Arradin was sitting in the mess hall, poking listlessly at his food. It would have been delicious were it still warm, but after serving the entire garrison (as well as some people he was sure had no business hanging around in the barracks) his own share was not even lukewarm and he couldn’t be bothered heating it up again. So instead he was sitting in solitude, contemplating his new and unfamiliar life situation.
He heard someone approaching. Heavy footsteps (from the weight of a massive armour), used to marching on paved roads and meticulously set cobble – Wyriehl. He didn’t even bother looking up.
“Hello little brother!”
He froze and dropped his fork. Hearing the voice of his sister after so many years sent a shock through his body. She was not supposed to be here. Especially not now. Then boundless joy, the feeling of being whole again. He wanted to rush to her and embrace her, but there was a distance between them – so much time had passed… and the moment was gone. He asked Wyriehl to bring the others to Vishka’s for dinner, and then grabbed Ballineth by the arm and walked out the door.
Massive pain rushed through his body – he could feel his ribs cracking and several internal organs being crushed. Not good. All he could do was to crawl to the side and puke (mostly blood). He saw Ballineth rushing towards him but waved to her, indicating that Min’Ahlia was in more dire need of her aid. When the last orc fell Ballineth was at his side in an instant, and he felt life rushing back to him. Ribs corrected, being able to breathe properly again. The pain subsiding to a more normal level, like falling off a horse or low cliff.
He looked at her and felt the distance disappearing, once again as close as they once were, as it should be. They slept in an embrace for the rest of the night. Come morning they went their separate ways. Alone, once again. His only company a suicidal and depressed woman, an insane and nearly mute ranger and a paladin whose mere presence made him uneasy.