Asumit and Aya

Zeke is... asleep in the corner. The hustle and bustle of those moving about the temple on their buisness does not seem to bother the sith-makar who is sitting on a stool out of the way, and with his eyes closed. Maybe he isn't sleeping? Yet nothing seems to stir him from his place sitting there by the recovery rooms. Indeed, he might have well been a statue if not for the occasional and tiny flick of his tail, and the fact that he is very much not stone-colored.

The Moon's house may or may not have as many arriving to seek aid as perhaps The Healer's or The Sun's houses, but the number this eve appears to have increased by one. Aya's entrance may be conspicuous for several reasons, not the least of which could be her bloodline combined with lack of Elunan vestments. For those more familiar with her, specifically, the fact that she wanders slowly inside through the main entrance is atypical. Lastly, her white mane falls mostly free to fan down her shoulders and back; unbraided, but still bearing some kink and curl in memory of it.

She doesn't appear to have an immediate goal or destination, at least not in immediate sight. Her head and eyes pan around the main hall, and down side passages when able, in search of someone or something.

The scent of the Mul'niessia woman is what rouses Zeke. The familiarity of it, and the fact that they have not always been on the best of terms. This fact rouses him, and his eyes quickly find what his nose is telling him is there. Slowly, thanks to weariness and also the crystalline limbs that do not always react in the same timing as his flesh-and-blood ones, Zeke rises to his feet. Smoothly, and with care Zeke moves toward Aya, his quarterstaff making a quite click-clack across the floor. "Peasssce on your nesst. Can thisss one help you?"

Aya's ears have no issue catching the sound on the floor, drawing her eyes towards. Eyes that are far more red than the usual violet from significant splotches of ruptured capillaries. She turns to approach, moving no more quickly than he; perhaps less so as she lacks a stave.

"Peace on your nest," she returns the greeting with soft words, despite his previously-expressed dislike for it. It may be reflex, the fact that he offered it first, or she is simply too distracted to recall. It would be a stretch to call this evening 'good,' at any rate.

"Do you have any remedies for ... " There is a significant pause before she settles on the word, "... aches? Herbs, poultice, elixir? No magic. Please."

Zeke is a sith-makar which means that his nose tells him first that she is injured. He can smell it on her. Yet it is to him a familiar scent. It is her words that cause his eyes to widen. "You fought the creature too?" Seldan had told him so little before passing out from the pain. Zeke shakes his head and moves gently toward Aya, offering his crystal arm as support. "Come with thisss one. Thisss one hasss remediesss that will aid your healing with-out magic."

"Yes," Aya answers simply, though his question sparks a brow to lift. "The Silverguard. Seldan. You have seen him?" Even weary, it's a logical leap of presumption for her. She eyes the offered arm, and hesitates, her expression firming. If only for a moment before the effort is spent and she makes use of the limb for support. The expression did not quite appear distaste or revulsion at Zeke nor the limb, per se. "Thank you."

"Yesss." Zeke says gently, leading Aya through the halls to one of the healer-rooms. He does not hurry her, but rather walks at her pace until they reach their destination and then settles her on the bed. "Wait here for thisss one. Thiss one will retrieve the sssalve and the bandagesss, and tell you what thiss one can of Sseldan." He makes a motion for her to wait, and then exits the room.

Sitting is something that Aya is perfectly capable of doing at this moment, and appears eager to after the walk. Not moving is a bit easier than moving, to no surprise. She settles heavily (at least for her comparatively small stature) and nods to him.

The blue-scaled sith is gone for a relatively short period of time. Obviously making haste to gather the materials to see to her injuries. He returns with a box that is topped with bandages and a container that is likely salve. He sets everything on a stand in the room, and then picks up the salve and bandages before making his way to Aya. "Thisss one will look you over for injuriesss and then wrap them. If that isss acceptable." He sits on a stool in front of her, but makes no move to do so until she indicates that she is accepting of his offer to tend her injuries.

Aya is still sitting when he returns, though using hands on her knees for additional support. She shifts more upright as he approaches and nods, one hand vaguely and sloppily gesturing him nearer in approval. "If it will help, I would bathe in it.."

He would not need to be a trained healer to have already noted that she has no glaring open wounds; no tusks in legs this time or bleeding. Aside from her eyes, which may appear worse than they feel, the rest of her ... may well be the opposite and feel far worse than she looks. The most readily apparent external signs are markings on what dark skin is exposed; utter black in what look to be irregular splotches in some spots, and ashen gray in fine lines on others. Where they disappear under her current attire, said attire doesn't bear matching marks nor hints of them. "As you might be aware, events were rather unpleasant."

Close examination of her wounds is required, and Zeke is ever a healer, his attention fully on how to care for the wounds she has. After a moment he sighs and sets aside the ungent. "Mossst of your woundsss are... not external. Sssalve will do little to help them. Thisss one would sssuggessst healing for them but... Thisss one isss aware that ssuch would be very painful for you." He lifts a claw and carefully tilts her face to look at her eyes for any damage beyond the burst capularies. Such as might indicate a concussion or worse. "Thisss one will not forsce sssuch on you, but there isss little that thisss one can do for ssuch wounds asss you bear."

Aya now gathers the energy to scowl. Like the hestitation, before, it does not endure, deflating with an audible sigh. "I was concerned of this, but had hoped..." Her words trail off with a slight nod in acceptance of that prognosis. She then holds up a hand, palm out, in denial. "I have had more than enough magic course through me for now, perhaps enough for centuries to come... as you can see."

"Thisss one underssstandsss. Asss thisss one sssaid. Thisss one will not forsce healing on you." He sets the bandages aside, and reaches over for the box that he brought with him. "Thisss one will offer inssstead sssome healing tea." He swishes his tail behind him, and opens the box to show a tea service of a sort that is portable. "If your sstomach can bear it."

"We will know for certain when I try it," Aya notes. "I don't expect that it would make matters worse." A brow quirks (they may have their own independent power supplies) as she recalls the other rather recent tea. "Do you carry that wherever you go?" There is no typical bite of snark, so her tone is less obvious whether it is a genuine question or mild jest. She also recalls a prior question and follows up, "How does Seldan fare?"

Zeke uncaps the tea and pours out a cup. First for Aya, and then also one for himself. Her question causes him to glance up and he makes an amused noise at her. "Thisss one brought it for lunch, which... thisss one did not have a chanssce to have." This admission seems to make him somewhat uncomfortable for whatever reason, and he offers the first cup to her. "Thisss one isss fond of teasss, ssso they are sssomething that thisss one carriesss often. It wasss a gift." He means the box with its portable tea set.

Aya accepts the cup, holding it with both hands. To steady it, perhaps, or just absorb the warmth from it. After a moment, she lifts it to sip it rather carefully. Drinking tea may not make matters worse, but dumping a hot cupful on one's lap likely would. "Then it's best we drink together. None of those in your care would benefit if you collapse from malnourishment."

With Aya drinking the tea, Zeke nods to her words, seeming still slightly embarrassed. "Sseldan isss... Not well." He sighs and shakes his head. "Thisss one can not sssay much. He isss unconsssious, and his cihuaa hasss not yet been to ssee him. Ssso thisss one iss not allowed to sssay much." Patient privacy and all that. He looks at Aya. "Though thisss one can sssay that he yet livesss."

Something of a frown, though the cup hides most of it. After she swallows another sip, Aya states simply, "Alive is ... enough. Some were not at the end. The rest of us were fortunate, even if I expect none of us feel it."

Zeke shakes his head subtly and drinks his tea. "Thisss one had heard. Thisss one hopess that they can be brought back from the veil, but knowss that with what happened... thisss might not be posssible. Asssuming even that they wisssh to return." Sometimes the spirit simply found paradise on the other side too tempting. Though the souls of adventurers were a hearter lot. "Thisss one doess not know every-thing of courssse, ssso if you wisssh to ssshare wordsss of the battle; thisss one will lissten."

"It may not, but I know little of such things," Aya admits, revealing lips pursed into not-quite-a-scowl as she lowers her cup. "It was far from a battle, as most would expect. A tower, floating in the Sea of Mana." A term Aya never gave much thought to until she happened to lay eyes upon it. "The binder, Asumit, was present only briefly before calling forth some -thing- of the Void and transporting elsewhere. Swords were broken upon the thing, it seemed to unmake things with a touch. It was not a battle we could fight directly."

She takes another sip to ease the spike to frown. "It was believed the tower bound it there, so the tower was broken, instead. It seemed to make matters far worse as we were floating upon rubble over the Sea. That is when a mage decided that we should enact a ritual..."

Zeke listens attentively, nodding where appropriate, but not adding his own commentary to her story. Some things need saying, and this was a thing which did. It did not need his interruptions, and he could ask questions when she was done if he had any.

Aya lowers her hands and cup to her lap to simply hold it with minimal effort. "The ..thing did not banish. It was mayhaps little more than a conduit to the Void to drain the Sea? A hole driven through the bucket. Those strong with magic gathered to seal it, as it was claimed the gods once did. To do so required symbols and weapons of those gods: " her head dips to his vestments, "Yours, Animus, and The Tyrant. The first of magic and the firstborn sons?" She is obviously not a theologian and gives a slight shrug.

"The Silverguards had near enough with The Moon, light, and Reunion. Brassbringer is a follower of Animus. Cesran had his mage's stave. I was once marked to serve as a weapon for The Tyrant. Thus I served as a ...component?" She is not a mage, either; else she might have been aware that components tend to get consumed in the process.

"It sssoundsss... complicated." Zeke hesitates even to speak, given the kind of information that she is offering. Her words are halting things, full of uncertainty and he doesn't wish to stymie her.

Aya nods lightly, seeming as if she may have already been rather stymied. It's obvious that her terms for the magical aspects are uncertain, at best. "A swarm of raging fiends would have been more ...familiar, at least." Not that she's wishing for any to suddenly appear. "The mages could better share the details of their plan. It appeared to succeed; it was weakened, and we struck. It came apart, but even the offal threatened to unmake us." She turns, gingerly, to display some of the ashen lines in his direction. "In the end, it was only pieces of flotsam in the Sea. If it was truly destroyed...?" With a new frown, she offers a slight shrug of one shoulder.

"If it wasss not, then it will sssurely be dealt with." Zeke says this firmly, drinking his tea. "Thisss one doesss not know if it wasss or not, but thisss one knowsss that ssshould it come back, or caussse trouble... There will be thossse who fight it. Perhpasss one of the keeper-cassste would better undersstand what you fasced, and if it will return. Thisss one undersstandsss sssome of what you ssspeak, but the magic... that isss beyond thiss one."

"If it does return," Aya's frown mellows and even one corner of her mouth lifts slightly, "I hope that it does so as pained as the rest of us. Then it would not be so quick to cause trouble. If it does, however, and there is call for another, similar ritual... I would advise seeking a less uncomfortable option." Perhaps the tea is granting her some energy. If nothing else, she has not regurgitated it upon Zeke or his tea set, which is a positive note on its own.

Zeke finishes his tea and returns the cup to its box. Noticing that Aya is almost done with hers as well. Certainly it has not made her sick yet, and this is a positive sign. "Thisss one doess not think that you are sssuffering any sseriousss internal injuriesss." He motions with his claw to the tea. Swishes his tail. "Thisss one will sssuggesst that you resst here however. Ssso that you can be obssserved for a time. Thisss will ensssure that if you are ssssicker than thisss one thinksss... you can be ssseen to in a timely manner."

It is sound advice and logic, and from a healer no less. One whom Aya even sought out, in fact. And yet, there is some hesitation or concern. Some of this delay is conveniently covered by draining the last of the cup to then offer Zeke the empty.

Another heartbeat or three of silent consideration follows, before she accedes with a nod. "Very well. So long as there are enough beds. I do not wish to impose or delay those in need of more than just observation."

The blue-scale takes his cup back and places it in the box. He shakes his head at Aya and rises to his feet. "Sstay. There isss no other in thisss room isss there?" He looks at her pointedly. "No? Then it iss yoursss. For how-ever long you need it." With this he turns, ready to leave her to her rest, something he suspects that she sorely needs.

One of those self-powered brows arches at Zeke's shift to direct and forthright, though it quickly lowers. "You are the healer," is offered in acknowledgement and acquiescence as he turns. While Aya sat down quite readily, her standing anew could be an altogether different matter entirely, so there are multiple reasons to agree and trust his judgement. Rest is, indeed, sorely needed.

-End