ORIGIN - call me back

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Pollen's head whipped a little when the deer approached, startled by the growl in Obieth's tone. Obieth was controlling this thing? Pollen shuddered as they continued on, trying to help Aethril to lean comfortably onto the deer before letting go herself.

She hadn't been this far, really- she knew she probably could, but she hadn't wanted to bother the Hand for many reasons. This, though, was reason enough to actually (finally) go to her bedroom, and she scampered ahead to push the door open for her to enter.

It was beautiful in here, with all the signs of being lived in. If Pollen knew any better, she'd be very jealous- but for now, she was happy that Aethril had a place to be comfortable, and a little of that tenseness went away. Aethril's request didn't go unnoticed, though- ignoring everything else, Pollen made her way to the curtains and drew them to a shut, glancing back to watch Aethril lay down.

What now? Pollen swallowed, clasping her hands together as she stood awkwardly by the window. "Can I get you anything, Miss Aethril? Water?" She really shouldn't be moving, if she felt so bad...

@Obieth

As they reached the area of the Hand's chambers, the Ivory Deer faltered. Obieth could feel its inability to move further. She didn't understand it--but it had reached the wards, and could not go further. The Valkhound took a moment to focus, and slipped up to take its place.

Her will, again savagely severe, was imparted upon it: rather than a panicked clattering as it was released, thrashing about the area, Obieth sent it back the way it had come. When it left it was with a stately, blank-eyed step, quiet clicks (not unlike Aethril's typical heels, Obieth noted, with absent approval).

Into the familiar, peaceful darkness of their shared room, then. The scent of the flowers at the window did nothing to reassure her; anxiety ate at her insides. What was all this?

Obieth hesitated at the commands--to close the curtains, to shut the windows. She didn't know how to do those things, and she wasn't sure who was being addressed.

As she wavered, however, Pollen moved to do it. And Aethril's gesture was greeted by only a moment's hesitation: an instant while she tried to gauge if she was correctly interpreting the motion. Then she coiled and sprang--the grace of feline-esque muscles in the space of a heartbeat--and crept up the bed. She remained atop the quilt, and pulled up alongside Aethril, leaning down to sniff the Hand's face. It was an instinctive gesture, and again feline, though she kept some distance; and at least she had the sense (this time, at least) not to lay directly on the Hand and her potential wounds when she curled onto the bed alongside her.

Her gaze shifted to Pollen, tracking the gardener across the room.

"Now what?" she asked, plaintively--to Aethril and to Pollen both. And then--"Was the cat a rebel?" she asked--and remembering her prior theories, tried again to twist around and sniff at Aethril, just in case "rebels" had a specific smell.

@Aethril

Aethril was silent for a long moment, though she relaxed a little once the room went darker. A hand went for Obieth to rake her stiff fingers along the Valkhound's head with a wheezy sigh. "It's fine," she responded to Pollen's offer, shaking her head a bit.

But, well-- she didn't know what to do now. A part of her just wanted to fall asleep and forget about it. "He might have been," the Hand said grimly. "A scout, perhaps, or... I don't know. It's dead now."

She shifted underneath the quilt and tilted her head closer to Obieth, half-rolling onto her side. It was difficult to concentrate; her mind was clouded with sickness. Would someone come looking for it? Where was it meant to report to?

There was a shaking breath. "You need to find out where it came from," she told Obieth. "There could be more rebels out there-- they might be hiding out somewhere. They might be expecting it to come back." She was almost afraid-- in the sense of being afraid of a nightmare gradually coming closer to reality.

A sharper breath, this time. "Go tomorrow," she finished. "I'd like you to stay here for a while longer."

@Pollen

It was fine, and so Pollen continued to stand awkwardly, her digits tapping together anxiously. She wanted to do something for her, but there wasn't much to do, except for maybe bringing in a plant here later.

But for now, she only clasped her hands together, running her digits over one another as she stepped closer to the bed. One paw reached out to hold onto the wood, and she watched Obieth and Aethril back, clear worry on her face.

Who would do such a thing to someone..?

"I-if it's dead, shouldn't it's um- it- uhh." She stammered a little, her tiny paw clenching on the pole of the bed. "It needs to go to the bone-cave, right?" Just like the rebels she saw on the show.

She was quiet for a moment- Aethril was talking to Obieth, not her, and she waited for her to finish. She couldn't do much, could she..? She was just a gardener. Suddenly, she felt very, very small, and very useless- all she did was tend to plants, and people had already done that before her arriving. If she left, would there really be a difference? Pollen frowned, pulling her limbs closer.

Hesitantly, she stepped forward after shrinking back, her other paw joining the first on the wood of the bed. "Miss Aethril- um.. Can I help find the rebels? Once you're better again?"

Even if she wanted to help, she wouldn't dare leave Aethril in a state like this.

@Obieth

Obieth took this in, in silence. She wasn't quite sure where to start, but... somehow, even she--oblivious creature as she might have been in some cases--knew that now was not the time to ask. She said as much:

"I will ask you... about all of that, when it is time to go." Aethril didn't exactly seem up to a long and detailed conversation and lesson on espionage and explanation of the enemy's source, and so forth, just now. Not to Obieth, at least.

She lay sprawled against the Hand, her body heat surprisingly warm given how cold she might have looked, the bed and blanket shockingly comfortable beneath her weight. But her attention--despite the pleasant feel of fingers raking along her head--went to Pollen.

She was, for once, thinking. It was a nasty thought, a paranoid thought: where there was one, there might be more. Eyes tracked the gardener--not suspicious of her, never that (Pollen was far too kind and gentle in her eyes). "Isra," she started, then hesitated. Obieth held no rank to give commands and didn't intend to; she just wasn't sure how to suggest this. "In case more come. To find this one? Isra should know. Does she know? They should be--warned," whoever the mysterious "they" were that ran this place. Isra, Nedies--who else? Obieth didn't know; but it struck her that if there was one rebel, more might come, and maybe Pollen could sound a warning.

She tried to glance back at Aethril, but her back was to the Hand, so that was a little awkward; but she hoped that Aethril could clarify if this was a wise course of action and if so, if Pollen should undertake it alone.

And whether Pollen would be safe in doing so.

@Aethril

Aethril bristled, if elves could do such a thing. The very thought of the cat made her angrier, but she soon discovered that she didn't really have the energy to be angry. She could only quietly seethe about it in her own bed while breathing in the warmth of Obieth.

"There's nothing left of it," she rasped grimly. "I burnt it all."

She had the blackened markings on her hands to prove it, at that.

Her eyes were fluttering shut and she was beginning to finally-- but a little painfully --drift off until she heard Obieth talking again. About Isra. A part of her didn't want Isra to know, she didn't want to be seen in such a state. She didn't want to be made fun of.

Another part of her ached for Isra's ramblings. She wanted the massive creature nearby and growling and vowing not to let anyone else pass into the palace with bad intentions. She wanted Isra's word and her loyalty. She had to know.

A wheezing sigh hissed out between her teeth. "Tell Isra. Tell her I'm fine and I just need to sleep it off. Let her keep an eye out for rebels." She could trust her, at least.

An arm was quietly coiling around Obieth, using the Valkhound as an oversized pillow. One eye barely cracked open to look at Pollen in the meantime, before snapping shut again. "We'll have you trained," she told the Amber wearily. "I'll sort it... out later."

A long breath and she finally fell quiet, aside from the quiet bass of her breathing.

@Pollen

aethril will fall asleep unless anyone else talks to her

"Then-- does its ashes go there?" Her voice was quiet, though, and could easily be missed by the resting Hand. She let the question go after a moment. She didn't need an answer- not right now, anyways, and it seemed she was winding down.

Her eyes turned to Obieth when the Valkcat spoke to her. Get her, or Isra. "Okay," she said with a small nod, her thumbs tapping on the wood. "Get Isra- or you." It didn't seem like a command to her, at least- just, something that was natural, that she should do. She shouldn't handle it alone, anyways- even if she was confident, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle that by herself.

She frowned as she let go of her grip, ready to back out of the room. It wasn't her's, after all, and she should go back to making sure everything was clean after all that.

"Later," she promised. "I'll go tell Isra." She clasped her paws together and gave a short, curt bow, excusing herself out by walking out of the room. She'd pull the door ajar behind her- leave the two to their rest, and let Aethril recover in peace.

@Obieth
;exit Pollen

Obieth did not know the answer to this, either. She kept silent, though, choosing not to speak in error on something she knew nothing of rather than to hazard a guess of her own that would add nothing.

She did have the presence of mind to warn Pollen: "Come back, after-? So we know you are... safe." Not dead. Not caught and killed by mysterious Rebels while trying to find Isra.

She was sorely tempted to fall asleep: the rhythmic breathing close by, the warmth and comfort of the bed, the silence otherwise after Pollen's departure, all lulling her. But she was Aethril's bodyguard--and Aethril had been attacked, and now lay asleep. She had to guard her.

Obieth thus remained awake--at least, as long as she could--half-lidded eyes staring at the door. Her ears twitched as she monitored the sounds of the palace; the birds outside and the gurgle of the brooks, the shifting of the wind in the leaves, a distant voice echoing through the marble here and there.

There was nothing untoward, but all for the best; the cat would have seen it coming.

exit Obieth

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