Welcome to Gaia! ::

Ardea sighed and slumped in his desk chair, fiddling with the ribbon marker of his latest book. Though his eyes roved back and forth over the lines of text, he did not absorb any of it; he had had difficulty concentrating on much of anything the last day or two, really. Since his last visit to the library.

The heron fey could have sworn he had treaded a rut between his chambers and the library, so often had he wandered back and forth between the two rooms. Rarely had he encountered any other of his kind, though. Not to say he did not know they were there; on the contrary, he could recall many times when he had heard voices, mostly unfamiliar, pass within earshot of his closed door. None of them had ever stopped to visit him, though.

There was exactly one voice Ardea had awaited, but it was a voice he had not heard in quite some time. Perhaps he had heard other people outside whom he had thought to be Kithain by their tones, but never his own. It had put a very unpleasant feeling in him when Ardea had had to tell the little girl Lutra in the library that he suspected that his Kithain had vanished. And, though the heron would have hated to admit it, the feeling had not vanished since, but rather festered into something worse.

If Ardea had somehow lost his non-dominant left hand, he would still be able to survive, and to write. Some things might be a bit difficult, but he would find a way around them in time. Yet he had read that those with amputated limbs often felt phantom pains where the missing arm or leg would be. He deemed lacking a Kithain similar to this phenomena: the human was not vital to life, but not having one meant that a part of him, however unnecessary, was gone, and occasionally giving him "phantom pains" to boot. Ardea never missed people like one might miss a friend, though. Of course not.

At first, the pangs of loneliness were infrequent. As time went on, however, they began to strike more often, and with greater severity. What started as brief moments of doubt turned into simply horrid feelings of being forever forgotten, and finally into terrifying flashbacks of people simply passing Ardea's window by and paying him no more mind than any other castle adornment. Now the scribe found he could rarely sleep through the night without being awakened by the phantom pains. The resulting tiredness led him to be less inclined to venture forth from his room, which in turn caused him even more loneliness.

Not that he would ever admit it. Ardea knew he needed no one else. He only left his chambers when he needed to eat, or go down to the library. Otherwise, he just read.

Abruptly, the heron fey jerked himself back to reality and the present; quite literally in fact, as he had dozed off in his seat, and was nearly on the verge of dropping out of it and onto the floor. Blinking wearily, Ardea rubbed his eyes and shut his book, then forced himself to sit up straight again. Colors flickered slowly in his vision, and he felt a bit dizzy. So those sleepless nights were beginning to take a toll on his health.... Ardea knew enough of medicine to figure he had a fever.

Slowly, he dragged himself to his feet, resting one hand on the desk to steady himself. As he rose, he caught sight of himself in his dresser mirror, between two stacks of books on either side of the looking glass. Gods, he looked terrible! Slowly, joints aching from sickness, he made his way to the mirror, frowning at the gaunt, pale face reflected back at him. Carefully, Ardea smoothed the feathers on the small wings sprouting from his head, and combed his fingers through his hair.

"I should get some sun," he murmured to himself as he stood straight, once his hair was to his satisfaction. "I do not particularly care to speak with anyone at the moment," he clarified aloud, "I just want a bit of natural light."

Feeling a bit reassured and ever so slightly more energetic, Ardea shuffled back to his desk and outened the candle stub that burned there. Then he turned toward the door, opened it, and ventured into the hallway.

Ardea peered back at the white-haired fey, one hand slowly raising to cover his mouth. He did not want her to catch whatever he had given himself through lack of sleep. Still, the heron could not help but wonder if this was some sort of cruel joke. Here, he had scarcely left his room, and there was already someone to stare at how awful he looked. At least she did not seem to be doing much better.

Oh well, he figured he would just keep on his way. Ardea coughed softly into his hand as he started walking, moving to one side of the hallway so he could pass the other fey. He was certain he had never met her, but as he got a bit closer, Ardea thought he saw something in her he recognized.

Unable to just walk away from an introduction, Ardea stopped beside her. "No, not new." He frowned a bit behind his hand and coughed a few times before continuing. "I have actually been here quite a while. I suppose I just... age well." Though this other fey appeared older than him, Ardea felt with a strange cetainty that he was older than her.

"Muris," he repeated, eyebrows drawing down in thought as he looked her over again. "I am Ardea, court researcher." The heron bowed, coughing into his hand again as he did so. Even after he straightened, it took a few seconds for the cough to stop. "My apologies for this meeting," Ardea added, "I am afraid I have gone and made myself sick, and was just heading outside for some sun and fresh air." His tone rose slightly at the end of the statement to make it sound like a bit of a question; he was not completely thrilled with the idea of having to entertain this fey on his walk, yet Ardea did not want to be rude and completely shut out the prospect of her accompanying him. For now, the heron would wait to see if she asked first.

Part of the heron was deeply relieved at the idea of company, but there was still also that desire to be alone. Ardea gave in to the former, and replied with a nod. Certainly not because he needed the company, though. He just... had no authority to tell this mouse where she could and could not go, and her path just happened to be the same as his.

"Alright, shall we go then?" Ardea asked hoarsely. Another fit of coughing cleared his voice, and once it was passed, he muttered, "I hope I do not make you sick as well."

Ardea ventured to move his hand away from his face once they were outside, except for when it was necessary to stifle the occasional brief coughing fit. The small wings on his head spread like leaves on a plant at dawn, as though to welcome the light that fell on the heron fey's body. The fey's need for sun was quite evident once they were out in it, especially; Ardea's skin had taken on a paler hue from spending so much time inside, and he nearly had to squint his eyes shut for the first several minutes once he was outside. Idly, he wondered if this was what a Moon Court fey felt like, crawling out of a dank hole into the glorious-yet-overpowering light of the sun. This thought made Ardea wish to hurry the process of reacquainting himself with sunlight.

Since Muris seemed quiet once they were out, Ardea felt no pressing need to talk to her. Yet she had mentioned some sort of an adventure....

"Where was it that you went?" the heron asked after several minutes. It was not out of personal curiousity, but merely a desire to preserve whatever story she had to tell. As was his habit.

"What!?" Ardea croaked half a second before another coughing fit made him hack and croup until his eyes watered. He recovered from the fit before the initial surprise at what Muris said wore off, though.

"So they had the nerve to kill one of ours," the heron muttered angrily, his eyebrows drawing down into a scowl. "And to harm a woman, too. Damn them...."

Damn himself, too, Ardea thought, for sitting around reading and getting sick while all this was going on. He would have to be sure to stay involved in things, now that he had finally gotten over his desire to remain alone. He doubted he would be much good if it came to war with the Moon Court, but he could at least to something provided that he was not just locked away in his room.

The heron gave her a sharp sidelong glance. "They told you he died? You did not actually see a body? If he is dead, then that was cruel and heartless of them. But if he is not...." He trailed off for a moment as he turned to peer down at her a bit more directly. "Then what could you do?"

Ardea was silent for a few moments to let that sink in as he glanced back to the path before them. Then he had to cough a bit again, which led him to ask raspily, "Where might I find this Ursa?"

So, all it took was to tell Muris that her companion was dead, and she would accept it as fact? Truly, no faith in her friend at all. Ardea thought about straight-out telling her that he truly believed that the Moon Court fey were lying, but decided after a moment that perhaps it would be better for her if he was socratic about it.

"So they never showed you his body? As far as you know it is still at the Moon Court's castle?" he asked, his voice carrying the tone of a teacher quizzing a student.

(( Sure, whenever you're ready. My apologies for the delay in posting; I had to babysit this afternoon xd ;; ))