Sarphlies, The Sister of Wrath

𝒱𝐼. Corolla

The gentle giantess laid in absolute rest. The windows were shut and a flame flickered inside of a finely crafted oil lamp. It was a beautiful lamp, with stained glass that painted the room in blues and purples and with pictures as if it was a piece of the sky. It was very magical to anyone who'd keep on watching the pictures that morphed to tell a story, perhaps it was an enchanted artifact. It portrayed an endless story in loop at each rotation, specs of color moving with the color and absence of it. Nevertheless, it was magnificent.

Sarphlies was alone in the room and was breathing heavily, her skin pearled with the many droplets of sweat. Her body shifted from side to side like a restless child who was laid feverish in bed. Above her forehead was a wet towel directly placed in between her crimson tinted horns. From time to time there was a ushered cry that pleaded for more air to grace her lungs. And she exhaled loudly at each one. Then, a subtle creak and a groan. A woman of silver hairs stood at the doorstep and then entered. Her hairs looked like they were effortlessly chopped in one go, leading to some disheveledness. On one side it was longer, reaching the shoulder. On the other it barely surpassed the chin. With her she brought a vial, and after her entered a human lady, carrying a tray that contained food. From the outside there were flickering lights dancing in the hallways pushing and pulling one another into a domino effect without sharing a touch. Whenever a flame danced, so followed the others. It was night time, and there was a breeze that invited itself in.

The bladesmith was quick to reach into her pocket slowly, her fingers attempting to snatch out a piece of gold without it loudly clicking with several others. The fingers were slim and skilled enough to remove the chip of gold with no noise, and thus, she handed it to the human. Soon after, the door closed with a barely audible thud, but the tiefling-orc still shivered. A groan was loud and shaky, erupting from her throat, but it was quieted into a flinch when the drowconian replaced the towel for a new one. Her eyes widened in their reddened splendor and she looked all over, sitting down.

"Oh, in the name of kuuni-" Sarphlies was quickly overthrown by the feeling of sickness that ran rampant and struck her with how quickly she sat up. She was readily provided with a vase in which she relieved her sickness. Then, a rag with which she wiped.

The crafter eyed the other and held her hair back as she puked, the other hand making sure that the wet and warm towel was not to drop from the sick one's forehead. "Your words were confusing when you arrived, and you collapsed shortly after. Can you remember what happened? Something happened for sure, you are sweating gallons... I even had to pay off the girl from the lobby to allow you in here, dangerous times approach..."

"What is it you are on about? I know I left and... my house... was torn to shreds..." The giantess let out a weeping sound, falling back in the bed, certainly the greatest she had ever slept in. However, her state of discomfort did not make it better. "Gale betrayed me. I know what happened to the dagger she stole from you... she told me she sold it."

"That... well... The story is quite complicated. It wasn't a matter of not paying for the dagger that made it worse." Nyir was quick to admit, but her hand in which was the vial was quicker than the words would be sinking in. "This is a healing potion, drink up first."

Sarphlies sat up and drank, coughing as the liquid reached her throat. "What... is this? It tastes so bad..." However, fighting it was useless as Nyir cocked a brow towards her.

"Medicine. You have some sort of ailment or fever... I have never seen anything like it, maybe it was from something wild you caught along the way... It certainly isn't a curse...", muttered the bladesmith. The voice wasn't all too loud, rather it was quieting and soothing. Her fingers caressed the skin and the sweaty hair colored like the pitch dark sky. A strand of it fell loose in front of Sarphlies' red eyes, and she looked ahead while trying to sit up once more, this time calmly in order not to feel dizzy or puke what had just entered her stomach. "Listen, I know why Gale wanted the blade. But she didn't take just a dagger. She wanted to take something else far more valuable than an adamantine dagger, which is very valuable in itself. I am the best at that across the realm, and strangely people don't stop to ask why. Dwarves get the credit when handling it, but nobody knows how to work it like I do, and there is a reason. That dagger was commissioned for the price of over one thousand gold."