Awake at Last
His head hurt.
That was the first thing he noticed as he floated back into consciousness. Had he been asleep? Kriff, what time was it? He had things to do, he couldn’t just lay in bed all day!
Opening his eyes took more effort than it should have. Why was he so tired? He always made sure to wake bright and early, why was it so hard all of a sudden? And why did his head hurt so badly? Forcing his eyes open, he had to close them again with a groan. It was too bright. Had he really slept that long? No….his bed didn’t face any window, sunlight couldn’t shine in that brightly. He tried again to open his eyes, slower this time. The bright light sent a sliver of pain firing throughout every nerve in his body. He fought through the pain with another groan and tried to sit up.
Hands stopped him. Strong, callused hands. Familiar, with rather dark skin scarred presumably by years of training.
“Talh! You’re finally awake!”
The voice was familiar too. Slightly rough, same as the hands, but joyful and kind. But he couldn’t place why the voice and hands were familiar. Hoping that seeing the woman’s face would jog his memory, he looked up. Green eyes set in a dark face. Long red hair, a portion of it flowing over the woman’s shoulder. Her hands still rested on his own shoulders, keeping him from getting up.
“Wh--” he rasped before coughing. His throat felt dry, how long had he slept? Why was this woman here?
“Here, drink. Then you can talk.” A glass was brought to his lips and he managed to bring his head up enough to take a long sip of the refreshing liquid.
“Where am I? Wh…” he winced as yet another wave of pain washed over him, this time strong enough to bring with it a bout of nausea. “What happened?”
“Healer’s wing. You don't...remember?” The familiar, yet unfamiliar woman seemed worried. Her brows furrowed. Why was he in the Healer’s wing? He hadn’t been injured any time recently.
“Talh?”
He closed his eyes, feeling his breathing pick up. Why couldn’t he remember this woman who clearly knew him well? Why was he in the Healer’s wing? Why did his head…
He raised one hand up to his head, running the hand down his lek. Or what should have been his lek. Bandages. And then nothing. Empty air where the rest of the head-tail should be. He felt his body go numb as a sense of dread set in. This had to be a bad dream. What had happened? Why couldn’t he remember anything?
“Talh!” The voice was rather frantic now, hands now on his arms--he vaguely registered that those hands were trying unsuccessfully to soothe him. He couldn’t remember anything though. How could he calm down when he didn’t even know what was happening? When he was so horrifically flawed now?
He felt tears stinging his eyes and after a moment he felt those same tears trickling down his face. He couldn’t do anything about it though. He couldn’t do anything, he felt numb except for the throbbing pain that now oddly seemed to radiate from the now nonexistent lek.
A new pair of hands was on him, these unfamiliar. A new voice was saying something that he couldn’t make out in the midst of his panic. A hand was placed on his forehead, and a sudden wave of calm struck him. He suddenly felt heavy and sluggish. As if that same wave of calm were dragging him down, down, down into the depths of unconsciousness. For a moment, he tried instinctually to struggle, but the heaviness was too much to fight against. As the last threads of consciousness broke, he vaguely registered the familiar woman, her strong, calloused hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder. A final thought managed to swim to the surface of his foggy, pained mind as he drifted into sleep.
...Cara...