[hider=Ok that one was just Flux and Yulosi. This one is DEFINITELY about Tira.]
Tira woke up for the seventh time. This awakening, it seemed, was finally enough to shake off the thick coat of exhaustion.

She rubbed her eyelids with the back of her wrists. The room was familiar, though its colours were finally growing clear: Azurite, marble, and gleaming river stone veined with minerals. There was a blanket, woven soft and warm, now stinging with drying sweat. Tira pulled it aside and let it slide down to the floor. Looked for the sky, and was blocked again by the mosaic roof. There were windows. Open doorways- A balcony. Her head drooped.

Reaching up again to the rough plainsman cashmere of her undertunic, finding nothing. No leather. No stone. No knife. Again.

Someone had washed her face and arm, only to have the slash in her cheek open up again in the night. That must have been some time ago. The skin was sealed now, though the slit remained, and old blood had rubbed into the feather pillow. She stretched her fingers to the wound and felt her teeth through the hole. No flinching. The nerves had rearranged with unusual speed.

Her ankle wasn't so lucky, so Tira had to put her weight on her off foot and hop towards the basin she knew was nearby. Leaned against it, scrubbed water into her face with her nails, drank some through her cheek and cupped her hands to drink more through her mouth. Began to be aware.

What had Dancer taught her? [i]"Yiil ba,"[/i] she mouthed, not making any real sound. [i]"Panasi elk ma toh-dne."[/i] 

See everything. Accept things as they are.

There was a tall stick leaning on the foot of the bed. It was fresh and firm, with a y-bend curve at the top. Tira took the crutch and gripped it in both hands like a paddle, pushing herself along as she moved. On the wall hung a soft-looking set of grey clothes which she ignored. She didn't want to lose sight of her muscles, aching though they were.

Hopping back to the balcony. Leaning her head through the doorway, not quite ready to go out into the sun. There was... Quite a view. She was on top of a mountain, surely, with so much green, so many waterfalls.

Okay. Time to move on.

There was another room, smaller than the first, sachets of sweet herbs set at indents in the wall. The largest held a pile of dry moss. The other wall featured a ledge with a gap in it. Tira could hear river-water rushing in the darkness below. Well, that was useful enough, after so long in bed. She scrubbed her hands and left. The smooth walls were so neatly aligned and solid that they felt almost cramped.

The third doorway had been blocked by a painted wooden panel. Tira leaned against it and realised with a jolt that it swung aside easily, admitting entrance to another space. Still no more sky. All these rooms were so smooth and vivid; They made it hard for her to judge distance. This one had a recess with a wood pile, smooth shiny timber shaped like a very large flat-backed animal and its young, a jug that seemed to be full of more water, and plenty of round fabric things, like the pillow in the first room, only bigger.

Spread upon the table was her leather armour. It was clean. On it lay the stolen stone knife. That, too, was clean. Tira tried its edge and left a thin smudge of blood there. She remembered clearly. She remembered everything. God, she remembered everything.

Never in her life had Tira felt so lonely. 

She clutched the knife tightly to her chest and sank to crossed legs, bruised back to the wall. There were rites, for mourning, most of which she had forgotten and none of which felt right. Tira bit her tongue to hold in the moan and just cried, rocking back and forth, until tears carried the grief away and left behind anger.

Tira grabbed the crutch and swung it blindly against the floor, swung it again so hard it cracked, yelled, and tossed it into the far wall. 

Immediately the next door opened, revealing one of the austere grey soldiers for whom the room's dimensions were clearly intended. Seeing the knife Tira was holding and the teeth she was baring, they retreated just as quickly, tapping sharply against the carved panels with what Tira assumed was their fist.

[i]"Kint!"[/i]

The angry shout seemed to dissuade them. Tira rapidly stretched into her padded armour, knotting it roughly even as she hopped back to grab the crutch. She stood before the door with the stick in one hand and the knife gripped in the other, with which she knocked on it.

A short pause. The knocking was returned. She kept knocking, insistently, and soon enough the door began to push open again to admit the huge Lifprasilian.

Tira backed up all the way to the far wall, but did not yell. The guard, carrying on its hands a flat wooden tray piled with some kind of grain-bread beside a bowl of nuts and berries, stepped in cautiously. They said some words Tira didn't know and didn't respond to, though the tone was soft, and waited for a response.

She raised her eyebrows carefully. They said some more words, then motioned to their mouth. She returned the gesture, then tapped her belly several times. They put the tray on the table. They pointed to themself, then to the door. They put their hands at their sides and nodded once with their whole upper torso. They left.

Tira breathed and wiped her face again, then hid the knife in her tunic and lifted herself onto the table with both arms. Crossing her legs next to the food, she ate rapidly, and prepared to explore.

[/hider]