Year 26
Alistair crossed his thin arms over his chest, looking at Ahimil skeptically. “…Help out?” He echoed, “Why on earth would I want to go anywhere near Sunstrider Isle?” There was a tone of definite bitterness to his tone. There was nothing there to go back to, it was all destroyed…
“Oh come on, Ali,” Ahimil jibed, grinning at his brother. He knew Alistair would never fail to rise to a challenge when offered, “You’re always going on about wanting to do your part for the Sin’dorei– now’s your chance.”
Alistair’s frown deepened into a scowl, the red-head looking away with a huff, “Fine,” He muttered, “But if only to stop you from getting yourself mauled,” He said, “Since you have a tendency to get into things without thinking- like now!” Alistair chided. Ahimil just shrugged a bit. He knew it was going to be an easy victory to start with.
—
Sunstrider Isle was as Alistair remembered it from his childhood. That was to say– not in ruins. The trees were evergreen as always, the air light and bright. Still, there were hints of things gone awry. The Sunwell was no more, the place less vibrant without it. Fel crystals still dotted the buildings and landscape. Good news for Alistair in technicality, but the blood elf didn’t really appreciate that right now.
So the Mage started this whole thing off already grouchy, and Ahi was being insufferably cheerful, telling him to look on the bright side of things. Oh he would alright, he thought, watching with brief dispassion as his brother struggled with one of the little mana serpents who was able to nimbly dart under Ahimil’s swings of the sword. Ahi was hardly in any danger, the little creature, while unfriendly, was hardly capable of killing someone.
Everyone else was celebrating All Hallow’s Eve, and here they were… killing little manawyrms and retrieving absentminded professor’s items. While Ahi talked to the questgiver, Alistair stepped away to at least get some goodies.
He got some candy– and then… little pumpkin tokens. “What am I supposed to do with these?” He asked the inkeeper, turning them between his fingers. She grinned to him and explained. Alistair looked over his shoulder at Ahimil, already a hint of mischief spreading over his features. The paladin still had his back turned, accepting the reward, still being insufferably happy and thrilled about this whole thing. Once his twin was done, Alistair went and stepped past him, already having mapped out their next place to go.
“Oh yeah,” Alistair said, half turning, not actually stopping. It only took a little bit of mana to fire up the spell, “Catch,” He said, tossing the teeny pumpkin token. Ahimil fumbled, but caught it- the spell working instantly.
“Alistair!” Ahimil did not sound happy, but the mage just laughed.
“It’s a good look for you,” He crooned, starting off at a run towards the rising academy in the distance, “Pumpkinhead.”
Dinaer hesitated, waiting another moment before raising his fist, and knocking on the door.
There was a moment, and an airy, absent shout of “Be right there!” And Din fidgeted, waiting. She obviously wasn’t expecting him. What would she do when she saw him? A bit of uncertainty gnawed at him, what if she isn’t happy to see me, what if she’s done, what if what if-
The door swung inwards, the delicate high elf pausing before tilting back to look up- And letting out a small shriek. “Dinaer!” She threw her arms up practically slamming into him.
Din was thrown back a step by the force of it, laughing and holding her close. It didn’t matter that he had only just come back into town, hadn’t really eaten in a day, and bathed in several. It didn’t matter he was still covered in dirt and mud and dried blood- Shaiith mashed her face against him all the same, her delighted babbles falling to emotional sobs.
“-I love you, okay? You don’t- Don’t get to leave again.” She was saying, and his heart broke.
“I won’t, I won’t,” He promised. “I love you too.”
-
It wasn’t even a cough, to begin with. He’d had a long bath, Shaiith about dunking him in as soon as her tears had dried, ordering him to the kitchen one he was clean, and dressed in clothes normal people wore. His armor was outside, and he wasn’t to even so much as look at it for a week- And Din couldn’t help but agree. Shaiith had made dinner, apologizing that she hadn’t made enough- But Din wasn’t having a word. Anything Shai made was enough.
After dinner, he cleared his throat a few times before bed. He said Shai’s food was just spicy, was all. She asked if the food the Farstriders got wasn’t spicy.
Din was still laughing as they went to bed.
-
A week, and it was a full fledged, deep cough, drawing from the lowest parts of his lungs, ribs tender and bruised as he struggled to get out whatever it was his body didn’t want. Shaiith worried over him, but it wasn’t much more than warm, gentle foods, and soft blankets. “Just like you to live through a war, and get sick the instant you’re home,” She scolded. He laughed.
She gave him a shove, then kissed his cheek, and told him to rest.
-
Another week, and it was worse. He was bedridden, coughing more often than he was breathing, feverish and sweating. He begged for her, he wanted her company, he needed her to stay away. He wanted to know he was going to get better. He needed to know she would not get whatever he had. She is gone, some days, returns with potions. She is throwing her money at the healers and priest and alchemists, and it is doing nothing.
-
He realizes, as he lays awake, coughing so horridly he cannot sleep, that as the moon passes overhead it is their anniversery. He has not gotten her anything.
He wonders if she will hate him for it.
He coughs again, and there is blood on his hand.
-
His eyes roll open, but they do not focus. Her hands feel icy against his, and he wonders if she is sick, too- But he knows, in some part of his mind, that she is not. Shaiith has not so much as springtime allergies. He is simply deathly fevered. Dying. She is talking, but her words are garbled and slurred. Her hand passes over his face again, and his head lolls towards her touch.
The fifth or sixth time she whispers it, he finally makes out the words.
I love you. I’m so sorry.
-
I love you too. The words are on the edge of his tongue, but he cannot get words out. He is not sure if he is alive anymore. Shaiith comes by, brings him water that he cannot even manage to force down half the time- And her face is so sad. Almost pitying- when she even expresses emotion at all. Lately her face has gotten cold, hard, like this cannot faze her.
He doesn’t know which is worse.
-
“Get some rest,” Shaiith whispers, pulling his hair away from his face. “You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise.”
The lie is heavy in the air.
Din closes his eyes anyway.
