Cloud Tempest

Cloud

“What in the world are you doing?” exclaimed Aria as she ran towards me.

“I’m stitching up my leg. The gash will heal faster that way, ya know,” I replied, shooting her a brief, matter-of-fact look before continuing my work.

I woke up curled into a ball, pain emanating from every pore of my body, and salty liquid stinging the burn on my face. The only thing I could manage to do at that moment was distract myself from the pain. I silently thanked my mother as I sat up–propping myself up against a tree–and began to stitch anything I could with the borrowed needle and thread. I started with my shirt, then my pants, then my underwear, and finally my leg. I also became extremely grateful that my brother is convinced I still smoke because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t have had a lighter to sanitize the needle before I began to sew my skin.

“That can’t be safe for you,” she shook her head, setting down a large bag and kneeling to inspect my work.

“Where I’m from, people do this all the time to close deep wounds. Granted, it’s usually not done with sewing thread, a needle this big, or in the middle of the forest by an amateur, but I had to work with what I got,” I shrugged nonchalantly, meeting her eyes. She shook her head again, but didn’t question me any further. Instead, Aria opened the bag she brought and began pulling out various jars of different shapes and sizes and a vial.

“Drink,” she said, handing me the vial. I drank the familiar green liquid in one gulp and handed it back to her, thanking her once again. “No problem,” she said, and handed me a large jar and a wooden spoon. “Eat.” I opened the warm piece of ceramic to reveal a ration of steaming, meaty stew. The stew was bland, but filled my empty stomach quite nicely.

“Thank you so much Aria, it really means a lot to me that you would help me like this.” She smiled, and kept her eyes on my burns. She was covering them with the cream from the jars and wrapping them in bandages from her bag.

“I don’t mind helping you Master Cloud.” Her cheeks brightened slightly, which I promptly chose to ignore.

When I finished my food, the two of us worked in a comfortable silence. The Cream she applied seemed to help numb the pain from my burns, and I was able to finally relax. The tightness in my chest began to ease, and I felt so comfortable I almost wanted to fall asleep again. I tied a tight knot at the end of my thread to keep the stitch in my leg, and I closed my eyes. The feeling of Aria lightly dabbing something over my gash–an anti-bacterial serum perhaps–reminded me that I needed to stay awake. I focused on her movements as her magical, medically skilled hands made their way up my body. Her careful touch on my arms made my skin tingle with excitement. The feeling was only intensified when she leaned over me, her hands seemingly working to provoke me but really only attempting to heal my wounds. In this moment, the two were one in the same.

The skillful way her hands slid from one finger mark to the other, the soft, inviting way she spread the burn cream across my heart, the way her position gave me a slight view of her soft breasts. The view of her breasts; I couldn’t get them out of my mind. That was the first thing that tipped me off. Once I saw her breasts, I knew that these thoughts weren’t my own. At this moment my eyes are closed, my head leaning back against the hard bark of the tree. It’s impossible to see something with your eyes closed.

Once the illusion of sight was broken, the others began to break as well. I could no longer feel the tender touch of Aria’s fingers across my chest, nor was I aroused. Surprising me the most, though, was the fact that the feeling of my surroundings also changed. The place where I lay was softer than the ground, and smelled of familiar spices. I opened my eyes to a tent that was similar to Aria’s but much cozier and filled with an immense amount of colored candles. A young woman–maybe early thirties–with long blonde hair and blue eyes stood before me. Her dress was long, and she was decorated with earrings and anklets of thorns. A necklace of thorns hung around her neck and was adorned with a single clear crystal. I felt as if I knew her, but I didn’t know from where until she smiled at me, her eyes crinkling in the corners and shining brightly down upon me.

“Aunt Millie?” I questioned, and the woman stepped towards me, engulfing me in a hug that surprisingly caused no pain.

“I am so glad that you’re okay.” I wrapped my arms around her, burying my head in her comforting shoulder. “There is something you need to do Cloud,” she said, seriousness overcoming her features and pulling away from me entirely.

“There is a man in a place called The Shores of Sol by the name of Keika. Go to him, and show him this,” her hands clasped around my wrist, leaving behind a bracelet of thorns and deep purple jewels. A single bloodstone was used to clasp one end of the piece of jewelry to the other. “Never take this off, Cloud, and never let anyone with a charm of thorns see it.” I nodded, looking up at her with trusting eyes. She bent down to me and kissed my forehead slowly, as if to savor the moment.

“Good luck Cloud,” she whispered, and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

I smiled at her–my body suddenly becoming extremely heavy–and I lay back down on the bed I came from. It wasn’t long thereafter that everything was once again black.