Aeryk is Alive

From FiranMUX

Diamia knocks on the door to manta ray bedroom.

From somewhere nearby, you hear a male voice shout, "Come in."

Diamia enters the manta ray bedroom. Anarinuell: Cockatrice District -- IstaNydiam Palace -- Manta Ray Bedroom

Aeryk is - standing. He is not standing particularly well, but he is making a point of being upright in the face of any visitors. His sister especially. He has one hand on the shelf for support, but he does endeavor to make it a casual hand.

Diamia steps in and, without a word, stalks across the room and throws her arms around Aeryk. Squeezing tight, tighter, tightest, the clan leader buries her face against his shoulder for a long moment. "mmf mmf mmf," is mumbled and muffled, the words lost but the tone desperately relieved and affectionate. Pulling back finally, there is a pause before she hauls off and slaps him hard across the face. "And don't you ever, EVER scare me like that again! Do you hear me?!" *Firan*

Aeryk shouldn't be startled, and he isn't, so much as slow. The hand scrambles off the shelf and Aeryk's knees twitch and dip, and then sustain. He wraps his arms reciprocally, and they have most of their usual strength back. The slap now - that's a little more startling, Aeryk's head jerking back in response. But not that startled. He even smiles after an awkward second. "I hear you. And I'm - so sorry." *Firan*

Diamia kind of hiccups which miiiiiight have been the start of a cry but she manages to swallow it up. And if anyone says anything about it? She'll rip their heart out with her bare hands and throw it in their face! So .. don't. "You are not allowed to do anything dangerous ever, ever again," she huffs softly, hugging him again -- and more gently this time! *Firan*

Aeryk will never, ever say anything. He has spent the past long while being handled naked. And his eyes have dribbled a bit their traitorous selves. One can only say so much. Aeryk lets one arm lax a fraction, while actually pulling closer. "You know I will. But I - might give you a bit of a break. If you want it." *Firan*

Diamia sighs. "I suppose you won't let me make you my Minister of Flowers or something, huh?" she replies, her nose wrinkling a bit. "I can't believe you are back in your armor /already/. Do you still plan to go to war?" Stepping back again, her hand goes to her mouth and she chews anxiously on her thumbnail which is something she tends to do when worried. *Firan*

"I - I want to." Aeryk leans on his heels, his elbow poking back toward the shelf, in case he needs it again. "No one would think any less of me if I didn't, I suppose. I -- " But Aeryk pauses. It's a long pause. A rather tortured one. "This is the problem. If I go, I'm afraid that everyone will be worried about me. About . . . not only that I might do what I did again and get killed, but that I'm too weak to be there in the first place. And then I'll want to prove myself - and I - worry about you."

"Me?" Diamia says, pressing her fingertips against her chest and looking rather surprised. "Why are you worried about me? -I- wasn't the one laying all broken in the Chimera clinic saying my goodbyes and scaring my poor sisters to death! You only have to worry about me if you go off and die because I will be so mad that I will pray to Unot that your soul is reborn in a spaniel. And then I will spend all my time hitting you with a rolled up scroll." She snorts decisively. Hrmph.

"And," she adds loftily. "I will name you Lord Twinklebottombooboo."

Aeryk does not seem to know what expression to hold to that, so he sort of blankens. "Well. I just mean. When I - uh, died or close to it this last time, it - well, you seemed pretty upset. And I don't want to be a spaniel." There. That's a joke. "But at the same time, I think I /will/ recover fully before war starts." *Firan*

Diamia looks utterly serious about the Twinklebottombooboo spaniel stuff. "Well," she breathes after eyeballing her brother for a time. "..I will not forbid you from going to war. I don't want anything to happen to you but .. I realize that denying you from being the man you are just to keep you safe is selfish of me. Just promise that you won't go to the front without being thoroughly looked over by a healer. If you are completely healed, you may go. If you have even a scratch left to recover from, then I would rather you wait until next season. Okay?"

• Firan*

"Okay." Aeryk lets his breath out in a low gust. "If it helps, I will be more careful. I have been doing a lot of thinking. I - did die, you see. The night--" Aeryk seems hesitent to give a further description, "I - upset you, Unot did take me. And sent me back. He said to seek wisdom. And I want to be wise as well as brave when I fight. At least until I think I know what I was supposed to know."

There is an inner struggle going on right now and it is evident in Diamia's expression. The knit of her brow. The scrunch of her nose. The pull at the corners of her mouth. It's clear that she is fighting between denial -- no, you didn't die! -- and a respect for the divine. In the end, she just leaves the matter alone and breezes her hand through the air. "I am glad you will be more careful. I should probably go announce that you live and thank the people for their prayers."

Aeryk inclines his head low, perhaps partially to avoid her expression. That discomfort has slipped into his manner. If Diamia is torn between denial and respect, Aeryk is torn by his relative lack of comprehension for the /enormity/ of the whole affair. But once more into the breach. "I have also learned a bit about responsibility. Between those - I hope not to leave you again so soon. While, uh, still being me." Another deep breath. "An announcement, ah, yes. I owe much." *Firan*

"If you wish to express your gratitude as well, you are welcome to do so," Diamia says with a nod. She starts to head out but pauses in the doorway, smiling a faint, dimpled smile at her brother. "I am so thankful that you live. And Aeryk? I don't blame you." Her hand drifts by her abdomen and she lowers her eyes slightly before slipping out into the hall.