RP:Part I: If I Should Go Before You

Part of the Time Heals All Wounds Arc

(Authors’ Disclosure: Every auto-hit between Penelope and Linken was discussed before written. Approval on both ends. This is also a very long RP, so beware for blocks and blocks of text that might be difficult to understand or sort through. Also, note, the entity is not a God, but it is a dark and powerful source that has possessed Linken’s body a long time ago. It thinks it’s godly, but really… it’s not. Arkhen's light is the only thing to keep the entity contained. It wants to be a being, and it chose Linken from birth, and it has been attached to Penelope for years.)

Synopsis: The day is supposed to be serene. Amnesiac Linken is prepared for his last perfect day with a picnic in the gardens of the Temple of Arkhen. Penelope and Linken reminisce in old memories and the two actually laugh again, for it had been years since one. The conversation is full of real memories, discovery, and partial embarrassment. Linken’s son, Aeric, however, approaches in horror. Alexia has been taken by an angry mob that is after Linken.

Arkhen’s Forgotten Temple

About two and a half weeks had passed, but during that span, time would not be wasted. Between Emilia’s search, Lionel’s quest for her to tag with Kasyr to go sailing with Captain Navarre, and searching for a cure for the young Leon Lovik, she had been fairly occupied. Not to mention, the ghost whisperer and the healer began to play with the dead. Kellin. Lips would be zipped today. She would continue to not waste time, so was she sleeping well? No, however, she wanted to avoid wasting anymore time if it meant finding the cure for this man as well. Sorting Linken’s true memory. Today, however, would be a gentle day compared to the voyages across the seas with traumatizing magnetic pulls or mermaids that want to break through shadow magic. Hopefully the day would not be as awkward, but only a day of laughter. A day of melancholy. A day of deep conversation that the man did not get to discover with the time reawaking in Lithrydel. The woman would travel lightly with the herbal pouch around her torso with the etched ‘P’ in golden thread and her regular medical satchel with other tools inside. The woman desired the fresh spring air to keep present, so she wore those pair of light and flowy red cotton pants, but she wrapped a belt to add an extra flare of accessories to her outfit. The woman wears a white, cropped, flared sleeve top that was loose fitting with a pair of chunky black strap on sandals. The picnic basket rests in her arm and inside is a sorted array of food. Honeydew melon, meat and cheese sandwiches on her own homemade bread. There was a jar of herbal peach tea that the past Linken had always turned to after a long days travel. She also packed homemade chocolate chunked brownies. He said to surprise him, so she would do just that. The physician would make her way through the forest until she is outside the temple. With ease, she makes her way in to find the elf. “I made brownies,” she hollers as she echoes through the temple, as if that was to get him up and roaming from wherever he was resting.

Linken would be found seated by the campfire from the day prior knees pulled to his chest with one elbow lifted to head level as he stirred and prodded at the cooking pot with a ladle. As her voice resonated throughout the temple, the elf's ears would perk up, a quaint smirk puckered on his face as he dropped the ladle into the pot and dusted off his hand, ready to climb to his feet. "Ooh, she's here~ Wait, 'brownies'? He'd pause, turning his head to seek answers somewhere off in the distance as he pondered on the word with his brow in a knot, his smirk quickly turning into a grimace. "Well, that doesn't sound appealing at all..." His body would twist from his spot on the ground, one hand planting itself directly behind his back as he looked over his shoulder, finding that Penelope was well on her approach, and within audible earshot. "The hell is a 'brownie'? Sounds like a nickname for cow dung, but if you brought it, I'll trust you're judgement." His legs would turn with the rest of his body, and by the time Penelope would reach him he'd have sprung to his feet in an instant, hands placed on his hips as he engaged in an ocular perusal of the delectables she brought with her. Linken himself was garbed in the white-silk elven tunic he wore on the first day of their departure, as well as his brown-leather riding pants and black-elven jack boots, albeit much more clean than the state it was last seen in. At least they have a means of washing their garbs here. This time, however, his hair was pulled back in a neat, low-tied ponytail, preventing his locks from hiding the sudden look of disappointment he displayed as he turned back to look at the bubbling pot of...something. Was it disappointment? It smells like disappointment. At least, compared to what she brought. I guess food was just that much better. If only they had better cookware here, then perhaps he could have autonomously whipped up something special like he did before. "Weeeell," he slowly dragged out as he turned back to face her with a wide, cheesy smile, "It would turn out that the priests in this temple have peaked at the level of culinary evolution that my village had reached thousands and thousands of years ago, SO!" He claps his hands together, his smile ever-persistent, "I made potato soup and flatbread! Same way my Da' used to make it! Eh, I wanted to contribute."

Penelope finds him at the fire with the ladle. “You don’t know what brownies are?” The horror. Her mind reflects at his age, and she had to remind herself that he was not from this time. She then reflected on the knowledge old Linken was capable of. People called her witty, but by Gods she would never compare. “I forget you’re an old man,” she teases lightly. “You won’t be disappointed, trust me.” The smell of potatoes lingers in the air, but there was something else that lingered in the pot she was not too sure about. The thoughts in her mind are hidden by her plain face. Not just potatoes. Linken always let her cook, for the girl had a strong relationship with food. She liked to eat. That was a fact. “Your dad, huh,” she repeats. “Looks hearty. That was sweet of you,” she says in a soft way. Linken is his own and she smiles slightly at the new light he harbors. “Here, here, sit,” she gestures. The woman would find a nearby seat on the ground. The woman would open the basket, for she could not help herself. Inside, she pulls out one of the brownies that is wrapped in paper. “Try just a piece. It’s not what it seems. It’s –better-. You know I used to be a baker,” she says with a bit of pep and pride. “And while you try it, tell me what it was like in your time. What did you do? Who was your father?” The woman wanted to make conversation as light as possible for this day. His day.

(1 of 2) Linken opened his mouth with shock, his head cocking to the side as he appeared to try and blink away the jab she took at his age. "-Excuse- me?" He'd laugh, shaking his head while turning towards the pot, lurching over and taking the ladle up to begin spooning the soup into a wooden bowl. "Hey now, that isn't fair. My particular circumstances aside, you should well enough know that age is only a number. What's in your head? That doesn't grow old. It only learns more... At least, that's what Da' would say when I picked on him every time it took a strained noise and more than four seconds for him to rise to his feet from a kneeling position." Linken chuckled, pausing his soup preparation to turn and see what she wanted when she beckoned him to sit. "What's this, now?" As she opened the basket, the look on his face when presented with the brownie was quite similar to the one he had at first hearing the name. In fact, he now agreed that there couldn't have been a better name picked for it. "...Well, it is...brown. I should have expected such." It wasn't until the smell wafted past his nose that his entire perception of reality changed, drawing a deep, euphoric breath as his eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head. "My -word-, that's... that's..." His focus was brought back down to lock onto the dessert, licking his lips and slowly lurching towards the basket with fingers twiddling in anticipation, like a leopard stalking a gazelle... "..Wait! No!" he'd suddenly exclaim in a pained tone, wincing and shutting his eyes tight as he flipped the basket lid shut. "Not here. Don't worry."

(2 of 2) Linken did his best to sound reassuring as he turned back to the post, swiftly funneling his soup into a second bowl before haphazardly dropping some utensils in and spinning about to snatch Penelope by the wrist, "We're almost ready! Grab the basket-" With both bowls balanced in one arm, the elf took off with Penelope in tow before even reaching the end of his sentence, guiding her on a B-line towards one particularly shadowy corridor near the back of the temple. "It looks dark, but I took the liberty of lighting some torches in advance. Just watch your step." As the elf guided her through the dimly lit shadows, a left turn here and a right turn there, he'd take the opportunity to answer her question before suddenly darting off. "My father, though? His name is-" He'd pause. "His name was Brahmir. He found me, and took me in when I was an infant. I never met my real parents...But he was a smith by trade, formerly a warrior. He taught me to smith as well, but I chose carpentry as my trade. I feel they go hand-in-hand with each other, anyways. If I ever misplaced a tool, I could always make another one." He chuckles. "I've always appreciated the irony in woodworking. You ask people about creation, and they depict it as building things bigger and bigger, more... grandiose. Unnecessary. Carpentry has a simplistic beauty, and shows one can also create by cutting away the dry, ugly parts that aren't needed. The beauty lies within, and with a steady hand and careful tending, you can shape it however you desire." Quite an insightful perspective for some archaic farm boy to have, to be honest. "Oh, here it is!" As they turned a corner, a light would breach the darkness at the end of the corridor, and as they emerged through the archway, the garden that sprawled forth before them was magnificent; Open roofed, light graciously poured down from above, illuminating every bush and flower petal present with vivid detail and contrast. At the gardens center was a sprawling oak, twisting and coiling as its arms reached towards the sky, and directly beneath its plentiful shade lie a plain, white table cloth, already spread out upon the perfect spot in preparation for her arrival. "Not too shabby for a couple of old priests," he joked, giving Penelope a light nudge with his elbow before turning to look down at her with a smile. "Or did you think we were about to have a picnic in the dustiest corner of the temple?"

Penelope rolls her eyes a bit at his response about the mind. He was right. He really did not age, so that was that. The ex-baker almost jumps for joy as he is about to take the brownie, but frowns as he resists. “It has to be the perfect moment, doesn’t it?” The woman would then stick the paper-wrapped treat back in the basket. “Fair enough—“ she is then snatched by the wrist and is being dragged with the basket. Someone was chipper. Eventually the lights begin to dim as they reach the back of the temple. He speaks the story of his father and his profession. The passion of carpentry. Poetic. Linken had always been poetic. “Sounds like a familiar story. Aeric and Alexia, I mean. You must get it from Brahmir, yes? Kindness. Giving. Caring.” She sort of looks him over in the shadows before they move into the garden. Eyes brighten and her mouth gapes. “No kidding. I never knew they had something so beautiful back here,” she glances up at him before she parts from him. The woman walks and sort of circles the area while she keeps her green gaze up. The basket slowly slides off her wrist onto the table cloth. The healer leaves the basket behind while she wanders around and gently caresses a few flowers. “Pfft,” she gives him a crooked little smile before wandering to the cloth. “You did want the perfect moment.” The woman would seat herself down and gaze at him from the far distance. The question next was unpredictable, but this was the time to know who he was before the curse. “What was the last thing you remember? Before all this, when you woke up, you only knew during the ancient times. What was your last memory before waking up in the hut?”

(1 of 3) Linken was late to respond to her question, lost in his infatuation with her beauty as he watched her wander through the garden with a smile of pure content. The way she approached the flowers with graceful caution, her fingers grazing their petals, the flecks of light spattering across her form through the breaks in the oak's leaves; Yes, if there was one memory, one image of her he'd wish to preserve in his mind from this day, it would be this. "...I'm sorry, wha?.." By the time her words reached his ears, Penelope was already seating herself upon the table cloth, and his features were overcome with notes of cringe the moment he realized she knew he was staring. How could she not, after such a long pause? "Oh! Sorry, err..." The elf reached up to scratch the back of his head, laughing through an awkward smile with his gaze averted as he began to step towards her, though he'd almost immediately stop again, his face animating to portray the inner shock he felt at his epiphany as he ran her questions through his mind again. "Well, jeez, you're really talking me up here. I wouldn't say...wait a second...familiar story?..are you-wait, you're saying the're -ADOPTED- too??” Linken's mouth and eyes were all wide and open, left absolutely flabbergasted by the discovery, after a moment spent in statuesque shock, he'd pull a quick half-spin and land on his heels facing the opposite direction, lurched over with his hands clenching the sides of his head to hold it together in anticipation of it exploding. "Is she serious?? How is that even -possible-!? I mean, I haven't met Alexia yet, so I can't speak for her, but he LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE ME, IT'S UNSETTLING. I would have -never- guessed in a thousand years..." Clearly, he didn't. The elf couldn't help but laugh a bit at the situation, still finding it oddly coincidental, but accepting it nonetheless. "...I suppose you are right, then," he'd manage through a chuckle as he turned once more about face, a flat palm pressed to his forehead that still shook in disbelief. "Not my place to argue. That is -crazy-, though. Are you -sure- Aeric's not really mine? Like, I never-whoooap." Linken 'acks' and winces, shutting his eyes tight from embarrassment and frantically waving his hands in a dismissive manner before blindly continuing his approach towards his chosen spot. "Nope. Not going there. That's embarrassing to think about..." Coming to a halt and lowering himself down beside her, he'd breathe out an audible 'oomf' as his rear hit the ground, hands cupping his knees as he took a moment to examine the surrounding beauty with a fulfilled sigh. "Of course. Nothing less than perfect..." The perfect moment. It was time. "Ah! You're question. What I was doing before I woke up here..."

(2 of 3) After a moment of pondering he would blink several times, his brow sinking low in stern fashion as his gaze lifted high, a hand rasing to scratch the tip of his chin in thought. "...That's a good question, actually. What -was- I doing right before I woke up here? It's still pretty fuzzy, to be honest..." The elf slowly began to lurch closer in an unassuming manner. "I suppose I'll tell you what I can..." And closer. "Right after I..." Without warning, the elf lunged towards Penelope and dove across her lap, flapping his fingers in an attempt to reach the basket lid with outstretched arms, before finally snagging his prize, rapidly coiling back to his original spot with legs crossed, two open palms raising the square of brown, carnal delight to his devious smile as if tasting the forbidden fruit. One would imagine the elf would have immediately gorged himself on the brownie, but the moment his teeth sank into it and broke a piece off in his mouth, he froze, pupils dilating as they stared off into the void before them, their swirling pools teasing that they were beholden to some magnificent sight as grand as the cosmos itself. Slowly, his gaze melted down from the empty space to the brownie in his hands, slowly drifted over to Penelope, then slid back to the brownie. -Then- he began gorging himself. Bite after frantic bite filled his swelling cheeks in desperation, fanning his hands in a panic as he forced wad after wad of chocolate down his throat to allow him the opportunity to speak - and breathe - in between. "YOU -MADE- THIS!?" Chomp. Munch. Gulp. "WHAT IS THIS -MADE- OF!?" Chomp. Munch. Gulp. "WHY DON'T PEOPLE EAT THIS -ALL THE TIME-!?" He'll find out for sure, if he keeps it up. Eventually, Linken would become more tolerant to the chocolate high he was riding, the pace of his vacuous inhalation slowing enough for him to manage a reply to her question. With a half full mouth, of course. "Mmmmhmmm...What was I?...Wow, this is good- Let me see...." He'd close his eyes for a moment, a single brow slowly raising above the other as he pondered amidst the sound of his chewing. "...I think I was....Taking a nap?" Well, that's pretty plain. Something one would imagine to be common across all species throughout time. "...out in a field..." Who didn't enjoy basking in the sun outdoors? "...near a wagon..." Now, -that-, in particular, sounded oddly familiar. "Oh! I think I remember. Da' told me one of our neighbors split a wagon wheel on a rock on the road, on their way back from harvest with ten loads of barley." She had heard this story before, for it was difficult to forget. Not in such detail, though. "I'd spent the rest of the evening shaping a new wheel, and first thing in the morning I rolled it out and up the road. It was a lot further than I expected, and by the time I finished hammering it in, it was well into the afternoon. I remember being hungry, yet it was still to early for dinner, but Da' was making- No... Someone else was making- wait, who -was- it...?"

(3 of 3) Ezmerelda. His first love. His wife. He didn't remember her. He shakes his head, "Eh, I'm not sure. But, like I said, I was hungry, and didn't feel like waiting, so I laid down beneath a tree off the side of the road by the wagon, and figured I'd sleep 'til it was time to eat." He shrugs. "Then, when I opened my eyes, I was on a table, with you looking at me." The picture was painted clear, only Penelope was alone in bearing the hurt of the truth, in knowing the parts Linken did not. It was the day. -His- day. The day before the death of his innocence. The sweet, innocent elf that sat before her, munching away on pastries, was not only a version of himself ripped from aeons past, but he was pulled into this world moments before the event that would change his life, forever altering the course of his destiny and setting him on the path that would lead him to Penelope today. This Linken was moments from discovering the death of his family. His father, Brahmir. His wife, Ezmerelda. His child, unborn. Them, and all those around him, ripped from his embrace and given to the void, the elf overwhelmed with grief and despair, his bitter hands cradling the broken glass of what was once his everything. Has he not awoken here, in this state, Linken was moments from taking his own life. "You know," he chuckled, though with a somber tone lining his voice as he continued to chew on the brownie, "I know that...I know that an unfathomable time has passed, and that my father is- well...gone. But, I can't help but wonder what happened to him. You know, what he did after I left. Where his life ended up carrying him. There's still a lot missing in my head, so I couldn't even begin to...Um...Is, something the matter?..." As Linken turned to cast a glance her way, he'd double back and lock eyes with her, his chewing grinding to a halt as his brows furrowed together in confusion, the corners of his lips tugging an awkward smile across his features. "...You're staring. Pretty hard. Ooh, crud, is something on my face?..." Yes. There was brownie on his face. It was everywhere.

(1 of 2) Penelope could not hide the humor of his reaction that his kids, were in fact, adopted. There was a grin across her face at his panic. Panic of being a father. One of adopted children. “That’s what –I- said when I first met them. I questioned you about how he could not possibly be –yours-, but you told me that you felt the obligation,” she was laughing while talking. “And you are a loving father. A strong one. Aeric definitely inherited a lot from you. Blood or not.” The embarrassment takes him away as if he was a child. Yes, Linken, people were together and birthed babies. That was how he was born and that was how Penelope was born. Every creature in Lithrydel. In Hollow. A hand is put on her forehead out of his childish ways and she is laughing. Hard. It had been a long time since she had laughed so deeply and so real. They were like two kids as they rock back in their fits. How he reaches for the brownies and takes that first beloved bite. His eyes were starry and bright like the world was brand new. The giddy behavior he betrays reflects in her face, and for a moment, she is old naïve Penelope. That sweet, innocent baker from Cenril who wanted to grow up and be a great adventurer. “Well –I- didn’t make them up. Some baking God or Goddess did. I say Goddess because, really, they’re amazing and women are good at everything,” she gives him a knowing smirk. “Though, I’m glad you still like them,” she says proudly. “Flour, sugar and chocolate? How can you not go wrong? Though, I add a secret ingredient to mine to give them a little flare,” she leans in whispering.

(2 of 2) Time goes by, and he is finally getting down to her question, and he begins the tale. The tale that long ago he had begun to tell her. Almost the same start. The broken wagon. The wheel he had to fix. The light begins to fade in her freckled visage into something a lot cooler. The smile fades, but she keeps her eyes soft on purpose. A good faker. A good liar. The old Penelope fades and the current remains as he continues his tale. He speaks of how about the food that was made, and her mind reflects his wife. The one who held his child. The one who was murdered along with his father. The story before innocence was snatched away from him and blew into thick dust. Her stomach feels twisted at the thought of him not knowing. The thought of him thinking of the day that was a good day in his version. The protective woman was glad that he could not remember further, for he deserved that last bit of happiness along with his final day of happiness, though maybe, just maybe it would not be his final day. Then again, the entity. The entity had ruined everything. If she could let Linken restart his life, she would have gladly let it be so, if she knew it would remain innocent and perfectly untouched. Though, that was a heavy wish of thinking, for he had to finish what was started. So, yes. Juniper eyes gaze at his chocolate, faultless face, and he catches her. Her eyes pretend to dance over his face that is stained with brownie crumbles that lie between the cracks of his lips. “Yes, there is,” she reaches for the basket to pull out a cloth napkin for him to wipe the smudges away. Lie, Penelope. Lie like you always have. Like you were born to do, although the entity had told her to tell the truth to him, though she could not break him again. Time and again she would break him, but not right now. Today had to be his own. Today was supposed to be beautiful. Full of bliss and tranquility. “I imagine your father found peace after his passing.” After the disgusting death he faced. “He loved you, and you loved him. That’s all he needed, I’m sure.” Skim the surface and say the safe words to say.

Linken accepted the napkin gratefully, issuing a quaint, "Oh, thank you," before raising it to his puckered lips, his eyes occasionally darting over to check Penelope's expression as he dabbed the bits of chocolate from his face. "I can't lie to you..." Ironically enough. "...it makes me really happy to see you like this. Just...smiling. Laughing. Full of life." Once his face was pristine, the napkin would be folded and left beside him on the cloth, his heels leaving ripples in the fabric as his legs slid down and outstretched, leaning back onto the support of his arms as he gazed up at the sky through the opening in the temple above. "Ever since I got here... I've brought nothing but misfortune with me. And you've probably thought me occupied with worrying about my own state this entire time, but I'd be dishonest if I didn't say that much of my thoughts stayed with you. How you saved me. Nursed me back to health, took care of me. And all the trouble I brought with me...how I turned your life upside-down.” He sighs, closing his eyes tight. The sun was beginning to hurt them- or, was it? "You were always so dour, so... on-edge. Hell, I'd even say miserable... You can't blame me for saying I've felt nothing more than an unnecessary burden on your life..." As his eyes opened once more, his head would roll down and to the side to meet her gaze with a sincere smile. "I didn't just want this for me, you know," he'd continue as he took on a more lax position, rolling onto his side to face her laying down, his head propped up by an arm with it's elbow planted beneath it. "You needed a break, too. I had to do something for you in return, to pay you back for everything you've done for me thus far. I figured the best way was to -not- make you miserable for a while." Linken chuckles, his gaze falling to trace the weaves in the fabric beneath him, his free hand idly rubbing it's steel fingers together as it lay across his abdomen. "That, and... It's reassuring to know I still have it within my capacity to make you smile..." He could still make her smile. It would have to be enough for him, though in truth, it never would be. "Penny, there's something..." Linken would his gaze to meet hers, though the moment they interlocked his words would leave him, and in that moment, unbeknownst to the elf, his eyes would betray him, revealing all that he hoped to say. How much he still loved her. How he longed for reconciliation, for the chance to be with her again. The opportunity to give her this gift every day. How he longed to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be alright in the end. But he knew it wasn't. Not for him, at least. In stead of words, the only thing to leave his mouth were a few faint clicks and an exhasperated breath as the tension in his vocal chords loosened, severing the pull of his revealing gaze to avert, and segue his abysmal attempt at a confession into something distracting from his feelings. "...Soooomething else in that basket I've never seen before..." The elf rolled onto his stomach, using his elbows as picks to drag his prone form closer to the basket before cautiously lifting the clear jar into his hands, before rolling onto his back and setting the container on his chest, unintentionally mimicking the mannerisms of an otter. "What is this?" he inquired, his neck rolling into a double chin as he lurched his head upright to examine the clear, orange liquid within. "It looks..." A hand slid up the side of the jar, twisting the lid and lifting it the moment he heard the resounding 'pop', and the moment the smell within struck him, it knocked his head back. "Oh, woooow~" mused the elf, turning back to Penelope with an eager smile and a sparkle in his eyes. "Are those -peaches-?"

Penelope’s face turns to grace. She was living in the serenity of today. The woman did not know how to respond, so instead she stares down at her flowy, cotton pants and brushes out the creases. He is making her out to be the hero. The savior in the difficult times that was his unknown life. “I wasn’t dour. I wasn’t miserable either… I was caught off guard. I thought I’d left you behind, and for you to show up like you did, it was unexpected. A punch in the gut. It threw memories back at me, but… I realized that I needed to sort through the memories. I’ve never fully grieved, and then I found you in the forest. You’ve helped me begin the process of grieving, and for that is not miserable. That is growth. Even though you had to suffer through some tainted words,” she admits. She was not easy anymore like she used to be. As he admits that this was for the both of them, she begins to grow that smile that was crooked and bright. Thankful. It was a day for both of them. To just enjoy, and she had not had one of those days in quite some time. The woman moves to reach for a sandwich within the picnic basket. The woman slowly peels off the crust as Linken attempts to spill what he was internally keeping. Do not say it. The words were tainted, and if he did, she might drift. That stare. She knew it too well as she double-took his gaze. Eyes lingered and slowly turned solemn before biting into her sandwich. She slowly chews, and is thankful that he moves to the basket out of curiosity. He reaches for the tea. “A natural choice,” she sings this in all-knowing with her mouth full. The Ardelian sort of sways. “Those –are- peaches. It’s a peach tea, and you always loved it. I’d always keep this cool for you when you came home from travel.” The healer peers over the basket before she finds glass mugs. The bread was sticking to the roof of her mouth, anyway. “Pour away! I’m sure you’ll get the same reaction as the brownies, anyway. And, well, you can’t go wrong with peaches.” The woman would hold out the mugs for him to fill.

(1 of 2) Linken blinked at Penelope, his lips pursed in a surprised expression as he slowly lurched upright, cautiously balancing the jar in his hands and bringing it down to rest in his lap. The all this time, the elf had been so weak, so helpless to the maelstrom of his future life, swept of his feet and tossed into it's apex to suffer nightmares he could never conceive, wrought onto others by his own hands. Incapable of helping. Of controlling. And yet, somehow, with all the pain he'd wrought and misfortune he'd spread to others, -especially- her... Somehow, someway, she could see his presence here as being helpful? Despite him being a monster? The inside of Linken's chest felt hot, spreading up to the back of his neck and ears as his a content smile once again crawled out of hiding. Linken felt fulfilled, and it showed; he was practically glowing. "Growth..." He couldn't help but feel empathetic to her words, for he knew all to well the weight which they carried. The elf got to not only see, but experience something that few in this world ever would: Their future. He learned that he would live a life both fantastical and terrible, seeing things that others would never see, observing the flow of time on a scope that none could fathom though any other means than experience. He'd learned of his accomplishments- as well as failures, and he learned of the terrible burden he would come to carry. The weight of his choices. The impact they carried. The the overwhelmingly impossible task he'd come to face. And love. Though he was but a shadow from the past of the man he'd come to be, this Linken was not the same person he was when he arrived; he had grown, too, whether or not it showed through his demeanor. His smile would wane as he went about his ponderings, appearing mentally distracted as he nodded and accepted the mugs and went about to filling them with the beverage he'd almost forgotten about. "Tea from -peaches-... I would have never imagined it..." Returning Penelope's filled beverage to her hands, the elf lifted the mug to his lips and tipped it back, his adam's apple rising and falling with a vocalized 'gulp', followed by a moment of silence...then another gulp. And another. And another. Eventually, Linken would resurface from the ocean of peach with a desperate breath of fresh air, holding the jar up to his face to turn it left and right in thorough examination as he studied the container obsessively. "Oh my gods, this is -delicious-. It's so refreshing! No wonder this was my favorite, and if ever it wasn't, it is now! Who -discovers- all of these things??" At least he has good taste in his future.

(2 of 2) Casting a passive glance towards Penelope, and noticing her struggle with the bread on the roof of her mouth, he'd remember the sandwiches she brought and be inspired to do the same, miming her actions and retrieving one himself to nibble on; He was -trying- to pace himself now. Linken wanted this to last as long as it possibly could; After all the hell he'd waded and crawled through to reach this place and time, this afternoon with her was the closest he'd ever be to reaching Heaven. That, and the brownies were slowly starting to remind him of their presence, and his mistake. Also, he wanted to be audible when he talked. "You know, I've been wondering... Since all this started for me, I've learned a lot about my future, who I become, all sorts of things. But, most of what I've learned about myself is pretty...well." He shrugs, an awkward smile creeping to his ears to reveal his pearly whites. "Ridiculous." He laughs a bit, shaking his head. "-Extremely- over the top. It almost doesn't even seem real, and if you'd tell me this about myself a month ago, I'd never have believed it. And yet, that can't be -all- my life is, or is it?" He cocks his head to the side. "As much as I've learned, I still have no idea who I -am- as a person, what my daily life was like. What did I -do-? Did I have any jobs? Was I a carpenter- wait, no." He pauses, shaking his head. "No, you didn't seem to know that, so I must not have been... Well, what -did- I do? You know, when I wasn't out fighting all of Maker's creation, or whatever...Did I have any hobbies?" Linken begomes genuinely intrigued by his own inquiry, placing his beverage on the ground and propping himself up onto his knees to waddle closer to her. "What about you? There was a period of a number of years where we never saw each other. What's something that you've done, or that's happened in your life while I was away? Something -neither- of me would know?" He snickers, turning his head down and to the side in brief hesitation before his pupils would roll up to the corners of his eyes, locking with her. "...Do you remember how we met? What we were doing? As much as I've come to remember about you, that is still one memory that escapes me. Would you mind telling me?" It was the only piece left of the puzzle that mattered to him. There was nothing else he needed.

(1 of 2) The conversation was at ease for once. The content atmosphere grew with smiles and genuine laughs. A thankful sense of peace for one day. One day. Away from healing. Away from disappearances. Away from magical illnesses. A large smirk surpasses her lips and there is a small snort that peeps out of her nose as he gulps the tea down. She slowly sips hers in order to get the bread off the roof of her mouth. “Like I know. It’s just the innovation. The testing. The curiosity,” she shrugs nonchalantly. He slows down his eating, but she continues the quick pace. The woman was petite, but she had a large appetite—always. It was a strong relationship with food, and well, it was probably best she left the bakery behind when she did. As he begins to question her, she stops mid-bite in her sandwich and lowers it instead. Although she scarfed food down, she was able to control her stopping point. “Ridiculous is a word for it,” she begins. “I only know you when you were with me, and some of the stuff you told me.” The woman chews the side of her lip before sticking a finger in her mouth to pick food from her teeth. Sorry, Linken. “You hunted a lot to feed your family. You taught me archery which I am practicing to this day. Your profession was a Ranger Commander in the Larket Royal Guard. People depended on you. You would do anything to protect anyone, and you were a family man. A huge one. Very family oriented,” she smiles slightly. “Your kids and settling was your life, so you could live happily, but of course you were not afraid to take on tasks or risks as they came to you.” As he shuffles his knees over to her, she sort of sways back and forth at his deeper questions about her life. Their life together. She supposed she did blow over those tidbits when he re-entered her life.

(2 of 2) Penelope sort of twists herself where she is facing him head on. The woman takes a bite or two of her sandwich as she lets his words swirl through her mind in process. “When I left, I went through the cottage where my brother and I used to live. Found out where I was from… Ardelia. A small village—tribe even, you can call it. I traveled the Tongzhen,” swamps. Lionel had knew the destinations and was able to map them out for her. “I went through the Yasha-Tar Sandsea and over the Aurens which are the mountains where in between those rested Ardelia.” The Ardelian talks slowly in that faint accent she kept from her village. “Found out my twin linkage with druidism, but never stayed long to figure out that source of magic, and then, I joined the Healer’s Guild. Went into a battle or two. Failed at one, conquered the other.” She brushes over the topic. “I was very sick for a while as well… bedridden with no cure until one day it magically lifted. It saved me just in time, while others still fell from the pandemic. It was a mystery to this day to me. Yerrel could never explain what had happened.” She had went to multiple places across Lithrydel to find a cure. No one could help her. Could help the plagued. “But you,” she starts and her head cants. “I remember everything on how we met.” The woman lets the silence linger as she places her last corner piece of sandwich to the side. She was one of –those-. The one who lest the inch chunk of food on the plate. The healer inhales and her hands sort of grip her knee-caps. Nails dig in before they loosen. “At the time, I was a baker. In Cenril. I worked for, as most people know her, Mrs. Mallard. I worked with Ruari which.. he liked you back then,” she laughs playfully to lighten the mood. “You came in the shop one day. I believe with your children. We helped them pick the goods from the glass. They were –very- young.” The girl reaches back for her mug to have an object to fiddle with and hold. Juniper eyes linger over his face. “After that day, you kept visiting me. Always when I was about to take my break. You were very punctual which was –intimidating-, might I say. You kept me in line most of the time.” The woman jokes with him. “At least twice a week you came in until, well, one night, you decided to walk me home.” The woman has a small smirk on her face that she holds. Her eyes sort of appear distant at the memory. “From there, I caught on that you liked me, and well… the feelings were mutual. You were literally the first interest I had ever had in a man. Most people called me oblivious—now, I’m just a prude, I suppose,” there is a laugh that escapes her lips. “Either way, it was nice talking to someone new besides Ruari or the incoming, ordinary customer. You were a breath of fresh air.” Nelo nods. “So thank you for being that breath of fresh air. Genuinely.” The present was behind her, at the moment, for she was thankful that she had gotten out of the robotic lifestyle. She, however, had difficulty with emotion since then, but her moods were getting better. She holds his gaze until she moves to the basket for the honeydew she had packed.

(1 of 3) Linken puts the sandwich down. He becomes engrossed with her tales as she regales him with accounts of distant lands where she discovered her heritage and the source of her magic. Her shift in accent was pleasant to hear, and helped to paint the picture in his mind as he let a chuckle of admiration slip through his smile. That smile, however, would fade into despair, brought on by his learning of hr contraction of a near-fatal illness. "You were sick..I had no-..." It was as if his brain ground to a halt, his thoughts trapping themselves in an inner cycle of anxiety and fear he had not felt before, due to the dawning realization that Penny almost died. 'How could you let this happen to her? She nearly died, and you would have never known. Gods, I would have gone to the ends of the earth to...' His steel hand slowly clenches into a fist; he was hurt. The thought of something happening to her... it was unfathomable. Migraine inducing. Much like the brief one he would develop as soon as Penelope turned the conversation toward their first meetings, her description of the events bringing a hand to his flustered face and a rush of memories into his head. Over the next several moments, it was as if Linken's face had gone haywire, his eyebrows, lips and nose stretching and contorting every which way in expressive reactions to his memories, though without any verbal context. His brows, twisted in a knot as he studied the high reaching domiciles and cobblestone streets as they strolled through the lantern-lit streets of Cenril. His nostrils, flaring as they absorbed the melting pot of smells that wafted from the pastry displays in Penelope's old bakery. His lips, failing to hold themselves together, then peel apart just enough to let a mesmerised gasp slip through as they pursed into a quaint, glowing smile, looking down to see the two chldren that clenched his hands, their faces pressed to the glass display as they ogled the pastries inside with delightful anticipation; His son, Aeric, though much smaller than he recalled, and his daughter, Alexia, the...feline?

(2 of 3) Linken hadn't the opportunity to formally introduce himself as of yet, so this memory was his first chnce to actually see what she looked like, and while it couldn't be -further- from what he expected, she was every bit as beautiful as he could have imagined. Then, as he'd spot the reflection cascading down across the glass, his eyes would follow it up to it' source, locking eyes with the much younger, quaint, pear-shaped girl and her heartwarming smile in the manner she did with him at this very moment. Before he could appreciate the sight longer, however, his memories took the two of them to a different place, one that was much more... revealing than her response to his inquiry could have been, and the nature of the recollection forced the elf to squint tight and blurt out a loud snort, followed by an immediate bellowing laugh that grew in it's intensity until he rocked backwards, clenching his stomach in agony. He was going to have fun with this. "Oh, my lord, the -memories-, they are...wonderful...-however-..." A single eye, left unshielded by his hand, opened to lock with hers again, his smile stretching wider and growing evermore devilish in nature. "It would seem I've begun to recall a bit more than you," he remarked in a sing-songy manner as he leaned back, his gaze drifting up and off into the distance as he leaned back onto his arms for support, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle. "See, it wasn't at your bakery where we first met. It was-" Pausing for dramatic effect, Linken's ponytail whipped around and across his shoulder as he quickly snapped his head back over in her direction, adorning the cheesiest of smiles as he lofted his eyebrows suggestively. "-The Bathouse." He couldn't help but burst into more lafter, unable to contain himself as he rocked back onto his rear again, hands clenching his knees as his legs coiled up, heels catching him on his return to save him from falling onto his face. "I can see it all now!" proclaimed the elf, his hands spreading out before him and fanning apart slowly as if physically putting the memory on display for her. "You, sitting by the poolside with feet in the water, looking as -adorable- as ever in your one-piece bathing suit, just -waiting- for some knight in shining armor to come in and sweep you off your feet... But what you got was a knight in -no- armor!" He snickers, quickly nudging Penelope with his elbow before snapping o the side and sowly wafting both his hands towards the center of the imaginary easel upon which he painted the scene. "Enter yours truly, from the left, slowly making my way over to the pool and seating myself down right beside you, giving you ample chance to soak up the glow of my immaculate physique as I flexed my-" He paused, quickly looking down to examine his biceps - Yeah, they are pretty big, actually - before turning back to her, flexing his muscles like a macho-man with his warrior's grimace on display. "-with my big, -strong- arms!" He chuckled, his laughlines deepening as he ofered a complacent shrug before falling back onto one of his arms once more, the other lifting nonchalantly to coil the end of his ponytail around his finger as it draped across his chest. "I suppose the sheer beauty of my perfectly toned form was too overwhelming for you, because you turned so many shades of red darker that I'd have thought you a completely different person if I weren't sitting right beside you. Gods, you must have been -so- embarrassed!"

(3 of 3) Linken would chuckle once more, though it would fade, seemingly lost in thought for a moment as he watched his hair twist around his finger; That wasn't the only thing he recalled about that day. "All mock-hubris aside," he continued in a more level tone, "that wasn't why I introduced myself to you. To be honest," he sits upright, crossing his legs and placing one hand on his lap, "I didn't plan on introducing myself at all...See, I would only ever take trips to the bath house on days and at times I knew there'd be no business, because of my- well..." His hand touches his chest. "...You know why. They are not something I like to share publicly. So, you can imagine my surprise when I walk into the pool area an hour before closing, only to find another person present. To be honest, as soon as I saw you there, I was turning about, ready to leave...but I stopped. Something about you caught my eye, so I turned around to get a better look at you, and when I did, I noticed something." His eyes fall to the ground, lost for a moment in his thoughts. "You looked...sad. Lonely. Like you felt...out of place, as if you didn't mesh with your surroudings." His fingers tighten around the shirt over his chest. "I know that feeling all too well... I did then, as I still do now... The thought of leaving you sitting there alone like that, it just-... It didn't sit well with me. I know better than anyone that even if you live in a world that makes you feel out of place, it's good to have some company to feel out of place with every once in a while. So, I took a chance, walked right up and sat down beside you." Linken fought the smile that tugged at his lips to no avail, lifting his eyes to meet hers for a few moments before they returned to examining the tablecloth beneath them. "I remember glancing over several times to catch you looking at my scars, though when you notice'd I'd caught on you quickly turned away in embarrassment; You looked like you were about to explode with anxiety. I mean, yes, it -was- embarrassing for me, too... but I could tell you were interested in them, and I wasn't keen on seeing you pop like a bubble, so I figured I't help alleviate some of that embarrassment if I just started talking about them. So I did, and as I started pointing them out and explaining how they were earned, they piqued your interest, and -that- was the first time I saw you smile." Just the thought of it brought him to one of his own. "Then, as I learned more about you, started visiting you... Just seeing who you were beneath, getting to watch the warm, caring person you are grow out from your shell... It was more rewarding than I could ever explain. I mean, it showed through your profession. Being a baker isn't just making and selling food, it's the business of bringing joy to others, like you did for my children every time I brought them to the shop." Not just the children; look at how he ate that brownie. "To this day, I'm grateful that I took that chance and sat beside you. Otherwise, I doubt I'd have seen just how wonderful a person you are." The elf draws a deep breath, his hand slipping from his chest and falling back to his side as he whispers in a more subtle tone, "...I just didn't expect that I'd fall for you..."

(1 of 2) Penelope kept speaking of their past, well, what was left in her mind. He looked tangled and as if memories were falling back into place, so when his confused look appears, she cannot help but smile while she continues on. Well, until he halts about the… true first time they met. Perhaps with time of growing up and all the dark ages had pushed the truth to the back of her mind, for meeting at the bathhouse could possibly be the worst way to meet a man. Let alone… the only man she ever loved. She had been through a lot since the first day they had ever met: the enslavement of a drow, the death of a brother that wanted her dead, leaving the elf, the saurian war, a plague, the ghost in the caverns, bringing back the beating heart of Lionel O’Connor, and now, the entity. Could she be blamed for wanting that peace? The bit of joy that dangled in front of her. When he talks of the bathhouse, her face creeps into dark crimson like the day she met him. When he flexes playfully, a part of her feels ill, but only because of what the two had gone through. The trauma they had gone through. The moment that brought them here to this very moment on a cloth blanket in a garden of lush floral view and an entity so unpredictable it could make the fruit before them rot. The healer, however, was still that girl physically: pear-shaped, short, freckled; always frizzly unkempt. She, although, cheeks a lot thinner in age, had personality that had grown in a very impactful manner. No longer innocent. No longer looking for that romantic hero like every girl her age longed for from the story books, for the loneliness did not last for long. Instead, her life was dedicated to the ill. The ones that needed help the most, for if she had the chance to become a wise soldier and be skilled in independence of helping the innocent before her, she would take the opportunity in a heartbeat. She let Linken go, for the disfigurement took her long ago, and when she left him, she did not want her name to ever bring him pain even though she loved him just the same that long innocent time ago.

(2 of 2) There was a time when Penelope stood in line for love which she assumed it made him fall apart with a broken heart. It was a sacrifice, for the ease that would bring her own selfish mind and his own. So when he talks of the bathhouse. The pathetic excuse for who she was, she plasters that smile. For him. For his innocence. For his heart. She was wrong. The freckled girl with the enclosed mind discovered the truth that she was nothing more than an ordinary girl trapped within a spiral of her own life. Linken had opened her world to who she was. Although whatever rested in him was twisted, she knew that the twistedness began before the healer met him. So, yes, she has that smile with cheeks of crimson. Was it hot in there? She lets out an almost-weak laugh. The healer slowly looks over him as the past comes through to the truth. “I really wish it was what my imagination brought me because that is the most cringing tale I have ever heard.” The Ardelian says in straining pain that is almost humorous. The only moment she allowed herself to remember was his scars. Not the fairy tale muscles. Not the charming smiles. The scars. The memories. The deeper stories. Who she wanted to be. Free of what she was in the past. Instead she was left with… gross cliché moments, but a moment that turned into what she was. The moment that began to shape her. “You were always an interesting man. And I’m glad you did not let me keel over.” For old Penelope would, current Penelope would depending on the moment. This was one of them, for she was fidgeting by unwrapping the honey dew she had packed. Juniper eyes rested on the fruit until he begins talking about being a baker. Eyes flick towards his direction. “I’m not a baker anymore,” she makes a gentle note. No more joy. Healing brought joy, right? In increments. The ones who were fully in health. Those who were not, well, they took a piece from her. When he speaks in present tone about falling for her, she shakes her head in a bit of denial as she looks at the fruit. “Her. You fell for her,” she reiterates. Her gaze looks back at him. “But, it still relies. You told me. But it’s different,” she continues. “I think life works in strange ways. And I know that I’m supposed to help you—be there for you. I know that now.” And whatever that meant, she would keep living in the present. Her hand reaches out to touch the elf’s knee. “Funny enough, you always had me. And in some strange way, you always will… however life turns out.” She pauses. Her face looks sincere, solemn. “I forgive you, Linken. And I hope you do me whatever happens in the next coming days, months. I hope whoever you are realizes that. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

(1 of 2) Linken lofts his brows and emits a half-chuckle at her remark, lightly shaking his head in disbelief while bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the bits of brownie caked under his nails. "Hah, 'interesting.' That's certainly one way of putting it. But, I'll take what few complements I can get wherever I can, I suppose." He'd watch out the corner of his eye in amusement as she fumbles with the honeydew, before her eyes dart to him, making a point to state the obvious change in her career. "Oh, I know," he remarks with a smile and a roll of his eyes before bringing them back to focus on her, continuing to pick the dirt from his nails with his thumb. "You've made it a point to remind me of this regularly. Besides, how could you be? You've grown too much." The elf slowly props himself upright, brushing off the remaining dirt from his hand with his pant leg before crossing them both and leaning forward. "You've begun to realize your true potential, and understand that it's within your capacity to not just bring joy to people, but -help- them. Bring them comfort. And what's more, you actually -do it-. Even in knowing the eventual failures that are guaranteed, and the toll that accompanies it; what failing to help does to you. It's a profession that many would find it easy to walk away from and focus their efforts elsewhere, but you still do it, and I'm certain that if you ever did walk away, whatever profession you wound up taking in life, helping others would be integral to it. Because ~that's~ the kind of person you are. I mean, look at what you've done for me....No matter what facade a person may choose to wear, their actions speak louder than all." Linken laughs and rocks away from her when she focuses on separating herself using past-tense, quickly shaking his head in disagreement and focusing intensely on her eyes with a narrow, piercing gaze. "You keep speaking about that part of yourself as if 'she' is dead and gone, but she is very much alive. In fact, I've been blessed with the opportunity of getting to see her several times this wonderful afternoon. She is very much there; You just stopped looking. And yet, if you were running from her...why would you?" The elf's narrow expression would shift to one of surprise as Penelope's hand found it's way to his knee, a hint of bashfulness tainting his now blank expression as he soaked up her words. 'You always had me.' His heart skips a beat. It skips all of them, in fact, straight up to his throat. Quietly gulping it back down, his voice took on a quiet, sincere tone, his hand finding its way to hers and giving it an appreciative squeeze in response to her touching apology. "...I..." He has to avert his gaze; How could he possibly look at her? "...I appreciate the apology very much, but it's not necessary. The fact is, I forgave you a long, long time ago, and to be honest, it didn't take me very long to do so...Penny, I-" Linken's ears flicker, detecting some distant sound which piqued his curiosity enough to distract him from their conversation. "-What? Do you hear that?" he remarks with a knotted brow, slowly rising to his feet and dusting off his lower garments as he focuses his attentive gaze on the doorway to the garden. "What is that sound? I think someone's coming." The echo of boots on stone would increase in volume until detectable by human ears, growing louder and louder until they burst forth from the shadows and collide with a nearby pillar, snaking around the column in the dirty, battered form of his son, Aeric.

(2 of 2) "Dad? Oh, gods, I've found you! Dad! Ugh-" His hand slips from the stone, falling forward effortlessly with barely enough time to catch himself as he collapsed to his knees, bruised, tired, and out of breath. "Dad, they... They ransacked the house! They took Alexia!" "Aeric, what are you- Oh my god, Aeric! What happened to.... -what- did you just say!? What do you mean they -took- her?? WHO took her!?!?" The elf barely had enough time to respond to everything as the out pour of questions in his mind overflowed, though his logic would quickly distort as news of his sister's fate washed over him with an amalgam of emotions, confusion, and the seeds of a slow-boiling rage growing in his stomach. The elf rushed to is son's aid, collapsing to his knees before him and lifting him upright, holding him firmly in place as he interrogated him further while examining his wounds and torn garments. "Gods, what the hell happened to you!? What did they do!?" He lightly jostles him, hoping to shake enough focus into his son to relay his message before it's too late. "What happened to your sister, Aeric!? WHERE IS SHE!?!?" The boy strains to emit a wobbly, droning sound as his father jostles him, reaching up to clench his wrists to steady himself as he focuses on Linken's eyes with muddy tears melting down his cheek. "Da', there was- there's too many of them... villager's, most of the armed, they... They surrounded the tree.... They came looking for you." Linken began to see red. Those were the last word's of Aeric's that Linken could hear, grinding his teeth as he grew overwhelmed by the sound of his own piping hot blood pumping through his ears. "Are they still there?..." He loudly and firmly interrupted his son, who continued to explain the situation. "You weren't there, but they knew we were your children, so they tried to take us both! Dad, they -know- about you! They want to use us as bait to- What? Yes, I think they're still there- Wait, dad, what are you..? Hey! Where are you going!? DAD!!" It was all he needed to hear. Only a passing glance was given back to Penelope before he rose to his feet and broke off into a full sprint, and the look was one of such grim foreboding that it spelled out it's warning fully in it's brief display: Don't follow me. Aeric tried to scramble to his feet, only to bleat out a pained yelp and collapse to his hands and knees again upon failing to chase after Linken. "Dad, WAIT! You CAN'T go by yourself!!" Rolling onto his side, he finally directs his attention back to Penelope, wafting his hand through the air urgently as he beckons her closer with a grimace. "What the hell are you waiting for!? Help me up!! We -have- to go after him!!"

Penelope had grown too much. That was a fact in itself, so she remains quiet when Linken comments on her potential. She finally presses into the honeydew when he reflects on how she would end up helping anyone. This was true. This was her calling. Her fate. As he talks of himself, though, his situation, she has a flat line. He would know the internal battle she had with him. The darkness. Leaving and deciphering if she needed to help or not, but Aeric had convinced her. Thankfully, and she would not regret the desire of keeping the elf safe. As he begins to talk about the past of herself, her expression remains the same. Blank. She was still here. Still persistent in the sweeter moments of time. The girl curls a small smile from the corner of her lips as she listens to him. There was a small amount of innocence that remains from her that reflects on someone. The graceful charm. The humor. The doe eyes that Krice had been very persistent in her to control. Penelope Halifax was not dead. The bashfulness he consumes is mentally noted and her hand slowly sinks away in nonchalant mannerism. They had a special bond, and she did not deny that fact, but the way he had her tangled was at a different angle than he would have assumed. As he cuts himself off with the twitch, she begins to look around—automatically she rises her to feet out of impulse. The clomping of boots become louder and Aeric comes swinging into full view. Bruised and dirty, and instantly he is falling to his knees in front of the healer and the elf. “Aeric, Aeric!” The Ardelian expresses with concern as she kneels down next to him again. The panic floods the temple and the elf and the boy exchange the worrisome. Alexia… Alexia was taken. “Sh*t,” juniper eyes look over the dingy teen, and Penelope and Linken exchange gazes. The people were angry—angry because of the words that flew around Kelay. Was this her fault? If it was, she was about to change it. Her face twists into a stern gaze rather than concerned, but Linken beats her when it comes to getting up to their feet. The healer rises again as Aeric questions her as he snaps her into reality. The woman had no time to be gentle with the boy, so she grasps his arm and gives him a solid yank until he stumbles to his feet. “Come on, I got you.” She would stay by the teen’s side until he is stable enough to walk on his own and gain his balance. Then, she would pick up her own pace and keep the teen in her vision just in case someone came to snatch him. She would maze through the temple until she would find sight of the metallic-armed elf out in the light of the greying sky. “Aeric,” she halts him in his path. “Which way did they take Alexia?”