Even elves can catch a cold. Wraithvine comes down with a bad case of the sniffles. -- Anon Guest
[AN: This hits different now that I'm in the process of fighting one of them off]
One of the undeniable rules of the world is thus: Elves do not sleep. Well. The adult ones do not. As an Elf grows to physical maturity, they learn and adapt to a discipline of meditation that puts them into a peaceful reverie. It connects them to their magic and dissipates disorders of the mind. When an adult Elf sleeps... something is very wrong.
Caison knew that much when they found the Elf. What they didn't know was what to do about it.
They were a street kid and this was one of the places they went where nobody would bother them. One of the many buildings that everyone else ignored. So out of the way that it was an inconvenience to everyone else.
The Elf was breathing, that much was clear, but they were curled up tight and shuddering despite the summer heat. When Caison tentatively touched that mottled brow, and found it scorching hot.
Two things were clear. This Elf was sick, and this Elf was a feeb. They didn't know to go to a temple for a cure, a cleansing, or even basic care. The temple Clerics may not actually care, but they gave it anyway. Third, Caison discovered, was that the Elf was too big for them to carry.
They didn't want to share their shelter with a corpse.
If they wanted to save the Elf, they had to find a true holy fool.
Caison clambered out onto the rooftops, heading for the temples of the city. The high spires where bells rang and pyres burned, and those with a direct line to the gods could gain an intervention. They usually stayed fast in their sacred fortifications. Only a true fool would follow a scrawny little teuf of a street rat into the sketchy part of town.
Which meant that Caison had to use their best acting.
One temple after another, they affected a limp and nursed an arm, looking at each Cleric with wide and fearful eyes. Some soft ones would coo and try to lure them closer, but give up when Caison shied into the shadows.
One followed.
Into the alley. Up the ladder. Across the boards that Caison had taken some care to set up in advance. Over the tiles. And finally, through the broken wall where Caison had a miraculous recovery so they could point to the Elf.
"Oh, little one," cooed the holy fool, "You could have just asked for help."
"That's asking for a kick in the teeth," muttered Caison. "And mine don't grow back."
The holy fool made simple food with a drop of water and a prayer. She laid hands on the Elf and broke the fever. And she stayed to mend Caison's clothes and heal their minor hurts.
It didn't sting like so many holy hands did.
That was the only reason Caison trusted her.
Nevertheless, the question burst out of them. "Why'd you wanna help a teuf?" Caison asked. "Your lot reckon my lot are cursed."
"The bad ones do," said the Cleric. "And that word you just used for yourself is criminally rude. Many of -ah- your lot, as you might say, have killed people who use it." She produced a flame in the rotten old hearth and set a kettle boiling. "You may look like a demon, but I do not view you as a sin."
"You're a rare fool," said Caison. "It won't last."
"Wait and see," said the Cleric.
The Elf woke up. Smacked their lips, and muttered, "Blurgh..."
Oh good. The Elf was alive.
"Hail and well-met, Wraithvine," cooed the cleric. "Have some water. Did you pick this place on purpose or was it another quest for serendipity?"
Wait. "Wraithvine? Heal the world Wraithvine?" Caison boggled, and scooted into the furthest corner from both Elf and Cleric. "Kill all'a the t-- devils Wraithvine?"
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, they were going to die! No good deed was ever worth it. They just didn't want to sleep in the same place as a corpse, it wasn't fair, it was never fair!
Caison screamed when a kind hand laid gently on their shoulder.
"It's all right," said Wraithvine. "I'm not in favour of killing."
There was something about the voice. How it sounded like ze would never tell a lie. This was the Wizard of all Wizardries. The one who could smite someone out of existence if ze wanted to.
The fact that Caison was still alive told volumes.
Caison uncurled and allowed the Cleric to feed them all together.
[Photo by Rich @ rhubbardstockfootage on Unsplash]
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