The republic of Iria, haven of knowledge and where education is prized above all. It was far south of her place of birth and she had only heard of the city when it came to obtain imported goods in the markets of Karith. Karith was not the only place where advanced alchemy was practiced, but the atmosphere here was much less constrained. This place was like a simmering pot filled to the brim with an assortment of vegetables and meat. You could find almost anything and all kinds of people here. It was a relief that being a foreigner was the norm rather than an oddity. Seo-hyang observed this sort of openness was prevalent across Parvpora, but less so in Canelux. There were many new things to experience having spent her time in one place for several hundred years, starting with the famous brewed drink purchased from small shops alongside the streets. Rather than a stall these shops had seating inside and a few sets outside for customers. A rich roasted aroma filled the air by these shops with the sweetness of freshly baked pastries. The sweet foods here were often baked and made with butter, sweet fruit jellies as filling, and dusted with light crystals of sugar. Every shop seemed to compete with each other on who could make the most unique shapes and designs to amuse customers. 

There was something comforting about the roasted fragrance instead of the acrid bitterness that usually came with the process. Taking a seat at one of the small plain tables in the pastry shop, she found herself at a loss for words. She had learned a bit of Irian in her years in Karith, but the menu was completely foreign to her eyes. There was a surprising variety of drinks and she had no idea what each of them were. "What can I get you, miss?" A young girl with dark curls came up to her, a checkered towel in her hands. "Ah…I'll have the most popular selection." Seo-hyang replied. "Cream or sugar?" The girl asked back, jotting down shorthand for the people brewing behind the counter. "A bit of cream, no sugar. And one of those twisted pastries with red jam." The girl gave a smile before turning on her heel to hand over the order. From where she was sitting she could see the dark liquid poured from a specially designed kettle, then a splash of cream added to the steaming cup. Other people asked for sugar, milk, or flavored syrups to their drinks. A few refused them altogether, preferring theirs plain. A white stoneware mug of steaming brew and plate with a flaky filled pastry were set before her from the server's tray. "Enjoy! Careful, it's hot." The girl then went to attend to other patrons. The chair across from Seo-hyang at her table was unoccupied, the chair's back facing the door.

Rain cascaded in sheets from the night sky, blanketing the violent tempests and crests of the Nyella sea below. Above the dark waters, the downpour baptized the shape of a great winged beast…

Children spritzed a dark-skinned vagrant seated in the main town square with pastry crumbs and sweet beverages, giggling with impish delight as black birds descended to scavenge over the unconscious man's ragged attire.

The creature let out a bellowing roar.

Swelling oceans became the running water by the thoroughfare

Remy, or Story as he was more want to be called, slowly opened his eyes with a loud groan, his indigo gaze struggling to focus. Laughter erupted around him, sounding muffled, or…submerged at first, but then clarified.
"There is a temperamental magic in the key of love and war," he heard a man's voice trail off. It came from a group of intellectuals chatting nearby. Whether they were discussing finer details of the arcane and esoteric, or simply engaged in poetic reading, he couldn't be certain. Perhaps a cocktail of both, this being Iria. How long had he been here? Had he just arrived?
Tilting its head, a magpie in Story's lap eyed him quizzically and cautiously when he stirred. The bird and the rest of its feathered ilk cawed contemptuously as the base of their smorgasbord stood at last from the bench, deliriously brushing the crumbs from his tunic and trousers. Running his hands over salt and pepper stubble and his cropped hair, and shading his eyes from the afternoon sun, Story regarded the group of children surrounding him.

"Did ya lose your cow, then, sir?" a shifty, sandy-haired boy with freckles jested as he gestured at the man's belt. On a loop of fine cord, there rested a rather ornate small bell at his hip. It was onyx black, embellished with rose gold heraldry. Something about the strange designs seemed instinctively alluring and comforting, yet simultaneously offensively heretical - to what faith or authority, it was unknown and unknowable. The chime distinctively lacked a clapper. Before the boy could reach out and touch the strange object, his hand was snatched away. Not by the bell's owner, but by his mother, who severely berated him and his friends whilste profusely apologizing to man they were pestering. She hurried the gang away as her eyes fell to the rather intimidating blade sheathed at the frayed man's other hip.

Story was grateful he was never given the chance to speak. His throat was badly parched from baking beneath the sun for what felt like hours, or even days. He sluggishly made his way to the nearest establishment he could smell sustenance wafting from. As she watched him leave the square, the sandy-haired boy's mother had her instincts of duty shift from maternal to civil. Finding the nearest guardsman, she hushedly spouted details of an injured priest or soldier of some sort roaming about that could be dangerous. When questioned on why she thought this way of the stranger, she described the weapon and the bell, and the insignia on the coat over his tattered tunic. "Ne'er seen such a symbol before in me life. Looked to be a drake's head adorned with a stag's rack, sir…"

"Eau…Uhrm…water. Just water, s'il vous pait. Merci. Thank you," Story stammered as he lurched forward to lay some coin on the kafic counter. The depth and harshness of his voice was enough to startle, but his request was soon graciously met.

Having finished, she prepared to return the dishes to the counter and give them a proper thanks. There was a bit of a commotion as a rather haggard looking man stumbled his way in before her. His presence caused a mild alarm, but soon the people were back to their chatter. Taking care to approach without haste, she brought her empty cup and plate and gave a reassuring smile to the woman behind the counter. "Thank you, miss." Now that she was next to him, he had a rather peculiar state of dress. His clothes were unkempt and there was a very unusual thing hanging from a cord resembling a bell. He was armed, as Seo-hyang was quick to notice, yet he seemed to be in no state to use whatever he had in the sheath. An odd pattern was on the back of his coat. No smell of strong drink from his breath either. His lips looked dry, perhaps he was suffering moderate dehydration.

With a gentle smile, she spoke. "Sir, you look unwell. Why your face has quite the pallor, and it seems as if you haven't slept soundly for a while. Would you mind if I have a look at your hands?" If he was willing, she would be able to test his pulse for his physical condition. In addition, she would be able to divine more about him as a person. Her training from the House of Flowers had taught her well in observation, and looking at a person's hands told many things. You could learn if they were in clerical work or hard labor, what hand was their dominant one, the condition of their internal organs, and potential repetitive actions. Hand calluses provided a wealth of information if you had prior knowledge. She also paid attention to the color and shape of his nails, another indicator of health and personal habits. "I am a doctor, you see. I happen to know a few simple remedies that can promote better sleep and restore internal energy."

Speaking with him would gauge his responsiveness, another critical factor in determining the severity of an individual's condition. In the best case scenario this man would just be suffering temporary exhaustion, nothing too severe. But if it was life-threatening, Seo-hyang wouldn't act as if she had seen nothing. She had taken many lives in the past; she wanted to make amends by saving twice that amount if not more.

As the fresh, cold spring water saturated his parched throat, Story appeared on the outside to have his faculties returning proper. Internally, a battle played out, quite literally, in his mind. It was a thing that he had learned well to ignore and suppress. Swords clashed, men's voices shouted in blurred cacophonies of agony and unintelligible rage…but there was a singular detail this time that caught his attention, that grounded him momentarily.
This illusion was no memory, for it spoke directly to him. Soft, feminine concern for him issued from a vast, dark serpent that lazily coiled around him. The disconcerting manifestation was, it seemed, merely a catalyst for a string of anomalies that tumbled from his broken psyche.  Other patrons and passerby faded back into view in his mania-clouded vision, but they, too possessed animal traits, or, like the talking snake, were entirely a creature themselves. Some were ordinary, others fantastical. These details gradually warped and distorted with reality, the creatures shifting back to their normal, humanoid selves, and then melting, as creeping dark roots expanded along the edges of his vision…

Rather abruptly, the true scenery of the kafic came rushing into view.

Story cast his indigo gaze from the woman before him to the floor for sudden realization that he must have been staring straight through her for several long, uncomfortably silent moments. Gathering his composure, what she had said during his slip in perception slowly came back to him. He could only imagine how she might have interpreted the enraptured look on his face moments before.
"Deepest apologies," he uttered at last, offering a sheepish, but warm smile. Without hesitation, he held his dark, deep-lined hands out to the stranger. There was dried blood beneath every nail. "Unwell is…a word for it, I suppose," he mused to himself just as much as the physician in his heavy accent. "I beg to differ on the rest, however.  On the contrary, it feels as though I had always been asleep, and I've awoken for the first time. Have you ever experienced such a feeling?"

Studying the woman closely as she studied his physiology, Story's gaze held more of a piercing quality as his conscious lucidity gained momentum.
"You have tasted much of death in your time," he stated quietly, though rather matter-of-factly. He offered no elaboration on what he deduced beyond this, but he continued.
"C'est la vie, for some unfortunate few of us. What is your name?"

"Being a witness of death is an expected thing as one grows older. My name is Seo-hyang." The apothecary replied softly, a small smile on her lips. Taking his hands, she noted the depth of their lines and their placement, where the lines intersected, and how long they were. She was no palm-reader, but learning about a person's habits, temperament, and health could be done in this manner. The dried blood under his nails was disconcerting. Combined with his description of what might be a normally-present state of mental cloudiness she wondered if he had an underlying state of distress. "I can't say I have had such an experience, though could you describe it to me in greater detail? It sounds quite intriguing, even if I don't understand it." While he was here, she began to write down a short list of things for a makeshift prescription. Giving a proper concoction recipe would be overwhelming for the common man, so something lighter and more familiar to the eyes and palate would be easier to accept.

She then handed the slip of paper to the man. "As for your persistent stupor, I suggest boiling dried daylily flowers, lotus seeds, and wolfberries with honey into a tea. These ingredients are more mild than what I would normally give to my patients, but they are less likely to cause an upset stomach or exacerbate other underlying conditions. An important thing I would advise of you would be to soak them in cold water to rid them of any dirt or sand before use. Soak the lotus seeds separately as well, they require more time than the other two. Contrary to what most would expect, hot water will actually impede the lotus seeds from fully re-hydrating and will make them take longer to cook. Take this once a day, in between meals. Hopefully this will help give you greater peace of mind and a restful slumber." These ingredients were fairly easy to obtain and not too unusual. And even if the lotus seeds weren't eaten, some of its medicinal effects would make its way into the liquid. The honey was added in for taste and to give a bit of energy to a tired body. "If you have any other questions about what I've written here, please ask."

"Rémy…I think," he uncertainly mused, trying his best to return the courtesy of introduction. He regarded the woman's soft, discerning gaze as she studied his hands. "I do not have the words, I fear," he said with a shake of his head. "It is quite cliché, but the old adage about all we see or seem being but a dream within a dream aptly describes it. Perhaps it is something like reading a book on a sleepy, rainy afternoon….only to drift off and pick up another, radically different one upon awaking. You realize whatever story's thread you follow ultimately matters not, as you were the unwitting author of the pages you read all along, and then you wake up one last time."

Seo-hyang had written a prescription in fine penmanship upon a slip of parchment as spoke, and he read over the ingredients with a frown.
"Zut alors. Saying the words aloud makes me sound terribly unhinged. Such a state can be caused by stress alone?"

Story winced. For a brief moment, the kafic again was no longer the kafic, but a vast, dark keep. He had strangest sensation of possessing greater mass than he did presently, which made him shift in his seat. In his mind's eye, he could see great black luminescent wings bound, along with his scaled limbs. He thrashed with all his might…

"Is everything alright here, miss?" a guardsman intoned into the little shop, gesturing at Seo-hyang, and glancing to the man before her. Two more men stood behind him.
Before given any chance to reply, things escalated at a rapid rate. The guard was swept from the doorway as though pushed by something large and unseen, tumbling out onto the street. Simultaneously, several dishes and containers violently flung themselves from shelves of their own accord. Assuming rightly that the rough-looking stranger to their city was the source of the untamed energy, swords were drawn.

One moment ago Remy was speaking with her, astonished that his condition could be treated with herbs alone. His prior explanation of his bouts of hallucinations were vivid, not unlike the 'out-of-body' experiences many ascetic spiritual groups attempted to achieve. Some would say he was seeing visions, others some distorted manifestation of an internal energy imbalance. It was quite difficult to diagnose and treat illnesses which laid mostly in the mind, as other bodily symptoms were not as easy to distinguish. Nevertheless, Seo-hyang was given a display of such an instance a the man suddenly began to convulse. The seizure-like thrashing drew attention immediately, with eyes of concern converging all at their little table. "Sir? Sir, what is the matter? Can you hear me?" She quickly tried to get his attention but found he wasn't responsive. A guardsman came in wondering if his assistance would be needed, though to her the only one in immediate danger was Remy himself. 

"Yes, please don't be alarmed. This man is my patient, he's still undergoing treatment. Allow me–" Her words were cut short as the guardsman was abruptly forced backwards by something unseen, his comrades gathering outside the shop. A burst of noise shook the area as shattering tableware were smashed, causing screaming. There was no time to lose. The guards would surely arrest this poor man without realizing he was merely ill. Rushing to Remy's side she slipped a concealed blade just barely out of her long sleeve and pressed it into the underside of his forearm. Using her body's current position to obscure the guardsmen's view, it would look as if she was attempting to calm him. She learned close and moved her lips as if whispering to add to the illusion. The dagger's magic would soon do its work, forcing the spasms to temporarily cease as the man was put into a deep slumber. The blade slipped back into her sleeve, leaving behind no trace of a wound or stain of blood. Hopefully this would be enough to keep him sedated; she would then have to find him a safe place for the effects to wear off.