[ Phya Tayuun attempts to keep her stride behind the Azure Dragoon.
The city of Ishgard quiets almost instantly when night falls. The lights brighten on the street. Footsteps echo on the stone pathways. Towering homes grow dim on the inside. She notes every single thing as they cross a certain bridge.
Including the sense of deja vu. Except, it's not truly that phenomenon. She knows these roads. She has walked these streets--taller and more assured of herself. The buildings have not changed much, but the state of them certainly has. Perhaps she couldn't navigate them as she feels she once had, but the path in which she follows after the Azure Dragoon is so very familiar. Her smaller weaker body tingles all over.
She has dreamed of Ishgard. Most orphans in her situation have--being from a settlement on the border of Corethas. Her slightly elder sister dreamed of travel and adventure and seeing the world, just as their childhood friend had. Seeing the spires and majesty of Ishgard was just many of those places. She, on the other hand, had dreamed of something far more selfish. The desire to return to Ishgard to find a Temple Knight. One knight in particular. The knight that she knows is her own. Not in thr sense that he would sweep her off her feet and carry her into a happy ending. No, this knight is truly her own as they are meant to be together. Bound together through the ages and life after life.
She waited for the day she would see him march with others through their settlement as the war with the dragons ever drug on. Her eyes would scan over each face of troops to the point she knew who was a veteran and who was new. None were him. The thought struck her one year that perhaps he was unable to come and find her. Something made him incapable of doing so... or, perhaps even, he had no wish to do so as he had no desire to be with her.
It broke her heart.
She had spent that winter confined to her bed with the realization. Phya had always been a sickly girl. One that was small for her size due to lack of nutrition. One that had the natural talent of healing, but it seemed to tax her as a result. The conjures of the south believed it was the payment for being such a naturally skilled healer. The elements blessed her and thus demanded compensation as well. Whatever the reason for it, Phya was often bed ridden and had only the company of her sister, their best friend, and the small tan fox she had been given one Starlight Eve from knight. The very same fox that remains with her belongings with her sister in the Foretemps home.
The Azure Dragoon and she turn the corner and continue down a road that causes her to stop in her tracks. Her eyes widen and her hands shake. The bottles in the basket she carries rattle slightly. The way the arch above hangs, the sight of the Astrologian guild ahead... ]
I thought you might find this a familiar place. After all, you lived here once. [ The Azure Dragoon half turns. ] Our destination is ahead. Keep walking.
[ Phya wordlessly catches up to the seasoned Dragoon and follows after him.
Her heart pounds.
An adventurer had come through on his way to Ishard. Wrapped in robes and an axe on his back. He said he needed those who might know more of Corethas to aid him in getting to the capital city. Her sister had immediately volunteered as she too was looking for someone. Their childhood friend had left a handful of years before in order to work with a group from Sharlyan researching ruins. They had yet to hear from them. Phya knew her twin sister and friend were close.
She only went with out of the fear of being left behind.
It hardly mattered if she was far from being able to fight on her own or had been sick at the time. The idea of rotting away in their small refuge town while her sister was adventuring was out of the question. The adventurer, Ardbert, had his reservations but allowed it simply as it was obvious her sister would not leave without her.
They had been on their way to the Foretemps Manor when the Azure Dragoon had stepped into their path and demand the healer come with him for the time being.
The Dragoon stops at a door. Phya feels her heart stop. He raises his hand and knocks. The door opens from a middle aged eleven man, looking between the two. The Stewart of the House it seems. ]
Another, Estinien? You know Ser Borel would turn her away.
He won't turn her away. She is skilled in dealing with his "condition."
[ Condition?
A sense of duty and chance fills her to override the heart pounding anxiety. If she could heal a Lord of Ishgard, then, it would ease the public's weariness of the strangers House Foretemps took in. Would it not? Perhaps the local healers would be annoyed another had healed him, but, she is still Corethian. She is still of their people. That must mean something.
The Stewart sighs and allows them entry.
Phya freezes the moment she stands in the foyer. She knows this place. The furniture is in different places then it should be, but, she knows where she is. She knows which noble house this belongs to now. Her hands shake as the sense of simply knowing from her heart fills her.
This is his home.
Her Knight's home.
Does she deserve to call him "hers" after so long? More than a lifetime? The worry comes forward again that her would have nothing to do with her now. That he would turn her away for leaving him behind and having him wait for so many years...
Her attention snaps to with the Stewart and the Dragoon stare at her. Ears bend against her head and her larger tail curls around her slightly. She glances between them before down again. ]
Announcing her would simply have him turn her away. Allow her to be here and when he inevitably worsens tonight as we fear, let her in to heal him. He won't argue.
How can you be so certain, Ser Estinien?
Unlike your lord, I am fully aware of his condition and who might treat him. She is the only one he would allow. He simply would not realize it at first due to his sour mood. Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
...the Lord Commander? [ Phya looks between them again. No, he had been a knight... ] I had no idea...
Why would you? It has been nearly a century. [ The Azure Dragoon huffs. ] Much has--
[ The sound of a crash echoes through the halls. The three come to attention and the Stewart quickly moves down the hall. The discussion between him and head maid can be heard before he returns. The middle aged Elezen stares at Phya.
Then, he sighs and motions for her to follow him.
Phya holds the basket against her chest as they quickly head to the master bedroom suite. ]
[ Aymeric knows very little of what is transpiring outside of the walls of his home, and that is by choice. At first, what remained of his household staff tried to get him to show interest in the goings on in Ishgard by bringing with them stories of things happening around them, but Aymeric continued to show little or not interest in any of it.
For the most part, they chalked that off to the rather dire state that he was in, because he was hardly in good condition at all, and yet he refused their efforts to convince him to be seen by a healer. Of course, they knew the reasons behind his continued refusals, and yet they could not help but worry at the way he seemed to deteriorate almost before their eyes.
Somehow, however, he managed to stand up and move about as the mood took him, and they barely understood how that was possible. The house steward posited that his sudden change gave him a greater endurance than he might have had before, but that said endurance was hardly permanent.
No, it seemed as though Aymeric's health waxed and waned, but he still refused to be looked at by anyone, healer or otherwise. Most of his days were spent alone in his private quarters, and that was how he preferred it.
He did not wish to see or speak to anyone, although there was one notable figure who decidedly ignored Aymeric's wishes, repeatedly breaking through the walls he attempted to set up in his own attempt to get the man to do something.
But Aymeric would not do something. He had no interest in doing much of anything, even without the injuries he'd managed to sustain from a particularly determined dragon. Perhaps a part of him was resigned to letting himself simply pass on because of the wounds he'd received. A dragon's bite was no insignificant thing, after all, and Aymeric had sustained more than one. Still, it was the largest of them that gave him the most trouble. The combination of the smaller wounds and the more dire one worked together to render him unable to move at some points, and only what remained of his once rock solid willpower was enough to see him leave his bed from time to time.
So, at the present, Aymeric remains unaware of anything that his old friend Estinien may or may not be doing. As far as he is concerned, the outcomes of all of Estinien's visits will always be the same. He will not see a healer, and he will not be coaxed out of his gloomy state of mind and heart.
Today, Aymeric is slightly more lucid than other days, and this particular day sees him pacing a very clearly marked circle in his chambers. He feels ill at ease for reasons he doesn't bother to look into, as there is no point in looking into much of anything. On occasion, he hears bits of conversation, and exchanges between the household staff. He thinks that he hears another voice, a voice that he unfortunately knows quite well: Estinien, returned with yet another healer from what Aymeric is able to decipher.
That outcome will not change either. He has had enough of healers. He will not consent to being seen by one, not now and not ever.
Although much of the conversation being held is one that Aymeric cannot hear, he does make out one particular line:
Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
Frustration and anger sparks to life inside him, and in a fit of something bordering on rage, he grabs the nearest object (a wooden bucket) and hurls it away from him.
The sudden act throws him off balance, as he is more unsteady than he would care to admit, and he has to throw out a hand to brace himself against the closest wall.
... Perhaps venting his anger was not the best idea nor the brightest. ]
[ Estinien follow suite behind Phya and the steward. While it is clear the young Miqo'te and the middle aged steward are worried of the health of the man behind the door? Estinien himself has no such worry. No, his mind is far more on the capabilities of the man. He knows his brother to be better than he has begun to act. They have known each other for nearly one century now. Just as Estinien would hope that Aymeric holds him to a standard? He holds his brother to the same.
The Azure Dragoon pushes past the two and steps into the room himself. He closes the door behind them. As far as he is concerned? This is a matter--for the moment--between the two of them. His steel colored eyes land on the struggling Lord Commander with a look of annoyance, and truthfully, disappointment. He knows Aymeric can be a far better man than he is acting at the moment. ]
You've caused quite the scene, Lord Commander. [ Estinien crosses his arms with a faint hint of amusement and yet annoyance in his voice. ] Pull yourself together. The Temple Knights, especially Ser Haurchefant, would be amiss to see you in such a state.
[ A hand raises and gestures to the door. ] I've brought a healer for you. One who understands your particular "condition." At the very least she could get you on your feet to be more presentable.
Did you hear? The Warrior of Light of the Eorzean Alliance has arrived in Ishgard.
[ As far as Aymeric knows, his outburst and hurling of the wooden bucket have gone unobserved. After all, these are his private quarters, and the last thing he is expecting is someone letting themselves in uninvited.
But as the doors open and Estinien steps inside the room, Aymeric instantly realizes that he is no longer alone in his self-imposed solitude. He stiffens and straightens up, and a sharp glare falls into place on his face. Of course, it is too late to pretend that he did not lose control of himself and give in to his anger and frustrations, but he does his best to maintain the pretense regardless. ]
I do not recall giving you, or anyone else, leave to enter. [ Aymeric has straightened up, but he deliberately keeps his gaze averted from his old friend's. ] As for the Temple Knights, you have no reason to be concerned that they will see anything they should not. [ There is a reason he has cloistered himself in this room, rarely venturing out, if he does at all.
Aymeric's expression darkens further at the mention of the healer that Estinien has brought along. ]
You know my opinion on that. I have no use for healers, and I do not consent to being seen by one, no matter how much they may claim to understand... No, I will not be seen.
[ His gaze briefly shifts at the announcement of the arrival of the Warrior of Light, but only the barest hint of a spark at the news shows in his eyes. ]
I suppose you will keep me apprised of events following the Warrior's arrival. When you are able, of course.
[ Aymeric feels his wounds protest because he has remained standing for too long, but he has no interest in letting Estinien see the effect they have on him. He crosses his arms in front of him and does his best to remain upright. ]
I do not recall family needing leave to enter. [ They are, in his mind, the same as blood brothers. Afflicted by different things, yet doomed to long lives it seems. ] Perhaps they would if the Lord Commander had dared to venture from his private rooms since his return from the Sultana's banquet in Ul'dah.
[ Estinien thinks upon events for a moment. The wound that has caused their moody Lord Commander to hole himself up must have happened in the Dravanian attack after the banquet. He was on his own missions at the time, but even word reached him of how the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights had since bundled himself up within his manor. A strange turn of events, as many thought that perhaps Eorzea's Warrior of Light had begun to melt his rather icy exterior. ]
Do not be a fool, Aymeric. We are both aware that as the leader of the Temple Knights, you will need to meet with the Warrior of Light at some point or another. Even more so given that he and his... entourage have been given a place to stay within House Foretemps. One of the few Houses you remain on good standings with. Politics and I do not mingle, and yet even the Dragoons are aware of that much.
[ He glances over Aymeric once more. ] If you will not be seen, then, do you intend to eat to regain your strength? What if the Archbishop calls upon the Lord Commander?
Ordinarily, perhaps not. [ He can concede that much; however, the situation at hand is far from an ordinary one, and Aymeric would rather sequester himself away from people as much as possible. And Estinien's arrival is, at the present, not entirely welcome. ] Perhaps the Lord Commander does not dare venture from his private rooms again, for reasons that are his own.
[ He is uncomfortably aware that Estinien will most likely find the holes in his logic, but logic is not at the forefront of his thoughts at the moment. ]
Will I? Perhaps. But perhaps I have no intention of continuing to remain Lord Commander, and perhaps that would be best for the Temple Knights and for the people of Ishgard as a whole. I am not surprised to learn that House Fortemps has taken in the Warrior of Light and his entourage, but the question remains: will I remain on good standing with them now?
[ The look on his face suggests he does not believe that to be the case. ]
As for the Archbishop: surely he would rather see another take on the mantle of Lord Commander. [ He knows he just sidestepped Estinien's first question, but his lack of a response is an answer in its own way. ]
You are being a petulant child, Aymeric. Think for a moment on what you are saying and you will realize how ridiculous it sounds to the rest of us. You are far from a man that would hole himself away and hide as a coward would.
[ As the men continue to argue, the trio beyond the door quietly react. The steward shakes his head and sighs, the head maid frets. Phya remains still, her eyes turned to the basket in her hands. Ears press firmly against her head. Her tail uncurls and simply hangs.
The emotion that fills her heart is far from heartbreak. Rather, a sorrowful acceptance has crossed her face. Why would he wish to see her? The denial is for healers, not her as a person, but Phya is aware of a fact the other two are not. She left him. She had died and left him behind in a cruel world with an even crueler fate.
Why would he wish to see her again? Why would he even wish to venture and find her reborn? Why would he allow her to even aid him and open himself to the pain of abandonment all over again?
Phya closes her eyes and her head hangs slightly.
This is reception is deserved. I hardly deserve anything more... should I find a way to unbind us?
The latter thought comes from somewhere deep inside her. Perhaps it best if she freed him of her as well. Then, he would have no duty nor reason to allow her to hurt him ever again. Her own heart squeezes and a shake forms in her hands at the mere concept.
He deserves to make the choice. No matter what I desire.
Her hands curl and hold the basket in her arms closer.
She had waited so many years for the moment to see him. He is owed an apology and a lifetime of mending. She was the one that wronged him. His misery is her doing, and at the least, she would wish to help make it right once more. Yet, she had always the fear and knowing that he could simply wish nothing from her again. In any life.
Should she leave now?
The basket lowers so she holds it by the handle. Her gaze shifts to the ground before looking to the door once more. If nothing else? She would leave the medicine in the care of the staff and instruct them on what might be done. ]
Be responsible and at least allow the healer to look over your wounds and instruct you on how to care for them.
Do I not have the right to be- No. [ He shakes his head. This is a topic he does not wish to discuss, and he will not discuss it, not even with Estinien. ]
Is that all you came here to say?
[ He turns slightly and eyes the disheveled bed in the room, contemplating returning to it and turning his back to the dragoon. He feels an undercurrent of regret, wondering if the friendship he has with Estinien will end because of this. He does consider the man his brother, and yet what has happened to him has changed him in more ways than one.
His outlook on life and on his relationships and duties and everything in between has been altered, perhaps forever. At the present, he can hardly see past the monster he feels he has become. Who is Aymeric de Borel anymore? Certainly not the man he once was. How can he continue being the Lord Commander, the one people look to for leadership of their defenses?
As far as he can tell, he can no longer be that man. ]
What good will it do? [ He shakes his head, but he feels as though he may as well acquiesce on this one thing, if only so that Estinien will stop badgering him about it. ] I suppose this healer you've found can't do any more harm.
I came here to get you out of your stupor and more to the man we both know you to truly be. I would be a poor brother if I allowed you to wallow in your misery.
The good doctor is still on the front lines at a Vigil. Another healer will need to suffice until he returns to Ishgard.
And yes, I believe she is fully aware of what it all entails.
[ Estinien turns and opens the door behind him. Then steward and head maid step back. The Dragoon turns his head to Phya, finding her sorrowful look of acceptance. He rolls his eyes. ]
I can simply instruct how to care and then take my leave. I... if he does not wish to have me here...
[ Estinien simply steps aside and motions for the woman to enter. Phya glances at the room before slowly entering. Her eyes are still cast downwards, hands holding onto the basket, tail still. The large hood hides her ears, but it's clear she is a Miqo'te. ]
She and her sister came to Ishgard with the Warrior of Light. They hail from one of the outlying towns that have managed to survive despite the Calamity.
[ Phya curtseys, keeping her eyes down. Her heart pounds. She knows simply being in the same room that he is the one she had waited for. Hearing his voice had been enough. The manor. Everything tells her that she is supposed to be here.
And yet, the Lord Commander himself would rather she not be present. She understands. She passed. Left him behind. It has been nearly a century, isn't that what the Azure Dragoon had said? ]
Are you still unwilling to admit that I am not the man I was? [ Aymeric believes that to be true, and yet he still puts forward the question, wanting to hear it from Estinien in his own words. ]
I am of the opinion that perhaps Ishgard is better off with another at the helm. With that in mind, what is the use of doctors or healers? But I can also recognize that you are unwilling to be swayed in either direction.
[ That hardly makes him happy, but what can he do? When Estinien opens the door once more and beckons someone (the healer, he presumes) inside, at first, Aymeric does not even look at her. He has refused healing this long, and he is hardly warmed up to the idea.
What he sees in his peripheral vision is enough to cause something to stir inside Aymeric; it is a sensation he has not felt in many years, and he imagined he would not feel it again. A part of him wondered if he was incapable of feeling it now. But there is a nudge, and a pulling sensation, something telling him that he needs to get closer to the woman who just entered his private chambers.
Why? She isn't... she can't be. She has been gone for quite some time, and if she even returned...
The sensation grows stronger, and he feels the strong pull urging him to step closer to her. To take her hands. Look her in the eyes.
Instead... He does the opposite, mostly unwillingly, as he would never choose to cause such a scene in front of observers. The nudging and the pulling sensations very nearly cause his head to swim, perhaps because he resists them. But perhaps his sudden unsteadiness is due to a bit of shock or surprise that he has yet to fully identify the reasons for. It has something to do with the small woman in the room, but what?
Unfortunately, he has no time to think on that further as he staggers suddenly on unsteady legs, and before he can try to pull himself together, he ends up on his knees on the hard floor beneath them.
You are not the same as you were before entirely, no. That does not change the fact that at the heart you are still Aymeric de Borel. I assure you that none other would be capable to direct Ishgard as you are. Even in a state in which you see no point.
[ Things happen very quickly.
Estinien is in front of Aymeric the moment he hits the floor. The dragoon lifts him, pulling him to the bed. He glances over the Lord Commander before looking over his shoulder. With a curt nod, he motions for Phya to join them.
Phya does.
She does not move hesitantly, but instead, with a sense caution. Not because of his illness or because he seemingly wishes nothing to do with her. The situation as to his condition is unknown to her. Any sudden movement--especially with how he does not wish her to even be present--could cause him to react in an even worse manner.
Estinien lays the Elezen out on the bed. Phya stays behind him, feeling as if she has to earn back the right to even look him in the eyes. Let alone say the names that come to mind for him. ]
I... need to see the injury so that I might instruct them on how to care for it. M-may I see it, ser?
[ The formalities make her heart beat painfully. They should be closer than they are. She shouldn't hesitate to touch him. She should throw her arms around him and cry for their reunion. Fear grips her instead and she stands at the side of the bed with her hands raised slightly. ]
[ Aymeric can feel his senses trying to flee from him, intending to go the same way as his legs, which refused to hold him up any longer, but even as Estinien lifts him and pulls him over to the bed, he tries to resist. He's past the point of saving face, but this is the last thing he ever wanted to happen. He did not want an audience, but it is too late for that now.
He dimly registers Phya moving from out of the corner of his eye, but his focus remains on trying to keep hold of his senses. It's a losing fight, or so it seems, but he's still trying his best to not pass out entirely. It's bad enough that Estinien- that his friend and brother has to move him like this.
He might be reduced to hiding in his private chambers and refusing to see anyone, but he still retains the smallest semblance of pride. It's just hard to see it in the way he behaves now.
Estinien places him on the bed, and Aymeric feels something inside himself recoiling in something like embarrassment. Perhaps it is strange that this would cause him embarrassment and not his equally embarrassing display from just moments ago. He does not need to be told that he behaves shamefully, because he knows that he does already. That is just one of many reasons why he wishes to withdraw from being seen as much as possible.
From his position on the bed, he hears the quiet request from the healer Estinien brought to see him, and at first, he does not respond. He wants to turn his back to both of them, to wall himself off once more, but he knows that doing so would do no good at all. He has no energy at the moment for another prolonged argument with Estinien, and so, while he does try to turn himself away from both of them (not quite managing it due to his present weakness), he replies in a quiet, low tone, hating the hesitant, halting way the words come out. ]
If you insist. I won't prevent you from looking, if that is what you wish.
[ He knows what she'll see when she looks: the roadmap of lacerations and scratches of varying sizes, and the bite that caused all this in the center of it all, angry and inflamed because he let it go uncared for. Part of him recoils inwardly at the thought of being bared for her to see, but it seems as though this is one matter that he won't be allowed to continue pushing to the side.
And now matter how much he might wish to be left alone, he knows better than to think that Estinien cares much about his wishes, at least as far as this current matter is concerned. ]
[ Phya's gaze drops once more. The situation remains crystal clear to her. He does not wish to be healed nor does he wish to have anything to do with the rest of the world. He is merely humoring his friend to keep him placated. After Aymeric gives his answer, she looks back up towards the dragoon. Should she truly continue to try and help in his current state?
Estinien nods.
Phya steps up to the bed properly. The Dragoon reaches forward and helps Aymeric settle properly on his side. She stills until the Lord Commander is settled and then carefully moves. Her hands curl around his shirt and gently tug it up until his hip and side of his abdomen is bare for her to see.
Her eyes widen.
Her heart feels as if it drops into the floor.
Estinien unfolds his arms and shakes his head.
Phya glances up at Aymeric's face before continuing. Her hands tremble as one gently raises above the injury. The horrors if the injury is one matter, but the true tremors come from the overwhelming electric feeling of being near him again. After years of waiting, he is right below her. She could reach out and touch his face or his hair and ask to stay with him once more.
The realization settles in once more that he wishes nothing to do with her. Even if he has realized her true identity. It causes her heart to sink once more, but she knows she cannot blame him or be angry. After all, she was the one that left him behind in this state he hates.
Her head tilts down. The trembling hand settles above his injury. The aether is chaotic. Not due to the injury, although that certainly hasn't helped. It flows at such a speed that all that comes to mind is darkness in the aetheric matter.
Some images come to mind as she gently allows the aether to flow over her hand. Battles. War. Dragons. Her eyes open then with a small frown. ]
A dragon bit him. Not an elder one, but small enough to be able to strike at him. [ Phya tilts her head slightly. Then, her eyes raise to Estinien. ] The wound is deep and has started to heal in it's own way. I... I can instruct the house staff how to heal it from this point on. Provide what's needed for it. I'll do the first dressing and application.
[ Estinien glances at Aymeric before nodding. He has pushed his point enough. His brother will need to recuperate and there is no point in pushing further for him to accept a healer.
Phya nods in return before turning away from the Lord Commander. Her hands quietly shift through the basket before pulling out a potion and bandages. She glances once more towards the man before looking at the items in her hand. She could heal him properly with aether and her medicines if she felt she was allowed to do so. She won't press. Ardbert and her sister still need to be accepted into Ishgard, and upsetting the head of the Temple Knights could tip that unfavorably. Beyond that, she does not need to upset him more than she has.
If he hates her now, then there is little she can do.
Phya moves to the door of the chambers. The head maid and steward look up. She looks at their faces, before quietly requesting a clean bowl of warm water. The wound needs to be cleaned before she can treat it.
[ She simply squeezes his hand once more. Her fingers trail along his, the back of his hand, and his wrist. Small motions with feather light touch to ease him into sleep. It's far from the suggestion abilities she had in her previous life, but she hopes the gentle motions will simply lure him to sleep. When he finally rests? She closes her eyes to find a few hours herself.
Then, she is awake and back to her tasks.
Phya first speaks with the household staff and informs them of the progress of Aymeric's wounds. She assures that he has eaten in his unique way, to which both the maid and the steward seem relieved to hear. She requests another cup and explains that she will have potions to place on his wounds if further needed. Once he has awaken, eaten, and moved to the bath? He will need the linens changed on the bed. Then, hopefully, with a day or the one after.
She brings the empty cup back to bedroom and begins to gently tidy up. She checks the stock on her bandages. A mental note is made to restock as well. The potions are in good condition. His body has responded well to the blood and rest so the potions have not been as necessary.
A knife is pulled out and once again and she presses it into her skin. Blood rolls down into the cup below. Once enough has been collected? She heals her wound and wipes her arm off. Then, she places the cup on the bedside table. A hand reaches out and she gently squeezes Aymeric's arm once more to wake him. ]
[ When she begins to touch his hand and his wrist, he lets out a low sigh and he settles slightly into the bed. His eyes remain open and looking at her, as if a part of him is still attempting to resist her efforts to ease him into sleep. He does not wish to sleep, as he fears that he will awaken to find that none of this was real. He does not wish to awaken only to learn that she was never here, that he dreamed all of this from a place of longing and loneliness.
To have to confront that realization is more than he thinks he can handle. So, to that end, he tries to fight off the exhaustion that is trying to pull him down. But in the end, the exhaustion is greater than his ability to resist it, and slowly and reluctantly, his eyelids finally close and he relaxes fully against the bed.
Still, his sleep is light, lighter than one might suppose. He is resting, but some part of his mind is aware of things going on around him. Footsteps register in his mind even as he sleeps, but even he can't quite always follow who they belong to.
It isn't until she squeezes his arm and says his name that he begins to stir again. A handful of moments pass before he finally shifts on the bed and his eyes open once more. ]
Lantaa. You're still here. [ You didn't leave.
He hopes that she can tell that his tone is a grateful one, grateful that she did not leave him as he feared she would. Perhaps he can begin to accept that she is real and not a figure conjured up in dreams. ]
[ Phya understands why the concern exists. She had left him behind. Even if he sees it that he had failed her? The fact does not change that he was left alone for decades because she passed. She will need to prove that she is there every morning until that wound heals in his heart.
In her mind? He is the stronger of them. The wound on his heart does not go deep into the soul as hers do. He is able to keep himself hopeful and believing they will have lives together. ]
You need to eat, Aymeric. Then, we can see to a bath and changing the linens.
[ If he could hear her thoughts, he would say that he is hardly the stronger one here. Perhaps he merely buried his true feelings and pushed them aside, doing his best to pretend that they did not exist. That is hardly dealing with his upset or addressing it properly; simply pretending something is not an issue does not make it less of one. It certainly does nothing to address his own emotions concerning the matter. In fact, it could be considered simply dodging something uncomfortable and refusing to deal with it.
Perhaps in that way, Phya is more in tune with herself and her feelings than Aymeric is. ]
Have you eaten yet? Your needs should be seen to as well, if not seen to first.
[ He is confident that he can go awhile without eating; Phya, on the other hand, deserves to have her needs met first and completely, as it appears she has gone without for too long. ]
[ While more intune, she is dominated by the compounding emotions of lifetimes. There is certainly joy and love underneath the pain and soul crushing sorrow. While it seems as if one beats out the other? It is far more that they go hand in hand. As much as she loves him? She is haunted by the continually loss--sometimes never achieved lives.
What will it take for this wound in my heart to heal? ]
I thought to eat once you had bathed and the linens changed. You will have a comfortable place to rest and I could eat beside you. It wouls give us time to talk. [ A strained smile touches her face. ] It would be rude to eat in front of a vampire when he has yet to feast himself.
[ A hand raises to gesture to the cup on the table beside him. ] I have already prepared it. Do you need help to sit?
[ Perhaps the difference between them is that he decided he had to push away the swirling feelings he had of loss and despair and missing the one person- the one soul that he has always wanted to be with, in order to continue going on. But has he truly gone on with his life, functioning as someone going through the day to day on this star? Looking at how he has spent his time over these last years, he can hardly say that he has.
Perhaps he is the one who became lost in his misery, withdrawing from the world and from the people in it, disconnecting himself from life and living. Perhaps she is truly the stronger one of the two of them, as she has been out there in the world, not cutting herself off from it as he so thoroughly has. ]
How long has it been since you last ate? And how long has it been since you felt warm and safe? [ He can only guess at what her days have been like, but a part of him is certain that she has not always had something hot to eat or somewhere safe to lie down and sleep for the night. ] But if that is what you wish to do... The time to talk with you would be welcome. But then- it would not be rude of you to eat. I would not think it so.
[ Still, it seems as though she has already made preparations, he decides to not protest further. As for her question, he tries to make an attempt at sitting up without aid, and the effort he makes is the best one he can manage, but in the end, he decides he will have to accept her assistance for a little while longer. ]
If it is not too much trouble... and you have gone through enough trouble already on my account. [ If she declines, he will continue as best as he can. ]
I ate yesterday. [ Phya stands straight as if to prove it is not a lie. ] "Warm and safe"? Our village was as warm and safe as one most likely is in our situation. I will not make a formal complaint or request to you, Aymeric. I know you are in little position to do something unless the Holy See sees fit.
[ Many Temple Knights told her as such when they would pass through. Not that any called the Lord Commander by name.
Phya shakes her head at herself.
Her hands reach out to help him sit. Not that she has much weight in the way of leverage. Once he is balanced? She holds the cup for him to take. A thought remains in the back of her mind that he disliked eating from her directly before. Something inside her ripples at the idea of feeding him directly, but are the feelings her own or simplg because she is near him and he is a vampire? Not that the feeling matters. She does not wish him to be angry or to ever dislike what she does for him. If feeding him from the cup is the best way? Then, she will do that. ]
You should eat before me. [ Her eyes move away to give him some semblance of privacy as he drinks. ] Bathing will aid in the feeling of being fresh, and with new linens, you can finish your recuperation in comfort. We... we can talk on whatever you wish.
[ He will need her full name. Her new name. Others will say it and he will hear it regardless.]
You will need to eat again. [ It's not a command, simply an observation, and then Aymeric's expression darkens slightly at her next words. ] Yes, in your situation. But the situation should not be that way, and there must be something that I can do to address it, even if all I can do is put in a petition with the Holy See.
[ Perhaps it is a futile endeavor, but Aymeric knows he has spent too long doing nothing and letting the world pass him by. He needs to put an end to that now.
Or at least as soon as he is able, with his recovery.
He tries to make the process of sitting up less difficult for them both, and he does his best to not lean against her too much, lest he inadvertently hurt her. But once he is seated and the cup is extended to him, there is barely any hesitation before he reaches for it. He does not drink it too quickly or too greedily, as he feels such things are unbecoming even for him, but there is no ignoring the fact that he is hungry, perhaps hungrier than even he realized.
This hunger is not just a need for replenishing his supply; the taste of the blood she offers adds to that hunger, that need to drink. ]
Not always, I hope. I hope that you will allow me to see you fed first. And as for the rest- well, I can do without it, but if you insist.. I imagine I would be easier for you to be around if I am clean.
[ As clean as one such as him can be, at any rate. ]
I will. [ Phya nods in agreement and also to show that she is willing to do as he directs. He is her lord now, after all, even if she cannot bring herself to say the titles she would once have lovingly called him. She does not deserve it. ] The outlier settlements would certainly appreciate the notion by any means. As it is... aid has come from beyond the borders of Corethas. I know the Holy See looks down upon such interactions since the Calamity, but, otherwise none of us would have survived as we have.
[ Perhaps she should not have admitted that to the Lord Commander. However, he needs to know as his entire capacity. Surely he had read the reports that came from the settlements. If they mentioned aid from beyond would be an entirely different matter.
Her ears twitch gently at the sound of him drinking. Eyes remain downwards in order to show that she does not see him as some sort of show or entertainment. He has needs to be met that are not human by any means. Yet, he does not need to be made a show of for others--even herself. Something tells her he would always prefer to eat in private away from the eyes of others. If need be? She will prepare cups and leave the room so that he might feed. Rats, in her mind now, are out of the question for his dietary needs. ]
It's... rude, isn't it? If I eat before you. Given you eat so differently. [ A frown tugs to her face and ears press to her head. ] It is not a matter of "be easier to be around." This is for your own health, of mind and body.
[ Once he has finished, Phya gently takes the cup from him to place on the table. She crosses to the door and calls for the household staff. The headmaid arrives with linens while the steward also arrives to aid Aymeric into the bathroom to bathe. Phya and the headmaid change the linens and blankets. A finger is wagged at the young Miqo'te for not asking for her own meal before the Elezen leaves to deposit the laundry as well as fetch a meal.
Phya glances at the bathroom door before taking a seat on the bed. That is, until the stewart fetches a fresh pair of clothes for Aymeric and returns to the bathroom. Moments later the Lord Commander is escorted back to the bed. Phya stands, only to find that the stewart also brings a chair for her to sit in beside the bed. She is instructed to sit and thus she does obediently. The other member of the staff leaves the room with a soft click of the door.
The young Miqo'te blinks then raises her gaze back to the Elezen beside her. ] Your maid is bringing breakfast.
[ Aymeric's expression shifts then and his jaw tightens as some measure of dislike, perhaps even annoyance, takes hold of him. He is not in a position of great influence nor power, but he does not like the idea of settlements being left to their own devices. There is more they could be doing, but from what he knows from various reports, not very much is being done at all. ]
I am hardly in a position to enact change, but if I were- I would see the outer settlements cared for properly, in the same way that those residing within Ishgard are cared for. Perhaps one day, I will have a position that allows me to do more.
[ But perhaps that day will never come either, as many have no care for a vampire. He can only imagine that most would not take well to being led by one either.
These thoughts swirl in his mind even as he drinks his fill, only ceasing the train of thought when Phya speaks again. ]
How is it rude? Our manner of feeding may be different, and I imagine mine is quite distasteful to witness, and so in that regard, I should not eat in front of you. That does not mean that you should alter your own routines; if you wish to eat before me, I will not stop you. [ He would protest more as to the act of replacing the linens and ensuring that he bathes, but it seems as though her mind is quite well made up, and so he refrains from saying more.
Events move fairly quickly after that, with him being ushered into the bathroom and Phya and the head maid seeing to changing the linens. Eventually, Aymeric returns to the bed, a location that he finds himself eyeing with some distaste. Perhaps he is tired of the bed, of lying down. But if he has the willpower to stand and move about, it is only because of Phya and her assistance.
Still, he supposes he is not fully recovered yet, even though he feels capable of remaining standing, and so he allows himself to be escorted to the bed once more. ]
Good. If the food that is brought is not enough for you, I will send one of the household staff into the city to bring whatever it is you require.
[ The fact she can sit and enjoy food that he no longer can simply sits weong with her. In her mind, it comes to her as if she is holding mortality and humanity in front of him. Tantalizing with what he has lost. Perhaps that is not a thing to worry over as he has long since been a vampire. Yet, it sticks out to her mind no matter how much she wishes the opposite.
A bashful smile takes her face before looking down. She is not one to eat much. Somehow that seems as if he will find it disagreeable.
Breakfast is delivered. Phya thanks the staff for their aid and they see themselves out. She gently moves her fork around before taking a few bites. A pit has formed in her stomach and not of hunger. Something else that feels as if had always lurked beneath the surface in this life, her past, and possibly many others. Phya takes another bite before placing the food to the side.
Then, she stands. She turns to face Aymeric on the bed. Her smaller hands reach out to help him sit up once more if his side finds it agreeable.
She must say this before the will leaves her and she finishes her breakfast feeling things have been upstate. A sharp inhale and she raises her blue eyes to his own. White hair frames her darker complexion. Hands curl around his. ]
Aymeric. [ Her love, her only one, her knight and lord. The titles come to mind but she dare not speak them.
An older gaze settles into her eyes. Her voice seems to age ever so slightly when she speaks: ] I... have always felt that in any life, I can't express how much I love you. How deeply and truly that I love you. How completely and utterly those emotions capture me and always have... even in the time where I asked you to bind ourselves to one another.
[ Her gaze lowers further. ] How... I wish I was more like the woman you surely fell in love with. Not the one I've become.
[ To Aymeric, it no longer matters that the things that ordinary people enjoy and need to survive are not necessary for his own survival anymore. In fact, until Phya returned, his own survival was something he did not particularly care about. He continued to exist, but he wondered what he was existing for.
Perhaps since that has been his frame of mind for quite some time, it really does not matter to him that he can no longer enjoy things that others do as part of their day to day lives. If Phya wishes to eat, she has no reason to feel ashamed of it or limit herself because of him. He wants her to be healthy and well and whatever she has to do to become so is more than fine with him.
Once Phya's breakfast is delivered and she begins to eat, Aymeric simply lies back and lets his thoughts wander while she eats her fill. He does not allow his mind to wander so much that he is not attentive to her movements or if she should say something to him, but he simply lies there quietly and waits. Then, once she is seemingly finished (far too soon, in his mind), she stands and his attention focuses on her once more.
He smiles a small smile when her hands reach out for his, and he allows her to help with repositioning until he is sitting upright again.
Unless he is mistaken, something is on her mind and she wishes to put her thoughts into words, and so he remains quiet, waiting for her to speak. Her tone deepens and seems to age in a matter of seconds, and that, more than anything, is what wakes up a strong pull inside him: a strong desire for her. The desire has always been there, but now it is fully awake and reaching for her. ]
Even if you could not find the words you wished to use, I always knew. And I know that even now, because... because you came back. You could have chosen not to, or you could have found another. [ Someone whole and unharmed, not like I am now. ]
I still see you as that woman. [ His lips turn up into a wider smile. ] As far as I am concerned, you are still her.
[ A look of slight apprehension comes to his own eyes and he quickly tries to conceal it before she can spot it. The last thing he intends is to cause her more worry than she already has. ]
—coming to ishgard.
The city of Ishgard quiets almost instantly when night falls. The lights brighten on the street. Footsteps echo on the stone pathways. Towering homes grow dim on the inside. She notes every single thing as they cross a certain bridge.
Including the sense of deja vu. Except, it's not truly that phenomenon. She knows these roads. She has walked these streets--taller and more assured of herself. The buildings have not changed much, but the state of them certainly has. Perhaps she couldn't navigate them as she feels she once had, but the path in which she follows after the Azure Dragoon is so very familiar. Her smaller weaker body tingles all over.
She has dreamed of Ishgard. Most orphans in her situation have--being from a settlement on the border of Corethas. Her slightly elder sister dreamed of travel and adventure and seeing the world, just as their childhood friend had. Seeing the spires and majesty of Ishgard was just many of those places. She, on the other hand, had dreamed of something far more selfish. The desire to return to Ishgard to find a Temple Knight. One knight in particular. The knight that she knows is her own. Not in thr sense that he would sweep her off her feet and carry her into a happy ending. No, this knight is truly her own as they are meant to be together. Bound together through the ages and life after life.
She waited for the day she would see him march with others through their settlement as the war with the dragons ever drug on. Her eyes would scan over each face of troops to the point she knew who was a veteran and who was new. None were him. The thought struck her one year that perhaps he was unable to come and find her. Something made him incapable of doing so... or, perhaps even, he had no wish to do so as he had no desire to be with her.
It broke her heart.
She had spent that winter confined to her bed with the realization. Phya had always been a sickly girl. One that was small for her size due to lack of nutrition. One that had the natural talent of healing, but it seemed to tax her as a result. The conjures of the south believed it was the payment for being such a naturally skilled healer. The elements blessed her and thus demanded compensation as well. Whatever the reason for it, Phya was often bed ridden and had only the company of her sister, their best friend, and the small tan fox she had been given one Starlight Eve from knight. The very same fox that remains with her belongings with her sister in the Foretemps home.
The Azure Dragoon and she turn the corner and continue down a road that causes her to stop in her tracks. Her eyes widen and her hands shake. The bottles in the basket she carries rattle slightly. The way the arch above hangs, the sight of the Astrologian guild ahead... ]
I thought you might find this a familiar place. After all, you lived here once. [ The Azure Dragoon half turns. ] Our destination is ahead. Keep walking.
[ Phya wordlessly catches up to the seasoned Dragoon and follows after him.
Her heart pounds.
An adventurer had come through on his way to Ishard. Wrapped in robes and an axe on his back. He said he needed those who might know more of Corethas to aid him in getting to the capital city. Her sister had immediately volunteered as she too was looking for someone. Their childhood friend had left a handful of years before in order to work with a group from Sharlyan researching ruins. They had yet to hear from them. Phya knew her twin sister and friend were close.
She only went with out of the fear of being left behind.
It hardly mattered if she was far from being able to fight on her own or had been sick at the time. The idea of rotting away in their small refuge town while her sister was adventuring was out of the question. The adventurer, Ardbert, had his reservations but allowed it simply as it was obvious her sister would not leave without her.
They had been on their way to the Foretemps Manor when the Azure Dragoon had stepped into their path and demand the healer come with him for the time being.
The Dragoon stops at a door. Phya feels her heart stop. He raises his hand and knocks. The door opens from a middle aged eleven man, looking between the two. The Stewart of the House it seems. ]
Another, Estinien? You know Ser Borel would turn her away.
He won't turn her away. She is skilled in dealing with his "condition."
[ Condition?
A sense of duty and chance fills her to override the heart pounding anxiety. If she could heal a Lord of Ishgard, then, it would ease the public's weariness of the strangers House Foretemps took in. Would it not? Perhaps the local healers would be annoyed another had healed him, but, she is still Corethian. She is still of their people. That must mean something.
The Stewart sighs and allows them entry.
Phya freezes the moment she stands in the foyer. She knows this place. The furniture is in different places then it should be, but, she knows where she is. She knows which noble house this belongs to now. Her hands shake as the sense of simply knowing from her heart fills her.
This is his home.
Her Knight's home.
Does she deserve to call him "hers" after so long? More than a lifetime? The worry comes forward again that her would have nothing to do with her now. That he would turn her away for leaving him behind and having him wait for so many years...
Her attention snaps to with the Stewart and the Dragoon stare at her. Ears bend against her head and her larger tail curls around her slightly. She glances between them before down again. ]
Announcing her would simply have him turn her away. Allow her to be here and when he inevitably worsens tonight as we fear, let her in to heal him. He won't argue.
How can you be so certain, Ser Estinien?
Unlike your lord, I am fully aware of his condition and who might treat him. She is the only one he would allow. He simply would not realize it at first due to his sour mood. Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
...the Lord Commander? [ Phya looks between them again. No, he had been a knight... ] I had no idea...
Why would you? It has been nearly a century. [ The Azure Dragoon huffs. ] Much has--
[ The sound of a crash echoes through the halls. The three come to attention and the Stewart quickly moves down the hall. The discussion between him and head maid can be heard before he returns. The middle aged Elezen stares at Phya.
Then, he sighs and motions for her to follow him.
Phya holds the basket against her chest as they quickly head to the master bedroom suite. ]
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For the most part, they chalked that off to the rather dire state that he was in, because he was hardly in good condition at all, and yet he refused their efforts to convince him to be seen by a healer. Of course, they knew the reasons behind his continued refusals, and yet they could not help but worry at the way he seemed to deteriorate almost before their eyes.
Somehow, however, he managed to stand up and move about as the mood took him, and they barely understood how that was possible. The house steward posited that his sudden change gave him a greater endurance than he might have had before, but that said endurance was hardly permanent.
No, it seemed as though Aymeric's health waxed and waned, but he still refused to be looked at by anyone, healer or otherwise. Most of his days were spent alone in his private quarters, and that was how he preferred it.
He did not wish to see or speak to anyone, although there was one notable figure who decidedly ignored Aymeric's wishes, repeatedly breaking through the walls he attempted to set up in his own attempt to get the man to do something.
But Aymeric would not do something. He had no interest in doing much of anything, even without the injuries he'd managed to sustain from a particularly determined dragon. Perhaps a part of him was resigned to letting himself simply pass on because of the wounds he'd received. A dragon's bite was no insignificant thing, after all, and Aymeric had sustained more than one. Still, it was the largest of them that gave him the most trouble. The combination of the smaller wounds and the more dire one worked together to render him unable to move at some points, and only what remained of his once rock solid willpower was enough to see him leave his bed from time to time.
So, at the present, Aymeric remains unaware of anything that his old friend Estinien may or may not be doing. As far as he is concerned, the outcomes of all of Estinien's visits will always be the same. He will not see a healer, and he will not be coaxed out of his gloomy state of mind and heart.
Today, Aymeric is slightly more lucid than other days, and this particular day sees him pacing a very clearly marked circle in his chambers. He feels ill at ease for reasons he doesn't bother to look into, as there is no point in looking into much of anything. On occasion, he hears bits of conversation, and exchanges between the household staff. He thinks that he hears another voice, a voice that he unfortunately knows quite well: Estinien, returned with yet another healer from what Aymeric is able to decipher.
That outcome will not change either. He has had enough of healers. He will not consent to being seen by one, not now and not ever.
Although much of the conversation being held is one that Aymeric cannot hear, he does make out one particular line:
Who would have believed the Lord Commander to brood more than the infamous Azure Dragoon?
Frustration and anger sparks to life inside him, and in a fit of something bordering on rage, he grabs the nearest object (a wooden bucket) and hurls it away from him.
The sudden act throws him off balance, as he is more unsteady than he would care to admit, and he has to throw out a hand to brace himself against the closest wall.
... Perhaps venting his anger was not the best idea nor the brightest. ]
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The Azure Dragoon pushes past the two and steps into the room himself. He closes the door behind them. As far as he is concerned? This is a matter--for the moment--between the two of them. His steel colored eyes land on the struggling Lord Commander with a look of annoyance, and truthfully, disappointment. He knows Aymeric can be a far better man than he is acting at the moment. ]
You've caused quite the scene, Lord Commander. [ Estinien crosses his arms with a faint hint of amusement and yet annoyance in his voice. ] Pull yourself together. The Temple Knights, especially Ser Haurchefant, would be amiss to see you in such a state.
[ A hand raises and gestures to the door. ] I've brought a healer for you. One who understands your particular "condition." At the very least she could get you on your feet to be more presentable.
Did you hear? The Warrior of Light of the Eorzean Alliance has arrived in Ishgard.
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But as the doors open and Estinien steps inside the room, Aymeric instantly realizes that he is no longer alone in his self-imposed solitude. He stiffens and straightens up, and a sharp glare falls into place on his face. Of course, it is too late to pretend that he did not lose control of himself and give in to his anger and frustrations, but he does his best to maintain the pretense regardless. ]
I do not recall giving you, or anyone else, leave to enter. [ Aymeric has straightened up, but he deliberately keeps his gaze averted from his old friend's. ] As for the Temple Knights, you have no reason to be concerned that they will see anything they should not. [ There is a reason he has cloistered himself in this room, rarely venturing out, if he does at all.
Aymeric's expression darkens further at the mention of the healer that Estinien has brought along. ]
You know my opinion on that. I have no use for healers, and I do not consent to being seen by one, no matter how much they may claim to understand... No, I will not be seen.
[ His gaze briefly shifts at the announcement of the arrival of the Warrior of Light, but only the barest hint of a spark at the news shows in his eyes. ]
I suppose you will keep me apprised of events following the Warrior's arrival. When you are able, of course.
[ Aymeric feels his wounds protest because he has remained standing for too long, but he has no interest in letting Estinien see the effect they have on him. He crosses his arms in front of him and does his best to remain upright. ]
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[ Estinien thinks upon events for a moment. The wound that has caused their moody Lord Commander to hole himself up must have happened in the Dravanian attack after the banquet. He was on his own missions at the time, but even word reached him of how the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights had since bundled himself up within his manor. A strange turn of events, as many thought that perhaps Eorzea's Warrior of Light had begun to melt his rather icy exterior. ]
Do not be a fool, Aymeric. We are both aware that as the leader of the Temple Knights, you will need to meet with the Warrior of Light at some point or another. Even more so given that he and his... entourage have been given a place to stay within House Foretemps. One of the few Houses you remain on good standings with. Politics and I do not mingle, and yet even the Dragoons are aware of that much.
[ He glances over Aymeric once more. ] If you will not be seen, then, do you intend to eat to regain your strength? What if the Archbishop calls upon the Lord Commander?
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[ He is uncomfortably aware that Estinien will most likely find the holes in his logic, but logic is not at the forefront of his thoughts at the moment. ]
Will I? Perhaps. But perhaps I have no intention of continuing to remain Lord Commander, and perhaps that would be best for the Temple Knights and for the people of Ishgard as a whole. I am not surprised to learn that House Fortemps has taken in the Warrior of Light and his entourage, but the question remains: will I remain on good standing with them now?
[ The look on his face suggests he does not believe that to be the case. ]
As for the Archbishop: surely he would rather see another take on the mantle of Lord Commander. [ He knows he just sidestepped Estinien's first question, but his lack of a response is an answer in its own way. ]
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[ As the men continue to argue, the trio beyond the door quietly react. The steward shakes his head and sighs, the head maid frets. Phya remains still, her eyes turned to the basket in her hands. Ears press firmly against her head. Her tail uncurls and simply hangs.
The emotion that fills her heart is far from heartbreak. Rather, a sorrowful acceptance has crossed her face. Why would he wish to see her? The denial is for healers, not her as a person, but Phya is aware of a fact the other two are not. She left him. She had died and left him behind in a cruel world with an even crueler fate.
Why would he wish to see her again? Why would he even wish to venture and find her reborn? Why would he allow her to even aid him and open himself to the pain of abandonment all over again?
Phya closes her eyes and her head hangs slightly.
This is reception is deserved. I hardly deserve anything more... should I find a way to unbind us?
The latter thought comes from somewhere deep inside her. Perhaps it best if she freed him of her as well. Then, he would have no duty nor reason to allow her to hurt him ever again. Her own heart squeezes and a shake forms in her hands at the mere concept.
He deserves to make the choice. No matter what I desire.
Her hands curl and hold the basket in her arms closer.
She had waited so many years for the moment to see him. He is owed an apology and a lifetime of mending. She was the one that wronged him. His misery is her doing, and at the least, she would wish to help make it right once more. Yet, she had always the fear and knowing that he could simply wish nothing from her again. In any life.
Should she leave now?
The basket lowers so she holds it by the handle. Her gaze shifts to the ground before looking to the door once more. If nothing else? She would leave the medicine in the care of the staff and instruct them on what might be done. ]
Be responsible and at least allow the healer to look over your wounds and instruct you on how to care for them.
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Is that all you came here to say?
[ He turns slightly and eyes the disheveled bed in the room, contemplating returning to it and turning his back to the dragoon. He feels an undercurrent of regret, wondering if the friendship he has with Estinien will end because of this. He does consider the man his brother, and yet what has happened to him has changed him in more ways than one.
His outlook on life and on his relationships and duties and everything in between has been altered, perhaps forever. At the present, he can hardly see past the monster he feels he has become. Who is Aymeric de Borel anymore? Certainly not the man he once was. How can he continue being the Lord Commander, the one people look to for leadership of their defenses?
As far as he can tell, he can no longer be that man. ]
What good will it do? [ He shakes his head, but he feels as though he may as well acquiesce on this one thing, if only so that Estinien will stop badgering him about it. ] I suppose this healer you've found can't do any more harm.
Do they really know what they are getting into?
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The good doctor is still on the front lines at a Vigil. Another healer will need to suffice until he returns to Ishgard.
And yes, I believe she is fully aware of what it all entails.
[ Estinien turns and opens the door behind him. Then steward and head maid step back. The Dragoon turns his head to Phya, finding her sorrowful look of acceptance. He rolls his eyes. ]
I can simply instruct how to care and then take my leave. I... if he does not wish to have me here...
[ Estinien simply steps aside and motions for the woman to enter. Phya glances at the room before slowly entering. Her eyes are still cast downwards, hands holding onto the basket, tail still. The large hood hides her ears, but it's clear she is a Miqo'te. ]
She and her sister came to Ishgard with the Warrior of Light. They hail from one of the outlying towns that have managed to survive despite the Calamity.
[ Phya curtseys, keeping her eyes down. Her heart pounds. She knows simply being in the same room that he is the one she had waited for. Hearing his voice had been enough. The manor. Everything tells her that she is supposed to be here.
And yet, the Lord Commander himself would rather she not be present. She understands. She passed. Left him behind. It has been nearly a century, isn't that what the Azure Dragoon had said? ]
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I am of the opinion that perhaps Ishgard is better off with another at the helm. With that in mind, what is the use of doctors or healers? But I can also recognize that you are unwilling to be swayed in either direction.
[ That hardly makes him happy, but what can he do? When Estinien opens the door once more and beckons someone (the healer, he presumes) inside, at first, Aymeric does not even look at her. He has refused healing this long, and he is hardly warmed up to the idea.
What he sees in his peripheral vision is enough to cause something to stir inside Aymeric; it is a sensation he has not felt in many years, and he imagined he would not feel it again. A part of him wondered if he was incapable of feeling it now. But there is a nudge, and a pulling sensation, something telling him that he needs to get closer to the woman who just entered his private chambers.
Why? She isn't... she can't be. She has been gone for quite some time, and if she even returned...
The sensation grows stronger, and he feels the strong pull urging him to step closer to her. To take her hands. Look her in the eyes.
Instead... He does the opposite, mostly unwillingly, as he would never choose to cause such a scene in front of observers. The nudging and the pulling sensations very nearly cause his head to swim, perhaps because he resists them. But perhaps his sudden unsteadiness is due to a bit of shock or surprise that he has yet to fully identify the reasons for. It has something to do with the small woman in the room, but what?
Unfortunately, he has no time to think on that further as he staggers suddenly on unsteady legs, and before he can try to pull himself together, he ends up on his knees on the hard floor beneath them.
... So much for maintaining appearances. ]
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[ Things happen very quickly.
Estinien is in front of Aymeric the moment he hits the floor. The dragoon lifts him, pulling him to the bed. He glances over the Lord Commander before looking over his shoulder. With a curt nod, he motions for Phya to join them.
Phya does.
She does not move hesitantly, but instead, with a sense caution. Not because of his illness or because he seemingly wishes nothing to do with her. The situation as to his condition is unknown to her. Any sudden movement--especially with how he does not wish her to even be present--could cause him to react in an even worse manner.
Estinien lays the Elezen out on the bed. Phya stays behind him, feeling as if she has to earn back the right to even look him in the eyes. Let alone say the names that come to mind for him. ]
I... need to see the injury so that I might instruct them on how to care for it. M-may I see it, ser?
[ The formalities make her heart beat painfully. They should be closer than they are. She shouldn't hesitate to touch him. She should throw her arms around him and cry for their reunion. Fear grips her instead and she stands at the side of the bed with her hands raised slightly. ]
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He dimly registers Phya moving from out of the corner of his eye, but his focus remains on trying to keep hold of his senses. It's a losing fight, or so it seems, but he's still trying his best to not pass out entirely. It's bad enough that Estinien- that his friend and brother has to move him like this.
He might be reduced to hiding in his private chambers and refusing to see anyone, but he still retains the smallest semblance of pride. It's just hard to see it in the way he behaves now.
Estinien places him on the bed, and Aymeric feels something inside himself recoiling in something like embarrassment. Perhaps it is strange that this would cause him embarrassment and not his equally embarrassing display from just moments ago. He does not need to be told that he behaves shamefully, because he knows that he does already. That is just one of many reasons why he wishes to withdraw from being seen as much as possible.
From his position on the bed, he hears the quiet request from the healer Estinien brought to see him, and at first, he does not respond. He wants to turn his back to both of them, to wall himself off once more, but he knows that doing so would do no good at all. He has no energy at the moment for another prolonged argument with Estinien, and so, while he does try to turn himself away from both of them (not quite managing it due to his present weakness), he replies in a quiet, low tone, hating the hesitant, halting way the words come out. ]
If you insist. I won't prevent you from looking, if that is what you wish.
[ He knows what she'll see when she looks: the roadmap of lacerations and scratches of varying sizes, and the bite that caused all this in the center of it all, angry and inflamed because he let it go uncared for. Part of him recoils inwardly at the thought of being bared for her to see, but it seems as though this is one matter that he won't be allowed to continue pushing to the side.
And now matter how much he might wish to be left alone, he knows better than to think that Estinien cares much about his wishes, at least as far as this current matter is concerned. ]
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Estinien nods.
Phya steps up to the bed properly. The Dragoon reaches forward and helps Aymeric settle properly on his side. She stills until the Lord Commander is settled and then carefully moves. Her hands curl around his shirt and gently tug it up until his hip and side of his abdomen is bare for her to see.
Her eyes widen.
Her heart feels as if it drops into the floor.
Estinien unfolds his arms and shakes his head.
Phya glances up at Aymeric's face before continuing. Her hands tremble as one gently raises above the injury. The horrors if the injury is one matter, but the true tremors come from the overwhelming electric feeling of being near him again. After years of waiting, he is right below her. She could reach out and touch his face or his hair and ask to stay with him once more.
The realization settles in once more that he wishes nothing to do with her. Even if he has realized her true identity. It causes her heart to sink once more, but she knows she cannot blame him or be angry. After all, she was the one that left him behind in this state he hates.
Her head tilts down. The trembling hand settles above his injury. The aether is chaotic. Not due to the injury, although that certainly hasn't helped. It flows at such a speed that all that comes to mind is darkness in the aetheric matter.
Some images come to mind as she gently allows the aether to flow over her hand. Battles. War. Dragons. Her eyes open then with a small frown. ]
A dragon bit him. Not an elder one, but small enough to be able to strike at him. [ Phya tilts her head slightly. Then, her eyes raise to Estinien. ] The wound is deep and has started to heal in it's own way. I... I can instruct the house staff how to heal it from this point on. Provide what's needed for it. I'll do the first dressing and application.
[ Estinien glances at Aymeric before nodding. He has pushed his point enough. His brother will need to recuperate and there is no point in pushing further for him to accept a healer.
Phya nods in return before turning away from the Lord Commander. Her hands quietly shift through the basket before pulling out a potion and bandages. She glances once more towards the man before looking at the items in her hand. She could heal him properly with aether and her medicines if she felt she was allowed to do so. She won't press. Ardbert and her sister still need to be accepted into Ishgard, and upsetting the head of the Temple Knights could tip that unfavorably. Beyond that, she does not need to upset him more than she has.
If he hates her now, then there is little she can do.
Phya moves to the door of the chambers. The head maid and steward look up. She looks at their faces, before quietly requesting a clean bowl of warm water. The wound needs to be cleaned before she can treat it.
Estinien glances once more at Aymeric. ]
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[ She simply squeezes his hand once more. Her fingers trail along his, the back of his hand, and his wrist. Small motions with feather light touch to ease him into sleep. It's far from the suggestion abilities she had in her previous life, but she hopes the gentle motions will simply lure him to sleep. When he finally rests? She closes her eyes to find a few hours herself.
Then, she is awake and back to her tasks.
Phya first speaks with the household staff and informs them of the progress of Aymeric's wounds. She assures that he has eaten in his unique way, to which both the maid and the steward seem relieved to hear. She requests another cup and explains that she will have potions to place on his wounds if further needed. Once he has awaken, eaten, and moved to the bath? He will need the linens changed on the bed. Then, hopefully, with a day or the one after.
She brings the empty cup back to bedroom and begins to gently tidy up. She checks the stock on her bandages. A mental note is made to restock as well. The potions are in good condition. His body has responded well to the blood and rest so the potions have not been as necessary.
A knife is pulled out and once again and she presses it into her skin. Blood rolls down into the cup below. Once enough has been collected? She heals her wound and wipes her arm off. Then, she places the cup on the bedside table. A hand reaches out and she gently squeezes Aymeric's arm once more to wake him. ]
Aymeric.
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To have to confront that realization is more than he thinks he can handle. So, to that end, he tries to fight off the exhaustion that is trying to pull him down. But in the end, the exhaustion is greater than his ability to resist it, and slowly and reluctantly, his eyelids finally close and he relaxes fully against the bed.
Still, his sleep is light, lighter than one might suppose. He is resting, but some part of his mind is aware of things going on around him. Footsteps register in his mind even as he sleeps, but even he can't quite always follow who they belong to.
It isn't until she squeezes his arm and says his name that he begins to stir again. A handful of moments pass before he finally shifts on the bed and his eyes open once more. ]
Lantaa. You're still here. [ You didn't leave.
He hopes that she can tell that his tone is a grateful one, grateful that she did not leave him as he feared she would. Perhaps he can begin to accept that she is real and not a figure conjured up in dreams. ]
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Of course.
[ Phya understands why the concern exists. She had left him behind. Even if he sees it that he had failed her? The fact does not change that he was left alone for decades because she passed. She will need to prove that she is there every morning until that wound heals in his heart.
In her mind? He is the stronger of them. The wound on his heart does not go deep into the soul as hers do. He is able to keep himself hopeful and believing they will have lives together. ]
You need to eat, Aymeric. Then, we can see to a bath and changing the linens.
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Perhaps in that way, Phya is more in tune with herself and her feelings than Aymeric is. ]
Have you eaten yet? Your needs should be seen to as well, if not seen to first.
[ He is confident that he can go awhile without eating; Phya, on the other hand, deserves to have her needs met first and completely, as it appears she has gone without for too long. ]
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What will it take for this wound in my heart to heal? ]
I thought to eat once you had bathed and the linens changed. You will have a comfortable place to rest and I could eat beside you. It wouls give us time to talk. [ A strained smile touches her face. ] It would be rude to eat in front of a vampire when he has yet to feast himself.
[ A hand raises to gesture to the cup on the table beside him. ] I have already prepared it. Do you need help to sit?
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Perhaps he is the one who became lost in his misery, withdrawing from the world and from the people in it, disconnecting himself from life and living. Perhaps she is truly the stronger one of the two of them, as she has been out there in the world, not cutting herself off from it as he so thoroughly has. ]
How long has it been since you last ate? And how long has it been since you felt warm and safe? [ He can only guess at what her days have been like, but a part of him is certain that she has not always had something hot to eat or somewhere safe to lie down and sleep for the night. ] But if that is what you wish to do... The time to talk with you would be welcome. But then- it would not be rude of you to eat. I would not think it so.
[ Still, it seems as though she has already made preparations, he decides to not protest further. As for her question, he tries to make an attempt at sitting up without aid, and the effort he makes is the best one he can manage, but in the end, he decides he will have to accept her assistance for a little while longer. ]
If it is not too much trouble... and you have gone through enough trouble already on my account. [ If she declines, he will continue as best as he can. ]
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[ Many Temple Knights told her as such when they would pass through. Not that any called the Lord Commander by name.
Phya shakes her head at herself.
Her hands reach out to help him sit. Not that she has much weight in the way of leverage. Once he is balanced? She holds the cup for him to take. A thought remains in the back of her mind that he disliked eating from her directly before. Something inside her ripples at the idea of feeding him directly, but are the feelings her own or simplg because she is near him and he is a vampire? Not that the feeling matters. She does not wish him to be angry or to ever dislike what she does for him. If feeding him from the cup is the best way? Then, she will do that. ]
You should eat before me. [ Her eyes move away to give him some semblance of privacy as he drinks. ] Bathing will aid in the feeling of being fresh, and with new linens, you can finish your recuperation in comfort. We... we can talk on whatever you wish.
[ He will need her full name. Her new name. Others will say it and he will hear it regardless.]
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[ Perhaps it is a futile endeavor, but Aymeric knows he has spent too long doing nothing and letting the world pass him by. He needs to put an end to that now.
Or at least as soon as he is able, with his recovery.
He tries to make the process of sitting up less difficult for them both, and he does his best to not lean against her too much, lest he inadvertently hurt her. But once he is seated and the cup is extended to him, there is barely any hesitation before he reaches for it. He does not drink it too quickly or too greedily, as he feels such things are unbecoming even for him, but there is no ignoring the fact that he is hungry, perhaps hungrier than even he realized.
This hunger is not just a need for replenishing his supply; the taste of the blood she offers adds to that hunger, that need to drink. ]
Not always, I hope. I hope that you will allow me to see you fed first. And as for the rest- well, I can do without it, but if you insist.. I imagine I would be easier for you to be around if I am clean.
[ As clean as one such as him can be, at any rate. ]
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[ Perhaps she should not have admitted that to the Lord Commander. However, he needs to know as his entire capacity. Surely he had read the reports that came from the settlements. If they mentioned aid from beyond would be an entirely different matter.
Her ears twitch gently at the sound of him drinking. Eyes remain downwards in order to show that she does not see him as some sort of show or entertainment. He has needs to be met that are not human by any means. Yet, he does not need to be made a show of for others--even herself. Something tells her he would always prefer to eat in private away from the eyes of others. If need be? She will prepare cups and leave the room so that he might feed. Rats, in her mind now, are out of the question for his dietary needs. ]
It's... rude, isn't it? If I eat before you. Given you eat so differently. [ A frown tugs to her face and ears press to her head. ] It is not a matter of "be easier to be around." This is for your own health, of mind and body.
[ Once he has finished, Phya gently takes the cup from him to place on the table. She crosses to the door and calls for the household staff. The headmaid arrives with linens while the steward also arrives to aid Aymeric into the bathroom to bathe. Phya and the headmaid change the linens and blankets. A finger is wagged at the young Miqo'te for not asking for her own meal before the Elezen leaves to deposit the laundry as well as fetch a meal.
Phya glances at the bathroom door before taking a seat on the bed. That is, until the stewart fetches a fresh pair of clothes for Aymeric and returns to the bathroom. Moments later the Lord Commander is escorted back to the bed. Phya stands, only to find that the stewart also brings a chair for her to sit in beside the bed. She is instructed to sit and thus she does obediently. The other member of the staff leaves the room with a soft click of the door.
The young Miqo'te blinks then raises her gaze back to the Elezen beside her. ] Your maid is bringing breakfast.
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I am hardly in a position to enact change, but if I were- I would see the outer settlements cared for properly, in the same way that those residing within Ishgard are cared for. Perhaps one day, I will have a position that allows me to do more.
[ But perhaps that day will never come either, as many have no care for a vampire. He can only imagine that most would not take well to being led by one either.
These thoughts swirl in his mind even as he drinks his fill, only ceasing the train of thought when Phya speaks again. ]
How is it rude? Our manner of feeding may be different, and I imagine mine is quite distasteful to witness, and so in that regard, I should not eat in front of you. That does not mean that you should alter your own routines; if you wish to eat before me, I will not stop you. [ He would protest more as to the act of replacing the linens and ensuring that he bathes, but it seems as though her mind is quite well made up, and so he refrains from saying more.
Events move fairly quickly after that, with him being ushered into the bathroom and Phya and the head maid seeing to changing the linens. Eventually, Aymeric returns to the bed, a location that he finds himself eyeing with some distaste. Perhaps he is tired of the bed, of lying down. But if he has the willpower to stand and move about, it is only because of Phya and her assistance.
Still, he supposes he is not fully recovered yet, even though he feels capable of remaining standing, and so he allows himself to be escorted to the bed once more. ]
Good. If the food that is brought is not enough for you, I will send one of the household staff into the city to bring whatever it is you require.
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A bashful smile takes her face before looking down. She is not one to eat much. Somehow that seems as if he will find it disagreeable.
Breakfast is delivered. Phya thanks the staff for their aid and they see themselves out. She gently moves her fork around before taking a few bites. A pit has formed in her stomach and not of hunger. Something else that feels as if had always lurked beneath the surface in this life, her past, and possibly many others. Phya takes another bite before placing the food to the side.
Then, she stands. She turns to face Aymeric on the bed. Her smaller hands reach out to help him sit up once more if his side finds it agreeable.
She must say this before the will leaves her and she finishes her breakfast feeling things have been upstate. A sharp inhale and she raises her blue eyes to his own. White hair frames her darker complexion. Hands curl around his. ]
Aymeric. [ Her love, her only one, her knight and lord. The titles come to mind but she dare not speak them.
An older gaze settles into her eyes. Her voice seems to age ever so slightly when she speaks: ] I... have always felt that in any life, I can't express how much I love you. How deeply and truly that I love you. How completely and utterly those emotions capture me and always have... even in the time where I asked you to bind ourselves to one another.
[ Her gaze lowers further. ] How... I wish I was more like the woman you surely fell in love with. Not the one I've become.
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Perhaps since that has been his frame of mind for quite some time, it really does not matter to him that he can no longer enjoy things that others do as part of their day to day lives. If Phya wishes to eat, she has no reason to feel ashamed of it or limit herself because of him. He wants her to be healthy and well and whatever she has to do to become so is more than fine with him.
Once Phya's breakfast is delivered and she begins to eat, Aymeric simply lies back and lets his thoughts wander while she eats her fill. He does not allow his mind to wander so much that he is not attentive to her movements or if she should say something to him, but he simply lies there quietly and waits. Then, once she is seemingly finished (far too soon, in his mind), she stands and his attention focuses on her once more.
He smiles a small smile when her hands reach out for his, and he allows her to help with repositioning until he is sitting upright again.
Unless he is mistaken, something is on her mind and she wishes to put her thoughts into words, and so he remains quiet, waiting for her to speak. Her tone deepens and seems to age in a matter of seconds, and that, more than anything, is what wakes up a strong pull inside him: a strong desire for her. The desire has always been there, but now it is fully awake and reaching for her. ]
Even if you could not find the words you wished to use, I always knew. And I know that even now, because... because you came back. You could have chosen not to, or you could have found another. [ Someone whole and unharmed, not like I am now. ]
I still see you as that woman. [ His lips turn up into a wider smile. ] As far as I am concerned, you are still her.
[ A look of slight apprehension comes to his own eyes and he quickly tries to conceal it before she can spot it. The last thing he intends is to cause her more worry than she already has. ]
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