Lore of Leyuna RPG (FRPG)

[The Kingpin]

The raptor, after a valiant effort to get away from the fumes, lost his orientation, as much due to the gas as to Desrium's disposal of them, the bird teetering precariously in flight before dropping towards the Stalwart.

In the mean time, Andruil was still fighting his battle with the gas, steadily beginning to win against it, albeit not as quickly as he would have liked. It was perhaps a good thing that the unconscious Pickle was not in his grip at that moment, for he surely would have had his shoulder crushed under the force of Andruil's grasp.

Lesson learned; don't underestimate an alchemist.

[C S]

Though things had not gone as he had planned, Desrium's faith in his ability to make logical predictions was not shaken. It did not tax his capacity of foresight to know that concentrating the fumes around himself before consuming them would not bode well for the flying warrior. Nor did it tax it to know that the bird hitting his metal hands in freefall would not end well for the bird. As Shiryaz neared Desrium, the paladin was deep within his own mind, his metal shell simply held in pose, unable to move. The statue that so many had mistaken him for upon first sight, in one of the few moments he was standing still.

And for that, Shiryaz's descent gradually slowed by a power beyond him. He slowed until he was levitating limply around the still metal being, and then from there he was taken on a metaphysical current, a carousel of mana circulating around Desrium.

"I am sorry, brave one. I cannot express my gratitude enough. Rest well."

[Hopeflower]

By the time Rowan had dropped to the ground and sprinted to Arsenic's side, Vix was kneeling beside him and he and Viho were calming, drawing in ragged gulps of blessedly sweet fresh air. The scarred woman dragged Arsenic into a rib-straining hug and refused to let go of him until he pushed at her and said in tones far too steady for what he'd just experienced, 'I'm alright. I'm okay. We're okay.'

Hard to be reassuring when he was shaking even harder than they were. Nonetheless, Rowan let him be and pulled Vix in for a similar hug.

Beyond them, Viho was making attempts to get to his feet and having mixed success. After a few failures, for which his knees were surely going to be punishing him tomorrow, he managed to stand unsteadily. He walked, just as unsteadily, to Arsenic and wordlessly set a hand on his son's head.

It was as close to an affectionate and relieved gesture as circumstances would let him get.

[The Kingpin]

Andruil made his way over to Arsenic and the others, lingering long enough to make certain they were all okay. Once he knew Arsenic was responsive and seemed like he would recover, he looked to Desrium and Shiryaz. He rushed over a moment later to meet the Stalwart and the Griffinhawk as the bird fluttered his wings feebly, short chirps escaping the sizeable bird of prey that seemed out of place for something so large.

Reaching forward into the path of the bird's orbit, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around the bird's body and allowing Shiryaz to furl his wings. The raptor's head lay weakly against his shoulder as Andruil brushed a thumb over the plumage of his brow and crests. "Well done, Shiryaz. Benesenti," he repeated as he reached for his belt, producing a steel flask, dropping to the floor and letting the bird rest between his crossed legs as he poured some of the water within into his hand, bringing it to the raptor's beak. "Thank you, friend," said the Knight, looking up to the Stalwart once he was certain Shiryaz was slowly sipping from his hand.

[C S]

There was a moment more of silence between the two before motion came back to the armored being, slow and methodical. He looked down at the knight and bowed his helm. "It is I who should be thanking you," he said. Desrium raised his gaze and panned it across the open square. Those who had been convinced to be vehement foes were nursing each other's wounds, and were sure to make the clinics around the city very busy after this was through. The officers who had helped to restore order, if they were able, were gathering up the four anarchists. For Fury, today had been an execution. Perhaps the more bloodthirsty of the nobles would be appeased by that.


Still.


"It is I who should be thanking all of you."

[Hopeflower]

With unspoken gratitude, Arsenic took the hand Viho offered and pulled himself to his feet. Now that his head had cleared, he realized that at some point after...that, their respective illusions had failed. They stood looking as much like father and son as they ever had. Once Vix had found her footing, too, Viho spoke in a voice that sounded as though he'd swallowed a desert's worth of sand.

"Thank you." And he turned and staggered more than walked away. His part in this, at least, was done. He was left feeling exhausted down to his bones, and could think of nothing better than to retreat to a quiet place and rest.

[The Kingpin]

Andruil looked over to his friends, relief washing over him as he saw the Mute Assassin rising to his feet, even unsettled as he was by how badly shaken up he seemed. He had made a split second decision to give the elf some room to breathe, swarmed as he was by the others. At the same time, Shiryaz was a complete unknown for them, and had taken as direct a blow of the gas as Nick and Viho themselves. It was clear by the state of the raptor that he had fared no better. Weak and feeble as he had been as a hatchling in the nest all those years ago, it left Andruil worried, shaken and fearful that he would lose him. That was a fear that had yet to be alleviated, and it was for that reason that the Knight dared not even move from where he now sat in the courtyard, one he shared with a gallows that seemed uncomfortably symbolic at the moment.

[C S]

"Take him inside. The head mages are currently there. If he ails, they may restore him, or sustain him until proper treatment can be arranged."

Desrium turned, sensing that there was yet another duty for him to heed.

"I wish the best to you and your companions," said the Stalwart.

And then he was off with heavy footsteps to where the officers were gathered.

[The Kingpin]

Andruil nodded at that, allowing Shiryaz to drink the last of the water from his palm before putting away his flask and rising to his feet, making his way to city hall, the poisoned raptor held in his arms as he glanced over his shoulder briefly at the others. "I will see you all soon," he called out before continuing on his path.

[Hopeflower]

Arsenic raised a still-trembling hand to acknowledge Andruil's statement and went back to reassuring his closest friends. There was more hugging, now that he was upright. Because of course there was. Rowan had one arm slung around him and Vix and kept alternately pressing her forehead to theirs. Now and then her lip quivered as though she might completely break down, but Rowan never showed her tears to anyone. So instead she kept muttering fiercely, "Don't ever do that again."

To which he could only offer a weary smile and reply, 'I hadn't planned on it.'

Eventually, they gently disentangled themselves from Rowan and Vix suggested, "I think some rest is called for after all of this."

Neither of the others objected. Arsenic, for one, thought he could easily sleep the rest of the day away. It was for that reason that he didn't so much as put up a token protest when Vix and Rowan put themselves in better positions to catch him if he started to fall. Step by slow step, they started to make their way toward the boarding house.

[C S]

The officers Desrium met with were likewise at their limit for the day.

"That went well," one of the commented to him, to which he replied with a simple, "Yes."

"You think we can get a statue of that griffinhawk put up somewhere?"

"I do not see why not," Desrium replied.

"A way to commemorate the first time Brodudika's people came together to purge an evil from its bones! It doesn't matter that most of them didn't know what the hell was going on half the time!"

"Mm," Desrium hummed. It was good that this was the sentiment of the day.

"When the history books are written about this place, today will have its own chapter, won't it?"

"I cannot say," the Stalwart responded. If it ever happened, there were bound to be books about how he simply stood by while people fought injustice and each other, only intervening after his goals had been met by those "below him". That was just how these things go, he'd come to learn. There were books in the archives about the terrible Blood Omen, and there were books yet to be written about the terrible Blood Omen.

He just had to keep on going regardless, in the hopeless effort to possibly repay the bravery of those under the purple banner.


"Say... we're going to have to stuff the gallows back into those crates lying about, huh?"

"Yep."

"Damn."



"Do not worry." Desrium looked to the platform. Hopefully, from this day forth, it would not blight the court square again. "I will help you."








The gallows were dismantled, nail by nail, board by board.

As predicted, people spent some of their day at the clinics treating their battle wear.

Tales were told at the pubs.

Convicts were convicted.

A Green-Coat sat at his desk with a strained sigh, the rigors of the job never getting any easier. His partner sat down at the tavern that the adventurous sort liked to frequent. There he met a familiar water-inclined mage with an air of mystery about her, and they spoke of dragon-gods and hypothetical covert operations.



The cold night came. Streetlamps were lit.


Desrium and a more reasonably bundled up Natalie walked the streets together. She did not have to hide her face any longer.

"You didn't tell me you could take arrows through your body like they were nothing!"

"You did not ask."

"You didn't tell me you could... could breathe like that."

"You didn--"

"What else can you do?"

"I do not like to boast."

"Can you breathe fire?"

"I cannot."

"Can you breathe--"

"I don't usually breathe. It was a form of my meditation, that attracts things to myself. I become a conduit of mana when I am in that state."

"Ah." Natalie didn't know much about what Desrium just said. "You attract things? Like the bird?"

"Yes."

"We should have a statue of that bird, somewhere."

"I will discuss it with my advisors."

"You have advisors?"

"Yes."


And so they talked, the woman at the start of a new life, and the unlikely guide she found in one who did not think himself brave.

"Who is she?"

"She is--"

"I'm Evisa Canton; Novarah to those with a reason to fear me! And you must be Natalie Gardner, someone who used to have a reason to fear me."

"Please don't hurt me."

"I said used-- oh forget it. I hear you like to hear viking songs. Well, I can't be away from the baby-bunch back at the cave for much longer, but if you're willing to stop by early in the morning, the helmet-gang and I are willing to oblige a guest at the church."

"I'd like that... thank you... Evisa."

[Hopeflower]

Arsenic did end up sleeping quite heavily through much of the rest of the day, and most of the night. If he woke violently once or twice, borderline feverish and sweating, choking on the edges of his own uneven, too-fast breath, well...Rowan was right there on the other side of the room, ready to soothe him back to sleep. At her insistence, Vix and Arsenic had switched rooms for the night, so she could keep an eye on him.

So it was that well into the following morning, Arsenic finally dragged himself out of bed to get something to eat. He was paler than usual - making the bruising on his face seem even darker - and still a little unsteady on his feet. How much of his stumbling through a routine that usually caused him no trouble could be attributed to the day before and how much was a direct result of him having just woken up was anyone's guess.

Though the fact that Vix was faring much better than he was tipped the odds heavily in the former's direction.

As soon as they had their respective breakfasts, Rowan scraped half of her food onto Arsenic's plate and gave him a look that couldn't have communicated her unwillingness to hear any arguments better if she'd yelled. Not that it was necessary. For once, Arsenic didn't put up any kind of fuss. The tension eased out of Rowan, and their table grew a little livelier.

"As far as experiences I don't want to repeat go," Vix said, spearing another bite of eggs, "this one's up there."

'Can't say I disagree.' Arsenic glanced up, his lips pressing into a grim line. 'Did Andruil come back at all last night?'

Vix gave a subdued nod. "Late." She paused. "I don't think Shiryaz is doing well," she added more quietly, toying with her fork. "You know, animals - they're so much more sensitive to some things than we are."

Rowan hummed, low and compassionate. "Well," she replied after a moment, "he's a tough bird. And I'm sure Desrium's people will do everything they can for him."

The innkeeper nodded again. She didn't voice her fear that if the worst came to pass, she wasn't sure if she knew how to help Andruil handle it.


Across the city, Viho was pushing himself through the same added difficulties as Arsenic was. Getting himself ready to go for classes, he'd discovered, was simply not happening. Between the lingering disorientation, the dull, full-body ache, and the overall feeling that a few more hours of sleep wouldn't hurt, he was in no state to teach.

Good thing he'd put his classes on hold until all of this calmed down. He couldn't claim it was due to any foresight of this outcome, but the time to rest and recover was something he needed at the moment.

[C S]

Natalie was inside the church that morning. She was listening to the voices of vikings and was being blown away by the power of their combined voices raised in song. Solaurn had been passing by on her way to meet Gwenviere, who had been made busy by the patients of yesterday's vitriol at the Gateside Clinic. She was given pause, the unexpected surprise a pleasant one. It reminded her of home, listening to these songs. Tiny bodies, large voices that seemed to move the world. Tiny hands that very much did so. And Solaurn herself, who had become interested in the power of the spoken word when combined with magic.

As she went on her way, a less pleasant surprise awaited Desrium. He was meditating in his quarters on things that had been done, and things that were yet to be done. Legs crossed, metal knuckles bracing against one another. In the process, visions of dark came to him inexplicably. A shadowed vale, the blackest shadows against stark silvery highlights. A large, pale moon rose over the treetops, only to have a shadow creep across the surface from one end. The passing of months and seasons encapsulated in a fleeting moment of time.

Desrium had seen these events over the centuries. Even then, it had only been a handful of times. The nights where the silver moon was made a subdued scarlet, and the craters and valleys upon its face slipped into the darkest of dark. The images were not foreboding. This blood moon... this eclipse. It was soothing. It reminded him of the Adumbration, cloaked warriors of the evening hours.

But why?

Dusk, mother of Dawn. Master of Shadows. Desrium was caught in the middle. The Fang, and the imperceptible shadows captured within the blade. Concealing, protecting.

Desrium was pulled from these machinations by the rough knocking at his door. He rose and opened it. He was greeted by the sight of Melok, imperious and huffing.

"Desrium," he growled. "The example of the previous day has been a blatant disregard of my work and my authority as guard captain. You have circumvented my input and have commanded my units, and I would like a formal apology and assurance of this not happening again."

"Melok." Desrium said the name as he said everything else. "You may think of yesterday's events as a culmination of 'executive action'."

"Executive action, you say?" Melok laughed in disbelief. "Do you mean to be this city's executive, then?"

"No."

"Then you would do best to stay away from executive actions, benefactor."

"Let us be frank with one another," Desrium began, "In the course of safegaurding every citizen in this city, I will do what I deem necessary with the council of my advisors to certify the wisdom of these actions. I cannot stand to be blocked by bureaucracy and convention when lives are at stake."

"Oh. Well, with this said, can I expect you to enact executive action against the subversives who have been targeting our fringe demographic in the city?"

"Elves, Melok," Desrium responded. "And I already have."

Melok stepped back, his mouth slightly agape. After the shock subsided, he reluctantly nodded. "Yes. Of course."

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss?" Desrium inquired.

"No. Allow me to take my leave."

"By all means."

Melok turned without ceremony. Desrium, in return, stepped back and closed his door, and that was that.


Desrium resumed his introspection, although dedicated to a matter other than the twists and turns that awaited Brodudika. One thing he had yet to do was delve into the implications of his sword's attributes, and it appeared that it would not wait any longer. It was calling to him. Desrium had known that there was something imbued within the metal of the toothed blade for some time. It was not a will, or a presence, as he had detected in Septimus' wood sword all that time ago on the eve of war. Desrium drew the blue tinted sword over a shoulder and held it up to inspect it.

It was as he knew it for hundreds of years, and yet it was not. What he was positive of to date was that the thing attached to the sword was in reality many separate things. The memories of Eredar. The extent of these memories were unclear. "I will have to rectify this."

"I will have to rectify this very soon."

Desrium settled his mind and reinforced his vigor, then plunged into the echoes of a lost divine.

Images of a world that bore the tumultuous scars of war came to the Stalwart Paladin. The lands were verdant with grass and trees, but had patches of gray and black. Volcanic brimstone and paths of ash left in the wake of wildfires. Canyons divided acres, claw marks of a staggering scale. Irregular dips in the earth where the subterranean was made to cave in on itself, and craters where the strata along the sides were blasted upwards rather than downwards. That was to say nothing of the craters that had been driven deep into the ground by titanic battles.

This was the world in the age of Cleotaire's so-called youth after fire had been deposed as primordial ruler. Desrium's vantage point was impossibly high, and yet not completely alien to him. He had seen the world like this before, in the age of the present. After he was banished from heaven.

And this must have been what Eredar had seen upon first encountering Leyuna far above its clouds, the world upon which a chaotic system of elemental entities had finally ran itself into order. What Eredar had seen was not what Desrium recalled seeing as he fell from Leyuna's highest heights. The landmasses were clustered together, a few of them completely severed by tiny seas, but otherwise they were jammed right next to one another. A time when it took months to reach each sprawling continent by land rather than the vast oceans of the present. A time when there was only one ocean that spanned the entire world, a journey into nothing under blue days and starry nights.

The Eight came and made Leyuna their grand gambit. The one that made them fear for themselves and everything else that was, was locked away in the depths of this world. They spread their ley lines to complete their prison, the passage of time that accompanied this period so immense that there had been unforeseen consequences of their actions.

They were aware of the elementals. There were a number that had "matured" enough and sought out these other worldly beings with healthy, yearning minds. The gods obliged them, and imparted wisdom and notions of virtues, the preservation of which that would go on to give rise to that of the Life Bringer, and the thunderbird atop the eventual Boldrim. They were born of a latent magic that the Progenitor permeated throughout existence.

However, the Eight found that they too were responsible for life. Life spawned from their mana, and intrinsically linked to the ley line prison they had constructed. The elementals began their retreat into reclusiveness, starting with those that had been enlightened. Among them were those that did not mirror the world they were apart of. Among them, was Tzeentch.

The gods reached out to those they had unwittingly created in safeguarding all that was and was to be. The earliest sapients developed during the time the gods were present on Leyuna, and the ones that honed sapience into intelligence came to know these divines as more than forces of nature that they could appease for good favor. They came to know the divines as paragons of truth and justice, the ultimate good that they could only aspire to emulate in their mortal capacities.

Just as time had passed enough for intelligent life to arise on Leyuna, that much time had driven the connected landmass apart. Desrium saw innumerable snippets of Eredar's perspective. Pieced together in his mind, he surmised the world looked a little more recognizable, in that now the continents were spaced apart. It would take millions more years for them to drift to where they currently were. However, Tyrbenetus was already burning in demonic fire, and the origins of the Justicars and The Adumbration were set in history. What a result it was that fickle elementals of magic and beings that would become the djinn rose up to stand beside the ones who had begun civilization on the Dawnmother's land. Thus was the influence of that vision of good.

Good.

Eredar was appointed warden of the Progenitor. It was thought that the gods had done all they could have done for Leyuna's inhabitants, and now it was up to them to shape what they would become. That Stygian being deep within the world had to be watched over, to keep it pacified and ensure its captivity. This was how it had to be, for the good of everything.

But such a burden was too great for even a god.

Desrium felt that resonating anger. And despair. The Heart of Darkness, the name he earned for his betrayal. Traitor God. Dark God. It was not a lust for even greater power that led Eredar astray. It was not a conniving nature. It was suffering. It was the suffering of a brother facing the inevitability that some time into the eternal existence of his life, eons to mortal witnesses, his siblings would leave him alone to scour the stars for other forms of life like the peculiar elementals.

Eredar did not want to be abandoned on a celestial vessel. Desrium saw it: that cosmic expanse. Many more stars than Moria's. Many more worlds like Leyuna. Larger. Smaller. With many more moons, and those worlds without. Skies of blue. Skies of every other color. It was crushing to him and the former god; understanding every nuance of being left to watch over this force of creation for all time, aware of everything else that was and unable to do a single thing about it. Even his divine powers were to be restrained for eternity, for it was not his place to intervene with the beings of flesh that had come about.

"Am I not a god?" Eredar wondered. "Am I not worshiped as one?"

For why else would there be a cathedral constructed in his honor upon Aster? For why else would he have those pledged faithful to him?

"Why should I be made to suffer alone?"

This was how Eredar fell from grace.


Desrium wanted to howl. He wanted to let loose his voice of titans and let it shred city hall's foundations; let it shatter the windows of cities miles away. There was a compulsion to let himself free, and see if his strength was truly limitless. Fell the towers with a single punch! Split the crust of the world with a single kick! Show all that what the world knew of the Blood Omen was nothing compared to what he really was.

"Horrible," was his single thought in response to these feelings.

Desrium did not do these things. His eyes were blazing, turning all around him red, shining through the seams in the doorframe and out of the attic window like some kind of bizarre beacon.

"Horrible," was his single thought in response to the plight of the ailing god.

Eredar's transcending wrath... it was given form in the fusion of Eredar and Jiier... and it lived on in the Fang. Desrium finally understood it. He would not face it alone. Or, so it felt. It was as if Jiier were right next to him, over one shoulder. It was as if Septimus was by the other. It was as if Ithra were behind him. It was as if Syria was in front of him.

“Never act out of wrath again. Not against even a demon. With that power in your sword, it could mean disaster.”


The Life Bringer, unsurprisingly, was correct in her appraisal of this unknown power. Desrium, to his surprise, found a hidden strength in her words. A patient form of magic that activated when the time was right. Perhaps it too, grew tired of waiting. The new promise. The presence of his friends.

This was what he stood to lose, should he lose his way now.

"I will not allow it."

Jiier took Desrium's arm in his clawed hand and lowered the sword to his side. Septimus held his other arm in a show of support. Syria and Ithra clasped their hands together, lending him their magic.

That's how it felt.

Thus, the wrath of a god was quelled.

Some time had passed after Desrium came to his senses. His eyes were no longer blazing plumes of light. In fact, he sensed something different.

He looked down to his sword, the tip of it held centimeters over the brick-tiled floor. The imperceptible darkness was quite perceptible now. It was fluid and gaseous at the same time, rippling along the length of the jagged blade, conforming to its shape and wafting off into a dissipating vapor.

Hesitantly, Desrium raised the sword and put the fingers of his other gauntlet onto its side. He ran them down the Fang experimentally. He did not expect to find that this shadow clung to his metal fingers. When he pulled them off of the end of the sword, the darkness remained in a mimicry of a substance.

That substance then morphed. As though by instinct, Desrium turned his hand into a grip, and in that grip the shadow turned into another toothed blade.

"The Blood Dragon's Fang," Desrium said, looking to his signature weapon. Then, looking to the double, he said, "The Shadow of the Fang." The second sword had the exact same qualities of the first, weight and all, despite intuition dictating that it shouldn't.

The Blood Dragon's Fang was wreathed in shadow past the hilt. The Shadow of the Fang was entirely so, obscuring some of the gauntlet holding it.

Desrium let go of the shadow, and just like that, it was gone in a puff. Likewise, the shadow around his sword faded, leaving behind the Fang as he had known it thus far.

Dusk, mother of Dawn. Master of Shadows.

Desrium was in the middle.

He knew he had one more thing to add to the list of things he needed to do.

"I must hone this power, and use it with discipline."

At least he was not a stranger to using two swords at once.

[The Kingpin]

It was a short while later that Andruil showed himself. The shadows under his eyes were telling of a night without rest. The mind was a peculiar thing; it tended not to want that which it needed when it was at its most strained with the worries of the world.

He moved with an autonomy that seemed to imply he wasn't entirely present in that moment, making his way into the kitchen, giving the elderly landlady a small smile and a nod as he reached for the tea pot, pouring himself some of the brew he had smelled from the bedroom above.

From there, he made his way to the others, taking a seat silently and holding his mug in his cold hands, wrapped in a coat that could not keep him warm. It was not a true cold he felt, but a mental one. One of the soul, of emotions. The chilled blood that came with the thought of losing one you cared about. Thinking better than to initiate conversation, he brought his mug to his lips, and sipped.

[Hopeflower]

The conversation the table's occupants were having paused when the knight joined them. They exchanged glances and, without saying a word, nominated Arsenic to be the one to deal with this. Under different circumstances, he would have wondered why. As it was, he merely rolled his shoulders as if to loosen then and leaned forward to rest his weight on his elbows.

After just one look at the knight's state, someone else might have gentled their tone and said something like, "It'll be fine," or, "He'll pull through."

What Arsenic said, in a tone no softer than his usual speaking voice, was, 'You realize you can't afford to make yourself sick, when you need to take care of him.'

[The Kingpin]

Andruil's gaze lifted from the dark red-gold of the drink in his mug to look at the Mute Assassin. For the briefest moment, it seemed there was something there, in the Knight's yellow eyes. Irritation at the criticism? At the fact he was being told this by one guilty of much of the same?

It passed in a second however. He would not take this out on his friend. Especially when the Knight himself was entirely to blame for this.

After a bit of reluctance and thought, he nodded. "By all means, tell that to the stubborn, worrisome ******* that is a parent's mind. It's harder than it looks." It was true, for the most part. He had tried to sleep at one point. But with Shiryaz as weak as he was, kept on soft bedding, in a cage for the first time since he was a mere chick, it was very hard to let his mind be at ease. As it turned out, caring for and being with such an intelligent creature for twenty years, raising it from the nest, tended to create quite the bond.

[Hopeflower]

Some detached corner of Arsenic's mind took apart the reaction and studied it. It was fascinating, that moment of barely-contained anger. The hesitation. The choosing the right words to avoid offense.

A bit like looking in a mirror, really.

'I know.' He smiled thinly and shrugged one shoulder. 'I'm not here to order you around. But I can tell you that your energy is better spent doing what you can than worrying.' The mute glanced away in a habitual move that would probably have hidden the twist of sorrow at the edges of his expression, if Rowan hadn't cut his hair. 'You'll know you did your best, if nothing else.'

[The Kingpin]

The blank expression the Knight wore sunk ever so slightly. It would have been indiscernible on a normal day, but the shadows under his eyes seemed to have a knack for emphasising indiscernible things so that they were quite discernible.

"Of course," he responded. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Taking another sip of his tea, he let himself reflect on other things he had learned of the Assassin over the past two and some years they had known one another, feeling it was unwise to keep talking on impulse as he was. That last statement had cut uncomfortably close to ground he didn't feel he wanted to drive Arsenic into.

[Hopeflower]

Arsenic's shoulders sank a little in an inaudible sigh. He inclined his head just enough to be forgiving of the unintentional stab at half-healed wounds. 'You are hardly the first,' he remarked tiredly. Shaking his head, he turned back to the knight and added, 'Chamomile helps with getting to sleep...and the nightmares.'

[The Kingpin]

"I will keep that in mind," responded Andruil, attempting a smile that felt shakier than he'd meant it to be.

Another sip of tea. Another breath. A firmer grip on his mug.

It was around this time that he realised that the last he'd heard or seen of the Assassin had been the previous day, shortly after blast of that accursed concoction to the face. He had been weak, and that horrible sound it had made him utter still grated at his memory. Something he hated to hear from a friend. He had been shaky then, on the floor for quite a bit longer than anyone else affected by the blast. In a way, he and Shiryaz were not so different. They both sustained almost the same impact. Shiryaz arguably slightly less, having been away from the cloud for just a bit longer. But then, he still did not know if something else hadn't gone off in the raptor's proximity when the alchemist fell on top of her coat of toxic concoctions. She had been dragged away immediately after Shiryaz took her down and Desrium made the place safe, and neither he nor his bird were in a state that lent itself to him going to ask. With Shiryaz currently in the care of more qualified people, he felt there was a chance now to do just that. Maybe once he'd finished his tea. When he could actually move again without feeling so...drained.

"How do you feel?" he asked, giving voice to the thought that led to that long line of reflection.