Rp Log 2-Amnesiac!

--[ The Crown and Rose ]------------------------------------[ Amber City ]---- 01/07/2015

The woman was just left at the tavern in a silk nightdress, slippers now ruined from a walk through the woods and waist length red hair that is all a tangle with leaves and twigs. There is a lost look to the young woman as she looks about the tavern. She was given instructions by the fox, but now faced with a room of strangers she looks lost. "Celeste..." She starts with a whisper, "I am told to ask for a Mandrake...I mean the house of Mandrake?" She asks the nearest patron as her voice slowly increases in volume.

Sullivan's entrance isn't epic by any standards; he enters the tavern when someone else leaves, a sheaf of notes in his hands aswell as seemingly... a basket of gardening tools. Why, it's anyone's guess. The woman though, causes him to pause in his strides as he makes his way across to the bar, peering at her with one wing'd brow slowly arching up. Dark eyes are hid behind smokey lenses, but that eyebrow sure isn't! "Amnesiac?" is asked of the barman, in a quiet, sweet-sounding tenor "Amnesiac" is confirmed. The sheaf is set upon the bartop, along with a wave of a hand that sports a signet ring of some variety and is squirrelled off to be examined, as the man in his tophat, turns to watch Isobel curiously. "Celeste is likely at the mandrake manor, m'lady," is offered. "Are you injured?"

Isobel is directed by one patron after another towards the bar. Some may well recognize her predictment if her 'kind' always are guided to this inn. She looks up at the word is said. That word that now defines her. She takes a shaky breath and nods to the man. "I do not think so." Though there is a gingerness about her steps, but that could well be due to the ride and walk out there or sore muscles. No blood to be seen. "A ...man in the forest said someone from Mandrake could help me find my memory." She places a hand upon the bar edge to support herself. She may not be injured but it is clear she is near to the point of complete exhaustion.

Sullivan gives the woman a wan smile at that, but it's a kindly one, doffing his top hat and setting it on the bar. "Hot cocoa, Jack... with a shot of something warming in it, I think..." he informs. "And soup, with some bread." He makes to guide the woman to a chair, crouching down infront of her to take his glasses off and just... look at her. His pupils are red and they seem to get redder, like fresh blood as he does so -- examining from head to toe and back up again -- "My name is Sullivan. I'm a doctor, affilated with House Mandrake..." he informs in that gentle, soft voice. "Just hold still. I'm looking over your life energy at the moment..."

The silk of her gown is fine, even if a bit dirty now. Her hands unblemished from heavy labour. She settles into the chair heavily with little grace though as really she was standing at that point by willpower alone. As he gives his introduction she seems to relax despite the peculiar look to his eyes, though there is still an edge of wariness about her. Whether he can tell she was quite a strong elemental mage, but now she seems pretty much depleted of that power. Both physically and magically drained. "I do not really know my name, but the word Bell came to my memory and so the creature of the forest called me thus."

Sullivan leans forward lightly, sniffing the air with his mouth slightly parted as if 'tasting' her aura. His strange eyes travel over her from head to toe, taking in fatigues and toxins, general exhaustion and the tattle-tale confusion around the head area that tends to characterize amnesiacs also. "Well, that's better than some ever get! You know your name. A name is always a good start," he says, giving another little smile as he slides the glasses back onto his alabaster pale nose. "You, miss Bell, over-stretched yourself, I feel! As if you've run a marathon without warm-up... and there is a freshness about you, that reminds me of clean breezes and lightning in the distant storms. I can have word sent to the Mandrake hospital and some funds put aside from the amnesiac kitties, until your memory returns. You are in no immediate danger, but you -should- eat. You'll need your strength," He stands then, taking a stool nearby instead of crouching. "It usually takes a month or so, for memories to return. Sometimes, there are still a few holes here and there. Do you remember anything at all?"

Bell looks with that mix of curiosity and wariness as he 'sniffs' out her aura but she stays still as he directed. She knows she is at the mercy of those around her right now. No energy to fight, noone to turn to just yet. "It does not quite seem right, but such came to my mind when the man asked. "I know not what skills I have but I will endeavour to earn my keep as I can." She assures him and shifts her gaze and follows his as he moves to the chair beside her. There is a shake of her head, "I woke up in the forest in the middle of a grove of trees that had been knocked down somehow. When I rode in...there was something familiar to that. Like a part of me enjoyed riding." Her face takes on a mask of concentration and she closes her eyes and takes a slow deep breath. "Everything else feels just out of reach. Like I am in a circle of darkness and there are sparks of light at a distance but I can not reach them."

Sullivan nods to this. "It will return. Some of it in dreams, some by familiar objects, faces, places... maybe even in mundane tasks. It's a side-effect of what happened to you," the man informs this as he glances to the barman, when the man brings the toddy drink and soup for her. It's gestured at with an elegant flick of fingers. "The process of getting here can often be quite traumatic. I still find myself remembering odd things, though I did not originally come to have memory loss in quite such a traumatic manner." Which is just enigmatic, now isn't it! "Do you have any idea where you are?"

His words do seem to bring her some relief, "The way he spoke and you speak, it is something that happens often?" She queries and looks up as the food arrives, hunger quite evident in her eyes. She reaches for the cup and takes a drink first. Far more than is ladylike. The soup starts to be tackled next as she listens to him. "It is an odd feeling to not know who you are. The sense of knowing something happened to bring me to this point and even a fear of finding out what that was." She says before giving a shake of her head, "Only that he said it is Amber City, but little looks familiar to me I am afraid." She cants her head slightly, "How did you come to lose yours?"

"I spent a hundred years in solitude, with no other sentient life for company. I slowly lost my mind. Sometimes, I would forget how to speak for years at a time. No day, no night, no company, just an endless forest with birds that had no song and insects that had no mouths. And rocks that followed me and occasionally got very angry," Sullivan replies this with all seriousness, even though what he said sounds astonishing and surreal. He shrugs lightly though, waving a hand. "It's done now, in the past... I've cried a river over things that I could do nothing about and at the end of the day, I am who I am, now. You will find out who you are, in time." A man watching her through smokey lenses with seeming enjoyment as she tucks into food. "We should get you cleaned up though, once you've been fed. You've a look of a bird's nest to you at the moment..." pausing, he thinks on more fundamental things. "Amber is the city in the heart of the multiverse. If everything in the cosmos has a solid gravitational center... this is it. You fell through the cracks of reality and found your way along the paths... to the very center of all reality."

Bell turns back to her food as he speaks, but as the telling becomes more strange and sureal the spoon pauses and rests in the bowl. "This sounds strange and I want to say you are making tales up for the lady with no memory, but you seem to speak in earnest." Still she seems quite confounded but perhaps it could be worse. Even if she may not recognize it, that which is magical and surreal is familiar to at least a part of her. She looks down to her clothing and nods to his words, "I would agree with you. I do not think when I went to sleep last night, I intended to wake up in a forest." Then those last words cause her to bring her fingers to her forehead. To pluck at a memory or to push them away. She shakes her head slightly. "That sounds both true and false to my mind, but not a lie." She slowly lowers her hands, "I think I am ready now. I think the sooner I can find who I am the better." She says sounding someone frustrated at herself as she pushes herself to standing, with a slight waver.

Sullivan chuckles. "Honestly? I could not make up the truth if I tried. The truth is stranger than any fiction I could ever have invented," the man shakes his head lightly. "I was placed there, to restore me to life, then unfortunately forgotten about, because of tragic circumstances on the part of the great mage that placed me there. It's hard to be released from a place, when the person that placed you there is imprisoned in a tower at the edge of nightmare. Thus, a hundred years of going slowly bonkers." He shrugs, standing straight and proffering his arm, nodding upstairs to the apartment rooms of the inn. "The Crown and Rose has a policy of keeping a few of its boarding rooms open for amnesiacs, by appointment of the crown. We'll see about a bath to be run and some necessaries to be delivered. Are you still hungry?"

The young woman actually manages to smile at the first, "I think not and there surely would be far simpler tales to speak to someone such as myself." The explanation of his exile causes her to shake her head, "Well if this an exile, at least there are people in it. I cannot imagine the loneliness." She says softly and hesitantly takes the offered arm. "I think that I would like that." She says to the bath before glancing down to the empty bowl and back, "I am afraid I am. It is though my stomach is a bottomless pit." She starts and looks about the room for a moment at what the various patrons are eating, perhaps seeking a familiar dish before something flickers in her gaze, "Of water and land I will eat, but not of the air." A memory perhaps and she looks up to Sullivan, "I do not think I like chicken." And with that odd pronouncement she laughs, of a woman exhausted but finding humour in something so inane. "Though I would prefer a more useful memory to return."

"Jack, have a tray of starters and suchlike brought up, a nice variety spread. Nothing that flies in the mix, if you will..." The barman nods to Sullivan, taking care of it without a second question, though there are other punters waiting to be served. "And have Suki run a bath for the lady," "Yes M'lord Consort," Hmm! The plot thickens. "It seems a little more came your way there. Let me see... of land and sea, but not the air. Perhaps that is the taste I caught from you," he offers, leading steps upward...

Sullivan walks towards the way up.

Bell certainly leans on his arm a bit during the climb up the stairs. She is not likely to faint just now, but it will take some time to restore her strength. The title offered to the man causes the woman to look up at him curiously, "You are someone important here." She says in a manner that is both question and comment. "I thank you for your care of me, though perhaps I should release you to your duties. How might I contact you or your house so that I can seek treatment?" his comment of her food choices causes her to smile, "Perhaps. It leads me to wonder why I will not eat fowl. Perhaps tomorrow might open up more memories."

"Importance is relative," Sullivan notes with a chuckle, indicating the common room with a gesture that somehow seems to be elegant, graceful and self-explanatory all at once. His is good balance, which helps against tottering from fatigue. "All of it is something bestowed by other's opinion and sociological structure. I think an ant probably thinks it's quite important to the rest of the colony, after all..." he muses, checking which room would be available to her with a glance around. "The Mandrake hospital is in the lower city. Celeste will not do anything to you that I have not already done, I'll mark though. My duties, as they are, have already been done by handing over the shopping list to the barman here. I'm off duty, as it were." He winks, considering the rest of the puzzle as he releases stewardship of her arm. "A runner can be sent, or a page, or a scallywag, to house Mandrake. It's easy enough to have them contacted."

"I suppose that is true. I thank you well for your service to me today and I hope that one day I might repay you." Isobel says before following his glance around, "Somewhere high with a window. I need a window." She says in a hurried voice as it would be a most fearful not to have one. Perhaps she was once a bird herself! "So now I just recover and hope my mind returns to me? Is there any methods you might suggest to quicken the process?" She releases the arm and places a hand upon a nearby wall for support. "Then I thank you for your service to me this day and perhaps tomorrow I might know more of myself."

"Going out, after you have rested. Looking at things, touching things, visiting places around the city. Paintings are good for recollections, in the galleries and palace, around the city and elsewise. Architechture can bring memory to mind also, embassies from around the spheres that are close to Amber... each tends to build in the style of their place of origin," Sullivan offers this as a list of suggestions. "Food. Drink. Trying new things out and if you have an urge to do something, do so... it may waken further memories. You may want to visit the southern gardens of the palace. There is a tropical garden there, filled with birds of all kinds." It doesn't seem as if he's about to check for windows, as likely, each bedroom here has one! It just might not be as large as may be saught after. "You have a look about you that's familiar to me, at least. I would suggest visiting the pathian embassy, on the morrow."

Isobel leans against the door he has escorted her too and looks up to the man as he offers his suggestions. A look of concentration as if she wants to ensure she holds on to this memory at least. These instructions to return her own memory. The moment he says Pathian, Isobel blinks and her brow knits up. "That holds something familiar to my mind. That word somehow...but no images does it arise, but it speaks to me." There is a touch of relief to her features, "I will do as you say once I wake. Thank you again advice."

"You are quite welcome," Sullivan it seems is on Amnesiac duty, or has taken it upon himself to oblige. Leaning against the wall, he nods to Isobel, checking briefly inside the room with a glance, to make sure there are no boogie men about to leap out at her and require incineration, or rapid action of a sword thrust. Empty room with a neatly made bed, look at that! -- The barmaid's dumbwaiter dings about then, having a sample platter delivered for empty legs and empty stomachs and the sound of a running bath in the adjoining little ensuite is a blissful thing. "I'll ah... I'll have someone sent to visit that can take your measurements. I'd guess, but I'd be bound to get it wrong."

Isobel waits for him to check her room, a touch of relief in her gaze as he does so. Well there are fears she does not even remember. To be alone with herself may well be a relief or a curse right now. "Perhaps one of the maids has something I can wear for now. I am looking forward to a bath and a looking glass. I dare say in that order for I must look a fright right now." She says before colouring a bit at his comments about measuring for clothing. "I will await the Tailor." She says softly and slips into the room. "Take care thee well Sullivan."

"Indeed," Sullivan bows slowly to her, smiling with it, then takes a little piece of putty from his pocket and presses the signet ring to its amorphous surface. It's handed over -- the image is of a phoenix rampant, with words in latin enscribed around it. It may be vaguely familiar, as when translated it states: Life through fire is reborn. "Hand this to the seamstress. The payment for clothing will be taken care of." he informs, then with a little wave and a bow that looks boneless, he departs!

The seal is taken from his hands, "I will. Thank you." She says but it is not till he leaves that she looks down to the insignia. In that moment she grabs the door frame as recognition does flood her mind. "Sullivan Wait..." She calls out to him and makes her way to the top of the stairs, "I know this...I recognize this more than my own name." She says in a breath. "I see a banner fluttering in the breeze with the same image."

Sullivan pauses a the lip of the stairs, at her call, turning to look over his shoulder. The words from her have him tilting his had, birdlike and slowly returning to the doorway of the room, gazing at her steadily with it. "You know that ensignia upon a banner?" He repeats, licking his lips as if tasting the air again. "Perhaps you have seen it flying in places then... it is the coat of arms of his Royal Highness, prince Brand of Amber, son of Oberon. One of the nine princes of that line."

Isobel nods to his words looking like a starving man given a loaf of bread, "Yes, it invoked a stronger sense connection than any thus far. Might I have another token, one that I can keep to look at and see if more memories do arise." She asks almost begging of him. Each word he says of Brand seems to draw her towards Sullivan. "Perhaps he might know who I am. How might I seek audience with him?"

"Cautiously, most days," Sullivan replies in earnest. "I carry his signet, as a mark of his authority and also because he truly does not usually like to go out where people are." Pausing, he does not shy back, considers her request with genuine thought. "He has moods; extremes of passion that run from incredible highs to despairing lows, a thing I believe he inherited from his mother..." Eyes settle on her hair, her face, the colour of eyes and the /need/ in eyes. It settles him to taking something else from his pocket; it looks to be an ordinary playing card, but this is not so. Upon the back is an image of the devil himself, as a jester. Flipped about, a man is shown upon the face of the card, so photorealistic that it could be a miniature of that person. A trump. Copper hair in waves that look like fire; both strength and fragility in a face. Narrow jaw, brilliant emerald green eyes...

As the Trump card is shown to her Isobel reaches out to take it from his hand if he allows. A delicate finger traces the figure on the card before she looks up to him. Moisture dampens the rims of her eyes, "He is known to me somehow." Oh but is he the lover, the brother, the father, the friend, the uncle, the grandfather. Oh the options are long, but it is clear from her reaction it is someone close in ties if not relationship. She leans back against the wall, almost sagging. "Might I keep this of the night?" She asks even as her hazel eyes leave not the card.

That last request seems to have the darkling fellow torn. "I... I do not think I can allow that, I am afraid," he ventures, but did allow the trump to be taken, to be looked at closely. There's a protectiveness about him that was not there before, as if this prince is precious. And so he might well be. The card itself is cool to the touch, almost chillingly so. "Do not gaze too hard upon it, or focus your will there too strongly... they have a power to them, these cards, to contact those that they depict. He is currently..." the man looks distant a moment "...engaged in an experiment of some focus. Distracting him may result in a rather costly headache." Pausing, he sighs. "Prince Brand is my husband, m'lady. I am his guardian and ... other things." Which at the moment, he is neglectful to say.

The warning is not quite met at first, so caught in the look of the man upon the painted card. The further warning of upseting the man does finally cause her to look up and reluctantly hand the card over. The information provided to him causes her to slowly nod, "Please then tell him about me Sullivan. I do not know the connection, but I feel that I am connected to him in some way. This I feel far more strongly then I felt about the chicken I can assure you." She says softly glancing to the card in his hand once more before giving a little shake of her head, "I hope to hear from you soon Sullivan. I do not think I will sleep till I know who this man is to me." Given her utter look of exhaustion though, that may not be a vow she will be capable of keeping. "Please go, I will not keep you a moment longer." She says and turns to her bedroom once more, her hand still on the wall to support. No doubt the maid will be rousing her in the bath even.