Adara walked down the streets of the Capital. She was in her disguise, pale skin, no scars. Cale was not with her. He was waiting for her at the Residence. She wanted to do something before she entered the Plaza of Glory tomorrow.
She looked up at the building she had been walking to. The big white building, with its magnificence and cleanliness. It was dark, people still littering the streets. She took her eyes off the bright building, choosing to observe the happiness around her.
In some ways, she believed she was cursed. Cursed to silently observe, never to interact.
She could never be one of those people, the ones who sat at a bar and laughed with their friends as they took a swig of their beer. She could never be so at ease, so happy to be surrounded by people. So... unguarded. Not in a public place.
She turned round without another thought, walking up the stairs to the Temple of Death.
She met the guards at the door. Luckily for her, Sir Isac was at the door. He noticed her immediately, recognising her despite her disguise. He let her in with a smile, following behind her.
She raised an eyebrow. "Is your duty not to guard the door?" she asked.
Sir Isac put his sword into his scabbard. "Priest Bede has instructed I redirect you to his quarters if I see you."
Adara snorted. "Please go find him, Sir Isac, and tell him I will be in the garden."
Sir Isac was not one to argue, so he simply nodded and went to find Bede, wishing her a nice night as he went.
Adara silently made her way down to the gardens, not making a sound as she walked. The inside of the Temple was as quiet as death, she did not want to disrupt the quietness of it.
Upon reaching the garden, she took a moment to watch it. There was a peculiar flower that was commonly attributed to the God of Death. The Night Poppy. It was used in the Milk of the Poppy, the peasant version of a healing potion. The concoction gave you a dreamless sleep, it made sense it would be attributed to the God of Death, seeing as sleep was the closest to death.
In the garden, people could plant Night Poppies. It was an offering to the God of Death. Sometimes they prayed someone close to them would live a bit longer, sometimes they wished their enemies to live a bit shorter. Sometimes they planted a Night Poppy in honour of a deceased one, sometimes in remembrance.
The Night Poppy had big petals, the petals a blinding white. The stem was a green so dark it appeared black. The colours most associated with Death. White and black. White, the colour of Death. Black, the colour of death. It was truly not a wonder it is associated with the God of Death.
The garden was a large opening, the moon shining down. Among the green grass, hundreds of white flowers lit up the area, the petals catching the moonlight. She sat down on a piece of grass that did not have a flower planted.
She sat there, admiring the garden, for a while. It was beautiful and quiet. She loved the quiet. It was so peaceful. She didn't like it when it was loud. It hurt her ears. But the quiet she enjoyed.
It was never truly quiet, obviously. There was the whispering of the wind, the rustling of the grass, the muffled sounds coming from the windows of humans, the chirping of the crickets. But it was quieter than usual. And that was enough for her.
Muted footsteps approached her, the footsteps stopped a distance from her. She recognised the footsteps, did not fear them. After a second, the footsteps came closer.
Bede sat next to her, watching the garden as well.
After a few moments of admiring, Bede spoke up. "Do you want to plant a Night Poppy?"
She nodded, her eyes still on the poppies. "Yes," she muttered. "I do."
She got up with a sudden movement, a stark contrast to her previous calmness. She walked to get a flower, getting all the necessary equipment to do so.
Planting a Night Poppy was free. But most Nobles did not know— or want to know— how to plant a flower. So they paid some money to get it planted for them. Adara always thought it lost the meaning of planting the Night Poppy in the first place if somebody planted it for you.
There was another reason this flower was associated with the God of Death. It was the complete opposite of all flowers, it thrived in the night instead of the day. During the day, the petals closed up, hiding themselves from the poisonous rays of sunlight, in the night they revelled in the darkness. The most suitable time to plant them was at night, most preferably when the moon was not shining, but Adara could not cloak the moon, so she had to make do with what she had.
She scanned the opening with a critical eye to plant the two Night Poppies she had in her hand. The flowers had not bloomed yet, but they had roots so she could plant them well. She spotted a good location for the two, deciding to go there.
She was careful as she walked there, using her nimbleness as a Dark Elf to successfully reach her destination without disrupting the other flowers.
Bede was not as experienced, so he stood at the edges of the garden, leaning on a pillar, watching her. She had taken a different appearance than the last time he had seen her. She had pale skin now, her scars were hidden. He still recognised her, though she looked very different.
But as he stood there, he was reminded of a similar scene, a scene from more than 4 years ago.
Adara, planting her Night Poppy, him leaning on a pillar as he watched her set to work.
He laughed as Adara got her hands dirty. She frowned, the dirt stuck underneath her nails.
"I should have gotten gloves," she said, still staring at her dirty hands.
That made him laugh more. Even Adara had a smile on her face.
Their laughter lapsed, Adara getting more concentrated on gardening. He watched her silently. She was another younger sibling to him. One who was older than his actual younger sister. He was lucky they got along, the two most important people in his life were on good terms, and that mattered to him greatly.
He watched day and day, month and month, how Adara got older.
No longer was she the scarred child, afraid of everyone who came a bit too close to her, afraid of anybody who raised their voice. She was able to smile freely, able to cry freely. She was free to be herself. She had grown, mentally and physically.
He guessed it was an excellent decision on his part to talk with her.
It had been an odd day. A Priest had been misusing his position, making a bunch of Servants of the God of Death do manual labour. The Priest had not been there when Adara was bleeding out on the bed, he had not seen how ashy grey she seemed, her eyes fluttering. But he had been there when they announced her, announced their Lord had healed her while on her deathbed.
That Priest had hated Adara ever since. He himself had a daughter now long dead. He had prayed every night, planted a Night Poppy every night, to save his daughter from her deteriorating illness. But the God of Death had not listened.
He did not like how she was given special privileges. He thought it was all bullshit. After forcing a few of the Servants of the God of Death to do the manual labour, he demanded Adara to participate.
That had been the wrong move.
Seeing as Adara had known it was not allowed to force all those Apprentice Priests and Priestess to do all the manual labour, she had said no. That had been the last straw in the Priest's eyes. He screamed at her, threw a few objects as well.
Adara had run away, tears in her eyes. She locked herself in her room, not eating anything.
Priest Charlie had learned of it and dealt with the Priest, while Bede, who had only seen the quiet girl in the hallways, went to talk with her.
He had to break into her room through the terrace, but he managed. He talked with her, though she had been unresponsive in the beginning. He stayed with her until she was comfortable enough to talk.
And she did.
He learned a lot about her then, learned about her life before she had collapsed onto their doorstep, dying.
He learned of her Father, who had done similar stuff to the Priest now getting exiled. The Priest's actions reminded Adara of her Father, who had screamed at her in a similar way one horrible day.
He convinced her to get out of the room. Convinced her to eat something.
Since then, he's been by her side. Adopting her as his younger sister.
And now, she was much better. Nobody dared scream at her, none threw anything. It was all peaceful, everyone learning when to stop.
He finally spoke up, remembering why he was in the garden with her in the first place. "Who is the Night Poppy for?" he asked.
She looked up from her work, a confused frown on her face. "Do they need to be for someone?"
He shrugged. "That is usually the reason for planting one."
"Well, what do people usually plant them for?"
He thought about that for a second. The planting of the Night Poppies had always been natural to him, the reasons obvious. But now, upon being asked for the reasons, he came short. It was on the tip of his tongue. "I guess, some want to give an offering to the God of Death so that their family members live longer. Or maybe to kill someone faster. But I heard some Noble drone on about honour and remembrance too, so I guess that is another reason."
She considered his words. "Can you plant one to mourn somebody?"
He hadn't thought about that. "I guess so. Why? Who are you mourning?"
She did not respond immediately. Still looking down at her Night Poppy that she had just planted. "I suppose... I am planting it for all the people who do not have someone to mourn them."
He found the answer odd. He never heard that. To mourn the ones who have no one to mourn them. It was certainly an odd answer.
And she responded like that every time she planted a Night Poppy. As the years went by, as he saw her get older and older, she always responded the same way.
But now she was even older, no longer wearing the outfit of Apprentice Priestess, but of a Noble. A Count's daughter. She was wearing gloves, however.
"You're planting two of them now?" he asked, deciding to interrupt the silence.
She nodded, making two holes in the ground. "Yes."
Adara always had short responses when she was gardening, she was too concentrated to have longer sentences.
"For who?" he asked again. "What did you say all those years ago? You always planted one for the people who had no one to mourn them."
She nodded. "Yes. One is for them."
"Then who is the other one for? You are planting two tonight."
It was for the ones who had died in the novel Kim Rok Soo read. For the ones who died at the Plaza Terror Incident, for the ones who died in the War to come. For the ones who would not die in this world. She planted a Night Poppy for them.
But she could not say that to Bede.
So she lied.
She shrugged. "No one in particular. I just felt like it."
After making sure both the Night Poppies were properly planted, she gathered all her tools and sprinted to where Bede was standing. She disregarded her gloves, put away all the tools. She looked at Bede. "How is Dad doing?"
He nodded, expecting the question. "Very good, now that you knocked some sense into him. The doctor has been visiting often."
She nodded. "How is your sister?"
He shrugged. "Lina is very well, I would take you to visit her but it is a bit too late for her to still be awake."
She didn't respond, instead walked out of the garden, on her way to Priest Charlie's room.
Bede followed her quietly, sensing something wasn't quite right with her. She was... tense. Like she expected something to happen every second. Bede didn't know why, nor did he think Adara would answer him if he asked. If she wanted to tell him, she would have already. So he let it be. He did not want to force stuff out of her.
She arrived at the door. She waited in front of it. Like the last time, she was hesitating. Thoughts ran through her head. What if he has not called a doctor? But.. Bede told me he did. I have no reason to worry. I should trust Bede. I hope he is better.
She did not want to open the door, only for the sheets to be white and his pallor unchanged, his movements rigid and slow and his eyes struggling to be open.
But she put her hand on the door handle anyway. She opened the door, her mind in such turmoil she did not hear the voices from the other side of the door. So it was to her surprise when she opened the door and a man was in the room with her dad.
It was a doctor, judging by the robes. She breathed a sigh of relief, he had called a doctor.
He was looking much better, his pale skin no longer looked sickly. He no longer had that flushed look of exertion at staying awake. His eyes were open, not fluttering. He was in the middle of moving his arm in another position, the movement smoother and less slow. And the sheets were not white.
Priest Charlie from the bed looked at her in surprise, recognising the pale woman in his doorway as his— unofficial— daughter. The Doctor also looked at her in surprise, he did not know Priest Charlie was taking any visitors.
But he put one and one together, realising both of them had pale skin. He only knew of one person who Priest Charlie would not object to seeing him in his current state. "Ah, you must be his child he speaks so frequently about." He faced the pale woman, smiling slightly. "Pleased to meet you, I am Doctor Emery."
Adara put on a convincing smile. "It is nice to meet you, Doctor Emery, I am Ada. Thank you for taking care of my... Dad. Thank you," she said, again, "he is looking much better now."
Doctor Emery nodded. "I am glad he called me before it was too late. We were unsure if the treatment would work at first," he mentioned, no longer smiling. "Because, with this particular illness, the symptoms are fairly easy to spot. Therefore, most of the victims who have fallen to this illness, recovered in record time because they started the treatment early. Thus, the treatment is supposed to be administered in the developing stages of the illness."
"But..." Adara started, happy this doctor was getting straight to the point. "My dad did not do that."
Doctor Emery shook his head. "No. He did not. I say, again, that I am glad he called us before the final stage. When I heard how late I had been called in, I calculated the risks, and it turned out I was right to use the treatment on him, even though it was so late."
Adara frowned. "There were no repercussions at all to using the treatment so late?" She hardly believed it, her basic understanding of science seemed against the idea.
Doctor Emery made a motion with his hand. "There were a few, in the beginning. He was unstable, some days his life force was strong and he was well enough to leave his bed, on other days he could not keep his eyes open. But, as of recently, he has been getting more and more strong days. I have reason to believe he will be able to leave his bed soon."
Adara smiled, happy with the information. He was getting better.
Doctor Emery must have thought it was time he left, seeing as he walked to the door. "I just came to brief Priest Charlie on the new treatment plan that has been made on note of his current progress. I must be going now, it was truly nice to meet you, Ada." Without another word, he turned around and left.
Adara was left alone with Priest Charlie. She pulled a chair near his bed, feeling lighter and happier. "Good to hear you are doing better."
He smiled widely at her, the brown hues of his eyes twinkling. "I can hardly believe it myself. I cannot wait to get out of this damn bed."
She chuckled at his words before she grew serious. "Are you still in pain?"
"No," he started. Before correcting himself, "Well, I am on the days where I have no energy. But Doctor has taken to giving me Milk of the Poppy on those days."
Adara nodded, pleased. "I do not want you to be in pain any longer. And I am happy you are getting more strong days, it is not good to get dependent on Milk of the Poppy."
Priest Charlie looked at her. "Ah, quoting my own words at me now?"
Adara chuckled. "If the quote fits, why not?"
It had been something he had told her a while ago, when she awoke every night to a nightmare, crying and muttering about the horrors. She had asked him for Milk of the Poppy, and he had done a good thing refusing it. If he hadn't, she would have had a glass every night on her nightstand.
Instead, he simply took her to the garden, sitting in the peace of it with her. It was how she learned how to plant a Night Poppy. All those times sitting in the garden, it seemed the natural thing to learn.
She wished she could take him to the gardens. One last time, before she left for Amiru's Territory. She still had time, she had around a week after the Terror Incident. She is sure she will be free to meet him again. Maybe she'd meet him at the end of the week, to see how much progress had taken place since she had last seen him.
Yes. That is what she will do. But for now, she simply needs to make sure nobody dies tomorrow.
~~~