Featuring: Aurelio, Mahina, Lyri, Soft-Feather and Zea
NPCs: Negri and Tenab
Date: April 19, 2005
IC Date: August 7, 3931
Summary: With the pyre completed, the bodies must now be removed from the barn, but the task is not without its complications.

Dafnastg - Njororn - Asgard

Slightly distant from the center of town, this area of Njororn is the residential section. Large longhouses crowd around the main road, with smaller alleys ducking between buildings. The long buildings are all build of waddle and daub and the thatching on the roofs is thick and looks newly repaired. The wide dirt road is packed hard from generations of heavy traffic. Long benches just outside the houses serve as gathering places for women while they work on sewing or other homemaker tasks. The ground that has not been consumed by the road of the buildings is scattered with a sparse grass, nearly pounded flat by the steps of playing children.

But like the rest of the town, this area is deserted. The only sounds to be heard are the occasional sound of a bird's song coming from the small forest in the distance. Towards the fields on the outskirts of the village are a few large barns, used for housing the town's various farm animals, but no sounds comes from the barns; no sounds of horses, cows, sheep or geese. When the wind drifts in from the fields, however, it carries with it a sickening smell, but the exact cause of the strange and putrid odor is undeterminable from this location.

The pyre has been completed and the crew has been working tirelessly to complete the distasteful task of dragging all the bodies out and wrapping them in the sheets that have been lain out. At least this will make the business of carting the bodies to the pyre less gruesome for all involved. Zea's been here a great deal, strangely enough. She has not touched the bodies, but she's been helping to lay out the blankets and keep the winds circulating so the smell is not quite so overpowering. The morning saw dark clouds on the horizon, promising the threat of rain, but they're gone now, chased off by Zea to keep the pyre dry. The sooner the burning starts, the better. She has not slept that much and she looks it, but simple tasks keep her minds off of other things. With a heavy sigh she lays down another blanket and then takes a few steps back and turns her back to the barn as another winged body is brought forth. She just cannot watch that part.

For some unknown reason, Soft-Feather seems to have little problem dealing with the bodies. He doesn't seem to be in good humor, of course, but he does his work and does it well, without complaint or hesitation. For whatever reason, this Sylvan has seen his share of death before...and dealt with bodies more gruesome than these. So it is with a certain emotional detachment that the man works, bringing out the dead and wrapping them in cloth while one of the men with Negri the other day takes the clothed bodies and stacks them closer to the pyre. It's a well-oiled system they have, with Zea laying out blankets, Soft-Feather dragging and wrapping, and the other sailor stacking. And while it's no walk in the park, the work keeps them busy enough for the hours to pass quickly...at least for Soft-Feather.

Part of him would have liked nothing more than to be right there with them, to be one in the chain of people that is seeing these people on to the next life with the proper respect they deserve. But duties demand that other tasks be seen to, and he has had little time. Too little time, and he's had to spread his allowance of it sparingly through the course of the day. One thing though, Aurelio had made sure he would be able to witness. So it is, now that the pyre has been completed and the bodies are being prepared for that final journey, rainbowed wings set down the form of the familiar Empyrean on the ground in the vicinity of the structure. A moment's pause is taken, a regard given and his head bows slowly in a pause of peaceful remembrance and a murmured promise. This mystery will be solved... When his silence is broken, it's with the steady voice his new position demands, coming through clear as he regards both the Sylvan and the lady Zea. "Might there be room for one more set o' hands to help?" he asks, keeping the sigh from showing too overtly, struggling out from the burden that weighs upon his shoulders.

Zea glances up from snapping out a blanket and laying it on the count. "There is always room for another pair of hand willing to work," Zea responds with a tired smile. The smile comes more from his offer to help out rather than a smile at the situation at hand. Who *could* smile at a day like today? She reaches for another blanket and looks it over with a deep sigh. The weaving on it is quite lovely and it is a shame to see it ready to be burned. She holds onto it a moment and takes a couple steps back to clear a space and then reluctantly places it on the ground. She's kept her wings tightly against her, looking almost like a pup with his tail drawn between his legs.

Another body is carried out, held firmly in Soft-Feather's arms as he makes for Zea's most recently laid-out blanket. Aurelio's offer is heard, but the Sylvan lets his winged counterpart do the talking while he lays the body down and begins to wrap it. Having chosen to wear a long-sleeved tunic and trousers, rather than his customary robes, the filth that comes with this work thankfully does not stain anything he would wear in public. "This one's ready, Tenab," Soft-Feather looks over at Negri's crony. With a nod, the sailor takes the body and moves off...the situation calling for an honorable truce, for the time being at least. Aurelio is greeted with a nod as Soft-Feather heads back to the barn.

Before this situation began, people might have answered that question with the name of the colorful Empyrean who moves up to stand beside her. People may have thought, the majority of them, that he could and would smile through anything. He has not smiled for quite some time. Out from under one arm a small bundle is extracted though, one that before had remained obscured and concealed... It's... a blanket. But no ordinary one. It's one that's been dyed, a color of rich blue, dark and deep and true as the sea, the color solid and uniform across the spread of its length, safe for the center. For there, another addition has been made, a shining ebony, contoured in to the shape of two symmetrical arcs, curling downward in to the form of a pair of wings. It is by no means excessively ornate. Indeed, it is actually quite a simplistic design, but Aurelio kneels in the earth there, spreading it out almost reverently upon the soil. "See to it..." he comments... "That a child receives this one..." It's spoken to no one in particular, indeed his eyes do not stray, instead his head only cants and his fingertips brush across the surface of the fabric, as though he could already see the outline of the poor soul who is to occupy it, who is to be wrapped in it. "May it carry them on their way..."

Moving along the eerily quiet street of the Landers, Mahina is very quiet. It felt so wrong, all of it... the water was wrong, and the town was deserted. She pauses when she sees the pyre. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asks softly.

Zea looks over, crouched down as she spreads out the blanket she was so reluctant to send to the fires. With her hand still on the woven piece she looks at the blanket Aurelio offers and tears begin to well in her eyes as he asks that it go to a child. She looks down and doesn't move for a while as she composes herself. She has seen the small bundles among the larger ones but has tried to turn her emotions off, to keep her spine stiff and her mind elsewhere. But one can only take so much before one breaks. With a sniff she rubs angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly gets back up, turning away from the barn and whatever child might wear that shroud. "It's beautiful," she murmurs Aurelio as she lays a hand on his arm and momentarily glances up at him. But Mahina's question is heard and she looks past the colorful Empyrean to the Atlantean woman. "There are more men willing to carry bodies than we have sheets for," Zea comments quietly to Mahina. "I could really use some help spreading these out."

Mahina nods. She's beyond somber, she's upset. This travesty which has befallen so many has actually put the young Atlantean in precarious. "I will." she says. She moves closer to Zea. "What do you need me to do...?" she then asks quickly. "Do you have any idea what cause this?"

Witness the laying of the shroud, and Aurelio's wish that it be used to send off an innocent child, Soft-Feather returns to the barn with the intent to search for one. Such a search isn't hard, given the sheer number of dead children stashed away inside. Bending his knees, he slides his gloved hands underneath the ever-sleeping form of a young girl with dark hair and then rises. Her tresses hang down as she's carried outside, the wind catching them in a breezy dance as Soft-Feather makes his way towards Aurelio's gift.

Lowering himself to his knees, Soft-Feather gently lays the girl down on the cloth. Taking a moment to just look at her, he draws a long sigh. "She reminds me of my daughter that age...I wish this girl would have had the same chance at happiness that mine did," he begins to wrap the body carefully, trying very hard not to think about all the other innocent children who'll never get a full life.

"Thank you..." It's whispered, barely audible but perhaps to Zea alone, that contact between them being one that he is certain both of them is needed and that she might know is quite appreciated. For his own hand rises, reaching across his chest to pat the back of her softly twice where it rests upon his shoulder, a small comfort given before it falls away. And what can be given but small comforts against the tremendous scope of such a tragedy as this. No, he does not profess to be able to conjure up the smiles, the demeanor, and the atmosphere necessary to penetrate this oppressive shroud. "Aye..." is all Aurelio can offer to what the Sylvan speaks, knowing not of any children of his own that he might have. All he can do is gaze down and witness the life that this girl, or what is left of her, might have had... And as the blanket is folded, she disappears within that sheathe of ocean blue, sent to the waters as her people might have done, and lifted over them up to the heavens by the shimmering dyed wings of ebony that enfold her. "Come..." speaks the second mate when it's done, "There's more to be carried..." A subtle pressure of fingers is placed on Soft-Feather's back, bidding him to follow as way is made toward the barn again.

Zea picks up a blanket with one hand and again rubs her eyes with another, but has quickly turned her back as the child is brought forward. She just can't stand to see the children. With another sniff she hands the blanket to Mahina and blindly reaches for another one. "Lay them out on the ground like the others so those bringing the bodies out can wrap them easier." She snaps hers open and lays it down at her feet. She does not answer the Atlanteans question immediately, but rather lets it simmer a few moments. "We do not know," she finally says and looks over to Mahina. "Some are suggesting it was the Atlanteans that live in these waters, the Najada. Perhaps other Aesir, but the captain said this would not be there way." Another few moments of heavy silence and she adds, "But we'll find out. We owe them that."

Mahina begins moving bodies. She shivers, she didn't like it... touching something... dead, and something was once a living, breathing being that had a future a name. She closed her eyes. "What could..." she swallows, it apparent she's trying not to be sick and make the situation worse that it already was. I'm alright." she breaths. "This place... these people..." she looks at Zea as she places the body she was carrying down."The Atlanteans in these waters... it's hard to imagine. There the water feels wrong." she says softly. "Like sharks having killed." she murmurs trying to describe the sensation. "Yes, we will." she looks back at the covered bodies...

Tenab takes the young girl from Soft-Feather, moving off to place her near the pyre with the others. Rising to his feet, summoned at the touch of the second mate, the Sylvan treads back towards the barn. Even after a full night's sleep, he still feels tired inside--no doubt due to emotional factors rather than physical ones. Soft-Feather comes up beside Aurelio, bending to retrieve another body. This pile has been shrinking ever so slowly, but progress is very obviously taking root here.

And the second mate offers to take the head, allowing the Sylvan to take the feet of the next body they come to. A silent count is given, Aurelio's head quietly bobbing once... twice... and deeper on the third time when they hoist it up, lifting it in a delicate balance between the two of them. So fragile, so... wasted... Lines of severity have etched themselves in to present, but long forgotten crevices on the angular face of the colorful Empyrean, ones that only reveal themselves when expressions like the one he's been wearing since they landed come to the surface. So it's not the first time he's come face to face with horror, face to face with death. But he goes about this task silently, speaking not a word.

Having been focusing on the lighter bodies first, carrying them on his own was no problem for Soft-Feather. But now they've come to the heavier loads and Aurelio's offer of help is appreciated. Together they cart the stiff and rotting corpse out of the barn and lay it out, just like the others. Negri joins Tenab and, once it's been wrapped, carry the body over to the pyre. Soft-Feather doesn't say much, just continues with the work for as long as he can.

And such is how their work will continue. But yes, it's easier this way. And more dignified, both for the people carrying, and especially for the people being carried, not being forced to be lugged around by one person alone, but instead having as close as can resemble a formal procession up toward the pyre where they will at last be laid to rest. So with Soft-Feather, Aurelio moves dutifully, carrying... and placing... then returning... retrieving another... and placing again. Slowly but surely the task will continue, done in almost complete silence... a solemn and reverent silence.

The silence is deafening and the longer it remains so, the more nervous and anxious the noblewoman becomes. She stands and looks over the fields where bundles of various colors are being piled on the pyre and she tries to get a handle on just what is going on. But the enormity of it is just staggering. Zea draws in a slow staggering breath and begins, softly, to sing. Nothing joyous or upbeat, but rather a reverent Empyrean funeral song meant to release the lares from their old body as it burns and urging it to join its ancestors. Her voice wavers as she sings but she doesn't lift her voice. The song is meant to calm her as much as to offer some last prayers to these poor souls and she is content to keep it quiet.

As Soft-Feather and Aurelio bend to retrieve another body, the wooden beam above their heads creaks dangerously. Looking up, the Sylvan can spot no visible breaks in the wood but that doesn't mean something isn't amiss. Narrowing his eyes and flushing them with magic, Soft-Feather transforms them into those of a golden eagle. With heightened sight, he again inspects the rafter, looking for any kind of cracks or instabilities. Finding none, he returns his eyes to normal and shrugs, "Just normal settling, I guess. Come on, more work to do." As the pair begin to carry the body out, all hell breaks loose as the section of ceiling above the stall gives way, likely due to all the walking around up there plus its age. Rafters and hay alike fall down, crunching the walls of the stall and meaning to trap and/or kill the pair caught below.

Trapped with a bunch of dead bodies... Not the way that Aurelio would like to spend the rest of the afternoon. And though he holds the body and watches as Soft-Feather flies up to inspect and returns with a shrugging report... he's still uneasy... And when they give way... the reaction is instantaneous. The body, unfortunately, is dropped to the ground. No disrespect intended toward the dead, but there are priorities... namely his life, the life of the Sylvan and keeping these people from becoming further entombed in this wreck of a barn. The next heartbeat has his hands thrusting forward, trying to push Soft-Feather out of the stall... only to find the man won't move. When the Empyrean looks up, something he had been trying considerably hard not to do, he finds the shifter is indeed holding up the rafter. "What are ye doing?! Get out o' here!" Curses the second mate, his own arms reaching up, latching on to the crumbling wall and another support beam that's threatening to crack and give way that's toppled now over the rafter his partner holds.

The song is stopped mid-word as the creaking from the barn explodes into heavy cracking and sudden boom as it all falls to earth. Loud curses mingle with Zea's gasped scream and she abandons the blanket she was unfolding to rush towards the barn, as does everyone else who has been working on the pyre. A foul cloud rises from the fallen timbers; dust, hay and wood fibers are mingled with the smell of the bodies and all of that rises in the air. Zea doubles over and coughs for a moment as sailors rush past her, some roughly shove her aside, to reach the barn and those inside. Taking a few dizzy steps back Zea summons the winds immediately and tries to pulls the new cloud away from the men and women. Sea wind rushes over the town, faster than she intended, and sends the stench toward the forest.

"What am /I/ doing?!" Soft-Feather grunts under the strain of holding up the wooden beam, "What are YOU doing?! I can handle this...get out of here, Aurelio!" His eyes suddenly flash with golden energy as his body undergoes a series of ripples and jerks. Growing a foot taller, his arms, chest, and legs expanding enough to strain and then rip his tunic, the Magus uses his shapeshifting magic to become something in-between man and bear. Through the tattered remains of his shirt, a shaggy covering of thick fur is visible--an obvious indicator of his altered state. "Only a few more bodies," another strained grunt as the other sailors rush in, "drag them out, men! Or they," he grits his teeth, very obviously having a hard time with the weight, "won't make it to the pyre!" As the dust that was kicked up begins to move away, Soft-Feather's most thankful. His nose was itching and a sneeze now would NOT be a good idea.

"My DUTY!" retorts the second, his own voice a strain of growls and muttered curses. For one of the walls of the stall is indeed beginning to collapse, and Soft-Feather can only have his attentions in so many places at once. Only so many hands, be they furry and strengthened or not. Not to mention the added weight of that separate beam, which, while being held up on top of the rafter that the Sylvan is supporting, is creaking and groaning, and cracking each second, bending just a little further down, with only the outstretched arm of Aurelio to stop it from snapping completely. But there aren't any further arguments from the Empyrean, no. There is only a sudden and swift barked command. "Ye heard him!" he shouts. "Get these bodies out o' here! NOW!"

The winds that had rushed into to chase away the cloud of dust and smell finds some direction as Zea must now focus on the barn. Not knowing what is going on in there, she feels around the winds for something to lift. Far too heavy to simply carry it away, the winds serve as a buffer and make the task for Soft-Feather a little easier. But she needs him to remain where he is; she's not sure how long she could hold it on her own. "Hurry," she calls out to those inside, her voice is strongly authoritative in this moment. She's simply a member of the crew, but right now she's in charge of her magic and she knows its limits better than anyone else. The bodies and the carnage are forgotten for a moment. Their lives can no longer be saved, there is nothing she can do for them but help give them a proper funeral. Those in the barn, however, do still have a chance and if she can help she'll be damned if she doesn't do anything.

What a team, these two make. One holding up the main rafter, the other managing the criss-crossing counterpart. If either beam is released, regardless of heightened strength, the entirety WILL come crashing down. So it is that these two men stands as if statues, supporting some ancient weight cast down on them by the Gods, holding out until the bodies have been moved. "Your duty, eh? Alright then, you can stay..." It's meant as a joke--like Soft-Feather could REALLY order the second mate away. Straining beneath his hefted-load, Soft-Feather grunts as the rafter shifts position, threading a few splinters into his hands. "Oh no you don't," he growls savagely as he pours more power into the stance, thrusting the beam up a few inches. It's getting harder and harder to hold it up and Soft-Feather is growing tired--and there are still bodies to move, though the sailors are making good headway. "Hurry! We..." and that's when he feels relief--feels pressure being partially removed from his arms. Looking around, he can't spot the source...but he can feel the air moving. Soft-Feather makes a note to thank the wind-mage at a more appropriate time.

Aurelio had even begun to put his wings in to the effort, arching them upwards, plastering them flat against the surface of the wall as it weighed down upon him, sheltering himself and his companion from further falling debris with the other, putting every ounce of muscle and effort in to keeping this structure up long enough for the bodies to be withdrawn. Yes, he's well aware of their predicament now. He's also well aware that if he had succeeded in hurling Soft-Feather out then he would never have been able to keep the stall intact. He'd be pinned, trapped, and possibly dead. But the same goes the other way around. And indeed, this Empyrean has not even the magic to increase his strength and his fortitude; he has only the resolve born out of sheer determination that holds him, legs and arms nearly trembling, in his place. So it is that when the relief comes, for a moment he thought his appendages must have given out on him and it almost causes a lapse in focus. But when the wood is still felt firmly against his palms and fingertips, he only redoubles his efforts, a loud and agonized grunt of sincere effort put forward. No words. Aurelio doesn't have energy to spare for words right now.

No one is moving from within and Zea is getting more and more angry at the situation in general. Her eyes darken like a storm and the winds whip furiously around her as she concentrates all her effort on the barn. It is far more than she's ever had to lift before and it is taking its toll on her. "Move, dammit," Zea curses under her breath as she lifts the beams a few inches higher. Her wings flare behind her and she looks almost fearsome as the winds seem to spring from her body and head towards the barn. "MOVE!" Whether she's talking to the wood or those inside it doesn't matter, something needs to move, and now.

Once the last body has been dragged out, Zea's command to move is definitely heeded. Soft-Feather's beam is lifted a couple of inches out of his reach, freeing his arms from the weight and responsibility of keeping the rafter aloft. "You heard the lady," he challenges as he moves around Aurelio and wraps his arms across the man's chest. "Watch your wings, friend," and with that he pulls Aurelio HARD! The pair of men fall backward, out of harm's way, and one of the other sailors yells to Zea, "Let it go!" Soft-Feather reverts back to his entirely Sylvan form, abandoning the whole half-man/half-bear thing, but his clothing has unfortunately been ripped to shreds by the shift and the falling ceiling. Lying there on the ground, panting hard, the Magus tries to sit up. "You ok, Aurelio?"

He couldn't leave a crew member behind. And he wasn't going until the Sylvan did. Luckily... when the Sylvan did... he took the Empyrean with him. 'Watch your wings' is the last thing Aurelio heard and the extra appendages were drawn swiftly down at that moment, feeling the arms wrapping around him. He even takes a moment to hold his breath, as though he were about to plunge in to the waters below, or as though it were the last he were ever going to hold. But he doesn't close is eyes. Backwards he hurls, hitting the ground and skidding for a moment across its surface, the air released in a fit of coughs as arms stretch out and grip the earth beneath them. Well, nothing broken, no oppressive amounts of wood on top of him. It looks like, when he's asked, he can nod his head, face covered in debris as he regards Soft-Feather. "Aye..." he assures. "An' you...?"

The roof's collapse had not gone unnoticed, obviously. The sound of it crashing down had reached Lyri, even inside of the nearest longhouse, where she'd been stripping some curtains for more cloth. Dropping the curtain remnants, the young cartographer moved to the door, only to see the cause of the noise. Like a moth to a flame, she was out the door and airborne a heartbeat later, wings skimming just above the ground before bringing her to an ungraceful, dusty landing several yards away from Zea. "What i' Tyche's name 'appened?" She exclaims roughly to another onlooker, a young mongrel man with no more presence of mind than to stare, mouth agape. Only then does the force of the wind rushing from Zea catch Lyri's attention and her eyes skip to the wind-mage, then back to the collapsed barn and the men on the ground. "Tyche's Tits." She mutters under her breath, then begins striding forward, those bedamned, unwanted nurturing instincts flaring to life. "'ere now, lemme through!" She yells unceremoniously at a sailor in her path.

Zea waits to decide for herself when to drop the winds, and that doesn't come until she sees Soft-Feather and Aurelio clear of the barn. With a pained cry that comes with the last of her strength the barn collapses the rest of the way and the winds twist and slow. Zea is blessed with a throbbing headache, a warning that she almost went too far, and without a world she drops to her knees, wobbles and then slumps to the ground. The smell in the air will just have to remain; she'll not be able to draw in the fresh breezes for a while. With a groan she holds her head and tries to will the magic-induced headache away.

Relieved that Aurelio's wings weren't damaged in the fall, Soft-Feather nods as well. "I'm alright...I think," he looks down at his hands, which have quite a few splinters lodged beneath the skin now. "Just a few splinters, nothing serious," he looks at the fallen remains of the barn, now a large pile of cracked beams, crumbled walls, and bales of hay. "You, me, and Zea make a good team. We should do that more often," he jokingly winks. Speaking of Zea...he looks around, wanting to thank the woman, but finds her lying on the ground seemingly in pain. He rushes past Lyri, heading for Zea to see what he can do to help.

Aurelio could only wish he had that much of a luxury. Instead, he's slowly climbing to his feet. Hands too riddled with splinters and a good portion of dye now missing from some feathers while others got torn out completely sometimes leaving a red blotch or two in their place are annoyances he'll just have to ignore for the time being and have tended to later. "Aye, alright!" comes his voice, barking in to the air again toward the gathered sailors when it's had enough time to clear the dust away to speak purposefully again. "We need to asses the damage to the barn quickly. Check the other stalls an' make sure they do still be intact. An' get whatever spare wood ye can find." It won't be much, he knows, a lot has already been used for the pyre. "Don't take a single beam or plank from the barn. Aye, in fact, we're going to reinforce it. Gather what materials ye can an' make sure the roof an' the walls get secured an' stable!"

The sailor had only just stumbled out of Lyri's way when Soft-Feather rushes past her, in Zea's direction. The flare of pain from the wind-mage hits Lyri at the same time she turns her head to see Zea upon the ground, clutching her aching head. Torn, Lyri glances back at Aurelio, and although the sailor is obviously not in the best shape, she isn't sensing the same amount of pain from him as from the mage behind her. With alacrity, Lyri abandons her previous course to the barn and hurries after Soft-Feather, reaching Zea's side only a few moments later. Closer to Zea, the pain is much stronger and elicits a wince from the teenager as she kneels beside the mage. Stained, slender hands reach out, splaying to brace against Zea's head. "Hush, hush, hold still now." Lyri whispers in a soothing voice very much unlike her normal, rough brogue.

So lost in magic had she been that she doesn't realize Soft-Feather and Lyri are at her side. The winds roar in her ears, so it is Lyri's touch that alerts her. She jumps and looks up with a groan, first at Lyri and then to Soft-Feather. She tries to shake her head but groans again and gives a weak wave over towards the barn. "Help the others," she murmurs as she tries to back away. Her pain will go away in time, she has no idea what happened to the others, but she certainly cannot be the one with the worst injuries. "Go ... go," she urges as her wings slump around her and draw towards her like a comfortable blanket. The fearsome looking woman of the winds is now simply tired and drained.

With danger averted, Soft-Feather looks around and tries to assess the situation. Aurelio seems to have everyone under control so, rather than go back to the barn, he resumes his work wrapping the bodies. He will be glad when the ships raise anchor and leave port, that's for sure.

"Yes, now!" answers the bruised and somewhat bloody Empyrean. "Aye, every second ye waste dawdling is another moment that thing is preparing to come crashing down completely, now go!" And it's only as the crew members do indeed start to scurry off to perform their duties, some continuing to gently pull the remaining bodies out while others go in search of wood and tools to reinforce the structural integrity of the barn, that Aurelio at last lets his shoulders slump. Yes, they hurt, though adrenaline does wonders for numbing pain, and a hand, splintered as it is, still reaches up to rub at them while he turns, face grim and composed as he moves back over toward Zea and Lyri. "How's she doing?" he asks of the healer on approach, kneeling down then also beside the wind mage. "Ye saved our lives, Miss Zea. Thank you."

"The others be fine, Zea." Lyri soothes, moving with Zea as the wind-mage attempts to draw away. "As will ye, but ye'll be fine a mite faster if'n ye let me..." Lyri's eyes fall closed and her words drift off, while tendrils of her healing magic work to soothe away some of Zea's headache. Induced by magical whiplash, she cannot heal it completely, but she can take the edge off of the pain. The splayed fingers pressed to the wind-mage's head pull away, curling into fists that rest on Lyri's bent knees. "There ye are." She murmurs gently, her tone still much softer than usual. As Aurelio approaches, her senses are bombarded by additional pain, drawing her blue-green gaze up to him. "She'll be all right. Jes needs some rest n' quiet. Na'much I ken do fer a headache like 'ers." She glances at Zea again, then up at Aurelio, nodding in the vague direction of his wing. Or perhaps it was his shoulder. Hard to tell. "Ye wan' me t'look at tha?"

Zea hates being fussed over, especially when she appears weak and vulnerable. It only makes her look less capable than she already is. Never mind that she actually helped to get the two men out of the barn, the aftermath is what annoys her. She glares at Lyri silently as the woman offers her aid and gives a weak nod when the healer pulls away. The edge has been removed from the headache, but the exertion brought on by the magic is still there and that won't go away for a while. "I'm fine," she says and then adds, "Thank you." Glancing to Aurelio she gives him a small shrug and slowly moves to get back on her feet, though her legs are as weak as a newborn foal. "Was only doing what was necessary, was just trying to help."

"Aye, fair enough." is spoken to Zea, his hand reaching out to lightly press two fingers briefly against her shoulder, a grateful sanction for her actions in place of the vocalized thanks she refuses to accept. Then his attention shifts over to Lyri, his head bobbing in a slow nod. "Please do. Can't afford to be slowed down by the likes o' a few nicks." And the banging and bruising on his shoulders, hands, and wings might constitute more than nicks, it's all he's going to confess to having. At least he's letting her heal him, hmm? Aurelio's never been one who is, never been one to willingly suffer pain any longer than he really has to. "Have at it, Miss Lyri."

For once, Lyri isn't groaning and grumbling about her healing duties, and she rises with lithe grace from Zea's side to attend to Aurelio's injuries. Lyri glances over her shoulder at Zea, imparting sternly, "Ye should rest, Zea. What ye did was amazin'. But even ye 'ave limits." Turning back to Aurelio, bedyed fingers reach for his hands first, her eyes closing as she calls on the Aether.

Zea bites her tongue before she says anything she might regret. She's not in the right state of mind right now and pain does little to endear her to others. With everything else going on this is just one more thing to worry over, or rather she would if concentrating didn't make it worse. "I'll be fine," she murmurs quietly and closes her eyes. She reaches out, feeling for the winds, sensing the currents and she smiles faintly. "Still there," she adds as she opens her eyes slowly and absently rubs at the scars on her hand. Certainly nothing as bad as last time, she can see feel the wind. "You'll just have to ... the smell isn't going ... anywhere for a while." She follows with a hasty, "Sorry about that." It sounds silly really. She helped the two to get out of the barn and she's worrying on the stench in the air.

Aurelio's eyes close at the first sensation of the pain beginning to ebb away, of the abrasions disappearing, of the bruises removing themselves and the torn parts of his wings mending over. It's a sensation he's never really gotten over, never really been able to compare to anything else. Of course, he made a dye out of his image of it and the thought occurs to him now that maybe, just maybe, he'll share that with Lyri later on. For now though it takes him a moment to hear Zea as she's speaking, coming in only at the latter end of her conversation and picking up mostly the apology. "Aye..." whispers the man. "It does be perfectly fine, miss Zea." A pause, and a repeat. "Perfectly fine. Ye did good."

Intent upon her work, Lyri's eyes remain closed, her brow knitted in concentration. As the last of the pain ebbs from her senses, she releases Aurelio's hands, her eyes opening with a rapid blinking. Inhaling a deep breath, she centers herself, releasing the awareness of 'other' that takes her when healing, although Zea's headache remains a firm thorn in her side. She lets out a weary sigh, turning her head to look at Zea once more. "I daresay the boyos can deal wi' a bit of reek considerin' ye saved their lives, Zea. Ye ought t' be 'appy. Dinna fash yerself o'er th' small things. Now. 'm I gonna 'ave t' take ye back t' th' ship m'self? t' make ye rest?" She sounds a hint irritated, but whether it's with the need to play nursemaid, Zea's resistance, or the noblewoman's silly notions of apologizing, is uncertain.

Zea glances to what is left of the barn and shakes her head ever so slightly. "No," she says, looking to Lyri. "I can find my way back to the ship without a problem." If anyone wants to accompany her, they are welcome to do so, but she seems willing to ignore the captain's orders and travel back on her own. If there is any danger to be found in the village it has certainly kept itself hidden well. She stops at a water barrel and takes a long drink before she departs. Zea looks over to Aurelio and for a brief moment she can give him a small smile. "Just stay out of there for a while, would you? That thing falls again and I'm in no condition to lift a feather, much less a barn." Her stormy eyes look again towards the barn. "Might as well just burn it anyway, not as if it could ever be used again. Stench is in the very walls and dirt of that barn." That is assuming, of course, if there are even going to be people here again to use the barn.