Awakening [Semiclosed]

[Clair Feldsky]

OoC: Takes place hours after the events in Bern: Arena: Chaos in the Arena. Semi closed to indicate that only people who would have business in Richter's Army's healing tents should start there.

In the arena, events transpired. A battle was fought, a dragon was slain, and a rebellion awakened. Far away though, outside the city, another battle was being waged. Healers and surgeons of Richter's fought to stave off death from taking their young officer, Clair Feldsky. She had been with them for years, and many had watched her rise from the complete new blood that she had been on joining to the dedicated falcoknight she was now. The soldiers trusted her. Never once had they stumbled into a trap while she was in the air, and when the enemy pressed their lines to the breaking point, you could always count on her to throw herself and her steed down from the air, like a thunderbolt, momentarily smashing enemy formations, and letting her own troops have the time they needed to shore up their weakened defenses. Right now though, she wasn't inspiring anyone.

She was laying out on a table in a healer's tent, armor cut away, bleeding over across the floor as the clerics and priests used every trick in their considerable repertoire to bring her back from the brink of death and patch her up as best they could. It wasn't as simple as just healing her. Not for a wound this deep. The dagger thrust had buried deep into her back and torn muscles and fibers which wouldn't heal fully. Not even with the stronger staves which they had at their disposal. This involved actually going in and stitching pieces of her back together, and it was a messy business. Finally, satisfied with his work, the lead healer took a mend staff to her, and closed up where they'd been working. On the outside, everything appeared unblemished, thanks to the magic of the staff on the injury, but the healer knew that it was only a partial victory. Only half healed. He wasn't looking forward to having to convince the Ilian woman to cut things back and let her body recover for the next few weeks.

Hours passed, and Clair remained unaware of the events which would soon be shaking this country to its core. When she finally did awaken, she found herself in a bed in what looked to be a darkened room? No, this was a tent. She could tell by the occasional ripples in the walls. Only a single dim candle provided light in the area, so her surroundings were not immediately clear. She started to lean up, but felt a pain in her back, and decided to stop. She was already exhausted, even from something as minor as beginning to lean up. She just felt cold and weak. Weak in a way she could do nothing against. Normally, she would just focus and press through her discomfort, but that wasn't going to work here. She turned her head and looked around slowly, trying to spot something familiar in her surroundings in the dim light.

[Richter Abend]

She should be in here

Richter's heart fluttered with worry as the door flap of the tent came into view, and as he drew closer his steps slowly came to a halt. He tried to walk forward, but it was as if an invisible force, a weight, was keeping him anchored here. It was confusing. His anger and his worry had been so great before earlier, to the point that not even the Crimson Demon could still his rage, but now that he stood here, mere feet away from the bed where she supposedly slept, it was almost if he didn't want to enter. He couldn't enter. He feared the worst. My God, what if he walked into to find her dying, no, dead on the bed in spite of the army medics' best efforts? His emotional state had become so fragile of late, with so many long suppressed feelings being forcibly dragged out of his mind by the conflict he was so fatalistically marching into that he had yet to learn to cope with them. Could he mentally handle the situation if it did indeed take a turn for the worst? Would he be able to keep himself and his army together? A large part of him wasn't so sure.

But the better, stronger part of the Ilian commander knew that he was letting the other part of him fall into a coward's trap. Clair was wounded, perhaps even dying inside that tent, and he was going to stand outside, quietly moping himself into a sad, fearful, self-pitying comfort? No. He wouldn't let himself be so pathetic. A real leader would not stand to the side has his men put their lives on the line, so why do any less for Clair? After all, she was more than just a soldier to him...

Masking his inner trepidation with thoughts of confidence, Richter closed the gap between him and the smallish tent, and once reaching it, brusquely flung open the door flap. And as the light rushed into the dark confines of the canvas, the first thing Richter noticed was Clair, lying down upon the bed that served as the focus of the room. Perhaps it was the dim light inside the tent, but the commander instantly noticed how very pale his second looked, and although it was a bit jarring at first, given the lively image of her he usually carried in his head, it was not surprising given the trauma she had just experienced. What was important, though, is that despite her pale pallor, Clair was very much alive.

"Clair...!"

The utterance escaped Richter's lips before he had fully thought out what to say, so there was a bit of a pause as the Ilian's brain caught up to his emotions.

"Clair, are you alright? Are you hurt? No, you're not alright, and of course you're hurt. What am I saying?" Richter shook his head, pressing a fist to his brow in an attempt to redirect his train of thought. The questions that hadn't been able to be asked in the heat of the moment were now catching up with him. "Did the medics treat you well? Are you in any pain?"

[Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen]

Tuatara followed Richter to camp. I'm sure Clair's alright, I mean, I've survived worse and survived so a little scratch like this couldn't faze her. Though I suppose I've never been gutted... Blast that Red-haired guy and his posse. Once we're done with Clair we've gotta hunt them down. And then- He stopped short as he narrowly avoided running into Richter.

"Ops," Tuatara apologized, but Richter didn't seem to notice. Hmmmm.... What's going on? Oh... he thought, seeing the tent. Clair must be in here. He looked back a Richter. I wonder what he's thinking? Oh, maybe he's plotting revenge! No wait, if Clair's in there... he must be thinking about her. And if he's thinking about her... He's planning a surprise party for her because she survived! Genius! I wonder if I should help? He spotted some random flower's and grabbed them as Richter made his way into the tent. Tuatara followed a few moments later, catching the end of Richter's inquiry.

"Hey Clair, Richter had me get some flower's for you," Tuatara said as he looked for some thing to put them in. He saw a pitcher of water and some cups on a nearby table. "I'll put them in one of these glasses." 

[Clair Feldsky]

There was the sound of a curtain being drawn back, and the blond haired falcoknight squinted toward the opening, looking to see who was there. She held up a hand briefly to shield some of the light before she heard a voice she recognized. Relief flooded her as Richter came in. Even if he was practically babbling, to her there was no sweeter song just then.

"I don't know. There's something stiff in my back, and I feel exhausted. I just need a couple more minutes to rest. What happened?" She tried to shift herself into a slightly more upright position, and found it much more taxing than it should have been. More light in the room also helped her see around more. Tuatara had come along and was pouring water in a glass nearby for a collection of small ground flowers which were mostly untrampled. How he'd found them among the army camp, she didn't know, but it brought a smile to her lips that they were there. There was a short clear laugh that came from the Falcoknight as she shook her head.

"Thankyou, Tuatara. Just set them on the table for now." She frowned softly after a moment before speaking up again.

"I don't remember getting here at all. Last I remember I was winning in the tournament, and then... then..." Her face shifted. She remembered something more, and now she looked a little worried as she tried to lean up again and reach tentatively for her back. She wasn't in the leather armor she'd been wearing anymore. Instead she found a plain white dress covering her under the covers of the bed. She remembered the knife of the assassin lancing through the armor as if it was nothing mote than thin paper. If it had done that to her armor, what condition was she in now.

"I saved your butt is what happened, Commander. While Captain Boyfriend let you lay in the dirt as battle broke out on all sides." The voice belonged to a small blanket resting over a chair along the side wall of the tent, which quickly was thrown back to reveal a honey blond haired pegasus knight with an old scar running over her eyes, across her forehead. The voice did not sound either happy or friendly at the moment.

"Volcano managed to get you up to me so I could fly you out, Clair. Where I stayed until the docs finished up with you. You didn't wake up.... It's about time some relief came. I'm going to find something to eat."She pushed past Richter, and shoved out the door flap. A moment later her head poked back in accompanied by a pointing finger.

"You stay in that bed, Feldsky! Unless you want to aggravate your injuries further." And then she vanished out the tent again.

Clair was left feeling even more lost.There was evidently alot for her to catch up on. And Richter had just left her alone...? Taking what Delia said at face value didn't seem wise.... There was probably alot more to it than that, but she needed to hear what went on for herself.

"What battle? What happened?" She looked between the two who remained in the tent, waiting for some explanation.

[Richter Abend]

Richter was about to reply to Clair when a loud, very unpleasant sound came from the corner of the tent, responding to the injured woman's inquiry with an wfully obnoxious rendition of the day's earlier, chaotic events.

"You were stabbed..." said Richter, his face sullen as he replayed the moment in his mind. He could remember his heart dropping as he saw Clair slump to the floor, the knife plunged deep into her back. "...by an assassin known as the Emerald Wraith. She attacked you and ran. I tried to pursue, to see if I could capture her, to find out who had hired her, but by then the arena had broken out into chaos, and in the midst of it I was blocked by Kenshin, that Crimson bastard..." Richter's voice trailed off, his hands tightening into angry fists. That meddling bastard. The Ilian swore to himself that if he ever crossed swords again with that damnable Sacaen, he would rend his head from his shoulders.

"By the time I had gotten him out of my way, your lovely ray of sunshine had already whisked you away from the battle and the assassin was nowhere to be seen. I don't know who hired her, but I feel Etruria may have had some hand in it, because it was then that I was accosted by the same Etrurian officer that had captured me up in Ilia." Richter paused, remembering Alranus's words. He wasn't sure how much of it was true, but that look in the man's eyes had made Richter sure of the fact that at least some of it definitely was. "Etruria is involved in the rebellion, that much I can be sure of, but to what extent remains to be seen."

[Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen]

Tuatara placed the flower's on the table while Richter explained the situation. So that's what happened to Clair, he thought, staring at the flower's. He frowned, wondering what this all might mean. The same thing happened to Marcus...

"And they killed Marcus!" Tuatara blurted out, anger flashing to his face. Luckily Richter had stopped talking by then. "Some assassin dude tried taking him on and then that red guy and Mana chased after him! Bunch of glory seekers." He fumed a moment before the anger died away. "But don't worry, Richter and I will get to the bottom of this." He smiled a little, but there was a worried look in his eyes.

We have to avenge Marcus! Tuatara thought. He began to pace, his usual method for thinking. But then again I think something else is going on... Oh ya, the party! Rats, it might have to wait. Besides, parties are better when the person can enjoy the party. I'm sure Richter will understand.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair felt a wave of exhaustion hit her, but this one was more mental than physical. She'd been stabbed. She'd. Been. Targeted. She'd considered the danger, and dismissed it before coming here to the Capital of Bern. Clearly, she'd been wrong. There was a target big enough to be seen from the Herald's office painted on her back, and while that in itself was actually a step in the right direction as far as she was concerned, she'd have to reassess everything now.

She was also struck by sudden vulnerability. Fortune had always been on her side until now. The worst she'd suffered as far as injuries went had been scrapes, gashes, bruises, and cuts. She'd had a few close calls, but this was different. She'd almost died. For all she knew, the injury she'd taken may have crippled her. She'd woken up with no clue how she'd arrived in her bed, with no idea of the time or the place until Richter and Tuatara had entered. Humility was a bitter pill to swallow, and she wasn't sure she could do it. Of course, she didn't really have a choice. It was done already. The fact that Richter had gone after the assassin first, instead of running to her left its own mark. The failure to catch the assassin hurt. Kenshin crossing blades against Richter hurt. The entire situation was filled with negatives. She needed to get up and stretch herself out. Try and figure out what had happened when the assassin had stabbed her. She began to push herself up from the bed, Delia's instruction be damned, when the bomb finally hit home. It was something Tuatara said, and it brought everything crashing down on her back.

"...What...." Her voice quavered, the normally strong and confident tones dropping to sounds befitting one on her deathbed. She failed to hear Tut's reassurances. Icy claws gripped her heart, and her expression took on a look of disbelieving fear growing into horror. She winced for a moment, spasming as she felt a tick in her back that struck something better left untouched. It took only a moment before she managed to shift herself into a better position. The pain still lingered, but that was put out of her mind.

"Tell me. What happened?!" She was practically pleading now, hoping to hear that it was all a bad joke. Hoping for it, but knowing that these weren't the sort of people to make those sort of cracks.

[Richter Abend]

"People died and the rebels got away with everything, that's what happened!" Richter shouted, his voice angry upon being asked to repeat himself, but he caught his error, and averted his eyes. He wasn't angry at Clair, not in the least. It was just...recalling the days events was painful. Every time he did, he not only had to recognize his failure in his mission, but his failure as a commander in protecting his own men and women. It wasn't something he wanted to think about, but it wasn't like he had much choice in the matter. They would need to respond to this attack, which meant he was going to have to do a whole lot of thinking about it.

"Sorry," the commander apologized, turning his eyes back upon his wounded subordinate. His eyes filled with pain at the sight of her in that bed, weak and injured, but he did his best to recount what else he could.

"I could only catch so much outside of the attempt on your life," Richter continued. "I was a bit preoccupied. Anyways, after you were attacked, hundreds of fighters started flooding on to the battlefield, and it was then that wyvern riders began flooding out of the battlement towers surrounded the arena. They set upon everything, quite indiscriminate in their assault, but their main focus was Marcus, and it wasn't until he had transformed that there was real trouble on his end. There...wasn't much I could do."

At that, Richter sat down upon a stool in a dark corner of the tent. He remained still and silent for a moment, before remembering what he held in his pocket. Slowly he drew the stone out of his pocket, and once in his hands, the stone let out off a faint glow. It wasn't nearly as bright as the last time he had held it, back when Marcus was still alive, but it was enough to remind him that it still contained a bit of the dragon's life.

Looking at Tuatara, then back at Clair, Richter sighed. A lone tear slowly ran its way down his cheek.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice mournful and quiet. "I have failed you, the men, and all the people of Bern." The Ilian shook his head. "I'm not fit to be called the commander of this army."

[Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen]

Clair was freaking. Richter was losing it. And Tuatara snapped. "WHAT IN THE FLAMING BISCUITS ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" He glared back and forth between the two before stopping at Richter. "Not fit to be commander? Who else would be if not you? Certainly not me, and the only other person would be Clair, and she just barely survived death! No matter what happens, you have to keep moving on! If you won every time it wouldn't be life, it'd be... it'd be..." he paused a moment as he lost his train of thought. "Well, it'd be something else. 

"The point is, when life throws something in your face, you gotta throw it right back. It doesn't matter what it takes. If you have to leave home to protect your younger brother from a maniac and his hired body guard, then do it. If you have to be strong for the ones you failed because you're the one they look to in their time of need, then do it," Tuatara ranted, pausing to take a breath. "If you don't then who will? Now pull yourself together, we have things to do." Not that I know what those things are... He tried to keep himself from smiling, as this was serious talk.

"And as for you," Tuatara said, turning to Clair, shaking his finger, " You- you- just chill. We got this." He gave one of his classic grins.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair flinched slightly at Richter's outburst. She'd seen him angry before, but she'd always seen a way they could proceed to work on correcting the setback before. From here, she could see nothing.... No way to fix the problem, and only total war to erase it. That hadn't been what she'd had in mind when she'd come to Bern. She let her chin rest on her chest, simply feeling worn and defeated. It was a first. She couldn't remember ever feeling quite this beaten before. Her straight blond hair fell in front of her face as she looked down, and she couldn't even muster the strength to move it back.

She listened to the story of how things had gone from bad to worse. It was depressing and only became moreso when Richter began calling himself unfit, and apologizing for what had happened. She wanted to say it wasn't so. She knew that Richter was this army's commander. Each person had their place. The words were not coming right now though.

To her surprise, Tuatara spoke up, and actually was saying the right things. She knew what he was saying. Setbacks would arise, but it was their job to continue pushing through.

"He's right, Richter.... We've been hit hard. ...We lost a good person in Marcus...." She looked up, and reached over with a hand to push her hair out of her face as she looked over and saw the green gem Marcus had carried. She saw the tear running down Richter's face, and her own tears reflected back at him from her blue eyes. "But your men and women still look to you."

She sniffled quietly, and coughed quietly under her breath. "...I'm not looking to you to make it right though.... Just help me get back to helping you."

It was Tut's bit about her "chilling" that caused her to grit her teeth. She wasn't sure what that meant anymore. It caused just a bit of panic in fact, and it showed on her face. She.... She really didn't want to be left alone yet. The concept left her feeling even more vulnerable. Not something she was used to. And she had no idea what was actually wrong with her.

[Richter Abend]

Richter's mouth opened and closed, attempting some to form sort of protest against the words of his companions, but there was nothing to say. He knew Clair was right, and surprisingly, Tuatara even more so. Of course he wouldn't give up. There was no time for it. No doubt he would wake up tomorrow, steel himself, bury his sorrow, bury his pain, and bury himself in his duty, much as he always had. But Richter couldn't deny that, with each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to do.

He had discarded his anger, his anguish, and his rage in order to fill himself with the hopes and dreams of his comrades, but it was just now that he was realizing why he had filled himself with so much fury in the first place. His family, his men, his friends...with every life lost under his command, every hope and dream snuffed out, Richter could feel himself losing more and more of himself, and where before he just filled the void with hate for those who had wronged him, now there was nothing. While he knew it was his duty to persevere, to move forward and fight for a more peaceful and stable Elibe, the world-weary Ilian couldn't help but wonder if there would be anything left of himself to share in the fruits of his mission once it was all said and done. But perhaps that was his fate: to give up himself for the cause. Surely that wasn't such a bad thing, was it?

But wasn't that why he had been so fearful of opening himself to Clair in the first place? Before he could think of himself as an acceptable loss, but now? Now he had an obligation to not only win, but to survive in a form that at least somewhat resembled the man she had fallen in love with. Anything else would be unfair to her. But how could he do both? At the moment, the two seemed wholly irreconcilable. 

With a slow breath inwards, Richter brushed the tear off his face and rose to his feet. He looked to Tuatara, giving the young man a nod of confirmation, crept close to Clair's bedside.

"But I must make it right," he said, with a look more determined than hopeful upon his face. "After all, is that not why I'm fighting in the first place? There are things in this world that need protecting, and I have taken it upon myself to protect them." He placed a hand on Clair's cheek. "Most of all you." Then, leaning down over the wounded woman, he kissed her.

[Clair Feldsky]

Clair watched as the still disguised commander rallied himself again, and fell back into step in his old pattern of doggedly pushing through opposition. It was a likely bet that he was taking on too much responsibility again. She was coming to realize though: No man could carry the world's hopes without being crushed himself. She wasn't certain on an alternative, since she still followed the same methods that Richter did in this matter. She believed that there would be a better way if she looked though. Maybe she could open his mind to the possibility as well, with a moment's thought and the right words.

She saw him coming towards her as she considered all this, and then she felt his rough hands gently caressing her face. She smiled up at him weakly, still not happy about having let herself get injured in the first place. And then he kissed her.Her eyes widened for a moment, and then all thought scattered from her mind as there was one brief moment where the soldier who'd lived engaged to duty for all her young life was just a young woman of Ilia, with her fiance. Boyfriend. Love. It was a freeing experience. It became confirmed to her that dreams of glorious fame in her country and heroic acts of duty were not the only things worth living for.... Right then, the Falcoknight could have remained at peace for a very long time, but the bitter must come before the sweet.

Well, maybe not all of the sweet. When she opened her eyes she was in much better humor, a small smile permanently etched across her lips.

"Am I dreaming? How hard did I hit my head, Tut?" She looked between Richter and Tuatara briefly, before turning her eyes back on Richter with an almost successful attempt at deadpan. "...Commander, if things like this are the result, then maybe I should get myself  hurt more often...."

[Tuatara 'Tut' Yamen]

Tuatara nodded back. He was glad that the two were back in working condition. Now I can go back to being me. He looked away as Richter made his move. Richter and Clair are ok. Check them off. Marcus isn't ok. That leaves Aeros and Manis, but I haven't the foggiest where they are. I suppose I'll hang around here, I'm sure Aeros will show up. Besides, Richter and Clair still need me. And Marcus needs me. He smiled at the thought of staying in one place.

But what to do first? Tuatara thought. From how the other two talked he could tell there was a lot of things to be done and no time to do them. But what are those things? Well there's Marcus... Oh ya, the assassination stuff! His eyes lit up; he was proud of himself for remembering. He looked up when he heard his name.

"I think Richter is the one who hit his head," Tuatara said, holding his hand by his mouth as if whispering. 

"...Commander, if things like this are the result, then maybe I should get myself  hurt more often...."

Tuatara laughed, so much that he had to grab a nearby chair to keep from falling. "Now this is chilling," he said with a smirk.

[Richter Abend]

"I'd rather you didn't" said Richter, once again bringing himself upright. "I like my soldiers to be at their best, and injuries tend to work against that." He smiled at Clair, his overly formal response intended for humor rather than contradiction. The emotion contained in that kiss was currently flushing over Richter like a warm bath. It was a good feeling, one he intended to recreate in the future if the opportunity presented itself.

"But really, Clair, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I just let a moment's weakness get the best of me." The commander took a step back, gesturing towards the woman with a hint of caution in his voice. "You, on the other hand, have been stabbed, and you need to take care of yourself lest you make it any worse. No worrying about military duties until the healers say you're fit and able. That's an order." Richter put a finger to his temple. "And don't try going behind my back about it because I'm going to pass along the order to healers myself."

"Now, I need to get some things in order before Captain Saint shows up," said Richter, making his way towards the tent door. He grimaced mentally at the thought, but tried not to let his displeasure show. He wasn't exactly looking forward to discussing future moves with the man, as he expected the captain to be more than a bit sour considering the havoc that had been sewn in his city, but the commander knew he was currently bereft of quickly accessible allies, so Saint would have to do.

"Is there anything you need?"

[Clair Feldsky]

She let a small half grin escape her control and shoot towards Tuatara. As much fun as he appeared to be having, she wasn't able to share in it. She didn't like "chilling". The entire concept of aimlessly relaxing made her uncomfortable, and was built on the concept that it was enjoyable. To someone who primarily valued efficiency and accomplishments to pass her time pleasantly, this was going to be a nightmare. Her equivlent to chilling was probably practicing flight maneuvers, sparring with the fighters, or training her remaining pegasus knights to fly in better coordination.

"Yes, Commander." She said quietly back, catching his droll sarcastic humor, and accepting it in kind. It was a relief to see that, she realized. The fact that he was able to accept and crack jokes- jokes of any kind- was actually a little surprising when one took his personality and the events of his life into account. She didn't want to see this man's heart damaged anymore.... Not that she was any expert on the matter. She'd done little except train and fight her whole life, so she wasn't exactly the one with the experience to point out such matters.

"Don't try to carry the world alone anymore, Richter. You have friends which are here for you." Only when he worded it as "a moment of weakness", did she truly notice just how much responsibility he was taking onto himself. His next line of thought was something she took just as much issue with though.

"Ugh... Don't relegate me to uselessness. Fine. I won't go leaping onto any flying dragons, but there's got to be something I can do still. Get me.... Get me the reports on the food snitch who's been plaguing the camp. I can sift a pattern out of it. A map of the area. Quill, ink, and parchment." She was hoping Richter wouldn't take issue with that much.

Her face fell a bit when he mentioned leaving. She understood that time wouldn't stop just because she'd hurt herself, and couldn't be... as involved as she'd like to be. It was just.... This was all very painful for her. She was still processing most of it.

"Richter, I just woke up from a nearly successful assassination attempt on my life to hear that one of my best friends had died to allied attack, and that I won't be up and about for... I don't know how long.... The only thing I need right now is walking out that door." Way to go, Clair. That's a real positive outlook to have on things.

It was true though.

"Oh! Corona. Do you know if he's been taken care of? Where is he?"