I don’t remember what the could thingy is so I’mma pretend it’s the
💭 one.
“Adrianal’s my best friend! or well, one of two? I sounds like something the younger elves and humans say- my son says it to. I don’t understand it but it sounds applicable. Adrian is irritated a lot and without his coffee you probably shouldn’t talk to him. I think he’s alright without it. A lot of us are more easily irritated without it.”
“He understands feelings that are hard to put to name and why I took my vows. When we had to defend ourselves and bleed, explain our vows, and endure the displeasure of those who did not understand he held his head high, speaking calmly. He defended us all with words and actions. I don’t know how I’m viewed by other people- I have trouble reading them with the whispers constant – but Adrianal has made his clear, I think.”
“I don’t think he’s really mad when he seems to be. But sometimes he’ll stay at his desk when I come over and we’ll talk. I show him things from my forges, talk about my children and show him Samiel’s art. Small things. Fun things. So…best friends.”
“There is the sun and then there is the moon. Both are important and we talk on them often- but we never stop to consider and ask what the sun and moon think and feel.”
Adrianal arrived to the infirmary with Avada at his side. He looked withdrawn, holding the little baby girl in his arms to his chest with a wide eyed and broken look in his eyes. His red hair was tied back out of habit, his clothes clean out of kindness of his maids. But his blind eyes were blank, hollow, void of emotion or feeling. He took in a shuddering breath, looking warily to Avada now, “I…thank you….for coming with me today….”
Avada had a similarly drawn look to her face. Though her hair shone bright and silky as ever, her black cloak from the previous night hadn’t been changed. Exhaustion tugged beneath her eyes, a tribute to her long vigils at her friend’s bedside. “There’s no place I’d rather be. I’m here for you both, and for your daughter.” She pulled her lips upward in a kind smile that didn’t touch her eyes, the most reassuring look she could muster. “He will wake. Of that I am confident. He just…needs time. As grass seeds lie dormant for the rain, he needs time.”
The paladin seemed to curl in on himself at her words, disappearing inside himself in the emotional agony. But his daughter reached up, a lovely delight of a child with curly brown hair and wide starlit lavender eyes. She tugged Adrianal’s hair and gave a crystalline whine, it made him shudder alive, taking an uneasy breath as he touched her small heart-shaped face. “Okay….” he whispered, voice barely audible. He was a man only living for the child in his arms now, only functioning because she needed him still.
Avada’s eyes deepened in sorrow. She took Adrianal’s elbow and gently guided him along to his husband’s room. The phoenix on her shoulder seemed to sense his handler’s stress. He fluffed himself up, gazing between her, Adrianal, and the baby.
The room still smelled of incense, and by the altar it looked as though a certain spellbreaker had kept his promises, a very chocolatey slice of cake sat on a plate uneaten upon it. But in the bed, Felo’thore had not stirred, the man appeared in an endless sleep, comfortable, his arms placed by loved ones as if he slept casually even. The astromancer was inert as a dormant tree with a jarring scar along its bark. The mark seemed not as red or blotchy as it did evenings ago, but there it remained a reminder of the trauma the man had been through.
“NOO! Let go of me! Unhand me now! I need to be there! T-the D-Dawnspire! ….ADRIANAL!!”
His desperate cries fell on deaf ears of the grove wardens, restraining the flustered avatar of Felo’thore’s consciousness and dragging his silhouette by his heels away from the doorway in which he slammed through. In flesh, the attack from the Prime Consort Kala looked something brutal, but the truth had been the worst of it struck his face on broken marble when his body collapsed so suddenly from the retreat of his mind. The runes across his chest ripped him into the safety of the Emerald Dream before the demon’s sorcery could take hold of him.
Screams, flame, rubble and horror were now a quiet autumn breeze, ethereal and gentle, and spirits looming in quiet curiosity over the commotion. Felo’thore twisted and yanked himself from the burly centaur’s grips, his whitened hair and cloak whipping behind him as he bound back for the doorway, only to jam himself against it’s invisible barrier, preventing him from traveling back through it. Felo’thore pressed his long hands to the glass-like surface, picking up and pounding a fist defeatedly against it as he watched the ghostly movements of oathsworn hot in combat with the invading demon swarm. His silver eyes widened watching Avada’s rage light her spellblade ablaze, her courageous shouts too muffled by the dreamspace to be heard. Adrianal in sorrow and horror, hairs on the astromancer’s ghostly arms standing as he felt the paladin hold his shattered shell. The shouts and courageous fury of the sunspear holding fast the attention of their adversaries, Tyleril’s pleading prayers heard clearest among the blur of sound. He felt the determination, the vigor, the despair, the exclamation- all of it grow heavy on his glowing chest, pressing his forehead against the visage of the living realm in grief.
The window closed into nothing, and Felo’thore dropped to his knees on the loamy earth, pouring into a harsh sob.
“You cannot return to the living realm at this time,” snorted the grove warden, stepping forward where his hoof plotted to a halt before Felo’thore. “Your body is broken. Your mind yielded. It is too dangerous, and by Elune’s will you are to carry your oath to nature. It is not your time.”
The pale facade of the astromancer lifted up, hiccuping through his words with his sobbing. “They…..need me. Please.”
The grove warden stared expressionlessly, flicking his tail in what appeared annoyance before turning and walking away. Felo’thore’s apparition sat there alone, listening to the distant ghostly sounds from another time and place. His heart tugged but he knew…he was brought to the dream for a reason. For now, it was a matter of when the door would deem him ready to emerge, and if those fighting alongside him, and the home in which they defended would be there for his return.
Days in the Emerald Dream felt like hours in the realm of flesh….
Blood stained his robes and exhaustion weighed his body, trying to pull him to the marble floors. His halo was so dim the spare Light Tyleril had been accustomed to had faded until it was barely there. The infirmary was filled with the rushed movement of the menders. They didn’t stop, they didn’t tarry, they rushed. Countless wounded need aid and in his heart he could feel their pain. Deep in his soul he could feel it all.
And by the Light did it hurt.
How long had it been since the battle was done now? Time had no meaning in the infirmary. Worry and fear was as thick as the smell of antiseptic as he walked towards one bed in particular. “Never done, pavement to cross and wounds to b-boss.” He whispered. Without looking to see if another was there he pushed the table close to the bed, setting out the stones and candles atop their own silvery cloth. A small vial was poured into a stone bowl. It was the very last he had of the sparkling liquid and as it escaped the vial he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sorrow that tugged at his heartstrings deeply. One deep pain-filled breath as he finished assembling it all. Carefully, his hands began to move, imitating gestures he had not seen in over a decade. This had to be perfect and he wasn’t going to let his current state prevent it.
“Hail to you Elune. Hail to the Moon Gooddess
Hail, to the mother of the night.
With kind eyes look down upon your fallen
and grant them and their loves on serenity.
Hail to you Elune! Hail to the White Lady.
Hail to you that givest all.
Peace for Adrianal and quick recovery to Felo’thore I beseech from you
as he rests.”
The trembling began in his hands and he clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to curse. Palms upwards he lowered his head in prayer. The altar to Elune on the table with its vial of moonwater was bright in his eyes. He had no more moonwater for his altar at home now- it was the last of it his husband had given them.
“Fair Goddess, who shines in the sky above
Hold Felo’thore in you arms so tight
and protect him with your love.
be between him and harm in the empty places he may walk.”
Shoulders sagging he felt the last of his emotion drain from him. The water in the bowl glimmered brightly and though he did his best to feel for her, he did not feel the presence of anything but the Light. “I- I hope you heard it.” He offered a respectful bow. “Please come back soon F-felo’thore. I’ll- I’ll be back with offering and prayer. I know- I k-k-know what to offer. I just…others need me now.” The healer turned and walked away slowly, hand pressed to his stomach. So many fallen and wounded- he would pray for all of his friends first.
Then after he had gotten a short nap after he was done he’d go find Reynllin’s corpse outside and hide under one of his wings, praying again for mercy and grace.
Tyleril Silversword 
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