Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Aerywyn's Wish

The steam clouded the room immediately as the water was released into the bathtub. Aerywyn absent-mindedly watched as the women went about their business, one young women laying out the towels, another pretty thing fetching more of the jugs from their place near the hearth. Amidst it all was the tall widow, commanding the throng to and fro like a hardened commander with his veterans. The lady Yrisa was a handsome woman despite her age, already into her fourties and yet had not faded as many other women may have. He noted the smell of summer flowers on her as she passed him once and twice, and wondered how that smooth, milk white skin would feel agaisnt his chest whilst that bonny brown hair tumbled free from its bun about her body, framing those eyes, dark as midnight...

She caught his stare for a moment, narrrowing her eyes at him. Ysira's lips then curled into an exotic smile as she whispered something to girls around her. They quickly looked him over, expressions ranging from humoured to appreciative. Aerywyn sighed in exhaustion, and began unlacing his tunic. After a short spell of giggling Ysira ushered the women out of the lord's quarters, giving a final flirting glance back at him before leaving too.

He threw the tunic on top of his greatcoat, and a pair of breeches soon followed. Humming softly to himself, Aerywyn broke through the surface as he slid himself into the bath. The dirt from the long journey floated free from his legs and arms, and he practically melted in the pure exctasy that his weary body was experiencing. Without hurrying he removed the silver chain from around his neck, watching the tiny sanctum and the little silver ship silently clang agaisnt each other. After setting them down, he reached for his ears and removed the two small silver hoops, before allowing himself to sink lower into the bath.

By the time he was drifiting on the edge of sleep (which was not long), Aerywyn heard the sound of a door opening and closing. Then being locked. He wondered if he still had enough energy from the long ride.

"You must be awfully tired...", came a woman's voice.

Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea

---

It was cold when he woke. So very cold...

There was no longer the steaming bath, nor the warmth and sweetness of the woman in his dream. He knew that at least, but everything else passed at the edge of his conscious mind. There was mud staining his coat and chainmail, the recent rains having made the roads treacherous indeed... Thats right... I was... travelling? Gods...

Aerywyn shook his head, but even that caused his vision to spin violently. He bit down the rising bile, and thought he could taste blood. Red and gray spots appeared in front of his eyes. After sitting still for a few minutes he attempted to get up, but vertigo immediately assailed him, sending him crashing to the ground again. With confusion this time mingled with the pain, he felt cold, white snow beneath his head. The rolling hills, the grasslands were gone now, and above him he could see the tops of trees, covered with the same kind of blanket that smothered the earth.

Fear began his vile assault, like an old foe fighting with such renewed vigour as Aerywyn had never felt before. A wolf howled in the distance. He began shivering violently as he was sure he felt hot, foul breath on the back of his neck. Shade-like at first, the materialised from the gathering mist, and all else dissapeared. The hot fear, the sounds in the night; all were gone, and the emptiness drove the spike of fear piercing deep into his soul.

"Tirilyn... Tirilyn!", Aerywyn cried out between rasping breaths.

His brother gave him a sad smile, undisturbed by his own state so much as Aerywyn's so it seemed. Here was the younger brother, feeling the fear and horror of losing his twin again, and again, and again.

Then he was gone. Aerywyn was left alone again, like all those times as a child wandering lost across the fields and forests in his dreams. His throat was painfully dry, and he felt the hot tears streaming down his face. He raised his arm to get a better look at, and cringed at the sight where the long gash was now encrusted with mud and blood. No doubt the infection had weakened his mind, and Aerywyn cursed it.

But there was no time to idle on his thoughts now. It would only get worse if he did not head out soon, and his men were no doubt looking for him. Throwing up his hood to hide his reddened eyes, Aerywyn limped away, searching for his horse and his men.

Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea