To avoid a hell of a lot of awkward rewriting to make it work, here's a summary for what transpires between the last post and this one: Aden's mothers come to visit for his birthday, and give him Keva with the understanding he'll bring the bird back at least yearly for siring. He and Ves have a falling out right before Ves heads back out into the field. All of this sets this story at roughly four months(+) after Aden arrived in Gridania.
![[Image: tumblr_nzosx0UbEK1v0ltaqo2_r2_1280.png]](https://40.media.tumblr.com/ad3bee96533553de4327d8fcd1defd67/tumblr_nzosx0UbEK1v0ltaqo2_r2_1280.png)
It rained for three days straight, and Ves and Eta took shelter in one of the outlying watch spires. As archers they couldn’t do much in such heavy rain, and they were far enough afield from their usual patrol route that there seemed little point in making rounds until the rain cleared up enough to travel back.
The fourth day didn’t so much as dawn as it broke with a crack of thunder, and the rain intensified. Another patrol straggled into the spire, waterlogged and miserable. “Passed a unit of Wailers two days gone,†one of them said as she toweled the water out of her hair. “Crazy buggers, they were–still out there tracking some Ixal even in this deluge. We’ll either see them soon enough or they’ll get washed away!â€
Just past noon the commanding officer for the spire approached Eta and Ves. “You two have been here a couple days,†he said, “rested up and not soaked to the bone. I just received word our wayward Wailers are engaged with the Ixal nearby, and they could use some support. It’s a patrol from closer in near Gridania, and they’ve got trainees with them.†The officer shook his head, scowling. “Don’t ask me why they pursued so far--there must’ve been some imminent threat. Or their officer's half-mad, I'd wager either with Wailers.â€
“On it!†Eta popped up from her seat immediately, went to retrieve her bow–the inaction got to her, while Ves was content to have some peace and quiet. He followed anyway, knowing the request wasn’t a request at all.
So they ended up back out in the rain again, quickly soaked from collars to stockings. They had a good direction and some landmarks to go on, though in the rain and thunder they got far closer than they’d normally engage from before they saw anyone.
The Wailers had their Ixal pinned near a bridge–or perhaps the other way around, Eta and Ves weren’t quite sure. The creek beneath rolled muddy and swollen well above the banks, lapping at the bottom of the bridge in the choppiest moments. Ves crept out along a spur of rock jutting high over the water, looking for good vantage. The Wailers seemed reluctant to engage the Ixal on the bridge, and rightly so from the way it shook under the water–but the Ixal displayed no such hesitation, taking the safety of the bridge to make ranged shots at the Wailers. The Wailers broke and started retreating just as one of the Ixal called fire in their midst.
Save one, who charged forward onto the bridge, throwing themself low to slide under a defensive swing from an Ixali axe. It planted them smack in the middle of the group of Ixal, and before most of the birdmen overcame their surprise they had the axe wielder down with a couple of efficient, short moves with the pike. They slammed the butt of the pike into the caster’s face on the way around to parry another blow, rocking the caster back.
“Godsdamnit Aden! Disengage!â€
Ves’ attention snapped first to the Wailer who’d shouted from the bank, then back to the one in the midst of the Ixali. In the rain and the Wailer armor it was hard to tell, but they were certainly miqo’te and certainly all the right coloration. He’d never seen Aden spar or fight before, but it fit so well: vicious, efficient, fearless, still raw with inexperience. But it was too early…
No, he realized, it wasn’t. He’d been gone a while, and Aden had likely been on patrol in the safer areas before by now. Safer didn’t mean entirely out of danger, though, and if the unit had been tracking these Ixal from somewhere else… yes. It was probably that Aden.
Ves raised his bow and nocked an arrow, and Eta did the same from beside him. He looked for patterns in Aden’s movement, afraid to hit him instead. Eta didn’t hesitate, and her first arrow lodged in an Ixali throat. After that Ves stopped paying so much mind, thinking merely to thin their numbers before Aden ran out of luck.
They started up a chorus of squawking, sharp voices cutting through the din of rain and rushing water. They closed ranks and started pushing Aden towards their end of the bridge. Then they suddenly broke ranks, revealing the caster in their midst completing a spell. The bridge shuddered and cracked, frost crawling up from the submerged mooring, and collapsed into the rushing water.
Aden and the caster both went with it, submerged immediately amidst shattered wood and bobbing ice. The ixali caster resurfaced struggling, went down again briefly.
Aden didn’t, and Ves’ breath caught in his chest, his heart skipped too many beats–then there he was, struggling to stay above the surface of the roiling water, a bright line of blood welling across his temple. He went down again, and the second time he surfaced gasping Ves started running, heedless of the slick mud and slippery stone. If he could keep up, and the currents were favorable–
Aden went down twice more, once for a long time, but he resurfaced in a place that might be arm’s reach from the bank. “Eta!â€
She’d kept pace–of course she had, they’d been working together so long–and as Ves hit the water she grabbed the back of his leathers, landed on her stomach in the mud with an awful squelching sound. Ves’ hands slipped at first, but the touch stole some of Aden’s momentum, and on the second grab he got a good, firm grip around Aden’s arm. The pike slipped away and bobbed on downstream. Eta did most of the pulling until Ves’ feet hit mud again, and then they slipped and fought as the creekside crumbled beneath them. Through it all Aden remained distressingly limp in Ves’ grasp, eyes closed.
“Ves,†Eta’s voice took a sharp edge of alarm, “the boy ain’t breathin’.â€
They finally hit firmer ground and Ves put Aden down–he wasn’t breathing. Ves went through the motions of trying to force the water out without thinking about it, just automatic reaction. It worked, though, and after a moment Aden started coughing and trying to suck in desperate, wet gasps of air. Ves rolled him onto his side and took some of his weight against one arm to make it easier.
The Wailers caught up to them, and talked to Eta over Ves’ head. “We need to move, in case their ranged fighters find vantage, or they find another way to cross.â€
“Agreed. Someone can pick this back up when the weather clears. Ves.†He looked up just in time to see Eta gesture at him, a flick of her index and middle fingers. “Come on. We need some distance.â€
As soon as the coughing grew unproductive Ves hauled Aden up, mindful of the bloody tatters of his leathers around one knee, and stood. Between harsh, weak coughs and gasps Aden’s eyelids fluttered open, and he peered up with narrowed eyes.
“Ves,†he croaked.
“Yeah.â€
That seemed to satisfy him, because he didn’t try to say anything else on the way back to the spire.
The Second Storm
It rained for three days straight, and Ves and Eta took shelter in one of the outlying watch spires. As archers they couldn’t do much in such heavy rain, and they were far enough afield from their usual patrol route that there seemed little point in making rounds until the rain cleared up enough to travel back.
The fourth day didn’t so much as dawn as it broke with a crack of thunder, and the rain intensified. Another patrol straggled into the spire, waterlogged and miserable. “Passed a unit of Wailers two days gone,†one of them said as she toweled the water out of her hair. “Crazy buggers, they were–still out there tracking some Ixal even in this deluge. We’ll either see them soon enough or they’ll get washed away!â€
Just past noon the commanding officer for the spire approached Eta and Ves. “You two have been here a couple days,†he said, “rested up and not soaked to the bone. I just received word our wayward Wailers are engaged with the Ixal nearby, and they could use some support. It’s a patrol from closer in near Gridania, and they’ve got trainees with them.†The officer shook his head, scowling. “Don’t ask me why they pursued so far--there must’ve been some imminent threat. Or their officer's half-mad, I'd wager either with Wailers.â€
“On it!†Eta popped up from her seat immediately, went to retrieve her bow–the inaction got to her, while Ves was content to have some peace and quiet. He followed anyway, knowing the request wasn’t a request at all.
So they ended up back out in the rain again, quickly soaked from collars to stockings. They had a good direction and some landmarks to go on, though in the rain and thunder they got far closer than they’d normally engage from before they saw anyone.
The Wailers had their Ixal pinned near a bridge–or perhaps the other way around, Eta and Ves weren’t quite sure. The creek beneath rolled muddy and swollen well above the banks, lapping at the bottom of the bridge in the choppiest moments. Ves crept out along a spur of rock jutting high over the water, looking for good vantage. The Wailers seemed reluctant to engage the Ixal on the bridge, and rightly so from the way it shook under the water–but the Ixal displayed no such hesitation, taking the safety of the bridge to make ranged shots at the Wailers. The Wailers broke and started retreating just as one of the Ixal called fire in their midst.
Save one, who charged forward onto the bridge, throwing themself low to slide under a defensive swing from an Ixali axe. It planted them smack in the middle of the group of Ixal, and before most of the birdmen overcame their surprise they had the axe wielder down with a couple of efficient, short moves with the pike. They slammed the butt of the pike into the caster’s face on the way around to parry another blow, rocking the caster back.
“Godsdamnit Aden! Disengage!â€
Ves’ attention snapped first to the Wailer who’d shouted from the bank, then back to the one in the midst of the Ixali. In the rain and the Wailer armor it was hard to tell, but they were certainly miqo’te and certainly all the right coloration. He’d never seen Aden spar or fight before, but it fit so well: vicious, efficient, fearless, still raw with inexperience. But it was too early…
No, he realized, it wasn’t. He’d been gone a while, and Aden had likely been on patrol in the safer areas before by now. Safer didn’t mean entirely out of danger, though, and if the unit had been tracking these Ixal from somewhere else… yes. It was probably that Aden.
Ves raised his bow and nocked an arrow, and Eta did the same from beside him. He looked for patterns in Aden’s movement, afraid to hit him instead. Eta didn’t hesitate, and her first arrow lodged in an Ixali throat. After that Ves stopped paying so much mind, thinking merely to thin their numbers before Aden ran out of luck.
They started up a chorus of squawking, sharp voices cutting through the din of rain and rushing water. They closed ranks and started pushing Aden towards their end of the bridge. Then they suddenly broke ranks, revealing the caster in their midst completing a spell. The bridge shuddered and cracked, frost crawling up from the submerged mooring, and collapsed into the rushing water.
Aden and the caster both went with it, submerged immediately amidst shattered wood and bobbing ice. The ixali caster resurfaced struggling, went down again briefly.
Aden didn’t, and Ves’ breath caught in his chest, his heart skipped too many beats–then there he was, struggling to stay above the surface of the roiling water, a bright line of blood welling across his temple. He went down again, and the second time he surfaced gasping Ves started running, heedless of the slick mud and slippery stone. If he could keep up, and the currents were favorable–
Aden went down twice more, once for a long time, but he resurfaced in a place that might be arm’s reach from the bank. “Eta!â€
She’d kept pace–of course she had, they’d been working together so long–and as Ves hit the water she grabbed the back of his leathers, landed on her stomach in the mud with an awful squelching sound. Ves’ hands slipped at first, but the touch stole some of Aden’s momentum, and on the second grab he got a good, firm grip around Aden’s arm. The pike slipped away and bobbed on downstream. Eta did most of the pulling until Ves’ feet hit mud again, and then they slipped and fought as the creekside crumbled beneath them. Through it all Aden remained distressingly limp in Ves’ grasp, eyes closed.
“Ves,†Eta’s voice took a sharp edge of alarm, “the boy ain’t breathin’.â€
They finally hit firmer ground and Ves put Aden down–he wasn’t breathing. Ves went through the motions of trying to force the water out without thinking about it, just automatic reaction. It worked, though, and after a moment Aden started coughing and trying to suck in desperate, wet gasps of air. Ves rolled him onto his side and took some of his weight against one arm to make it easier.
The Wailers caught up to them, and talked to Eta over Ves’ head. “We need to move, in case their ranged fighters find vantage, or they find another way to cross.â€
“Agreed. Someone can pick this back up when the weather clears. Ves.†He looked up just in time to see Eta gesture at him, a flick of her index and middle fingers. “Come on. We need some distance.â€
As soon as the coughing grew unproductive Ves hauled Aden up, mindful of the bloody tatters of his leathers around one knee, and stood. Between harsh, weak coughs and gasps Aden’s eyelids fluttered open, and he peered up with narrowed eyes.
“Ves,†he croaked.
“Yeah.â€
That seemed to satisfy him, because he didn’t try to say anything else on the way back to the spire.
