𝒏𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒂

nan calendula healer “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” part of andora hq written by sophie

[nancalendula]

caged-sparrow​:

“Thank you,” Triel nodded, her eyes flickering to the vial. She recognized the herb, but couldn’t help the paranoia that told her that just because it was willowbark didn’t mean it couldn’t also be poisoned. But that was irrational, wasn’ it? Even if she had been eavesdropping… it wouldn’t make sense to kill her before learning what she knew. Triel took the twig, chewing on it slowly.

“A bit,” she whimpered, and it was true. She had a feeling it wasn’t broken; that was one of those things where people always said that if it was broken, you’d know. She wasn’t sure how, if you’d never done it, but she trusted the anecdotes. “Where’d you learn how to do this?” When in doubt, learn more about the other person than they knew about you.

The woman took the willow bark and started chewing it, and Nan smiled encouragingly. She went back to studying her injured ankle. Perhaps it would be best to cut the root away? It would be easier than trying to unhook her ankle, if it hurt as badly as she said. She chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully, an absentminded gesture that showed she was considering something.

At the question, she looked up. It was common for patients to make small talk, to try to distract themselves. Had the question not been asked, Nan would have asked her something. So she said, conversationally, “My mother taught me. She was the village healer before me, and she passed her skills on to me.” She kept her voice calm and pleasant, the automatic tone she used when treating people, and then reached out to gently place her hands on the woman’s ankle. “I was trained by her for my formative years, and then she and I served in the war together. I’ve taught myself ever since, after she left the village.” She gave the woman an encouraging smile. “My name’s Nan, by the way,” she said. “What’s yours?” That was a good, simple, place to start.

[nancalendula]

titaniaanlyn​:

“Mine too,” She said with a smile, “Cedar is nice, but lavender is …. softer, in my option.” It also reminded her of her childhood home, before she left it for the war. It’s walls always smelled of the dried lavender bunches hung from the rafters. “Oh no, no,” Titania answered with a laugh, “I’m no priestess, believe me. I just … “ The blonde paused, licking her lips as her gaze turned downwards towards the ground, “I feel as though I owe a great deal to the Goddess.” She said, softly, before looking back up at the other woman. “You’re the village healer, huh? I used to heal, in the war.”

“Yes, I completely agree,” Nan said. “You chose wonderfully.” When the other woman laughed, she knew at once that she’d been wrong in her assumption, but the the woman didn’t look offended. She nodded understandingly at the explanation. “I know how that feels,” she said. “I owe the Goddess too.” She met her gaze, and smiled excitedly. “You did? Oh, how lovely to meet another healer!” She held her free hand, the one she wasn’t using to hold her basket of offerings, out. “I’m Anne, but please, call me Nan.” There was a pause. “You healed during the war, but you’re not a healer by profession?” she asked.

[nancalendula]

dshnred​:

Amadeus tucked away every detail she gave him for future reference. “I’m glad you that you think well of my plan. It’s important to have a local’s perspective.” He pretended, rather convincingly he thought, to consider his words carefully before he spoke again. “If you don’t mind me asking - of course, I understand if it’s private - why did your mother leave Delos?” 

Nan wasn’t a particularly private person. Of course, there were things she wouldn’t dream of sharing with a stranger, but her mother’s leaving for leaving wasn’t one of them, and she smiled pleasantly at Amadeus. “Oh, it’s not private at all,” she said. “We left on good terms. She had raised me alone, and I was ready to make my own way. She had lived in Delos for... I don’t know how long.” She shrugged casually. “And she decided it was time to travel, to take her skills elsewhere, and leave the mantel of village healer to me. She taught me everything I know,” she added, a hint of pride in her voice.

[nancalendula]

shcdowknight​:

“Who knows. We are awfully close to the Queen. I’m sure the higher ups want to make sure there are no threats here. You can never get too complacent.” Qiren knew that better than most. His stomach flipped, and he did his best to push the memories to the back of his mind. They could visit him in his dreams that night. As they reached the edge of the forest, he let out a light breath. “If I were the ruler, I’d want to make sure I knew all the happenings in the towns closest to me.”

“That’s a fair point,” Nan replied, thoughtfully. They were in close proximity to the castle, though they had nothing here to interest the court. She sensed Qiren relax as they reached the edge of the forest, the thick trees now behind them, and, though she didn’t mind the Dark Forest, she did feel a weight lift now they were out of the dimness. She glanced at him curiously. “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “I clearly don’t think as strategically as a soldier.” Nan mostly kept her head down and got on with her job, finding solace and comfort in it. That was her lot, and she was happy with it.

[nancalendula]

NAN CALENDULA MOODBOARD:  How many soldiers had she seen die, even during her short service? How many elves had she only needed to look at to know they weren’t long for this world? Worse, in some ways, were the ones she could only partially heal, the ones with life-changing injuries and lost limbs. As a healer, nothing pained her more than not being able to heal, and only being able to offer some comfort, or partially fix their bodies. They had all been fighting in an inherited battle, most of them too young to know for certain what had caused the war three centuries ago. And Nan had only served for under a year, but she’d seen enough pointless suffering to know that there wasn’t any beauty in war.

[nancalendula]

dshnred​:

“Oh, no, it’s nothing private,” Amadeus assured Nan, waving a hand as if to casually dismiss the idea. “Like I said before, I haven’t had a chance to meet everyone personally yet, and I’m trying to do that. In my experience, the local merchants - not the travelling ones - have a good amount of knowledge not only about the town, but about its struggles. After all, when people go through hard times and there’s less coin to spare, the merchants are directly impacted.” None of these were new revelations, nor did Amadeus think they made him sound sneaky. Instead, he felt as if he was making it clear that he cared about the people in the village. “It’s good to be friends with the people who know, perhaps before anyone else, when the people of the village are struggling.”

Nan listened to Amadeus’s explanation, nodding understandingly. “That makes a lot of sense,” she said, after a moment. “I haven’t heard of any cause for trouble of late, but it’s good to be kept abreast. I suppose I’m in a lucky position, as the village healer.” She had never given it much thought -- she only wanted to offer her services -- but, in light of Amadeus’s logic, she supposed it was true. “After my mother left Delos,” she explained, in answer to a question he hadn’t asked, “I took over her role as the village healer. It brings one into contact with practically every villager, at one time or another.” She gave him a quick smile. “I think it’s very wise of you to want to make the rounds, as you called it.”

[nancalendula]

shcdowknight​:

Qiren grinned, “My grandmother used to tell me that. She’d threaten to make me a cup of sage tea when I complained about having to rise early in the morning.” He’d never cared for the taste as a child - it was an effective threat. Light from the edge of the forest was visible now, and the darker it got outside, the clearer it was why people didn’t usually venture into the trees at night. A chill ran up Qiren’s spine, and he unconsciously quickened his pace. “I don’t necessarily blame them, and I don’t think we’re in enough danger here to warrant telling anyone command about their naps. I just hate to think about what someone might say if they came visiting from court and found members of the royal army asleep at their post…however boring that post might be.”

“Your grandmother sounds very wise,” Nan said, approvingly. She didn’t mind the taste of sage tea, but she knew it wasn’t to everyone’s liking. They walked in amicable silence for a while, and Qiren walked a little faster, so Nan hurried too, taking two steps for his every one, keeping up with his strides.

“Yes, it must be hard to stay awake all night,” she replied. “Though... why a member of court would visit Delos is beyond me.” She loved her village, but it was hardly the place for courtiers. She remembered the fanfare and desperation that had accompanied the recruiters for the army during the Blood War, the frantic requests for everyone to serve. The memories, even though they were from half a century ago now, made her stomach churn, and she added, as an afterthought, “In a time of peace, I mean.”

[nancalendula]

thehandofmaeve​:

Maeve smiled softly and nodded, hedging back towards the way she had come. “Yes, not too far, just past that copse of trees over there,” she said, pondering over the healer’s words. She couldn’t remember the last time she had allowed herself to wander aimlessly in the woods, blind to her surroundings and occupied in her thoughts. Maeve carried her bow strung and ready throughout her travels outside Delos at all times - perhaps a byproduct of having spent decades entrenched in war. She did not know how much younger the healer was… but Maeve wagered she had not spent much in the throws of battle to wander the wilds so aimless as she did now. She did not know which side of the war she had no doubt had to support, but on either side of a war healers were preciously guarded whether they were aware of it or not. She didn’t particularly like the way her lack of awareness spoke of a certain sense of naivety - it was troubling, and Maeve didn’t particularly care to see her off throughout the woods on her own while she could help it. “I’m happy to show you - its a lovely day out, I’d be happy for a bit of company for a while.” 

“Thank you,” Nan said, peering in the direction the other woman had nodded towards. The sun was still shining through the treetops, and they had hours of light left. Should anything happen, she was armed with her silver knife, which was small, but sharp. She wasn’t concerned about wandering the Dark Forest alone -- she did it on occasion, to gather herbs. But when the other elf offered her company, she smiled warmly, grateful. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you. But walking with someone else is always better than walking alone.” And then, almost to convince the other woman, she added, “It shouldn’t take long. I only need a few leaves.”

[nancalendula]

titaniaanlyn​:

Titania smiled back at her, nodded her head as she stepped aside to give the woman some space. “It’s been awhile for me too.” She replied softly, her eyes following the other’s to the glow of the candles. “Oh, I did. I cleansed them with lavender oil before lighting them, I thought a calming aura might ….. benefit anyone who came to pray.” She said, though another reason she had done so was, in a way, in hope that the Goddess would appreciate it and send a calmness over her own life. 

When the other woman mentioned the lavender, Nan inhaled, and even from the doorway, she could smell the bright aroma of lavender. She smiled. “What a nice idea,” she said. “I love the scent of lavender. It’s one of my favourite herbs. Cedar has also wonderful calming effects, but I prefer the smell of lavender.” She glanced at the other woman, and added, “I’m the village healer. Herbs are my area of expertise.” She paused, looking curious. “Are you a priestess of the temple? I only ask because you aren’t wearing robes.”

[nancalendula]

dshnred​:

“Ah, but should I ever need your services, it would be nice to be acquainted first.” He smiled brightly as he took his hand back. “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been seen by a healer who was a stranger to me. It can get a bit awkward.” With a wink, he nodded toward the town square. “Care to walk with me? I’m headed to meet with one of the local merchants, but I’d love some company on my stroll.”

“That’s true,” Nan agreed. “I’ve treated enough patients I wasn’t acquainted with first to know that it’s better to be familiar with who you’re healing.” She was referring to her usual daily work, but, suddenly, she remembered all the soldiers she’d seen during the war, whose names she’d never known. Her smile almost faltered, and she was grateful for the invitation to the town square. “Yes, that would be nice,” she said. “It’s on my way home anyway, so it’s not out of my way.” She tilted her head slightly. “Can I ask what business you have with the merchants? If it’s private, you don’t have to tell me, of course.”

[nancalendula]

whofell​:

–

lips purse and he curses inwardly. the sudden outburst had certainly unsettled the woman ( and why shouldn’t it - she was having a simple, friendly conversation, he was apparently angry at the world ).

a slight shake of his head –

“you didn’t upset me.  and i shouldn’t take such things to heart… it’s – just a song.  what i should not have done was to have spoken to you in that way - regardless.  so the apology is most certainly necessary.”

talk of - war - was like twisting barbs in the old soldiers wounds.  something that made him sit up and pay attention.  vividly and acutely.  and perhaps he was too immersed in those memories to serve as good company to anyone.  which is why he most often drinks alone… and certainly - after that little outburst, he wouldn’t blame the healer if she made a shallow excuse to leave – nothing he would hold against her.  bad timing on her part, perhaps - to catch in in such a clouded reverie - but not at all her fault.

then she talks of other songs - most of which are familiar.  often sung in taverns to a point that he knew what words were coming next…  maybe there’s just a flaw in his being because he still can’t agree with her.  he can’t see the beauty.  he only remembers the bloodshed.  

“if you can find beauty and comfort in that then… i’m happy for you.”

he speaks genuinely.  honestly.  perhaps a little wistfully - it would be nice, perhaps - to be able to see such things.  but the blinkers of a century simply don’t allow for it in his case.  maybe he’s just forgotten what beauty is, the concept absent for so long in his life that it’s something almost foreign to him…  doesn’t really know where to look for it.  or how to recognise it when it presents itself.

“and i certainly shouldn’t ruin your enjoyment of such things with my own view… please, allow me to make up for it in some way.”

Beyond healing soldier’s bodies, Nan had witnessed unhealed minds during the war. She’d seen soldiers cower at the sight of her surgical knife, when all she was doing was chopping herbs to calm them. She’d seen men scream and scream, though they weren’t wounded. All the healers she’d served with had different names for these afflictions, and Nan had called it simply ‘the terror’, because that was what it was. Fear of loud noises, raised voices, twitches and nervous ticks. As she looked at Ambrose, and listened to his stilted apology, she wondered if, deep in his heart, even after half a century, the terror lurked.

He said he wasn’t upset, but she heard something in his voice anyway. Anger? Jealousy? She didn’t know him well enough to tell what it was. He said he was happy for her, and she smiled a close-lipped, tight, smile. “I find beauty and comfort where I can,” she said, softly. “In remembering the people we lost, in appreciating the healing I’ve seen since the war.” She met his gaze, her own eyes wide and imploring. “But everyone is different, and you don’t ruin my enjoyment of those ballads with your opinion. It’s yours, and that’s all.”

But he offered to make up for it, and she saw a chance to change the mood. She smiled, a genuine smile this time, and glanced at the bar. “Well, if you want to make up for it,” she said, “Though there’s nothing to make up for, then I would appreciate some mead. I’ve never drunk here, and I’m curious to see how it fairs compared to the drinks served at the Seven Stars.”

[nancalendula]

shcdowknight​:

Qiren nodded, knowing what she meant. “I grew up on a farm. The particulars of what will grow where is awfully interesting.” Even if it wasn’t the life he’d wanted for himself, he still had a deep appreciation for anyone who grew anything. It made him think of his parents and grandparents back home. As his boots stomped down against the scattered twigs and dirt path, Qiren had to work hard to hold back a sigh. 

“Yes. Not everyone likes patrolling the forest, and I don’t mind, so I end up here more than I care to admit.” It seemed like the only brave-adjacent job to volunteer for in Delos. “It’s better than sitting at the watch all night. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but some of the other soldiers actually fall asleep on the night shift.”

“Oh, you did?” Nan asked, curiously. She had followed in her mother’s footsteps, taking to healing as she’d been taught, and she was instantly interested with how one went from being a farmer’s son to being a soldier. But the war was only fifty years ago, and she could well remember the desperate need the armies had for soldiers. She supposed it wasn’t surprising. After a moment, she said, “Comfrey needs damper soil than what I have in my garden, and it likes the dark. It wouldn’t grow there.”

She looked around the forest as Qiren spoke. She understood why people wouldn’t like wandering in it, especially this close to dark, but she’d never feared it. She smiled at his admission. “Don’t worry, their secret’s safe with me,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine standing watch all night. I’m sure I would fall asleep too.” She thought for a moment. “Sage is very good at keeping one awake,” she said. “It makes a wonderful tea. Perhaps the soldiers on watch should try some.”

[midsommars-deactivated20201109]

Apostle (2018) Directed by Gareth Evans

[nancalendula]

whofell​:

“no harm done. it’s okay…  but thank you.”

a small assurance.  his name was something long lost to most.  it was just - easier to be simply ‘ambrose’ for his sake and that of others.  

“nothing about war is beautiful.”

it’s one of those quick and sharp retorts - not meant to scold - just his own tongue doing that most uncommon of things and reacting before he can school it into silence.  a deep breath then.  an almost sigh.  it’s followed by a few beats of silence where the music of the bard flood through the tavern, still audible above the clamour of other patrons.  and for one who often speaks so seldomly - perhaps she catches upon something that he has had too much time to dwell upon….

“beauty shouldn’t be found in tragedy.  in death.  the loss of a son to his mother.  the bride to her lover. the crops left untended.  the soil spoiled by blood. the potential of life ended on the edge of a blade. people divided - peace an almost forgotten dream. heartache.   heartbreak is never beautiful. war… is never… beautiful.”

perhaps then she is right.  it is there merely to entertain.  and maybe it’s that which offends him more than the lyrics themselves - the fact that centuries of battle were now softened to be palatable for public consumption.  that they were sung as lullabies to babes in their cribs.  that the barren harshness of truth had been smudged, corrupted, twisted into something so inert as a jaunty tune or a bed time tale.

he shakes his head and rubs one hand across his chin - yanking himself from those thoughts.  trying to be present in the present.  not in the past.

“but i… i obviously don’t need to tell you that. i’m… i’m sorry.”

for now the apology was truly his to offer.  it’s not as though she hadn’t lived it too. and this is exactly why you don’t make for good fucking company, ambrose.

“y’know - you can just tell me to just shut the fuck up.”

Ambrose snapped at her, and Nan started. She had always guessed he could flare up at provocation, though she’d never seen it, but it was still a surprise. She settled down, and waited for him to continue, because she sensed there was more. And he explained, listing only a fraction of the casualties and consequences of war, and she watched him in silence, her eyes wide and her expression patient.

He was right, of course. How many soldiers had she seen die, even during her short service? How many elves had she only needed to look at to know they weren’t long for this world? Worse, in some ways, were the ones she could only partially heal, the ones with life-changing injuries and lost limbs. As a healer, nothing pained her more than not being able to heal, and only being able to offer some comfort, or partially fix their bodies. They had all been fighting in an inherited battle, most of them too young to know for certain what had caused the war three centuries ago. And Nan had only served for under a year, but she’d seen enough pointless suffering to know that there wasn’t any beauty in war. That wasn’t what she had meant, but she could see why she’d been misunderstood.

She smiled weakly at Ambrose’s apology. “There’s no need to apologise,” she said, gently. “I should be sorry, for not being clearer. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She laughed a little, though it was slightly forced. “I’d never tell you to shut up. You’re right. War isn’t beautiful, or glorious, or anything like that. But commemorating it can be.” She looked at the bard, listened to the words of his inaccurate song. “The Battle of Green Hill, The Ode to the Silver Brigade, The Bannerman’s Chant...” She reeled off only a few of the war ballads, and turned back Ambrose. “That’s what I meant. When people remember correctly, it can be beautiful. In its own way.”

[nancalendula]

dshnred​:

“Of course, no need to apologize.” There really wasn’t. Amadeus understood where she was coming from, and truly, her loyalty to the people of the village told him more about her than he would’ve learned otherwise. He extended a hand, a gracious smile on his lips. “I apologize - both for the implication of my words and not introducing myself sooner. I’ve been quite busy settling in as the barrister recently, and unfortunately, I haven’t found the time to make the rounds quite yet.”

“It’s fine, no offence taken,” Nan said, peaceably. She wasn’t one to make enemies unnecessarily, and he’d apologised. She took his offered hand and shook it, before letting go. “Oh, you’re a barrister! No wonder you’re dealing with livestock disputes!” It made sense now. “Don’t worry about not making my acquaintance. It’s probably a good thing that you haven’t needed my services.”

[nancalendula]

titaniaanlyn​:

Titania sat quietly at the base of the marble shrine that belonged to Athys – the Goddess of of life, fertility, and love – she was not praying, but rather, upkeeping the shrine. She took the time to dust the leaves from the steps, to set out her own tributes to the Goddess ; of roses and lilacs. White candles lit, with drops of lavender perfume. She hadn’t prayed to the Goddess for many a year, but she felt as though the Goddess had done a great deal for her over her life and even though it was now all gone from her grasp – she still should show proper appreciation for it. When she heard footsteps arriving, she looked up from where she sat on the marble steps. “Sorry, do you need a moment alone?” Titania asked them, moving to stand.

Nan hadn’t visited the temple as much as she would have liked to lately. A constant stream of patients had kept her too busy for the past few weeks, and she felt guilty as she walked up the steps of the temple, pulling her hat over her hair in a sign of respect. She had brought incense to burn, and a green candle, to give thanks for the health of all those who had come to visit her. There hadn’t been anyone with a serious ailment for a while, and she wanted to show her appreciation to the goddess for that. Of all the pantheon, Nan had always felt the most affinity for the goddess of life, because her profession, her calling, was dependent on her patients living full lives.

She looked up when someone spoke, and saw a young woman she knew only by sight, sitting on the marble steps. “Oh, no, that’s alright,” she said. “I’ve just come to give an offering.” She offered the girl an almost apologetic smile. “It’s been a while since my last visit,” she said, as a way of explanation. She looked through the door at the top of the steps, and saw the warm, friendly, glow of several candles. It was a cheering sight, and she smiled. “Did you light the candles?” she asked. “They look lovely.”

[nancalendula]

caged-sparrow​:

Maybe they hadn’t heard her. She held her breath, afraid that if she made another sound, she’d be discovered. It was a vain effort, though. She heard the woman approaching before she saw her, and by then, it was too late. Her own efforts to free her leg had been unsuccessful, so she couldn’t exactly run off before she was recognized.

The truth was, she hardly felt the pain, her mind already working overtime on damage control. What reason could she give for why she was out in the woods alone? Out for a stroll? Hardly convincing. Maybe the healer wouldn’t ask. “Oh, thank goodness,” she exhaled, looking up towards the healer. She nodded as she explained she’d need to move her, and when she asked about the pain, she pressed her lips together tightly. “It’s very bad,” she answered, it wasn’t a lie, it did hurt, but hopefully if she exaggerated a bit, she wouldn’t need to answer much else.

Nan’s first priority, above anything else, was soothing the other woman’s pain. She watched her gently, and when she said the pain was very bad, Nan nodded once. “Don’t worry, I have herbs that will help with that,” she said, and she put her basket down and started searching through it, clinking small glass vials together. They were neatly labelled, and she quickly came across one with willow bark written on it. Inside were a few small twigs, and she uncorked the bottle, and pulled one out. She held it out to the woman. “Here,” she said. “This is willow bark. If you chew it, it will help with the pain.”

She smiled reassuringly, and then turned to the other woman’s ankle. It had clearly been caught, but it didn’t seem unnaturally twisted, and there was no swelling, so it probably wasn’t broken. That didn’t mean this was going to be easy, though. Nan very gently pressed her fingertips to the woman’s ankle, to feel for any abnormality, and addressed her. “Does this hurt?” she asked. It didn’t feel broken, but there could be some strain. “I need to make sure it isn’t broken,” she explained. “But I don’t think it is.”