[ AW ] Temporary Dens

A R Y T H M E T I K

The National Guardsman’s expression was hollow, but somehow, her ‘thank you’ was not. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation that made those simple words feel genuine. However, just because Aryth believed he was needed didn’t mean he felt wanted. He tried to convince himself logically that the Guardsman’s apathy was a result of dehydration and exhaustion. He supposed he looked quite unenthused too. But there was something in the way she interacted with them, mechanical in nature, that made the she-wolf seem…cold. Aryth would have shivered if it were even possible. He swallowed heavily again, choked by the dryness of his throat, and his eyes turned desperately to the violet-eyed medic. His brows contorted faintly. Please, just tell me who I can help and I’ll be on my way…


But before Ikrie could respond, a commotion stirred up amongst the waking crowd. In the light of dawn, King Adamh himself appeared with his entourage. Arythmetik’s emerald eyes widened, a fraction of light refracting in their gemlike pools. Two Knights headed their direction, the scent of fresh water heralded as salvation. But the Professor was not as focused on their aid as he should have been. It was just as he noticed the small, mottled pup beside her father that Nimue bumped into his side.


With a light gasp, Aryth glanced down at Nim and smiled for the first time in days. “My Lady,” he greeted, using the affectionate term to reference the day she announced herself as the Lady of the Lake. Her noble heritage was irrelevant now; she was his friend: an activist and a student. But that first part made her reaction to the royals a bit more perplexing. He watched curiously as the keen female eyed the procession. Suddenly, she cheered, and Aryth’s ears actually flattened against his skull momentarily. If he could have blushed, he would have. Why are you drawing attention!? But Nimue’s ardent cry drew a couple spirited howls from the otherwise defeated masses, and Arythmetik glanced back at the King and his daughter. Their presence here provided hope. It was a show of solidarity. But they were not leaning on empty promises, as many politicians and monarchs did. Even the child had a piece of life-saving moss in her mouth: a gift for the injured. Nimue wanted to emphasize that this was the right path.


Arythmetik’s heart softened, and the woman at his side fueled him with bravery. He straightened, russet ears perking forward. “Your Majesty,” he called out, his voice as warm and clear as possible through his hoarse throat. Perhaps the King would recognize him as the poet from the Ball. It was a slim chance to receive communication directly from the man who wracked Aryth’s heart with such conflict. The Professor took one step forward, but did not completely leave Nimue’s side. “Have you reached out to other countries? Are they suffering the same heat stroke, or will they consider providing aid to Rionnach?”

code by claerie

@Ikrie I hope you don't mind that I skipped! <3 @Vedette @Nimue @storyteller Aryth attempts to talk to King Adamh.