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She flinched.

There was a time when offering hope was helpful, and other times when dangling the bait in front of the beast only made it mad with frenetic hope and fanaticism... followed by the eventual turning of the beast upon the bait holder. Ayra knew the words were too late to take back, but nevertheless could not help but flinch when he healed her- the normally cool array of light that would soothe wounds felt instead like the icy embrace of an ice spirit- the embrace of a promise she did not know could be kept.

"In our land, those of Bragi blood are said to have had the ability to commune with the spirits in a grand tower- perhaps there is one in this land that would be the same. A place where one can speak to the spirits, pray for their aid, and receive the staff of revival." Remembering Claude's golden locks and kind eyes for a moment, she shut her eyes to the memory of his cloak as it caught aflame all those years ago. To prevent the assault of memories from continuing, Ayra kept speaking, her fists clenched shut and shaking slightly before she was able to finish her words.

"The Valkyrie Staff. A staff said to be able to raise the dead, should the spirits allow it. Never before have they offered it to those without the holy blood, but supposedly..." Another bitten off curse, another baiting statement she couldn't retract.

She resisted the urge to bite her tongue, lest she bite it off with how tense she felt.

"Supposedly it's given to those who are worthy. And the stories tell that there is usually one fountain of spirit communication where one can beg of their intervention in each land."

"Your chances are slim. It's better than no hope at all."

((Truth be told, I don't know what to do with Nil's transformation. XP I know he can transform into a dragon, but I don't know does he have the power within him or the stone. ))

"Time for you to go to sleep!" The woman laughed as she thrust the fireball toward the boy. The fireball soared through the air as if a blazing ray of sun was casted out of its armor. Some of the souls surrounding Nils flew away as if they did not want to be damaged. A few of the souls went to the fireball as if to stop it in its track. However, the souls evaporated when getting near the magic.

The fireball swirled toward Nils like a moth to the flame. The boy closed his eyes tightly while his hand clutched tightly over his chest as if expected some miracle to happen.Suddenly, something bright flashed out between the boy and the fireball.

"What?! What is happening?!" The woman yelled in surprised. The flash of light grew larger and brighter. Unable to see it, the woman raised her arm to cover her eyes from the brighter flash. A moment or two had passed as the light began to grow dimmer. Wondering what had happened, the woman lowered her arm and looked only to see more surprised ahead of her.

The boy still standing. No damage, no burning, not even a hint of flame onto the boy's clothing. In fact, the boy didn't even receive any damage from her. And in front of a boy was a white soul. So white as if it was pure and holy.

Flabbergasted of what happened, the woman had no idea of what to do. Suddenly, she felt something crawling onto her right arm. Looking at her arm, she saw it was her mistress' soul climbing up as if it was a snake. Her eyes widened with fear.

"Forgive me, my mistress. I don't know what happened." The woman pleaded as the soul continued to climb from her arm to her shoulder. "I don't know how the boy survived, but I assure you that I won't fail again!"

"Please!! Don't punish me yet, my glorious mistress!!" The woman begged as the soul wrapped around her neck. "I won't hesitate on my mission to-"

"Silence, Grishelda!!!" A voice came out of the woman's mouth. The woman widened her eyes with shock and surprise. That voice coming out of her month was not her own, but her mistress. How did she do it? She didn't know. And Grishelda?..... Was that..... her name?

With one end of the soul's long form, it wrapped around the woman's arm and raised up. The woman was surprised that her mistress is controlling her arm as her finger began to point to the boy. No..... Not the boy, but the white soul. She then suddenly felt her mistress' voice entered her month again.

"I don't know how you've came back to this plane from the world of the dead. No souls had ever come back from the world of the dead. Only from this plane and the world of living can the souls move back of forth. However, I will not let you ruin my plans, Athos."

Siegell kicked his feet up onto an ottoman, sitting comfortably on his temporary throne in the swanky inn in West Eyris. With the castle on fire and all and in terrible need of decorpseification, the new king had wisely chosen not to move in until his cleanup crews had gotten through with their work.

"Ah," he sighed, lifting a glass of wine up to the light. He stared through it for a moment, then swirled the red liquid inside and lifted it to his lips. Orders had been given; men had been sent to the castle; rooms had been requisitioned at no charge. Igor had presumably set up a little lab in the basement to perform surgery, but Siegell was much more interested in the lady sitting here in this room with him.

He smiled as he sipped his wine, rolling the dark red fluid back and forth over his tongue for a moment before he swallowed. "Ahh... to victory, Amelia." He beckoned her closer, scooting aside a bit to give her room to join him on the wide, comfortable easy chair that served as his throne. "It's time we spoke about your place in my..." He closed his eyes to savor the last word: "Empire."

Maiara slowly returned the Heal staff to her back, the breeze lifting her long dark brown hair and swirling it around her body. Tibarn's body was still weak, even after the dual attempt to heal him. His wounds were repaired, but his constitution hadn't been restored. Heal staves weren't perfect. She looked up to the dimly-lit path as Tibarn spoke, keeping his weight on the Berserker next to them. "Bad Noving... I see," she responded. Maiara cast her eyes back to the Hawk King, then wordlessly looped her arm around his back, under his free arm to help support him from the other side.

There was no excuse to not aid an injured commander. She walked slowly to account for his weight and his pace. Each step just reminded her of how far down his condition had fallen; he had been hardly able to speak coherently, and he had trouble standing on his own, even after being tended two (twice). Maiara bit her tongue, though. A teammate in trouble needed help, no matter how much you wished he could walk on his own. She didn't push the mauthe doog away. He hadn't threatened them; he could be an invaluable ally. Maiara tossed a small smile his way, hoping it would prompt him to stay close before looking back ahead.

The half hour seemed to drag on, but soon Maiara spied the light in the window in a distant shack. A pathetic little twinge went through her thoughts as she realized that it wasn't until Tibarn drew attention to it that she noticed it, and birds had even worse nightvision than she did. "Good. You, on the other hand," she started, her voice harsh. She paused, cleared her throat inaudibly, and tried again, voice softer now, "You have to rest." With that, she continued walking, not letting the mighty Hawk King be slowed down by his own weakened fortitude.

Amelia had been perfectly fine with not returning to the castle just yet. Getting a good night's rest would... kind of be difficult if you woke up face-to-face with a severed arm or found a bloody ear under your boot. As it was, the inn at least offered a decent bed, and the fireplace was already going, bathing the room in a warm yellow-orange light. Amelia listened to the snap and pop of the embers as she studied her own glass from a comfortable seat on a floor cushion, watching the light cast reflecting highlights off of the deep red liquid within. She wasn't much of a drinker, had rarely touched the stuff. Oh, there was an instance or two where she'd had a sip, but she'd never taken alcohol previously.

Tonight was as good a time as ever to try it more extensively, she supposed. Amelia took a sip, paused, letting the taste sit on her tongue before swallowing. Strong, but... not unpleasant. She had taken one more sip before Siegell spoke, body shifting to allow more room for her on the chair where he had perched himself. Amelia turned his gaze to him. The mask took on a warm yellow glow from the firelight, her eyes momentarily highlighting on the outline of his muscles from under his clothes. She didn't hesitate for long, rising to her feet from her spot on the rug. In a few moments, the smaller General was sitting next to Siegell, eyes half closed as she sipped a second time. While she had not pressed herself up against him (She did have some self-respect) her hip touched against his, legs separated by maybe a half-inch on the easy chair.

"It's time we spoke about your place in my... empire."

Amelia turned her green eyes to his amber-colored ones. "My place..." she said, voice soft. She paused for a moment, wondering about overstepping possible boundaries, then decided to screw worrying about that. She leaned her cheek gently against his shoulder. "What sort of place? Beyond being at your side."

She bit her lip, and gave him a little motion to stop, holding her hand up to buy a moment as she thought of the local lore. She wasn't too familiar with the foreign areas- just the generalized descriptions that everyone seemed to give- and it took Ayra a moment to truly try to think of the most plausible location. Crossing her arms, she closed her eyes and let her mind's eye wander.

A deep breath of dry, cold air reminded her of something, and she looked up to meet the shaman's eyes again. Her lips were dry, and when she spoke, she felt the area she bit crack slightly. The pain was nothing more than a distraction, spurning her on as she spoke- it was the boy's right to know, at the very least, where hope could possibly lie.

"A desert. Deserts are said to be havens of magic, a place where magicians run and the wings fly without hindrance. Try there- Sentria, I believe, is the name of the land. If not there, then-"

Tap. Tap. ...Eeeerrrrr...

The sound of a finger against the glass had Ayra immediately turning towards the window, with the streaking noise of the mysteriously dragging fingers sending a chill down her spine. One quick warning glance to Rei was all she could offer, for any more than that and she risked not being able to see a possible assailant. She kept silent, moving back slowly, waiting to ascertain the nature of the foe. Maternal instinct bade her to stay near her child, shielding her daughter herself if need be.

But Vah kept sleeping peacefully...

((Have to run. Sorry for the crappy post. D: ))

Maiara reached out uncertainly with one hand as Tibarn shoved away from her help, then put it at her side. The Hawk King was not one to trifle with, even in this condition... He's probably got enough pride that helping him now would just hurt him more, Maiara thought as she bit the inside of her cheek. She chewed away a sliver of inner skin as he approached the shack. Maiara's eyes were adjusting to this light, and already she could see the blood on his hand and dripping down to the ground. The blood was especially visible on the window.

s**t. Maiara approached him, knelt at his side, and whispered a soft word to activate the magic of her Heal staff. Once the magic had run clean against his wound, Maiara rose to her feet and went to the door, instead of the window. Maiara lifted her knuckles and paused. How was she supposed to explain? "Oh, hi, I'm Maiara, I've got a heavily injured Hawk King here, did I mention we've got a huge wolf-dog-thing and this purple-haired axe lady with us?"

"Lady Ayra... it's Maiara. You... I doubt you know me, but a new companion and I... we've the Hawk King with us. He needs a bed, now," Maiara called through the door. She paused, glanced to Charon, then added, "A new furry friend, too, who could probably use some warmth..."

[[Because I needed a Maiara post, anyway, and we needed this place revived. >3>]]

Relief? No... Whatever semblance of relief there was had been quickly swept away by the ominous message carried beneath Maiara's unfamiliar voice. 'Let me in or your husband's gonna die' sounded like quite the way for an enemy to get past her guard and into the house- she didn't trust it for a moment. Clenching her blade all the tighter and staying away from the door (lest a lance suddenly come barreling through- one never knew, in times of war), she readied to shout out a reply that was less than polite before Adele's voice rang out loud and clear.

That voice she remembered, for better or for worse. Her eyes widening with realization, she ran quickly to the door, not caring that the knob was almost cold enough to burn the skin on her hand. Throwing it open and pulling all three of them inside, words were already streaming out of her mouth as she ushered them in.

"Come on... inside, all three of you. Don't... don't be afraid of what you see in here. Take him to the bedroom, we'll lay him on the bed." She made sure to avoid looking at her husband before he was safe inside- if what Adele said was right and he really was as hurt as she implied, she didn't want to freeze up and prevent him from getting the help he needed by just... staring at him. Taking his arm but closing her eyes, she prayed her husband would not scorn her for assuring his safety by delaying their inevitable meeting of the eyes. Now was not the time to look upon the horrors of war.

However, she didn't need to see him to gauge his ailments- she already smelled the pungent stench of blood and smoke that told her far more than she wanted to know. Fine-tuned senses told her what would have been obvious if she just looked- he was bleeding heavily, his breathing signified that she would have to keep an eye on him all through the night to be sure he stabilized, and... well. Without any healing salves on her person save for a Vulnerary and nothing but scrap cloth and sheets to use for bandages, both she and her husband were in for a long and trying night.

The trek through the living room seemed to take forever- every step made her feel like Orpheus, damned if she looked back but forever tempted to do so to assuage her conscience. Every heavy step she took with her husband by her side felt as if she was dragging the world's weight on her shoulders, but she didn't waver- rather, she called to Rei as they walked past, not looking at the green-haired druid once.

"Rei... I know you're in pain. But I need your help. Do you have healing staves?"

Finally, at long last, the swordmaster passed the door's frame and walked into the bedroom, looking to Adele when she got close to the bed and silently asking for assistance. While normally she wouldn't trust the berserker to this extent, she'd more than proved her trustworthiness by bringing her husband back to her alive. If anyone could help her now, it was the axe-wielding woman.

He had padded along the human pack in silence, the path beneath his paws cold and unforgiving, his fur bristling along the chilly air as each breath issued a faint vapor. His eyes refused to meet the eyes of any other as his tail dragged behind him. The tension was torturous, the lack of communication unnerving. His ears jerked uneasily as the wildlife shifted around him and the atmosphere descended into a deeper cold, snow falling upon the human pack and himself, tiny snowflakes caught in his hairs.

The mauthe doog raised his head as they approached a landmark of some sort, the large heap of cleanly arranged wood and stone that he saw humans mill about in all the time, a human den of sorts. His eyes warily explored the surroundings as he continued without any reprimand or assault of any sort. Did they trust him? Did they even know he was there?

The spook of a horse startled him into a flinch. Tucking his tail and flattening his ears again, the beast widened his eyes as he glanced in the horse's general direction, taking a moment to register what it was that had scared him. He soon saw that there was no threat and relaxed his stance. The mauthe doog decided around then to raise his eyes, managing enough courage to glance at the humans in front of him, observing their foreign gestures and movements with nervous rapture.

His ears perked as one female uttered something, followed by the other barking. And then a slab of wood on the human den swung open and a most fierce-looking female stood there, one with a look that chilled the mauthe doog more than the nighttime air. He crouched again and quickly shuffled away, uncomfortable with this stranger, trying not to make any sort of eye contact. Humans were scary. This one was really, really scary for some reason.

The stranger uttered something before the others filed in. For a moment the mauthe doog considered following them inside. But he had a heavy feeling that this was their territory, their den, and he would not be welcome. Before he could even fully reconsider, the slab of wood swung shut, preventing him from entering and leaving him out in the snow.

The mauthe doog stared at the strange human den before him. Then he whined, wondering why he hadn't followed them inside away from the snow. The beast stood in sullen contemplation as he began to dwell on the coldness and his impending hunger.

He lifted his eyes to the horse nearby. Well, maybe that would solve his hunger problem.