Güzelavrat otu – Original
Jul. 22nd, 2017 01:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecrazyalaskanTitle: Güzelavrat otu
Author: TheCrazyAlaskan / fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: Original – 1758
Characters / Pairings: Shula Demirci, Azar Demirci, Lily Demirci (polyship)
Word Count: 2,454
Rating: T+
Warnings / Notes: Written for Round 8 of the Hurt / Comfort Bingo: Poisoning; dubiously self-translated Turkish
She was far from the only person who knew her deadly plants—and if this attack went the way it was intended to, her knowledge would be lost to the water she helped terrorize.
• • •
"It's a deep wound," Shula murmured, her head bent over Lily's injuries. "You're lucky to have survived this."
"It's not that ba—damnit!" She interrupted herself to groan.
"'Not that bad,' my lily says?" Shula asked, a barely perceptible, teasing edge to the words as she finished stitching the wound in her companion's belly.
"I didn't feel it on deck," Lily grumbled.
"I don't doubt you—" She expertly broke the thread and cleaned the needle. The heat of battle things to sailors in ways she wouldn’t have believed possible had she not seen them herself. "But this was entirely unnecessary all the same."
"You would have me not defend myself?" She leaned back against the pillows, shaking her head. "No chance."
Shula smiled, her face framed by her headscarf. "My lily is such a brave fighter." She brushed the backs of her fingers against Lily's cheek, leaning down to kiss her briefly before standing. "Dinlenmek—rest."
Lily nodded, exhaustion creeping into her bones. Sleep had almost claimed her when the door opened and shut. Shula murmured a quiet greeting in her native tongue, then in their common one—"Our wife is fine, Azar. She'll live to tomorrow yet."
"I have every faith in your skills, benim kamer—" His voice was deep, but boundless in affection—"but I'd hoped to see her myself too."
"Shula isn't keeping you all to herself, I hope," Lily teased, managing to sit up more fully.
Azar dwarfed both women in both height and stature, but the gentleness with which he conducted himself in their presence belied the difference in their sizes. He broke away from Shula to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Lily's hands in his. "Are you well, yıldızlar?" he murmured.
"I'll be sore in the morning, but I'm well enough," she confirmed, laying a hand on his cheek and allowing him to kiss her.
"I'll never understand why my wife throws herself in harm's way like that," he said softly, touching his forehead to hers as they broke away.
"If I hadn't, this would be a very different conversation," she reminded as Shula curled beside her on the bed.
"And we're thankful it's not," he stressed, squeezing her fingers.
"I'll be back on deck in just a few days," Lily promised.
"Güneş, you should go back," Shula encouraged, addressing him with the same warm intimacy he did with her and their wife. "The crew needs their captain."
"It's already done." He stood, removing his coat and tall boots as he spoke. "I leave the ship in capable hands—for now, I want to be you. Both of you."
It was a welcome proposition. They helped each other into drier clothes, Lily exercising particular care to unwind Shula's scarf and brush out the thick braid underneath it; before long, the trio was in bed with one another, Shula and Azar curled almost protectively around Lily. It had been a wretchedly long night, and they were content to spend what remained of it in this manner.
• • •
As she had promised, Lily was back at it within in days. It was a relief, both to her, as she'd become quite irritable about being confined to a bed, and to her spouses.
Among the thousands of beautiful things about their relationship was knowing that they could leave the ship in one another's care with nothing less than confidence. This was one such occasion—Lily was above deck, Shula and Azar below, as the pair plotted their new course. It was quiet, almost intimate in a way—
Which made Lily's unannounced arrival all the more surprising. "Is something wrong, yıldızlar?" Azar asked, lifting his head from the weathered map.
"You sent me for me." It was a statement, rather than a question.
Shula and Azar exchanged glances, then shook their heads. "We never sent for you, my lily," Shula said.
Now it was Lily's turn to shake her head. "You sent a cabin boy for me—just a few minutes ago."
"Yıldızlar—" There was a softness to Azar's voice, one that might have suggested… worry? Pity? Concern?
"We've been alone since you went above deck this morning," Shula explained. "There's no one who could have sent for you to come to us."
Lily's brow furrowed as she patted a few loose wisps of coppery hair back into place. "I was certain…" she mumbled, as if she distrusted them.
"Are you feeling well?" The map long forgotten, Azar joined her, wrapping a steadying arm around Lily's shoulders.
Her expression was one of deep confusion before she shook her head. "I'm fine." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just… I'm tired."
"Güneş, perhaps rest is called for," Shula suggested. The words were almost causal, but the meaning behind them—the suggestion that Lily rest while sparing the woman's dignity—was quite clear.
"No, no—" Lily shook her head again. "You both stay. I'll… I'll go."
Perhaps that might have been the end of it—maybe, in another life, it would have been. As it was, fate's blessings passed over them, a fact that became all too apparent, all too quickly.
• • •
Later that night, for the first time in years, Lily felt truly seasick. The feeling was sudden, quick to strike and as unyielding as the sea itself. Not for the first time that morning, she retched, coughing up what little was in her stomach (quite the feat in and of itself, all things considered). "When 's'gonna end?" she moaned.
"Soon," Shula soothed, her hands gently pulling back Lily's hair as the latter sat up, slowly.
"Thirsty," she murmured, leaning heavily against Shula's side and swallowing hard. For all her nausea and the unpleasantness that followed, her mouth was unbearably dry…
"Içmek—" Shula pressed a tin cup into Lily's hands. "Drink."
"Wha'issit?" Lily's grip on the cup was tenuous, and Shula had to steady her wife's hands with her own.
"Ginger water," she murmured. "It helps, my lily—please, drink."
With Shula's help, Lily lifted the cup to her lips and drank. What Shula couldn’t help her do was swallow, and she struggled before her sickness broke over her again.
She rubbed small, light circles on Lily's back, lifting her head when Azar joined them. Her expression was almost sorrowful. "No better than before," she murmured, answering the unspoken question.
"I don't understand—" The words was almost vulnerable as he lifted Lily's gaze to his own. "Yıldızlar—Lily, please tell us what's wrong."
Whatever reply Lily might have offered, the words were so slurred they were barely distinguishable from one another. She managed to grab his hand, asking in whatever wordless way she could for help. "Shula—onun gözler."
Shula leaned close as Lily let Azar turn her face to Shula's. Her pupils were wide, the green in her eyes a thin ring around them. The effect, coupled with her rapid blinking, as if she was trying to focus her gaze, was unsettling.
"Lily—" If the fact that for the first time in recent memory he was addressing her by name wasn’t enough, his tone, soft but firm, betrayed the somberness of the situation at hand. "Can you see like this?"
She shook her head, moaning softly. Now it was Shula's turn to cut in. "Azar, feel—" She guided his hand to the inside of Lily's wrist. "Her heart is racing."
His touch on the skin over her veins was light, but the pounding of her heart could be felt with little effort. "I don't understand—"
Lily grabbed his wrist, fighting the apparent urge to retch before finally getting a request out. "M'book—" With no small measure of effort, she pointed to her worktable, on which sat the thick volume she used to fine tune her craft. "Gimme—"
Shula disentangled herself from her spouses to bring the requested book. "My lily, please let us—"
Lily shook her head, moving with a purpose that was, for the moment, known only to her. She turned a few pages at a time, leaning close to some to try to read them before moving on. Finally, she laid a hand on one, all but slumping against Shula. "Th—thisis—" She gagged, but nothing more came of it.
The pair looked down at the page. The top read belladonna, and was labelled with Lily's own private symbology in a way that marked it as an extremely deadly plant.
Azar's stomach twisted, and Shula gripped Lily's hand tighter. "Take her book—" As gently as he was able, he pulled the volume from Lily's hands and passed it to Shula. "Find anyone who knows this plant and bring them here—immediately."
She nodded, hesitating only long enough to press a kiss to their wife's temple before darting out, the book cradled to her chest.
Even being a victim of her own craft, she managed to communicate enough to help them start to find a way to cure her. He could only hope that, inşallah, she had told them in time.
• • •
So much could change in so little time.
By the time Shula returned, a carpenter trailing behind her, Lily was slipping further away, asking after children she'd never had. The words were like knives in Azar's heart, and he welcomed the distraction of someone who could make her suffering end. "You know what's at stake." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact, the words cold.
"I do, Captain," the carpenter replied, nodding slowly. "Your lady the Quartermaster told me."
He nodded slowly before finally admitting, "We don't know what happened to cause this to her."
"A belladonna makes no sense," Shula elaborated, stroking their wife's hair. "We've watched her so closely—everything she's eaten or drank, we've seen it. No one could tamper with her meals."
"If I may be so bold?" the carpenter interjected.
Azar nodded his permission. "If you know anything that would save her—"
"Among my people," he began, "if we wish to poison, it's delivered on a blade."
The pair exchanged glances. "When she was wounded—" Shula murmured, her fingers curling against Lily's stomach, just over the scar—
"If you know how to poison," Azar reasoned, "then you also know how to heal?"
The carpenter nodded. "There's an antidote, but it must be given far more carefully than the poison it's curing," he warned.
"Whatever needs to be done, do it," Shula commanded. "You have our blessing, and whatever you need from us, it can be done."
"We have what I need in the hold," he said quickly, closing Lily's book and returning it to his captain. "I need only the time to get it."
• • •
He was gone and back in no more than twenty minutes, but it felt so much longer. What he needed was just a handful of small, dark beans from the same port form which he hailed; now, he was intently focused on brewing the coarsely chopped beans into something that, in better circumstances, might have been the coffee the three so favored. For now, though, they were following instructions of their own—making sure that Lily was drinking enough water. It was a challenge—when delirium wasn't attacking her from within, she was almost too tired to drink.
"It's finished, Captain," the carpenter announced, bringing the concoction to their bedside.
"And what do we do?" Azar asked, looking at the offered cure—milk white, with barely enough liquid to wet the bottom of the dish.
"She drinks—only this much and no more." He touched the rim of the bowl. "If God is kind, she'll vomit up the poison."
"You're certain this will help her?" Shula murmured, her words hollow and sad.
"It's worked before, Quartermaster," he replied, dipping his head in a nod. "If she told you fast enough, then I see no reason it shouldn't now."
It seemed so uncertain, but choice did they have? Letting her die? "Thank you," Azar murmured. "You'll forgive us if we send you out alone."
"I understand—I'll return within the hour to see if more needs to be done." After a moment, halfway to the door, he added, "The ship prays for her health, I promise you."
Shula and Azar exchanged glances as the door closed heavily. "Can’t be any harder than we are," Shula muttered, lifting Lily into a semi upright position.
Azar didn't comment, but roused Lily from her sleep (trying not to think about how difficult it had become). "Lily—yıldızlar, look."
After several moments of her husband shaking her shoulder, Lily lifted her head. "Drink this," he prompted, lifting the bowl to her lips. "It's going to help."
She moaned softly, trying and ultimately failing to resist. "I know you're tired, my lily," Shula murmured, stroking her hair. "As soon as you drink, we'll let you rest."
Moving slowly, as if the action took every bit of her strength, Lily laid her hands on top of Azar's and followed his guidance to drink. Her face twisted in disgust at the taste. "'s'bad," she mumbled.
They couldn’t bring themselves to comment—if it healed her, kept her alive, whatever foul taste she suffered was surely worth it?
• • •
The antidote worked quickly, and devastatingly thoroughly, if the sporadic, unproductive heaves that followed were any sign. As he promised, the carpenter returned after an hour, pronouncing her free from the poison. All the same, he advised the pair to watch over her closely.
They hardly needed additional instruction. As exhausting as the day had been, the only one who was truly tired was Lily. Shula and Azar simply laid on either side of her—Azar brushing his fingers through Lily's hair, Shula lacing her fingers with their wife's. Someone had tried to rob this comfort from them—and they would pay quite handsomely for it, to be sure. For now, though… That didn't matter—nothing mattered besides the closeness they shared, the knowledge that Lily was going to live.
Author: TheCrazyAlaskan / fireweed15
Fandom / Setting: Original – 1758
Characters / Pairings: Shula Demirci, Azar Demirci, Lily Demirci (polyship)
Word Count: 2,454
Rating: T+
Warnings / Notes: Written for Round 8 of the Hurt / Comfort Bingo: Poisoning; dubiously self-translated Turkish
Summary: She was far from the only person who knew her deadly plants—and no more invulnerable than any other man.
Little to no context for you, typing up bios would take forever. They're some OCs a friend and I spitball back and forth with each other lmao
-- -- --
She was far from the only person who knew her deadly plants—and if this attack went the way it was intended to, her knowledge would be lost to the water she helped terrorize.
• • •
"It's a deep wound," Shula murmured, her head bent over Lily's injuries. "You're lucky to have survived this."
"It's not that ba—damnit!" She interrupted herself to groan.
"'Not that bad,' my lily says?" Shula asked, a barely perceptible, teasing edge to the words as she finished stitching the wound in her companion's belly.
"I didn't feel it on deck," Lily grumbled.
"I don't doubt you—" She expertly broke the thread and cleaned the needle. The heat of battle things to sailors in ways she wouldn’t have believed possible had she not seen them herself. "But this was entirely unnecessary all the same."
"You would have me not defend myself?" She leaned back against the pillows, shaking her head. "No chance."
Shula smiled, her face framed by her headscarf. "My lily is such a brave fighter." She brushed the backs of her fingers against Lily's cheek, leaning down to kiss her briefly before standing. "Dinlenmek—rest."
Lily nodded, exhaustion creeping into her bones. Sleep had almost claimed her when the door opened and shut. Shula murmured a quiet greeting in her native tongue, then in their common one—"Our wife is fine, Azar. She'll live to tomorrow yet."
"I have every faith in your skills, benim kamer—" His voice was deep, but boundless in affection—"but I'd hoped to see her myself too."
"Shula isn't keeping you all to herself, I hope," Lily teased, managing to sit up more fully.
Azar dwarfed both women in both height and stature, but the gentleness with which he conducted himself in their presence belied the difference in their sizes. He broke away from Shula to sit on the edge of the bed, taking Lily's hands in his. "Are you well, yıldızlar?" he murmured.
"I'll be sore in the morning, but I'm well enough," she confirmed, laying a hand on his cheek and allowing him to kiss her.
"I'll never understand why my wife throws herself in harm's way like that," he said softly, touching his forehead to hers as they broke away.
"If I hadn't, this would be a very different conversation," she reminded as Shula curled beside her on the bed.
"And we're thankful it's not," he stressed, squeezing her fingers.
"I'll be back on deck in just a few days," Lily promised.
"Güneş, you should go back," Shula encouraged, addressing him with the same warm intimacy he did with her and their wife. "The crew needs their captain."
"It's already done." He stood, removing his coat and tall boots as he spoke. "I leave the ship in capable hands—for now, I want to be you. Both of you."
It was a welcome proposition. They helped each other into drier clothes, Lily exercising particular care to unwind Shula's scarf and brush out the thick braid underneath it; before long, the trio was in bed with one another, Shula and Azar curled almost protectively around Lily. It had been a wretchedly long night, and they were content to spend what remained of it in this manner.
• • •
As she had promised, Lily was back at it within in days. It was a relief, both to her, as she'd become quite irritable about being confined to a bed, and to her spouses.
Among the thousands of beautiful things about their relationship was knowing that they could leave the ship in one another's care with nothing less than confidence. This was one such occasion—Lily was above deck, Shula and Azar below, as the pair plotted their new course. It was quiet, almost intimate in a way—
Which made Lily's unannounced arrival all the more surprising. "Is something wrong, yıldızlar?" Azar asked, lifting his head from the weathered map.
"You sent me for me." It was a statement, rather than a question.
Shula and Azar exchanged glances, then shook their heads. "We never sent for you, my lily," Shula said.
Now it was Lily's turn to shake her head. "You sent a cabin boy for me—just a few minutes ago."
"Yıldızlar—" There was a softness to Azar's voice, one that might have suggested… worry? Pity? Concern?
"We've been alone since you went above deck this morning," Shula explained. "There's no one who could have sent for you to come to us."
Lily's brow furrowed as she patted a few loose wisps of coppery hair back into place. "I was certain…" she mumbled, as if she distrusted them.
"Are you feeling well?" The map long forgotten, Azar joined her, wrapping a steadying arm around Lily's shoulders.
Her expression was one of deep confusion before she shook her head. "I'm fine." She waved a hand dismissively. "Just… I'm tired."
"Güneş, perhaps rest is called for," Shula suggested. The words were almost causal, but the meaning behind them—the suggestion that Lily rest while sparing the woman's dignity—was quite clear.
"No, no—" Lily shook her head again. "You both stay. I'll… I'll go."
Perhaps that might have been the end of it—maybe, in another life, it would have been. As it was, fate's blessings passed over them, a fact that became all too apparent, all too quickly.
• • •
Later that night, for the first time in years, Lily felt truly seasick. The feeling was sudden, quick to strike and as unyielding as the sea itself. Not for the first time that morning, she retched, coughing up what little was in her stomach (quite the feat in and of itself, all things considered). "When 's'gonna end?" she moaned.
"Soon," Shula soothed, her hands gently pulling back Lily's hair as the latter sat up, slowly.
"Thirsty," she murmured, leaning heavily against Shula's side and swallowing hard. For all her nausea and the unpleasantness that followed, her mouth was unbearably dry…
"Içmek—" Shula pressed a tin cup into Lily's hands. "Drink."
"Wha'issit?" Lily's grip on the cup was tenuous, and Shula had to steady her wife's hands with her own.
"Ginger water," she murmured. "It helps, my lily—please, drink."
With Shula's help, Lily lifted the cup to her lips and drank. What Shula couldn’t help her do was swallow, and she struggled before her sickness broke over her again.
She rubbed small, light circles on Lily's back, lifting her head when Azar joined them. Her expression was almost sorrowful. "No better than before," she murmured, answering the unspoken question.
"I don't understand—" The words was almost vulnerable as he lifted Lily's gaze to his own. "Yıldızlar—Lily, please tell us what's wrong."
Whatever reply Lily might have offered, the words were so slurred they were barely distinguishable from one another. She managed to grab his hand, asking in whatever wordless way she could for help. "Shula—onun gözler."
Shula leaned close as Lily let Azar turn her face to Shula's. Her pupils were wide, the green in her eyes a thin ring around them. The effect, coupled with her rapid blinking, as if she was trying to focus her gaze, was unsettling.
"Lily—" If the fact that for the first time in recent memory he was addressing her by name wasn’t enough, his tone, soft but firm, betrayed the somberness of the situation at hand. "Can you see like this?"
She shook her head, moaning softly. Now it was Shula's turn to cut in. "Azar, feel—" She guided his hand to the inside of Lily's wrist. "Her heart is racing."
His touch on the skin over her veins was light, but the pounding of her heart could be felt with little effort. "I don't understand—"
Lily grabbed his wrist, fighting the apparent urge to retch before finally getting a request out. "M'book—" With no small measure of effort, she pointed to her worktable, on which sat the thick volume she used to fine tune her craft. "Gimme—"
Shula disentangled herself from her spouses to bring the requested book. "My lily, please let us—"
Lily shook her head, moving with a purpose that was, for the moment, known only to her. She turned a few pages at a time, leaning close to some to try to read them before moving on. Finally, she laid a hand on one, all but slumping against Shula. "Th—thisis—" She gagged, but nothing more came of it.
The pair looked down at the page. The top read belladonna, and was labelled with Lily's own private symbology in a way that marked it as an extremely deadly plant.
Azar's stomach twisted, and Shula gripped Lily's hand tighter. "Take her book—" As gently as he was able, he pulled the volume from Lily's hands and passed it to Shula. "Find anyone who knows this plant and bring them here—immediately."
She nodded, hesitating only long enough to press a kiss to their wife's temple before darting out, the book cradled to her chest.
Even being a victim of her own craft, she managed to communicate enough to help them start to find a way to cure her. He could only hope that, inşallah, she had told them in time.
• • •
So much could change in so little time.
By the time Shula returned, a carpenter trailing behind her, Lily was slipping further away, asking after children she'd never had. The words were like knives in Azar's heart, and he welcomed the distraction of someone who could make her suffering end. "You know what's at stake." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact, the words cold.
"I do, Captain," the carpenter replied, nodding slowly. "Your lady the Quartermaster told me."
He nodded slowly before finally admitting, "We don't know what happened to cause this to her."
"A belladonna makes no sense," Shula elaborated, stroking their wife's hair. "We've watched her so closely—everything she's eaten or drank, we've seen it. No one could tamper with her meals."
"If I may be so bold?" the carpenter interjected.
Azar nodded his permission. "If you know anything that would save her—"
"Among my people," he began, "if we wish to poison, it's delivered on a blade."
The pair exchanged glances. "When she was wounded—" Shula murmured, her fingers curling against Lily's stomach, just over the scar—
"If you know how to poison," Azar reasoned, "then you also know how to heal?"
The carpenter nodded. "There's an antidote, but it must be given far more carefully than the poison it's curing," he warned.
"Whatever needs to be done, do it," Shula commanded. "You have our blessing, and whatever you need from us, it can be done."
"We have what I need in the hold," he said quickly, closing Lily's book and returning it to his captain. "I need only the time to get it."
• • •
He was gone and back in no more than twenty minutes, but it felt so much longer. What he needed was just a handful of small, dark beans from the same port form which he hailed; now, he was intently focused on brewing the coarsely chopped beans into something that, in better circumstances, might have been the coffee the three so favored. For now, though, they were following instructions of their own—making sure that Lily was drinking enough water. It was a challenge—when delirium wasn't attacking her from within, she was almost too tired to drink.
"It's finished, Captain," the carpenter announced, bringing the concoction to their bedside.
"And what do we do?" Azar asked, looking at the offered cure—milk white, with barely enough liquid to wet the bottom of the dish.
"She drinks—only this much and no more." He touched the rim of the bowl. "If God is kind, she'll vomit up the poison."
"You're certain this will help her?" Shula murmured, her words hollow and sad.
"It's worked before, Quartermaster," he replied, dipping his head in a nod. "If she told you fast enough, then I see no reason it shouldn't now."
It seemed so uncertain, but choice did they have? Letting her die? "Thank you," Azar murmured. "You'll forgive us if we send you out alone."
"I understand—I'll return within the hour to see if more needs to be done." After a moment, halfway to the door, he added, "The ship prays for her health, I promise you."
Shula and Azar exchanged glances as the door closed heavily. "Can’t be any harder than we are," Shula muttered, lifting Lily into a semi upright position.
Azar didn't comment, but roused Lily from her sleep (trying not to think about how difficult it had become). "Lily—yıldızlar, look."
After several moments of her husband shaking her shoulder, Lily lifted her head. "Drink this," he prompted, lifting the bowl to her lips. "It's going to help."
She moaned softly, trying and ultimately failing to resist. "I know you're tired, my lily," Shula murmured, stroking her hair. "As soon as you drink, we'll let you rest."
Moving slowly, as if the action took every bit of her strength, Lily laid her hands on top of Azar's and followed his guidance to drink. Her face twisted in disgust at the taste. "'s'bad," she mumbled.
They couldn’t bring themselves to comment—if it healed her, kept her alive, whatever foul taste she suffered was surely worth it?
• • •
The antidote worked quickly, and devastatingly thoroughly, if the sporadic, unproductive heaves that followed were any sign. As he promised, the carpenter returned after an hour, pronouncing her free from the poison. All the same, he advised the pair to watch over her closely.
They hardly needed additional instruction. As exhausting as the day had been, the only one who was truly tired was Lily. Shula and Azar simply laid on either side of her—Azar brushing his fingers through Lily's hair, Shula lacing her fingers with their wife's. Someone had tried to rob this comfort from them—and they would pay quite handsomely for it, to be sure. For now, though… That didn't matter—nothing mattered besides the closeness they shared, the knowledge that Lily was going to live.