job, Lyanna. A figurative kick to the balls when he’s already down. But she keeps that particular thought to herself. Instead, she nods as Elsa’s title slips through his lips, but she otherwise lets it drop, more than happy to take up the change of conversation he offers.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she cannot help but wonder just exactly what happened. Did it have anything to do with her stepping down? Or were they wholly unrelated things? She can speculate, of course, but that does no one any good and only breeds rumors (not that she intends to tell anyone else about this). “I do,” she says, the questions in her head cast aside, her teal eyes bright as she follows the King’s gaze to the greenhouse. “I was never given an opportunity to choose a path for myself, where I come from. And I’m not entirely sure I was all that well suited to pretending to enjoy the company of everyone that came my way. I always preferred to wander the forest nearby. Which now I can do while collecting herbs.” She says with a light laugh. She enjoyed helping people as well, not just the wandering, of course.

“Healing feels far more like I’m actually contributing,” she adds, her voice just a bit softer with the honesty of that statement. It’s out of context for Tembovu. Only Glasgow knows her full story, and she’s not sure just how much she wants to tell him. Yes, he was her King, but they were not necessarily close. Still, if this was truly her home, she had to trust that no one would judge her for a past that she never controlled. Maybe he didn’t need the nitty gritty, the details that still felt like scraping a raw wound against a tree. But the basics? Nothing hurt in that. Those didn’t hurt so much to tell. “Once upon a time, I played at being a princess in a land much smaller than Helovia. Ah, well, technically I was a princess. Middle child though, mostly ignored by my parents, lots of lessons in pretty smiles and some slightly more useful lessons in fighting, history, basic medicine and the like.” She says, figuring that’s enough context to make the rest of her comments make a bit more sense.

lyanna

His lips, which had been tightly pursed at the questioning of who he had battled, turned into a genuinely warm grin at the candid nature of her reply and light laugh. A low chuckle rumbled in response, “Yes, let’s not have you pretending to enjoy other’s company,” his deep voice echoed, amusement able to shine out of his navy gaze as his pain was tended to by the good Moon Doctor.

Though his amusement fade as her voice softened with honesty, he did not grow somber. Instead, he grew intrigued, head and gaze turning from the glinting glass greenhouse to study her dark, white-marked face. His cobalt eyes peered past the teal tips of her forelock as she revealed she liked contributing—and then she revealed more; the King had wondered about the teal stained woman. It had seemed that Alysanne, their new Queen, shared a closer bond with the Moon Doctor—perhaps because it was she who offered her the promotion, or that they both shared an interest in healing.

Regardless of the reason, the Elephant had felt as if he was bordering on the edges of Lyanna’s orbit, a superficial Leader-Healer relationship that had no depth other than mutual, inherent respect. But now, as she gave the basics of her history, the King could not help but feel some deep, happy satisfaction. It was a salve to the wounds Elsa had ripped through him. So he, again, tilted up the corners of his black lips, “It is your parent’s loss to have ignored you,” it was only the unexpected quietness of his mumble that revealed how exhausted he was from the battle with the Thicket, Elsa, and the healing. Though unwilling to break this conversation, he knew that a tired listener was often worse than no listener at all, so he dipped his large head deeply, navy eyes sliding to half-mast, “I thank you for the healing, Lyanna. And I would enjoy hearing more of your homeland. But, now, I must rest.”

Tembovu

The Elephant King