[center][url=https://em.wattpad.com/04431e4654e338633d28769c454c281a11dce6f3/687474703a2f2f6f72696731332e64657669616e746172742e6e65742f653138382f662f323031352f3330312f612f372f7468655f73746f726d5f62795f7261646f6a61766f722d643965707574372e6a7067?s=fit&h=360&w=360&q=80]Mill Valley[/url] The Present[/center] [hr] [hr] It's in the fields. The crop of wheat and rye. It had to be. The symptoms pointed to a type of fungal toxicosis. The entire crop would have been afflicted, and thus they had to burn it. A sad and dangerous process. Mill Valley is known for the currents that blow year round that help turn the windmills and grind the rye, the wheat, the corn into meal for breads and other goods sold throughout the region. The mills stood still, lashed to prevent the needless grinding of its gears, and groaned against the winds. Far from the village, the diseased plants were set ablaze but a crowd had to be present to make sure that no ember spread in the wind to catch the other fields. Such a wild fire would devastate the whole valley, but the crop, the diseased yield had to be burned less it spread to the other farm plots. It always gave the sky a depressing gray black to it as the smoke billowed. It matched the mood of Mill Valley quite well. In the village, a small collection of cabins and wooden houses, some homes, the church, the meeting house were turned into makeshift clinics. Volunteers both men and women with masks on their faces flitted between the beds and cots, seeing to the needs of the patients. The patients all shared the same symptoms. Fever, chills, bouts of delirium, cold sweats, and a whooping cough followed be accursed unsettling wheezing. Nearly four dozen of the three or so hundred people that made up the small farming village were in such a state. There was not much for the volunteers to do but change head rags, collect water, distribute blankets, and feed them hot stew with a brew that was more water than vegetables. Many in the village had fled, fearing they'd catch the cough. The head doctor containing this outbreak is a member of the Apothecary House from the Kaelos Country. Rarely seen outside their country they have been known to be as hired retainers, just like every specialist that comes from the Caelondian Kingdoms and their odd culture of putting destined assigned roles before family. He claims to be hired by Lord Ferdinand to help the village in their plight and has seemed to work tirelessly to control the symptoms using the dwindling medicines and his rare healing magics. He has since become an individual of great status in the community and all volunteers look to him for guidance. He isn't the only newcomer to have come to the village though... The Apothecary's days has been using magic on each patient, bringing about a day or two of recovery before falling back into sickness. Without the stolen shipment, there seems to be no recovery for anyone in this poor town. The request for aid has been sent, and the hope that it was accepted is all the town can latch onto in these dark times. [hr] [color=pink]"Why do you wear that?"[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/564x/32/f4/8a/32f48a8265f8c8efdab287bfc862f9f9.jpg]Marni[/url] asks the bird masked doctor as he puts away the foul tasting medicine back in his bag. The unfortunate girl has been in her room for a week, the youngest in town to catch the cough and thus Pox monitors her more frequently than the stronger adults. While shy at first, Pox's cheeriness and stories warmed to her. Pox clipped his bag closed and cleaned his gloves with a rag. He tilted his beak up and began to explain. He made sure to always use his hands and arms to explain, letting his body be animated when his face couldn't be seen. [color=lightgreen]"Somewhere, very very far away from here, there is a city of hats. Big hats, small hats, hats with bells on them, hats that look like boats, and hats that look like animals. Some folk have very tall hats, to let everyone know they are very important. Some folk have big puffy hats to let everyone know they are really good at cooking."[/color] The girl looked confused, if interested. He didn't answer her question. [color=pink]"What's your hat mean?"[/color] [color=lightgreen]"The hats my family wears let everyone know that we really want to fly and we're really jealous of birds. It makes everyone laugh. And laughing makes them feel better. Didn't it make you laugh?"[/color] [color=pink]"Not really. If anything it looked kind of scary when I saw it."[/color] [color=lightgreen]"Oh my goodness you're right! It is kind of scary."[/color] Pox immediately goes over to his bag on the side table and starts muttering to himself, scrambling for some things. He pulls out a small little kit of tiny jars with different colors and a mixing brush. [color=lightgreen]"Maybe you can help me make it funnier."[/color] [color=pink]"What are they?"[/color] [color=lightgreen]"Paint. You ever paint a picture before?"[/color] [color=pink]"Yeah!"[/color] Taking the brush and soaking it in a white paste he held it out to her, [color=lightgreen]"Help me out."[/color] And then Pox comforted the ailing child by painting his dark mask a plethora of terrible looking patterns and colors, holding up a mirror to comment. He felt a little better every time he made her laugh, but that immediately fell into the bottomless hole of guilt whenever the child felt a coughing fit fall upon her. [i][color=lightgreen]I'm a monster.[/color][/i] he thought.