Return From the Amphitheater

When the party returns to Volaire, Vesta barely slows. She offers a quick farewell before turning on her heel and hurrying towards the Guild of Light, her pace just shy of a run.

By the time she reaches the guild doors, her breath is uneven, and she waits impatiently until she’s allowed inside. The moment she crosses the threshold, she approaches the nearest guild member, her eyes darting past them.

“I’m looking for Tristan-”she starts, but catches herself, her expression tightening. “Or, actually… he might be going by Zukar.”

Her gaze continues to flick over their shoulder, scanning the room and the halls beyond, restless.

Claire is in the common room, directing people towards the exit as they leave the infirmary and resurrection circle. The Guild is still buzzing with activity, though it appears Marquanthis at the resurrection circle has the circle lowered as he waits for another spirit. The injured are still numerous and the guild members still clearly have their hands full.

When the ward is lowered, Claire turns her attention to Vesta, the sole individual entering the Guild as others exit. "Um. Miss Vesta?" And when Vesta asks about Tristan/Zukar, she nods. "Oh yes. He's in the infirmary. Right that way."

Claire points Vesta to the infirmary.

When Vesta rushes into the infirmary, she sees rows upon rows of beds with injured garrison soldiers, citizens, and a handful of Draconian soldiers in various states. Some appear to be simply resting while others thrash and moan in their cot with still bleeding injuries. E'ni'cala, Harrold, Diane, and several other initiate guild members are rushing to beds and either healing or first aiding depending on the state of the injured.

Vesta would spot Zukar at the far end of the room. He is kneeling beside a bed with a moaning soldier restlessly twisting on the cot. Zukar is carefully suturing a wound, intently focused on his work. There is blood and sweat on his face, his clothes- the same ones he had been wearing last time Vesta saw him- which used to be brightly colored are covered in both bright, fresh red blood and dark brown blood. There are sweat stains on the front and armpits of his shirt and his hair is damp and matted to his face.

He doesn't look up from his work.

Vesta’s breath catches, then eases into quiet relief when she finally sees him. Her pace slows, but she doesn’t go to him.

Instead, her gaze sweeps the room until it finds the worst of the wounded not currently being treated by a guild member. She moves to them without hesitation, setting her worry aside as she also begins to work. Starting with the worst of the injuries, she murmurs soft incantations, magic gathering in her hands as they hover over the wounds.

Several minutes pass before the light fades and her magic is spent, leaving only a faint warmth in her palms.

Only then does she approach him.

She lowers herself beside Zukar carefully, taking a clean cloth to gently wipe his brow as he works, mindful not to interrupt or startle him.

Zukar has moved onto the another patient by the time Vesta finishes with hers. He is bent over, kneeling beside the cot, wrapping bandages around a young woman's arm. It appears to be scorched from her shoulder to fingers.

When Vesta approaches, his eyes dart to her, but he returns his attention to his patient. As she dabs at his sweat, despite her attempts to not disturb him, he still turns to look at her and plants a quick peck on her cheek before resuming his work.

About another hour goes by before Zukar rises from beside another bed and turns to Vesta.

"Come on, darling. Let's-" He stops and looks around at all the wounded and lets out a tired sigh. "I need to rest a moment. Let's get out of here."

He slips his hand in hers, the blood remaining on his hand is dried by now, and he leads her back out of the infirmary to the common room.

The common room has quieted significantly as they enter. There is no light pouring in from the windows now as the sun has set. Those remaining in the common room appear uninjured but worry is etched into their features. Marquanthis is still at the circle, the circle lowered and awaiting its next spirit.

Zukar takes Vesta over to a quiet corner. There is no seat, only cold stone left for them to rest on, but Zukar drops into a cross legged position on the floor. He pats the space next to him.

"Esha vel, have a seat. Rest." He leans back against the corner and drops his head back, his eyes closing. After a few deep breaths, he opens his eyes again and smiles at Vesta. "I'm so glad to see you here. Safe. You didn't come in through the circle did you? Did everything go well?"

Vesta drops to the floor beside Zukar, settling in close before resting her head against his shoulder, her hands wrapping tightly around his arm.

“We came back through a portal. Don’t worry, esha vel.” She exhales and leans in a little more. “We made some progress, but got stuck at a door. It took us hours to get through, and by then everyone was drained, so we came back.”

She falls quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. When she speaks again, her voice lowers, shifting into the Ramtovi tongue as she glances around to be sure no one is listening.

“I don’t know what to do about the Amphitheater. I have… concerns…” Her brow furrows as she looks up to him. “From what I’ve seen in my visions, Virelya is tied to the curse somehow. The entire underside of the Amphitheater is built to keep her contained. Eight levels, constructs with orders to kill anyone who tries to enter, crystals with magical regulation properties, doors with beams of life draining energy to keep people from progressing. It’s… very elaborate.”

She shakes her head, unsettled.

“But everything about it feels wrong. Jade wants to restore the containment, thinks the damage might be what’s letting the energy leak out and cause the famine. That’s what everything is indicating. But I don’t think that’s the answer.”

Her eyes gloss over slightly but she blinks it away.

“I can feel her pain, Chyevo. Her fear.” Her voice softens. “I don’t know if it’s just the visions connecting me to her, or if I’m just crazy, but everything in me wants to free Virelya. To comfort her. I can’t bear to see her trapped underneath, to hear her heart weaken the further we descend.”

She drops her gaze to the floor as she lifts a hand to her mouth, anxiously picking at her bottom lip.

“I don’t know what to do…”

Zukar reaches over to take Vesta's hand and pulls it away from her lips to his lap then responds in Ramtovi. "Have you expressed your concerns with the others? If you can feel her pain... It seems to me you have some sort of connection to this Virelya."

He slides her hand into his while he wraps his other arm around her shoulders. "Have you tried scrying on that very thing? Determining if what you all are doing in the amphitheater is helping or harming?

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. "I worry about you when you use your seer abilities but... I will not deny they are useful and sometimes necessary.