Zarius ‘I must be mad indeed’ Iiro
The Void trembled beneath the weight of Zeen’s utter exhaustion. Channeling for as long and as much as he had was taxing in and of itself. That it had been during battle only made it worse. Add to it the injuries he had sustained, and it was a wonder that the Amadician was still conscious at all. A testament, for good or ill, to the sheer magnitude of the broad man’s stubborn willpower.
As he limped towards the Infirmary, Callie half-carrying, half-supporting him, a flurry of activity descended upon him that he could not follow, and did not care to follow, flitting and buzzing around him. The Yellows had intercepted him. Which meant that news of what had happened was quickly circling. Wonderful. That meant that one of his female counterparts would also be descending upon him soon. He could hazard a guess as to which one. Perhaps the Light would take mercy on him and push him off into unconsciousness before the Amyrlin made an appearance. It would not take much more than a gentle nudge a this point. Zeen reflected on his state with sharp, black amusement. The most severe of his injuries had come about, ironically, from Aurella’s save.
“Nothing at all is funny about this, Nugget.”
He pulled in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring in response to the pain. “You have to admit that it is, a little, when the worst of what happened to me came about because of one of my nublets.” The faint chuckle abruptly choked off into a gasp. “At least the building did not fall on me.”
A pause, a spike of concern rising. “He’s going to be alright?”
“Johan Albaer will be fine. Nothing that cannot be Healed.” Zeen gave another wheezing humourless chuckle. “The same cannot be said of the city.” He hesitated for a moment as the memory of laughter and blazing hot skin pierced through the fog of pain. What had happened inside the Tower? Someone had tried to tell him... but he could not remember. Had it been Callie? If the Black Ajah had managed to get inside... Light in heaven. All those important diplomats would be dead. Much of the Hall would have been in attendance as well. Not to mention all of the Novices and Soldiers, Accepted and Dedicated. That he, and those with him, had been attacked instead... for what purpose? He could be replaced. He was one man. Striking at the heart of the Tower would have been a far greater blow, would have caused far more upheaval... Why did they come after me? He stumbled abruptly, head swimming, and his thoughts slipped away like wet sand.
The Asha’man exhaled slowly, grimacing. His Tower. Not... not... That was what should have concerned him the most. Had the Andoran been at the ball too? Had... what if... His fingers flexed, the bond reflecting his inner struggle. Callie, thankfully, said nothing. He... should not. He could not. He should not... Light, he was delirious. He would have shaken his head at himself, had the ability to.
“Will you do something for me?” That was asked softly, his head swivelling to the side to look imploringly at the only person that he still trusted implicitly.
She eyed him warily in return. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
Zeen snorted loudly, then doubled over, gasping again. Different arms, hands, tried to comfort and help. He could not straighten. Bloody flaming ashes. “The bottle...” he murmured, black spots swimming in his vision. “I... will not try to leave the Infirmary... if you... if you deliver it...”
“Who?” He felt Callie’s breath against his ear.
He closed his eyes, wrestling against himself, before whispering the name, the barest hint of sound that passed between bondholder and bondmate. He felt the tug of the bottle leaving the waist of his breeches. The Amadician smile faintly, the Void collapsing entirely. The silver leached out of his eyes as the Asha’man slumped to the floor.
Callie ‘What the actual f*** are you doing?’ Dermavin
As he limped towards the Infirmary, Callie half-carrying, half-supporting him, a flurry of activity descended upon him that he could not follow, and did not care to follow, flitting and buzzing around him. The Yellows had intercepted him. Which meant that news of what had happened was quickly circling. Wonderful. That meant that one of his female counterparts would also be descending upon him soon. He could hazard a guess as to which one. Perhaps the Light would take mercy on him and push him off into unconsciousness before the Amyrlin made an appearance. It would not take much more than a gentle nudge a this point. Zeen reflected on his state with sharp, black amusement. The most severe of his injuries had come about, ironically, from Aurella’s save.
“Nothing at all is funny about this, Nugget.”
He pulled in a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring in response to the pain. “You have to admit that it is, a little, when the worst of what happened to me came about because of one of my nublets.” The faint chuckle abruptly choked off into a gasp. “At least the building did not fall on me.”
A pause, a spike of concern rising. “He’s going to be alright?”
“Johan Albaer will be fine. Nothing that cannot be Healed.” Zeen gave another wheezing humourless chuckle. “The same cannot be said of the city.” He hesitated for a moment as the memory of laughter and blazing hot skin pierced through the fog of pain. What had happened inside the Tower? Someone had tried to tell him... but he could not remember. Had it been Callie? If the Black Ajah had managed to get inside... Light in heaven. All those important diplomats would be dead. Much of the Hall would have been in attendance as well. Not to mention all of the Novices and Soldiers, Accepted and Dedicated. That he, and those with him, had been attacked instead... for what purpose? He could be replaced. He was one man. Striking at the heart of the Tower would have been a far greater blow, would have caused far more upheaval... Why did they come after me? He stumbled abruptly, head swimming, and his thoughts slipped away like wet sand.
The Asha’man exhaled slowly, grimacing. His Tower. Not... not... That was what should have concerned him the most. Had the Andoran been at the ball too? Had... what if... His fingers flexed, the bond reflecting his inner struggle. Callie, thankfully, said nothing. He... should not. He could not. He should not... Light, he was delirious. He would have shaken his head at himself, had the ability to.
“Will you do something for me?” That was asked softly, his head swivelling to the side to look imploringly at the only person that he still trusted implicitly.
She eyed him warily in return. “I’m not going to kiss you.”
Zeen snorted loudly, then doubled over, gasping again. Different arms, hands, tried to comfort and help. He could not straighten. Bloody flaming ashes. “The bottle...” he murmured, black spots swimming in his vision. “I... will not try to leave the Infirmary... if you... if you deliver it...”
“Who?” He felt Callie’s breath against his ear.
He closed his eyes, wrestling against himself, before whispering the name, the barest hint of sound that passed between bondholder and bondmate. He felt the tug of the bottle leaving the waist of his breeches. The Amadician smile faintly, the Void collapsing entirely. The silver leached out of his eyes as the Asha’man slumped to the floor.
Each of her bloody bones ached. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about chasing the infuriating idiot around the Tower to get him to stay and rest. If he managed to escape this mess without any additional scars, she’d eat his fancy M’Hael ring.
A quick sniff of the bottle before she recorked it. Oosquai. Good that he was giving it away. Zeen didn’t need to do anymore drinking. She was going to greet his next hangover with pots and pans banging over his head. Or maybe just banging on his head. He was extra cranky when hungover, like a prickly half-starved bear. Callie muttered under her breath, scowling at the doors she passed. So this was how the baby finger wigglers lived. Kind of depressing. No wonder so many of ‘em tried to sneak out.
At the appropriate place, she tucked the bottle beneath what was left of one arm, leaving the other free to bang on the door, which she did with great relish. She lifted her eyebrows at the young man that opened it, her look both appraising and exasperated. Well put together. Tall enough. Handsome. Soft pillowy lips. Definite noble, like the Nugget. Brown tousled hair. Maybe she’d woken up the nublet. Ah well.
“No wonder he likes you,” was all she said by way of greeting or explanation. “Compliments from the M’Hael, Pouty Mouth.” Callie shoved the nondescript bottle into this Tristram Baryn’s hands and sketched a loose bow before turning on her heel and leaving. Despite her Nugget’s earlier promise, she was going to sit and babysit the bloody idiot. He could’ve been killed out in Hama Valon’s streets. Who’s to say that they wouldn’t try again while he was unconscious in the Infirmary? Couldn’t be too careful, after all.
A quick sniff of the bottle before she recorked it. Oosquai. Good that he was giving it away. Zeen didn’t need to do anymore drinking. She was going to greet his next hangover with pots and pans banging over his head. Or maybe just banging on his head. He was extra cranky when hungover, like a prickly half-starved bear. Callie muttered under her breath, scowling at the doors she passed. So this was how the baby finger wigglers lived. Kind of depressing. No wonder so many of ‘em tried to sneak out.
At the appropriate place, she tucked the bottle beneath what was left of one arm, leaving the other free to bang on the door, which she did with great relish. She lifted her eyebrows at the young man that opened it, her look both appraising and exasperated. Well put together. Tall enough. Handsome. Soft pillowy lips. Definite noble, like the Nugget. Brown tousled hair. Maybe she’d woken up the nublet. Ah well.
“No wonder he likes you,” was all she said by way of greeting or explanation. “Compliments from the M’Hael, Pouty Mouth.” Callie shoved the nondescript bottle into this Tristram Baryn’s hands and sketched a loose bow before turning on her heel and leaving. Despite her Nugget’s earlier promise, she was going to sit and babysit the bloody idiot. He could’ve been killed out in Hama Valon’s streets. Who’s to say that they wouldn’t try again while he was unconscious in the Infirmary? Couldn’t be too careful, after all.
