EVENT #6: BY HEAVEN OR HELL (WRAP-UP)

[aionmods]

By Heaven or Hell

THE SNARE (cw: gore)

Above Achamoth, blow after brutal blow is rained down upon the Sanctifier. It's fiery wings have been drowned by the abyssal waters of Childe's corrupted voyager, and its chest torn open by the Regent's power. Though it tries to flee, it is assailed from all sides, tearing away scales and burning flesh, its eyes blinded with blood and infection. Even its roar has been torn, the damage to its throat leaving its thundering voice strangled and broken. As Childe's lance drives through the top of its skull and out the bottom of its jaw, it seems that its demise must be imminent.

Yet, this is a creature of the Pleroma. Fueled by a force that fights for life at all costs, the Sanctifier is denied an easy rest. Fitting, perhaps, that its host refuse just as vehemently. Within this ravaged body, Estinien Wyrmblood still struggles, even as each breath is choked by blood and blinding pain. He refuses. He's not ready to be mourned. He's not ready for the fight to end. Himeka, Abel, Hayame... he'd told them... he'd told them he would stay by their side...

On faltering wings, the Sanctifier makes a final effort. The Pleroma responds to Estinien's resolve, and the fire within it ignites in a desperate burst, driving it to escape this city and defend its comrades. Estinien will feel his soul seared with the intensity of his wish, burning him up in the overwhelming light of this undying sun. All the while, the power of the Innocence holds his spirit close, as if hoping to shield him from what is to come. It pleads with him to relent, as it knows this course, and he will not return the same.

With that surge of light, it seem for a moment that the Sanctifier may actually accomplish it, that its wings might ferry it away from the shadows that bite at its heels. However, it's not to be. Not with the trap that's been set, but he Kenoma and their master.

Darkness swells at six points around the city. Six void-dark spears, deposited by the Regent's most trusted followers, activate as the Regent aims their final shot. Six rays of the abyss pierce Achamoth's sky, each one piercing through the Sanctifier's core, stopping its desperate effort before it can truly begin. Though the bolts of darkness seem to stretch for for miles at first, gradually the blur of shadow fades, resolving in the great dragon's body run through by spikes of purest Kenoma. The Sanctifier crumbles, the light of its form dissolving, one last broken cry of agony escaping.

The arrangement of spears holds true with the shift of its form, and as the light of the Pleroma leaves him, instead there is only Estinien. Instead of a colossal dragon, one man bears the wounds of the Sanctifier, his torso ravaged by the spears piercing it and the Regent's power, held in place despite the futile twitches of his battered wings. Just as the Sanctifier was missing a claw, he is missing a finger, and blood pours from his forehead where a lance just was, down through the bottom of his mouth. Ichor drains from one brutalized eye, the other opened wide with shock despite its visible pains.

Estinien tries to speak, but cannot. His hands struggle to pry a spear free from his chest, but he finds no purchase. His broken body hangs above the city for several seconds, as if on display, before an orb of void envelopes him and he disappears.

A FINAL BENISON

After the agonizing end of the Sanctifier, the presence of the Innocence will linger around the spirits of the Pleroma for a short time, as if allowed to disperse in the absence of the creature it was sustaining. There is a mournful weight to its essence, and softly, the Pleroma will hear it speak:

I failed... I have failed you... Again...

The presence is already beginning to fade, but those already touched by the Innocence will feel its power flare up within them, like a new candle lit from one almost burned to its end.

Please... do not despair... continue on... and find the peace I could not give you...

With that it goes silent, disappearing along with its host.

[OOC: Several characters will be receiving PMs regarding this.]

REGENT'S REPRISAL

The protective light of the Sanctifier fades, and the Pleroma will find themselves prematurely awash in a furious Achamoth, their enemies having multiplied from from a mere two dozen Aions to hundreds, if not thousands of Horosians. The military, having been rendered helpless for most of this struggle, are eager to pick up the slack, firing with what offensive magic they hold and alchemy enhanced weaponry. Even civilians, furious and humiliated by what they perceive as Pleroma tricks, will begin to lash out, throwing what improvised weapons they might have and shouting abuse; anything to help destroy these invaders.

The shadows of the city, having been swelling since the beginning of the Sanctifier's fall, will seem to chase the Pleroma through the streets. Like violent ghosts, specters of darkness pursue them, lashing out with intangible claws that feel like shocks of cold torment. Sometime, they may even land small physical blows, like claw marks and bruises left by unseen spirits. These malformed spirits shriek with suffering and discontent, but only Aions seem to perceive them. Those with Tier 2 attunements will have the clearest gaze of ethereal forms, like the wretched, half remembered remains of people and creatures long past.

FROM THE SKIES

As the void swallows Estinien, Seekers & Visionaries of both sects are hit with a series of images flashing through their mind; thick green forests, a tall mountain sitting apart, a golden eye barely concealed by smoke. Red scaled lids close once only to sharply pull back as the eye widens swallows all around it. The vision fades in an instant.

A chorus of unfamiliar roars and screeches echo across the Citadel. Where one dragon once stood, dozens now swarm the air above the gathered Aions. These dragons appear in all sizes and patterns, some with scales hardened like wood or stone while others appear feathered and nearly birdlike. Any Pleroma who have spent time in Greentruth may recognize the shapes as shadows that have passed in the canopy overhead even if they have not crossed the paths of these dragons before. Reinforcements.

A little too late.

The dragons descend upon the Citadel led by a familiar figure; Tehri of the Deep Mists rides atop one of the largest of the dragons as they all come to land on the stony ground at the Pleroma front. They will provide cover for those looking to leave the battlefield and a flight back to Greentruth. If there are Pleroma who are staying to fight longer, a few dragons will wait around the edges until all battles have ceased. They are only dragons, so they could come under fire by the Kenoma should attacks be made.

Tehri stays on the largest dragon as it rears its head above the siege of the ire of the dead. She stands tall atop it, extending her arms as a cool blow envelopes her hands. A rush of cold air pushes forth as a thick mist forms in the courtyard, obscuring vision for all but a few feet in front any person. The Regent's malformed spirits are left confused and without direction, but will attack any Pleroma they do manage to find. The mists linger for several hours after the last Pleroma has fled Achamoth.

WRAP-UP

Returned to their homes of choice, each Aion will be free to recover and carry on with their daily affairs. Word of the assault on Achamoth gradually spreads across Horos, prompting startled reactions its populace. Has the Pleroma truly been so brazen? Had the dragon in the sky truly been as grand as they say? Had the dragon of the wood truly answered in turn? The raid will eventually be a hot topic of discussion in every corner of the continent, though there were few non-Achamite eye witnesses. It can be expected that the details will be exaggerated, understated, and misunderstood wildly.

❖ IMPORTANT NOTES

◆ REGENT'S RESPONSE: After the Pleroma have left the city, the Kenoma will receive a communion from the Regent whether or not their shards are exposed. Their multi-toned voice will express contentment with the outcome of the struggle, explaining that they have successfully captured the Innocence and its host. With this link to its power claimed, they have what they need to end its threat. Kenoma will be welcomed to join them in their throne room to see this done a few days after the battle, but attendance is not mandatory. There will be a short NPC log posted to cover this, though we will warn that the Innocence's 'execution' will be fairly gruesome, so if you have a more uncertain Kenoma whom you don't want to scare off the path, it may be best to not have them attend.

◆ DRAGONS ENGAGED: As the majority of the PVP and PVE finishes up, there are dragon NPCs available to battle against at your discretion. We will not thread these battles, but if any Kenoma would like to try to take out one of the dragons, they can reply below and we will do a mod roll for their success. Any killed dragons may be dealt with as desired in Achamoth. There won't be a Kenoma knock out mechanic for this, unless players specifically want to be mangled by a dragon.

◆ STATE OF ACHAMOTH: Achamoth managed to avoid any irreparable mass destruction as a result of the raid, though there were some 'presumably Pleroma' assaults on civilian infrastructure that will be highly talked about in coming weeks, including the looting of a few houses, attempted arson of a church, and the attempted destruction of a factory. While the Sanctifier was not purposely attacking Achamite civilians, its battle with the Kenoma did result in some casualties among both the military and civilian population, while other soldiers were slain by the Pleroma on the ground. (Or, in one case, one of the Kenoma?) Multiple watchtowers were destroyed by the dragon's throes. In general, Achamoth is furious about this, and more hateful towards the Pleroma than ever.

◆ RECONVENING IN GREENTRUTH: Once back in Greentruth, Tehri will send a communion to all the Pleroma and ask them to attend, if they can, the first Aion Council meeting in early Sekiseri. She encourages all to take the time to heal both physically and mentally in the days to come. The council meeting Tehri is requesting will take place in September. This will be offered as part of a mini-event log where characters will be able to discuss with one another and speak with Tehri directly.

◆ VALLEY OF THE INNOCENT: Any Aions passing through the Innocent's Shrine will notice that, following the Innocence's 'execution', the once lush valley's plant-life is starting to die off in what is clearly a non-seasonal manner. Locals will say that the valley is generally in a state of eternal spring, and this is the first time they've seen it suffer like this. The death of the flora here is not complete or immediate, but it is devastating considering the valley's former state of perfection.

◆ SEKISERI: There will be no game-wide event in September, but there will be some NPC activity of various flavors. Players will be free to plot their own activities as they will.

Comments

[bythelight]

Anduin is exhausted, but he had wanted to stay as long as he could. To heal as many people as he could.

There are dragons, here, at least, who could probably help him escape. He'd been half negotiating with one as his shield began to fail. Could they get him out? As far as a portal? To Godsblood, or Greentruth? If they could, he could --

The shield fails, and Anduin looks up as a shadow passes over him.

Even having seen him before, it's still incredible to think how big Wrathion is now. Anduin remembers when he was no bigger than a housecat, when seeing him fly wasn't in the least bit threatening.

"I thought you'd left."

Not that he was paying any attention to what Wrathion was doing, of course, not that he'd noticed at all that Wrathion was carrying other people and leaving him behind. It's the dragon's own business. He doesn't care.

Still... He'd come back for him. Anduin feels a momentary rush of warmth, then hesitates.

"-- You're hurt, here let me..."

He pulls at the dregs of his energy, reaching out to rest his hands on Wrathion and trying to push healing magic into him.

[undertheweight]

"I left you once before. That was one time too many. Get on, Anduin!"

While he is somewhat unsteady on his feet, he's still maintaining a perimeter with lashing tail and swinging head, but moving too much won't help Anduin do what Wrathion wants most, and he's not sure grabbing the priest by the collar and physically hauling him up there will help at all. Help either of them, physically, not to mention the damage to their (to Wrathion's, at least) dignity.

On one hand, it warms him that Anduin wants to heal him--and not just because of the priest's healing magic. But there is no time. If archers encroach, Anduin, Wrathion, and the remaining dragons who'd stayed to help are all endangered. The black dragon does appreciate the sentiment, but this is too much selfless altruism out of his best friend, at this moment.

"If you don't get on my back right now, Anduin, I'm going to throw you up there. We need to get out of here!" Wrathion growls.

If he doesn't move within the next few heartbeats, dignity be damned. Injuries be damned. He really will make good on his threat.

[bythelight]

Anduin looks around, doing a quick assessment of the danger.

"... Alright, but --"

Climbing is, currently, a little more difficult, and he doesn't want to hurt Wrathion either. Anduin makes a noise of frustration.

"Sorry," he whispers, and reaches with his good arm to get purchase on Wrathion's neck. His feet brace briefly against scales, and at least don't slip as he tries to boost up. He doesn't imagine it feels pleasant to have someone scrabbling about as they climb onto you.

Light, he supposes he'll be mostly holding on with his legs too.

[undertheweight]

To Wrathion, it doesn't matter how much it hurts, so long as they both can arrive in Godsblood or Greentruth safely. Right now, whichever portal he can get to first is the best option. He's not entirely certain he can shift back to Visage at the moment, so departure is absolutely necessary.

"Don't worry about it, please, Anduin..." Wrathion knows the priest isn't doing it on purpose. It's not easy to get a grip on dragonscale, after all--it's a reason that folk make it into armor in the first place.

Not that Wrathion particularly wants to be made into armor, thank you. "Maybe we'll have to see about getting you some riding straps."

That's intended to be a joke. Anduin might get a good grip on one of his neck plates, but it won't be that great if he can only do it with one hand. Add to the awkwardness of Wrathion only being able to push up well with one leg, and they make a fine pair.

"Hang on!" It is, by necessity, a less-than-graceful takeoff; Wrathion's wings beat wildly as he lumbers into the air. Thankfully, one of the other dragons leaps up first, and gliding in her wake helps. It's still not the least turbulent ride, and now it's his turn to apologize, even as they straighten out into a much easier flight.

"Sorry, I've had better takeoffs," he says. From his vantage point, Anduin likely can't see Wrathion's grimace, but it's fairly clear in the dragon's voice, carried backwards by the wind.

[bythelight]

Anduin flattens himself against Wrathion, trying to reduce the whip of wind into his face. The breath is knocked out of him regardless as the dragon takes off, and his eyes sting a little.

It feels... strange.

Exhilarating.

All the same, he'd have been able to enjoy it more under better circumstances. Anduin swallows, adjusts his grip to push up just a little. He's used to riding gryphons, but Wrathion is all sharp edges and heat. His whole being just radiates power, danger.

Yet here Anduin is, regardless, worrying for him.

He squints ahead of them, then back behind, but there are no incoming projectiles that he can see so Anduin focuses on Wrathion instead -- reaching out to try and pour the last dregs of healing magic he has left into him instead.

"Where are we going?"

Presumably, after all, Wrathion has a plan.

[undertheweight]

He can feel the healing energy--the grumbling is mild, but Wrathion grumbles nonetheless--"Anduin Wrynn, if you fall off my back..."

It isn't his wings that are damaged, but Wrathion doesn't want to see if he can make a successful attempt at catching Anduin if the priest faints. Because what if he's wrong, and he can't? (He's heard rumors, but he's not sure yet that Aions come back from death. It's not an experiment he wants to risk.) It's not Anduin that he wants to risk!

"I'm trying to get to the nearest portal. I don't remember which one it is, now, but it doesn't matter, really. Either way it's much safer than staying here."

There might not be any pursuit yet, but Wrathion isn't inexperienced enough to think that there won't be, should they stay too long on the outskirts of Achamoth. He's doing his very best to put distance between them, and it.

The presence of the other dragons--the ones from Lohkimareen--they help. Clearly they're used to at least flying in formation, when necessary. Wrathion feels obligated to thank them, but now isn't the time. At least one of their number has already fallen to the Kenoma, and the Black Prince would not risk any more. Not that it's his choice...

[bythelight]

"I won't fall," Anduin says. He has no intention of that -- although, even if he did he could slow his fall. Assuming he hadn't completely run out of mana, that is. Which... is admittedly a concern, as it stands. He winces, trying to focus on channelling healing towards Wrathion's injuries. "There was a portal to Greentruth, as well as the Godsblood one we came through, but I'm not certain how far in comparison."

Perhaps better to aim for the one they know? They can always take another portal through to Greentruth, if necessary? He sags a little as the spell ends, pants for a moment before trying to hold on to Wrathion a little better. It cannot be that far, can it? At the speed Wrathion is flying?

[undertheweight]

"You don't have to keep healing me, either. I mean...I appreciate it, but I won't fall, either." He's not bleeding out. The injuries he has are by no means pleasant, but a bit of natural healing or simple time necessitating the mending of his own wounds--if it will not stress Anduin further, well.

Then again, Wrathion muses, what's likely to stress Anduin more? It's not for the dragon to say. He snorts a bit, mostly at himself. "I'll be quiet about that. I'm sorry." Because it really isn't for him to say how Anduin distributes his healing, and to whom.

He's just not very good at gracefully accepting, either.

"I don't know, Anduin. Right now, I'm just looking for the first portal I can find, if I'm honest." It's not his best plan, but it's what he's got. But he remembers the one he'd dropped the others off at, and he's closing in on it. He breaks formation from his fellow dragons, lowering slightly to fly in a circle above the location. Wrathion doesn't need the preparation, but he's fairly sure the priest needs a warning.

"I think I see it down there, now, so please hold on?" With a bit of distance, he doesn't need to do any abrupt diving. Wrathion can--and he plans to--take a leisurely descent to the ground near the portal.

[bythelight]

Wrathion may not be bleeding out, but with Anduin low on mana the dragon is their best line of defence. Better, he thinks, that he's at his best in case something does go wrong. A full strength dragon is more use than a nearly spent healer, in combat.

Still, it seems like they might have made it to some manner of portal. Anduin braces as best he can, tightening his grip with his legs and lowering himself closer to the back of Wrathion's neck again to keep himself from sliding. Wrathion hits the ground and Anduin winces, thinking of the dragons leg, and begins quickly trying to struggle his way off. It's slow, with one arm out of action.

"Thank you," he manages, squirming his way over until he can drop himself to the ground. "I'm sure one of the other dragons would have helped, but a familiar face is always welcome. We should go through, then you should let me look at your injuries."

[undertheweight]

That landing isn't nearly as bad as it might be had he had to dive. Wrathion himself doesn't wince--he's more concerned about Anduin's awkward slide off his back. He snakes out his neck and snaps his teeth shut on Anduin's shirt this time, bringing a wing around to help steady the priest. The teeth hold is brief, at least.

Inwardly, he hopes that he hasn't just terrified his friend. Wrathion means well, but he's definitely aware that things have changed when he's in this shape. He can be surprisingly gentle and is very conscious of how he moves, but a dragon is still a dragon.

In their mad rush to get away from Achamoth, he hadn't been quite aware that Anduin had been hurt as well--on some level, Wrathion had been aware that the priest wasn't unscathed, but it hadn't been at the forefront of his mind. Now, it is, and he isn't happy, but Annduin is also right. Once they're through the portal, that's a much better time to...discuss things. Still, Wrathion can't stifle a low rumble of displeasure, before he jerks his head towards the portal. He agrees with Anduin's assessment, but.

"You first."

He might have to squeeze through, anyway. He'd taken the portal here as a man, after all.

[bythelight]

The snap at his shirt does startle Anduin, but he swallows down the nerves once he realises what he's doing.

"Will you be able to walk? Can you change?"

Surely it's easier to go through in his visage, after all? If he's going to, Anduin can help steady him if his leg is a problem, and they can go through together? His expression pulls into a stubborn frown, studying Wrathion as if he might be hiding any number of hidden injuries.

"I'm not leaving you."

This had better not be some ploy to get Anduin to go through, so that Wrathion can do something foolish on his own.

"You said you wouldn't leave me."

So, together -- yes?

[undertheweight]

Were Wrathion human, he'd have the decency to blush. Thankfully, being a dragon prevents that, but he still ducks his head and acts awkward, claws furrowing into the earth where he's landed.

"I can walk. I can...probably change now. The one small problem I see is that I left what remained of my clothes back in Achamoth." And a shattered gaff that's no longer usable, but such things are a part of life.

"Courtesy of some strangeness here, I can't conjure them as part of my Visage." Not now, at least. And Wrathion has enough sense of propriety to not streak his way through a city. He's not particularly ashamed of how he looks, but he's still well aware of the human need to cover up.

"I wasn't going to leave you, Anduin." Only for the briefest moment, truly, he was literally going to be on the priest's heels. He was not going to do anything idiotic. Not this time. "I was going to follow you immediately, I just was trying to save myself some embarrassment if I have to squeeze through."

Because that would cause Wrathion shame, a loss of his dignity. He's not sure they'll fit through together if he can't change. Well. Shouldn't change.

[bythelight]

Oh!

That's --

Anduin hesitates, thoughtful, glancing between Wrathion and the portal. Do portals have a... size limit? An amount of mass that can go through them at a time? Light, he's never really thought about it! He supposes if they don't, Wrathion can go through like this. He'll just be drawing attention the other side when he's this big, but equally he would be turning up unclothed...

"Well," Anduin manages finally, "I'm sure there's nothing for you to be embarrassed about either way, but do whatever you're most comfortable with. We can get you some replacement clothing once we're through the portal."

He moves back from Wrathion, towards the portal, and gives him a last quick glance over -- his good hand moving absently to rest against his partially petrified arm.

"I'll see you there," he says finally, and turns to vanish away in a shimmer of magic.

[undertheweight]

He may have simply been overcautious, but Anduin is the one person that Wrathion simply refuses to risk. Not again.

Hopefully, the priest clears out of the way, because mere breaths after Anduin has emerged from the portal, the dragon comes limping his way through. It's not intended to be dramatic, but between having to make a few leaps into the air...Wrathion could be doing better. Still, his first thought is for Anduin as he exits. He swings his head around to search for the priest, moving to the side where Anduin waits. No one else had been waiting to go through, so it wasn't as if there'd been a line, but. He'd always erred on the side of prudence.

Not to mention he really does not want anyone to come barreling through into him. Unpleasant for both Wrathion and that unfortunate individual, whoever they might be.

Wrathion's head comes uncomfortably close to Anduin's chest, and it's likely the priest can feel a subtle pressure as a rumbling growl trickles out of the dragon's mouth. It's an accusatory tone he adopts, crimson eyes narrowing as he gazes at Anduin.

"You're injured, too. I can smell the blood." He is trying not to let the anger overwhem him--anger at himself for letting Anduin out of his sight, anger at the Kenoma who would dare--but he forcibly bites it back. "And what is wrong with your arm?"

[bythelight]

Anduin's good hand moves up quickly to brace against the side of Wrathion's enormous head, steadying himself so he can't be nosed over accidentally.

"Someone tried to petrify me. My dispel isn't working as fast as I'd like, it's fading -- I can feel sensation returning to my arm but it's taking a while. Now, why don't we find you some clothing and we can both take care of these injuries? I might need your help, I can't see all of mine easily, and I know you have some too."

Since he can't tell Wrathion won't stop fussing, so they may as well simply delay the fussing until both of them are in an appropriate place.

"Do you have anything spare to wear in our room? If not, I might. The fit might not be perfect, but it would keep you covered until we found something else."

[undertheweight]

"I'll be fine, the leg was the worst of it, and I can walk." Limp, more like, but it's good enough for Wrathion. He can stay off of it for a day or two. They've got a little purse now, anyway--one that the dragon has let Anduin keep, for precisely this reason. It's no good if he loses their money because he shapeshifts. As it is, he curls his body around Anduin. He knows both of them getting back to their room is important, but if he's tired, the priest has to be exhausted. Wrathion is going to be insistent.

At least to let Anduin warm up. Being further south, Achamoth might be a tad warmer, but he's positive that the change from there to Godsblood can't be good for him. Wrathion is a radiator at the best of times. Just let the priest rest a moment...

"Petrify you..." That's growled again. "Sit a moment. I don't want you to pass out or something before you get there. If I thought I wouldn't terrorize the city I'd just fly us there, but." Wrathion knows that he would do no more than frighten the citizenry.

"I have more clothes, yes. Just...sit for a moment. Or at least don't go haring off at top speed, all right?" Anduin isn't fragile. Wrathion knows this. But he also knows that the priest is likely to push himself further than is necessary, at the moment.

[bythelight]

"... If I sit down I'm not sure how fast I'd be able to get back up."

The truth of it is, Anduin has simply kept going because he has to. He's running on adrenaline, but he's in pain. If he stops, the pain might become too much. He needs to keep going long enough that when he does stop, it's somewhere safe.

Still, Anduin cannot help but lean against Wrathion's side. He is warm, and the warmth is soothing. He revels in it for a few seconds, blinking slowly, then absentmindedly reaches out a hand toward Wrathion's neck, rubbing behind just at the back of his head like he might with a horse.

It is, perhaps, not entirely appropriate for a creature that is... sometimes human... but he's not really thinking about it. He's tired.

[undertheweight]

It is confusing, because it brings to mind being petted. Wrathion just blinks mildly at Anduin for a moment, more coherent thoughts briefly absenting his head. He exhales slowly, then brings a wing forward to help steady the priest again. He knows how heat can be lulling, and better that happens somewhere safe. Somewhere that is not here.

He could say something about the scratching, but Wrathion would find it far more demeaning coming from anyone who wasn't Anduin. (Well. Maybe not Claude, either; he'd seemed to mean well. Claude just isn't in the same category.)

"Maybe it's best I let you go, then. Just...I don't have to warn you to be careful?"

He's sure Anduin would warn him to be careful all the same. Now he makes no sudden movements, picking his head up slowly and uncurling himself slightly, to make Anduin's path easier.

"I will come look for you like this, if I have to. Frightening the citizens or no." Not that Wrathion particularly wants to foment more antipathy towards Aions, but his concern is with one particular Aion.

[bythelight]

He blinks as Wrathion uncurls, giving the dragon a slightly woozy frown. The warmth was nice, and he does regret having to give it up. Anduin has the faint sensation of being lightheaded, but it isn't far that he has to go. They'll both be indoors soon.

"... Alright."

Pulling himself together, Anduin moves slowly around until he's infront of Wrathion -- hand trailing along his neck then dropping away.

"... Thank you, again."

For coming back for him. He flickers a faint smile, then Anduin steels himself and begins to move away back towards Godsblood.

The walk is not, at least, particularly far -- although with his adrenaline wearing off it's growing more difficult. He makes his way to their room and snags up his bag, wincing in the process, then searches for clothes for Wrathion. His walk back is slower than the one in, but once he arrives he does manage to awkwardly fish the bundle of clothes out onehanded.

"Here," he says. "I suppose if this is to be a common problem you'll need more spares."

Or else he'll run out of clothing.

[undertheweight]

Wrathion grimaces. It isn't as if he'd intended to come back naked, but when he'd cast off what he'd been wearing, it hadn't been covering much as it once did. And after he'd shifted in it, it wouldn't cover anything at all. Nor was it any use for scraps, because the fabric hadn't had much to speak for it in the first place.

"I hope I don't make a habit of it," he complains. There's already so much he wants to research, and he hasn't even found out whether there's a library or not in Godsblood, yet...he'll have to add this to the list, whether or not he can...retune his shapeshifting to do it with clothes, again.

Once he accepts the bundle from Anduin, Wrathion drops them to the ground. He's hardly ashamed to shift before the priest, though he doesn't waste any time in pulling the trousers on. Awkward as that is when he can't balance from one leg to the other without crumpling. He doesn't bother with the shirt for now, moving forward to slide his arm under Anduin's good one and give him support.

"Thank you for bringing these to me. Do you think you can make it back again?" Wrathion disdains to call the room they've been sharing home. Considers himself lucky that Anduin is as patient as he is. The dragon is far less inclined to be forgiving, but even so, he does his best to gently guide Anduin's weary footsteps back towards Godsblood proper.

[bythelight]

Anduin flicks his eyes away once he recognises Wrathion is shifting to his visage, turning to give him some modicum of privacy. He doesn't really know if he cares either way, but it feels polite to do so. The touch to his arm, then, catches him off guard. He blinks at Wrathion, frowning as he flicks his eyes over him -- inspecting him for damage.

"Yes," he confirms, "but we'll need some supplies. Something to disinfect our injuries, some bandages. If you can't put weight on that leg you'll need a support."

All things that Anduin doesn't have. They'll need something to eat, too, to regain their strength -- but he thinks he does at least have some dried meat saved up.

[undertheweight]

Well, to judge by how swiftly he actually donned his trousers, the dragon had had no intention of flashing Anduin. He is really going to have to work on redressing his Visage in the near future.

No pun intended.

Wrathion's brows furrow, lips pursing in irritation as the priest suggests a support for his leg, and he shakes his head. "If I stay off it when I can, I should be fine. You're right about disinfectant, though. I've been bitten more times than I care to think about, and I'm certain they were undead." Bad enough to be bitten by humanoid teeth, but undead are worse.

"Would you rather come with me to get those supplies?" While Wrathion knows what he would prefer Anduin to do, he thinks that he should not deny Anduin the option. However, he is quietly hoping that the priest just...feels too tired to keep going. He does pause so that if Anduin does decide he needs to oversee the supply-gathering, they don't have to redouble their steps at all.

Wrathion has had some experience with tending wounds, but it isn't even a sting to his pride to know which of them is better at it.

[bythelight]

He hesitates at that, studying Wrathion. It seems like the options are go with him or don't go, there's none where Wrathion stays and rests his leg.

"... Are you sure you should be walking?"

There's also the other aspect -- he'll need other tools too, and Wrathion can already smell the blood on him. He's likely to be more upset once he's helping him dig bits of arrow out of himself. That is unavoidable, however unless Anduin somehow finds a way to send Wrathion out while he does it with a mirror.

[undertheweight]

No, there is no option for Wrathion to rest. He'll rest later. When they both can. Mostly, he's concerned that Anduin will run out of steam and end up somewhere in Godsblood without the wherewithal to get back to the boarding house. Wrathion doubts that he'll do something to make things worse with his leg, so long as he's not forced to balance on the bad one. He finds that unlikely.

"If I was going to do more damage, I've probably already done it." But the dragon shrugs. He could go into detail, but he honestly isn't out to make Anduin feel guilty for the choices that Wrathion had made. Of course, in his casually arrogant way, he's also sure he'll be fine, given time.

Wrathion has absolutely no idea as to the direction in which Anduin's thoughts have turned, or he would have something to say about it. Assuming, of course, that didn't drive him into a bellowing rage, first.

[bythelight]

Anduin is too woozy to keep thinking about this.

"Alright," he says finally, "but I'll need some other things too, for cleaning debris from a wound. Tweezers, small pliers, some gauze for packing. I can heal things properly when I've slept, but just something until then."

He can fix the problem, he just hasn't the energy right now. It's up to Wrathion if he feels confident finding all these supplies alone, or if he wants Anduin to come along. The only concerns he has from staying behind in their room are Wrathion's leg, and his own ability to stay awake. Light, he feels so wrung out. So tired, as if everything either hurts or aches. As if all his limbs are heavy.

Something to dull the pain wouldn't go amiss, but he expects that will be beyond their budget.