RP:Tarnished Silver
Part of the The Ice Plague Cometh Arc
Frozen Throne
Eliason : The rattle of armor announces the approach of Eliason, his heavy frame moving quickly toward the Throne Room. A smile lifts his haggard features as he draws near and catches sight of a familiar figure. "Aela!" His voice echoes across the frozen hallways with the greeting. The similarly armored, but much smaller guardswoman turns at the sound and rushes forward to embrace the man. "I received word you had arrived, but I haven't been able to break free to come see you," the girl offers once the two have broken away from each other. Eli smiles down at her. "So, what's going on. Your message sounded urgent..." Sapphire eyes move to peer through the doorway into the Throne Room. Aela's face grows grave and she shakes her head. "I don't know. I felt something... something told me that I needed to be here, but I needed backup and I couldn't find..." She pauses here, leaving the sentence unfinished.
Hildegarde had managed to slip away from the shamans who had been hounding her since her battle with the Ice Devils, wandering the fort until she found the armoury; subsequently finding a whetstone to sharpen Oathkeeper. She didn’t know why, but she had felt compelled to sharpen the blade for the past few days. But now the knight stood in the circular throne room, hand gripping the hilt of her blade tightly: not an unusual sight to see amongst a sworn member of the Queensguard, especially in recent times. So nothing seemed amiss, save for her lack of armour. She wore a cotton shirt and leather trousers, hair dishevelled and skin looking… well, sticky; as if she had been sweating furiously. Indeed, the knight was in a cold sweat. All that plagued her mind were cruel little whispers, devious thoughts and misdeeds. There weren’t many other members of the Queensguard present for the moment, all too busy in training and preparing for any future attacks, which meant the knight didn’t look suspicious at all to her sworn brothers. Indeed, they were none the wiser that she was thinking of harming her beloved Queen.
Eliason 's eyes raise at Aela's unfinished sentence, but chooses not to ask for details. By the color in Aela's cheeks, it would appear that she's found someone special. Turning instead to the task at hand, he sets a friendly hand on the guardwoman's shoulder and nods. "Well, let's see what there is to see..." The two turn, almost as one and step into the throne room. Eli's hand rests on the hilt of his sword, knowing that Aela's feelings on such things are rarely wrong. Aela's cerulean gaze falls almost immediately on Hilde, eliciting a gasp from her lips. "Hilde," she calls out, "what's happened to you..."
Hildegarde is quick to answer, aiming to dismiss any concerns or, better yet, suspicions. “Ice devils,” she said abruptly, factually and even a little icily. No hard feelings towards Aela at all, it was more a case of her attempting to fulfil her misguided quest. “Recovering from some wounds is all,” she added, which was not untrue. The back of her leg was still aching and that wound caused by the shard of ice would not heal; it slowly oozed blood into the bandages, the wound itself freezing to the touch. Her stormy eye looked between Eliason and Aela, eye closing for a moment as if she felt a sharp pain or something akin to that; the knight may even have mouthed ‘go’.
Eliason grins instantly at the words 'ice devils'. "You fought them? How were they..." But his words are cut off by a silencing motion by Aela. The guardwoman's eyes settle upon Hilde's face, listening beyond the knight's words and finding something not right in them. She steps closer and reaches out to set a hand on the Silver's shoulder. "Hilde... if you are so ill, why are you here?"
Hildegarde’s body wrenched back from Aela’s hand, hissing out angrily, “You presume to touch me and I will cut your hand right off!” Her tone was one of sheer anger and a sort of horrendous delight; something found only in the most corrupted of souls. Hilde had very rarely raised her voice or spoken with anger at another person, let alone one like Aela. After a tense moment, she seemed to overlook the woman after staring her down for a moment or two, addressing Eliason, “They are easy enough, even for a girl with one eye. But then, what does challenge me?” she said, rather arrogantly. But for a fleeting moment, she looked to Aela again and whispered with such fear and desperation – like a little girl lost – “You have to go, please, go,” her worry was clear to see, even in that fleeting moment.
Eliason looks at Aela's face during the exchange, dread rising in the pit of his stomach at the dragon's words. This one is known throughout Frostmaw as kind and gentle. His hand tenses about the hilt of his sword, ready to defend Aela should the need arise. Aela drops her hand, her face growing tense and angry. The words make it clear that this is not the Hilde she knows. Her eyes slip quickly toward the legionnaire, communicating that she will deal with this for now. The Silver's final words soften those features slightly, but Aela is going nowhere at this point. "No!" she says firmly to Hilde. "You are not well. We need to get you to the healers and the shaman. I will not leave!" She speaks the words with authority, body tense for action should Hilde not be able to fight whatever has gotten ahold of her.
Hildegarde huffed indignantly, billowing a thin veil of frost as she did. But even the frost that left her was tainted with something an ordinary knight could never detect, something only those who are familiar with evil forces would notice it. “Then I will cut you down,” she replied, drawing Oathkeeper at an agonisingly slow pace from the sheathe, evidence that her inner self was trying hard to resist whatever it was that had a hold on her. “I will break all that you love. Not kill; break it first. Let it die slowly,” she said, hand trembling as she slowly raised her sword to level it at the woman. “What are you going to do, boy?” she addressed Eliason coldly, “Think yourself a dragon slayer or just a boy?” Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, reminiscent of the certain wraith who plagued the dreams of Satoshi. But to look the dragon in the eye: one would see a certain sadness and distress, lurking deep within.
Eliason does not wait for Oathkeeper to be fully drawn, the presence of evil is clear in the frost that issues forth from the dragon's mouth. His own sword clears its sheath in an instant, a prayer upon the man's lips and his shield drawn in close. Aela, on the other hand, will not lift a blade against the Silver. She holds out a hand toward Eli, though her cerulean gaze never leaves the knight's. "Then cut me down... I don't know who has gained control here, but my friend... my love... is stronger than this." The guardwoman steps forward until the tip of Oathkeeper presses against the middle of her breastplate.
Hildegarde had always been the sort of girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, through her sweet and kind nature, her kind deeds and cheery disposition. So it was no surprise that, even while under the influence of a dark force, she was reduced to tears! But her tears gave Eliason and Aela an advantage, given that it blurred her vision to an extent. “You have to go!” she said, her voice breaking in her worry and fear for her friend – and for Eliason, whom she wished no harm upon – even though her blade did not lower. With a deep rumble of a snarl, she raised her blade as if to swing it down into the neck of Aela, only to twist away from her in an almost comical pull of her body; throwing herself to the floor with a cry. “Fight me, you cowards! What, are paladins all useless? Cowards and charlatans?” she hissed angrily, as she struggled to her feet in order to slowly march towards Eliason with the intent of attacking him once close enough, ignoring the woman who refused to fight.
Eliason grins, his hand tensing around his sword and leveling it at the knight. There is something not quite right in the man's eyes, as well. It's like he's craving the fight, ready to throw himself into what could possibly be a losing battle. Aela does not draw her sword, but instead steps up behind the knight and calls out a prayer, reaching out to touch the back of Hilde's head with a white, glowing hand.
Hildegarde could see that look in his eyes, causing her to mirror his grin with a degree of excitement, “Do you want to fight, boy? Do you think you can beat me?” she asked him, but her tone was incredibly dismissive and antagonising. She took a double step forward and growled, as if it were some kind of scare tactic; wanting to see him flinch with fear of her. Her dishevelled hair is, however, very capable of being caught in Aela’s hand if she were to grab the opportunity.
Eliason does not flinch at the dragon's feint. Instead, he takes a step forward and raises his shield, his sword hand lowering slightly. His grin fades to an intense tightening of his lips and his body rushes with adrenaline. He is ready for what is coming, whatever it may be. And he will not respond to the woman's taunts, he is well-enough trained that the words fall upon deaf ears. Aela, on the other hand, gasps slightly at the dragon's words. She can't believe that even under the control of something evil, the dragon would speak to anyone this way. Her hand glowing with holy light, she pushes it forward and presses it to the back of the Silver's neck, another loud prayer escaping her at the touch. Holy light is pushed through that connection and into the knight in an attempt to attack the essence of whatever is in the woman.
Hildegarde was ready to hurl more insults and taunts towards Eliason, but his comrade used that holy connection to attack the corruption within her. The knight looked as if she had tripped over the thin air itself, sprawling onto the floor with a cry of agony: in pain from the disrupted wound and in pain from the corruption within her resisting that holy light. “It hurts!” she cried, fingertips attempting to push the blade just outside of her reach, for fear the corruption would once again grab hold of her and force her to act in ways she’d rather not do! “Aela, please!” she begged. Her begging, while genuine due to the pain caused by the corruption, was a ploy on the behalf of the corruption to try and stop the antics of the paladins.
Eliason grits his teeth in frustration at having his battle ripped from him, but controls himself enough to slip his blade back into its scabbard and kick Oathkeeper out of the knight's reach. "Don't stop, Aela... Don't listen to her..." He begins muttering archaic prayers of his own and moves behind Aela to press his hands against Hilde's wound. Slowly, he starts to try and draw the wound into himself as is the custom with a paladin's healing.
Hildegarde openly wept with agony and discomfort, body writhing in an effort to escape the pair and the pain their healing presented her. “No! It hurts, please!” she begged, weeping like a child in pain. Through her cotton shirt, it was easy to feel the chill in her flesh: colder than any Silver dragon would typically be, colder than any typical villager of Frostmaw. While Tharn had drawn the shard of black ice from her, he couldn’t have known it had splintered on impact – as was its devious nature – and burrowed into the knight to physically root itself and its corruption. If she could not convince Eliason to stop, which was very unlikely in the first place, she would try Aela. “Aela! Please, stop! It hurts so much.”
Eliason continues his prayers, the flow of holy light reversing and drawing the wound into himself. Slowly, a similar wound to the one the Silver has begins to open on his leg, bringing a cry of agony to the man's lips. Aela is lost to divine forces within her and the battle with the evil forces within Hilde. Though her connection with the divine is strong, her knowledge of this sort of fight is not. It does not take long for the guardwoman to begin to lose ground against the evil presence. The flow of holy light from her hand begins to fade and grow tainted until with a cry, the woman is thrown to the side and lands in a lifeless heap at the foot of the throne.
Hildegarde had never felt the pain of a holy cleansing until now and it was certainly not something she wanted to repeat any time soon. Indeed, she had wailed so much that saliva splattered against the floor with an agonised cry; her leg and chest aching something awful. As her wound – and the taint within – transferred to Eliason, the knight gradually fell still and relatively quiet.
Eliason watches helplessly as Aela is cast aside and slumps down lifelessly. "Wretched witch!" His angry words escape him just before the big man grabs the Silver's shirt and rolls her to her back. Straddling her stomach, he stares into her eyes for a moment before issuing forth a loud prayer and pressing his glowing hands to either side of her face.
Hildegarde groaned as the man rolled her onto her back, immediately feeling under threat by the action: fist shoving out in the hopes of hitting his gut and forcing him off of her or at least away for a brief respite. The simple matter was that she was just afraid of being in such a position! Providing she had struck true, she would immediately crawl to Aela’s side and shake her gently, “Aela?”
Eliason is not prepared for the strength of the dragon. The light in his hands flickers and goes out as he is thrust to the side. Pushing himself to his feet, he rushes over just as Hilde is setting her hand upon Aela. "Let her go!" He calls out in alarm and aims a heavy booted kick to the Silver's ribs. Aela does not respond to the gentle shake. Her head lolls to the side and lifeless eyes stare back at the knight.
Hildegarde gasped with pain at the kick to her ribs, doubling over as she sucked in air greedily to compensate for the compressed feeling in her chest. “Hit me again and I’ll end you!” she roared angrily, “You heal her!” she demanded of him, looking to the woman with a terrified expression. Shaking her gently again, “Please, wake up,” she pleaded.
Eliason turns his gaze briefly toward Aela, his gaze resting upon the lifeless look in her eyes. "You killed her," he roars, his anger rising to a level he has never known. In a cloud of red, he rips his sword from its scabbard and draws it back. "Bring her back, or by the Gods I will rip the evil from you with the tip of my sword!"
Hildegarde visibly flinched at those words: ‘you killed her’. She could not believe, no, she refused to believe that. “Killed her,” she repeated numbly, pulling Aela’s body in for a tight embrace. “You cannot die,” she told her, “you can’t. I… I don’t know how I’ll make it if you do,” she said with a genuine tone to it. “Please, Aela,” she pleaded, “What do I do?” she asked no-one in particular. Dragon blood was potent for healing, but would that be of any use?
Eliason breathes heavily, taking all of his might to stay the point of his sword from slaying the dragon. "What do you do? You did this, evil witch! I'm not going to tell you again... BRING. HER. BACK!
Hildegarde sniffled at his accusation, pulling the woman closer still in her effort to ignore the vicious words of Eliason and the upset that they caused. “Aela,” she whispered, “I’d trade my life for yours,” she confessed, hesitating for a moment before she leaned forward and pressed her already chilly – and not to mention blue – lips to Aela’s.
Eliason watches the scene, anger boiling to new heights within him. For a half of a second, he watches Aela, hope rising that the evil will heed his warning and restore his friend. But, alas, Aela's body remains lifeless and unmoving. With a roar, the legionnaire lifts his sword high in the air and sweeps it down with all his might, aimed at severing the dragon's head from her body.
Hildegarde watched Aela with so much hope that it was almost sad to look upon; even as she shook her gently and quietly repeated her name to her. At the roar, the knight did not even look up: she was ready to accept such a fate at the hands of the legionnaire. She only smiled so sadly at Aela, “I’m sorry, Aela. I failed you,” she said, a tear dropping down onto the woman’s forehead.
Josleen reads over a small piece of paper in both hands as she enters the frozen throne room. Her heeled boots click loudly on the ice floor. Ear muffs still cover her ears, muting the sounds within the hall prior to her entrance so that the din of battle fails to forewarn her. Thus, she enters blissfully unaware, the sight of the combat within greeting her viscerally just as Eliason's sword swings towards neck. "Eliason!" Eyes widen over a shout, her body lurching forward at odds with her feet which fumble back towards the door. Her feet would flee this scene, but her will disobeys that instinct to run.
Eliason : Luckily for Hildegarde, the bard's unexpected presence is enough to distract the legionnaire. The familiar voice brings the man's sapphire gaze about and forces him to overcorrect. His sword clashes with the floor with a loud ring, the vibrations sending a shock of pain through his forearm. "Jo...Julia! What are you doing here! It's not safe..." The reaction is swift and automatic as Eli moves to put himself between Hilde and Jos. "She killed Aela..." he offers in explanation of his actions. Hilde's tear drips unnoticed down Aela's forehead and and those empty, cerulean eyes stare accusingly at the knight.
Hildegarde shook her head at his accusation, “I did no such thing,” she said calmly. Her attention, however, would not remain on Eliason or Josleen for long, given that she could not bear the judgemental gaze of the unmoving Aela. “Please,” she begged her again quietly, “I need you to live.” The knight could not bear to lose this woman, yet she did not know how to help her. What could she do to bring her back?
Josleen draws a blank at the name Aela, but quickly pieces together parts of the scenario using context clues. A pleading look and outreached hand beckon Eliason come away from the situation. "...Eli...it doesn't look like anyone is fighting ba-," her words choke at the sight of him. Whatever is going on here, it doesn't leave Eliason looking noble or well hinged. She takes a step towards him, her sad gaze drifting towards the women. The cruelty of putting down a person, criminal or not, when they don't fight back visibly grips the gentle-souled bard. Her words issue force weakly. "If she did as you said, then let her face justice. She isn't fighting back…"
Eliason draws his gaze between from Hilde to Josleen and back again. For several moments he stands in indecision before a confused expression washes his features clean. The man sets the tip of his sword upon the floor and nods. "Go get the guards....," he whispers to Josleen and turns to face Hilde. What had he been about to do? And how is it that one word from the bard had brought him back from the precipice. Confident that the Frost Giant guards will be able to keep Hilde under lock and key, he steps forward and crouches next to Aela. Laying a soft hand on her shoulder, he offers a prayer for the peaceful passing of his dear friend. As soon as his touch reaches her however, the woman draws in a harsh, raspy breath and stiffens. Her eyes turn completely black and her head thrashes around.
Hildegarde listened to them quietly, shaking her head and announcing in a calm and loud voice: “Frostmaw justice is a trial by combat, Sir Eliason. If you wish to fetch guards, they will only tell you the same and bear witness if you still wish to prosecute me falsely.” But the knight had no admonishing words or anything of the sort, it was all a statement; something to keep him and Josleen right in their supposed pursuit of justice, “Besides, it would be dishonourable for both of us if you did not let me die with a sword in my hand.” As the paladin drew close though and even laid his hand upon Aela, the woman tensed visibly; half expecting him to end her there and then! At Aela’s reaction, however, she flinched with surprise: “Eliason, do something!” she commanded, her voice shifting to that of her knight-captain mode one, the voice she addressed her comrades in. “Eliason, you are the only one who can do something, so do it!”
Josleen starts to run for the guards, but the sight of thrashing in her periphery stops her short of exit. Still unsure of what happened to the fallen woman, the bard who is always eager to assume, assumes that the woman is seizing. Hilde's hunched form blocks her view of the ebon eyes. "I can stop her seizing," she calls, rushing towards the trio without any distrust. Hilde's tone and defeat has lent the bard a false sense of security and she approaches without hesitation, determined to aid the 'seizing' woman. "I have Kinsey thistle," she explains, employing the little known colloquial term for epileptic's root. If allowed, she'll try to kneel beside Aela and fish out of her travel sack what will prove to be an ineffectual treatment thanks to her misdiagnose. She also misses the black eyes, too preoccupied with finding the herb in her bag.
Eliason jumps back at Aela's sudden movement, a very unpaladinlike curse escaping his lips. Aela's head thrashes about for a few moments. The battle within her rages, the Divine against the evil influence drawn from Hilde. Her eyes quickly shift from ebony to her normal cerulean shade and back again. Each time, the blackness hold on a little longer. Finally, those black eyes fix on the bard next to her. Aela's hand snaps out with the speed of a striking snake and takes hold of the girl's arm. For a second, the paladin's eyes shift to cerulean and turn toward Hilde... "Kill me... kill me and you kill it!" But then those eyes are dark once more and she is pulling Josleen toward her.
Hildegarde growled at Josleen’s approach, “It is not a medicinal issue!” she said, trying to keep the girl away for her own safety. Alas, it does not appear to work, as the paladin is now attempting to pull the girl towards her. Hilde tightens her grip on the paladin and scoots back on the icy floor in an effort to make a distance between Josleen and Aela, “Eliason! Killing her is not an option! You are a divine paladin; an instrument of the gods themselves, you can save her,” she said, her tone of voice trying to remain as calm as possible and reassuring. After all, she wanted the man to be able to save their mutual friend. “Aela,” she began, “you can fight it; I know how strong you are. It is only a figment of the evil elsewhere, fight it.”
Josleen :: When it comes to strength, Josleen would lose an arm wrestling competition with an armadillo. The possessed paladin snaps her down so fast the bard feels mild whiplash. The heels of her palms slide against the ice, trying to find enough friction to push away from her attacker. Those black eyes finally make themselves known to the bard, sending a chill of fear down her spine.
Eliason 's reaction is quick and automatic. His protector role over Josleen overrides any thoughts and snatches his own hand out to grip Aela's wrist. Hildegarde's words breach the haze of activity somewhat, slowing his automatic reach for one of his daggers. Instead, he presses that hand against Aela's forehead and begins chanting prayers. His hand flares with white light and Aela lets out a bloodcurdling shriek. The bruising grip on Josleen's arm loosens gradually as the woman goes still, her mouth begins moving along with Eli's, their chanting matching up perfectly. It is obvious to any observer that the two are fighting a battle with Aela against the evil. It can only be hoped that the two of them will prevail. Though the words that are spoken through the prayer are in an archaic language, they sound very much like "I need you... You don't need me."
Hildegarde kept a hold on Aela, watching with increasing hope as their chanting began to match up; hoping that their combined power and effort would cleanse the paladin of the evil within. The knight was uncertain why the words sounded quite so much like they did, but she replied – regardless of who they were intended for – wholeheartedly, “I need you, so, you’re going to get out of this just fine,” the words were, however, a little bit above a whisper, for fear of somehow interrupting the chanting.
Josleen comes from a world where thrashing is a medical or mental condition, and eyes never lose their whites. This world where forces of good and evil use bodies as battleground is still foreign to her. She's only ever had the displeasure of visiting once before, also alongside this sapphire-eyed paladin, a nightmare she willed herself to believe would be an anomaly in her life. She errs a lot in her thinking, it would seem. She pulls her wrist free from Aela's grasp, sliding back just a few inches away out of the possessed grasp, trusting the strong knight who holds her to be firm in her grasp. Recognition flickers across her squinting gaze at Eliason's ancient chant. Unsure of why, and without premeditation and all intuition, she mimics his chant. She's no paladin, and she places her faith in no god in particular. For the bard, the pantheons are a fact of life, not a way of life. All the same, the chant issues forth from her lips, seeking an icon to latch her faith onto and choosing Eliason as her patron. She is a vehicle for no divine power alone. However, beside Eliason who is an instrument for Arkhen's power, she becomes his amplifier.
Eliason : Within Aela's mind, the battle rages back and forth between the pair and their evil foe. As their chanting syncronizes, the evil seems to rise to meet the assault. As her strength begins to waver, Aela catches onto Hilde's words and draws some strength from them, renewing her fight and lifting her chanting voice higher. But neither of the pair are an expert in their craft and the evil begins to overtake them once more... That is until Josleen's chant joins their own. Within Eli, it's as if the tumblers of a safe have fallen into place. A door opens inside of him and a flood of holy power fills him. His entire body is suddenly flooded with white light, filling the room with its brightness. At the rush of holy power, the being within Aela lets out a final wail of pain and disintegrates. Aela sags back and Eli removes his hand from her forehead, the words dying on both of their lips. The light fades as quickly as it came, leaving Eli to wonder where the extra power had come from.
Hildegarde glanced up at Josleen when she joined in with the chanting, feeling somewhat admonished for having not thought of it before but otherwise impressed by the feat! The knight kept a tight hold on the paladin, though, glancing back and forth between the three chanting to spot any signs of improvement in Aela. But her eye is forced shut at the blinding light emitted from Eliason, grimacing at the wail of pain resounding from Aela. As the woman sagged back, the knight looked to Eliason and spoke gently: “My lord,” she began, “it is known you and the Lady Aela are friends to Frostmaw, so would you allow me the great honour of escorting you to the shamans for care and assistance? Or would you seek to still prosecute me and take care of yourself?” her question was not said angrily or anything of the sort; it was calm and collected.
Josleen :: The experience leaves Josleen's body trembling and numb. Her chanting quiets along with Eliason's and Alea's. His light did not blind her the way it had blinded Hildegarde. Quite the opposite, it felt like the light was her own as well, momentarily, although no light emanated from Josleen whatsoever. Her experience conflicts with the reality visible from the physical world - what Hildegarde saw. The bard's gaze seeks Eliason's meaningfully, hoping to find confirmation that he felt the same unity she did. Or didn't he? Already her certainty begins to fade. She felt that they inhabited the same spirit when his white light burned away evil, but could her hopeful imagination be playing tricks on her? Hildegarde's words pull her out of her bubble, and she trains her gaze on the icy floor.
Eliason shakes his head, not trusting himself to meet Hilde's eyes. "If that evil is what was inside of you, milady... You are not to blame for your actions. But I don't need a healer. In fact..." His eyes land on Josleen's curiously. "... I don't even feel tired. Something like that should have drained my energy, but I feel as if I'm actually renewed." Eli can't remember ever feeling quite like this except for one time, but that was just a dream... wasn't it? When Jos's eyes lift to meet his, he mouths one word. "How?" On the ground, Aela is not so refreshed. She groans as her eyes flutter open to find Hilde's concerned face. "Hilde...."
Hildegarde smiled with some relief that the man was not in need of a healer, “It was much like watching myself act without being able to do anything about it, my lord,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I am, however, relieved to hear that you do not require a healer,” she could not say the same for herself or Aela, though! Indeed, when she heard the groan, she immediately looked down to Aela, “Yes, my lady?” she said dutifully, but even her sense of duty could not drown her overwhelming concern. Her eye searched Aela’s face, “Should I take you to the shamans?”
Josleen doesn't know Hildegarde, but all the same feels compelled to disabuse her of any guilt. She nods in agreement with Eliason's words. "Only criminals can be prosecuted." She frowns at the pair of women, both so injured. "I think you could both visit healers…" Big brown eyes lift towards Eliason again, "We should see them there, no? I don't know the way…" Her gaze yearns, its want unclear and thirst insatiable.
Eliason meets Josleens gaze for a brief moment before the intensity causes him to avert his own gaze. The two will need to talk soon and seriously, but not here... not now. "Yes, let's do it." He pushes himself to his feet and reaches down to lift Aela from the ground. Cradling her in his arms despite her protests, he leaves the room headed for the shaman's quarters. He hopes that the others are following but it's more important to him at this point to get his dear friend looked after.
Hildegarde rose to her feet as soon as Aela was out of her grasp, following swiftly behind Eliason, “I can carry her,” she said quietly, unable to restrain herself from saying it. Dragons were a protective bunch after all!
Josleen is likewise conscious of her surroundings and rises tends to Hilde. She offers the knight a shoulder to lean on should she need one, taking no offense if her help is eschewed. She knows how prideful a warrior can be! coughcoughEliasoncoughcough. Granted, the slight, five-foot, two-inch half-elf makes for a poor crutch regardless of Hilde's choice, but these facts do not weigh into her effort, just ability. "He seems to have a good grip on her," she offers kindly. "Let your muscles rest."
Eliason continues down the path toward the shaman's quarters, his eyes briefly flickering toward the knight. "I'll take care of my sister, thank you. I don't know what's between you and her, but I'm going to make sure she gets taken care of. You should tend to yourself." His eyes slip over toward the bard. "And once she is taken care of. I think we should find a private place to talk..."
Hildegarde offered Josleen a polite smile, “I am grateful for your offer, my lady, but…” she gestured to herself, to indicate her height of six foot and three inches. She was tall by any means, heavier than she looked with all those muscles and heavy dragon bones. “I would probably do you harm by putting any of my weight on you!” she said, trying to be friendly by japing some. But at the remark from Eliason, she looked to floor, “Very well.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t go to visit the paladin once he went off to have his little private chat!
Josleen grins sheepishly at Hilde's logic and firm grasp of physics, her own gaze playful. "Well, had it come to that, it's a good thing we're on route to healers, eh?" The bard's eyes flicker between Eliason and Aela at the word 'sister,' taking the title quite literally! She nods to Eliason, though her chin barely moves, her lashes batting her concession. Once at the healers, she waits in the hallway outside for Eliason to rejoin her and hopefully suggest a place. She's the only green thing in Frostmaw at the moment.
Eliason carries the now sleeping form of Aela into the shaman's quarters and lays her down on a cot. He lingers long enough to make sure that she is taken care of before nodding to Hilde and making his way out to Josleen. "Let's go," he says shortly, his voice tense.
Hildegarde chuckled at Josleen’s remark, nodding in agreement, “That is true, my lady! But I shall leave you in the capable of hands of Lord Eliason here,” she said, offering a respectful dip of her head in the direction of both of them. The knight stood beside Aela’s cot like a sentinel.
Josleen :: The tension in Eliason's voice brings Josleen up short. She hesitates before following him, sparing Hilde a farewell. As she catches up with Eliason, her mind races to divine what he will say - and she has some pretty good guesses. His change in mood prompts her to invent explanations and excuses, already walking into the conversation on the defensive.