<Kholivaz> The Storm Guardian chuckled, savoring the pain and tingle of his rapidly repairing cheek with each exhalation, "I meant if Healers cater and Avengers defend.. What of my Exodite Cous..ins? Though since you.. Brought it up?" Kholivaz gave a good-natured wink to Astora, happy to see a hint of something aside from sorrow in her eyes, it was strange. The want for that emotion, that pall of grief and the wish for her to lighten her spirits. ((OoC: another hour and 30 to go!))
<Astora of Arché> "I guess..." She sighed. "I guess being an Exodite gives me the trait of punching others in the face with no questions asked." The smile fully flourished upon her unpainted lips like a rose after a fairly long winter. It suited her dawn-red hair, it spoke of endless bronze grasslands and open skies. "Like curious Commorrites." She wiped a tear from her cheek.
<Kholivaz> Kholivaz returned the smile in kind, eyebrow cocked at the suggestion. His mouth was (unfortunately) returning to it's full capability. It was a miracle that any who had hunted him in Commorragh hadn't located the former Hellion by sound alone. "Dear Astora, if there is any place for you to punch me, it would be here." Not that he deserved it. Maybe he did. He definitely did.
<Farseer Aranethyr> "I listened to the battle in the void, Rharijem." The Farseer, without getting up - without as much as turning to face the pilot, said. The temporary place of Isha was suddenly silent, or it could have been that the Seer had muffled all other noises so that Rharijem and himself could talk. "We owe much of our victory to your leading. How do you feel now?"
<Desek> The Warlock wandered over to another pair of bodies, one dead in form the other dead in spirit. Lowering himself to his knees beside the Guardian whom shed tears over the body of another whom was burnt beyond recognition by some terrible Haemoculi creation. Perhaps it was a friend they saw fall or they were simply distraught over the happenings, it didn't make a difference to him as he carefully collected the soul stone. Wiping away the acidic blood despite the angry hiss it made as it ate into his fingers. "Hush...." His tone was soothing though it bore a small echo of his own sorrow. "The last sight ones spirit should be treated to before entering the circuit is best served as one of triumph or joy, do not let your fellow go remembering a world of broken friends and comrades. " Slowly he offered over the precious gem, tipping his head forward to simply let his damaged helmet fall off and clatter to the floor to reveal a worn smile and a mat of bloodied hair clinging to most of his face with only a single eye peering out between the tattered strands. "Take them to join the rest, ease your mind, rest your body and mend your heart with the Healers, I shall continue the task here. " With a placating hand raised to show no argument was to be made he shooed the Guardian away and resumed the grim task with those who still had the heart for it. He had faced such heart aches before, many times to be frank, yet they had not hardened him only taught him a great many values to life and that compassion was not to be lost as if it were some naive child's dream, but that it needed nurtured much like a child itself lest it never grow and be known by others.
<Aspect Warrior> "I feel... Good..." Rharijem simply replied, opening his eyes and looking over to the Farseer, he was uncertain what to say or to think. He owed the farseer a lot and both knew it. Should he tell him about Minnaloushe or even his dream-like state he went through? What would it matter, that his change was completed and achieved - That mattered. "Thank you." The Mymearan said in a deep breath, like a huge chunk of wraithbone falling off his heart.
The Exarch had spent the better part of the time afforded him since the end of the battle to survey and find his way around. It also didn't hurt to check upon the soldiers nearby, who were all recovering from something or another since the Dark Eldar attack had been defeated. They were not his soldiers; not his responsibility, or obliged to follow any order he gave, but as a man lost upon the Path of the Warrior, he felt a certain moral connection to all those following it. When the command came that he should see the Farseer, Veillon simply nodded and began to make his way up towards the Chambers of Isha where the Farseer was supposedly recovering. He entered silently and with all of the respect he could muster. "Exarch Veillon of the Striking Scorpions reporting, Farseer."
Kara'shanwe looked across as Visethianne roused from slumber. Like a slow-crashing wave, consciousness returned to him and she felt that he had been dreaming deeply. His low, powerful voice sounded sonorous at first, gathering animation as he relayed their coordinates to the Wave Serpent. Pickup was coming. That meant that their ruse had been successful. "Thank you, Visethka," she murmured, stretching a little as she prepared to settle down for sleep. "Captain." The Warp Spider snuggled down into the strange bed, leafy foliage underneath her like some kind of forest cocoon. Perhaps this was what some of the wilder Exodites did. She must ask the Wanderer, when they had time and leisure. Or if. Taking off her helmet, she pulled some of the green fronds over her and curled up, purple hair straying out over the branches. There was warmth still from the carefully-tended fire, which she'd fed in her watching hours like a mother nursing an infant. Now it was the fire's turn to nurture. The bedding was scented like the forest around, alien, sharp, slightly ... sleep was almost instant after the exertions of the day.
Liriasol slept. He was warm enough, and tired enough, that he didn't need long to find sleep, and when it came it was total. He dreamed, as was usual, but what tales might come from such dreams remained yet to be discovered. [OOC: Zzzzzzz..... Do Eldar snore? Well, they probably don't. But "absence of zzzzz" sounds like he's awake.]
