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There was little time for her to think, for another order was given: Blankets. The girl knew where they would be and went without questioning or in need of a second reminder. Her feet carried her to one of the many royal storage rooms. She barely needed to even think about where she was going, seeing as she had lived in the castle her entire life. Muscle memory guided her as easily as wind guided sails.
When she returned, the girl knew she could never work in the kitchens due to her reaction to seeing the pigs’ bellies. She was always rather squeamish in nature, having not been exposed to the rougher items life had to offer- like swines’ insides. Ignoring the disgust in her stomach like she was ignoring the pain in her legs and feet, she somehow stepped closer, close enough to hand the physician the blankets he had requested when he was ready for them.
The doctor’s words frightened the blonde. Vangelis losing his mind? He was one of the strongest men she knew, if not the strongest. The idea of him being stripped both of his dignity and of his clothes, brought on the emotions she was attempting to, and failing to, suppress along the pain only grow. But his last words before moving to leave, ones left unspoken, struck the hardest of all.
Widened eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her gaze from the injured man to swipe at them, trying to hide them from the hard eyes of the commander. When another set of orders came, the girl felt relief. She craved anything to do, anything to keep her mind of off what she had done and what she had caused because of her actions. With a duck of her head and a quiet “yes Commander Nike,” she headed for the exit.
However, as she was leaving the crowned prince’s bedroom, more things were placed upon her shoulders. Turning to look at the prince to maintain utmost respect for his title, even after the horrific events and duress she had been through in the past few hours, she bowed her head once more. “Yes Your Highness,” she responded, moving to exit once more.
Her feet carried her down the stairs and to the kitchen first and foremost. Water was of utmost importance; it was essential in keeping the man alive and warm. She informed the head of the kitchen staff of the situation, providing the least amount of details so that she would take the least amount of time. Time was of the essence, after all. Once her instructions were understood, which took a moment or two longer than it really should have with her frazzled tongue, she moved on to a runner, who was resting nearby.
Once his message was comprehended, and to whom the message was supposed to reach, Euphemia once more returned to the storage room and grabbed the heaviest, thickest, and largest amount of blankets she could carry in both of her hands. They stacked high, nearly higher than she could see, and so she swayed as she jogged back to Lord Vangelis’ chambers. Her feet screamed in agony, and it was just as she was reentering the space that she tripped, her feet weak and giving out. The blankets braced most of her fall as she sprawled out on the stone floor, wincing as she did.
“. . . Ow,” she mumbled into the wool below her.
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There was little time for her to think, for another order was given: Blankets. The girl knew where they would be and went without questioning or in need of a second reminder. Her feet carried her to one of the many royal storage rooms. She barely needed to even think about where she was going, seeing as she had lived in the castle her entire life. Muscle memory guided her as easily as wind guided sails.
When she returned, the girl knew she could never work in the kitchens due to her reaction to seeing the pigs’ bellies. She was always rather squeamish in nature, having not been exposed to the rougher items life had to offer- like swines’ insides. Ignoring the disgust in her stomach like she was ignoring the pain in her legs and feet, she somehow stepped closer, close enough to hand the physician the blankets he had requested when he was ready for them.
The doctor’s words frightened the blonde. Vangelis losing his mind? He was one of the strongest men she knew, if not the strongest. The idea of him being stripped both of his dignity and of his clothes, brought on the emotions she was attempting to, and failing to, suppress along the pain only grow. But his last words before moving to leave, ones left unspoken, struck the hardest of all.
Widened eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her gaze from the injured man to swipe at them, trying to hide them from the hard eyes of the commander. When another set of orders came, the girl felt relief. She craved anything to do, anything to keep her mind of off what she had done and what she had caused because of her actions. With a duck of her head and a quiet “yes Commander Nike,” she headed for the exit.
However, as she was leaving the crowned prince’s bedroom, more things were placed upon her shoulders. Turning to look at the prince to maintain utmost respect for his title, even after the horrific events and duress she had been through in the past few hours, she bowed her head once more. “Yes Your Highness,” she responded, moving to exit once more.
Her feet carried her down the stairs and to the kitchen first and foremost. Water was of utmost importance; it was essential in keeping the man alive and warm. She informed the head of the kitchen staff of the situation, providing the least amount of details so that she would take the least amount of time. Time was of the essence, after all. Once her instructions were understood, which took a moment or two longer than it really should have with her frazzled tongue, she moved on to a runner, who was resting nearby.
Once his message was comprehended, and to whom the message was supposed to reach, Euphemia once more returned to the storage room and grabbed the heaviest, thickest, and largest amount of blankets she could carry in both of her hands. They stacked high, nearly higher than she could see, and so she swayed as she jogged back to Lord Vangelis’ chambers. Her feet screamed in agony, and it was just as she was reentering the space that she tripped, her feet weak and giving out. The blankets braced most of her fall as she sprawled out on the stone floor, wincing as she did.
“. . . Ow,” she mumbled into the wool below her.
There was little time for her to think, for another order was given: Blankets. The girl knew where they would be and went without questioning or in need of a second reminder. Her feet carried her to one of the many royal storage rooms. She barely needed to even think about where she was going, seeing as she had lived in the castle her entire life. Muscle memory guided her as easily as wind guided sails.
When she returned, the girl knew she could never work in the kitchens due to her reaction to seeing the pigs’ bellies. She was always rather squeamish in nature, having not been exposed to the rougher items life had to offer- like swines’ insides. Ignoring the disgust in her stomach like she was ignoring the pain in her legs and feet, she somehow stepped closer, close enough to hand the physician the blankets he had requested when he was ready for them.
The doctor’s words frightened the blonde. Vangelis losing his mind? He was one of the strongest men she knew, if not the strongest. The idea of him being stripped both of his dignity and of his clothes, brought on the emotions she was attempting to, and failing to, suppress along the pain only grow. But his last words before moving to leave, ones left unspoken, struck the hardest of all.
Widened eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her gaze from the injured man to swipe at them, trying to hide them from the hard eyes of the commander. When another set of orders came, the girl felt relief. She craved anything to do, anything to keep her mind of off what she had done and what she had caused because of her actions. With a duck of her head and a quiet “yes Commander Nike,” she headed for the exit.
However, as she was leaving the crowned prince’s bedroom, more things were placed upon her shoulders. Turning to look at the prince to maintain utmost respect for his title, even after the horrific events and duress she had been through in the past few hours, she bowed her head once more. “Yes Your Highness,” she responded, moving to exit once more.
Her feet carried her down the stairs and to the kitchen first and foremost. Water was of utmost importance; it was essential in keeping the man alive and warm. She informed the head of the kitchen staff of the situation, providing the least amount of details so that she would take the least amount of time. Time was of the essence, after all. Once her instructions were understood, which took a moment or two longer than it really should have with her frazzled tongue, she moved on to a runner, who was resting nearby.
Once his message was comprehended, and to whom the message was supposed to reach, Euphemia once more returned to the storage room and grabbed the heaviest, thickest, and largest amount of blankets she could carry in both of her hands. They stacked high, nearly higher than she could see, and so she swayed as she jogged back to Lord Vangelis’ chambers. Her feet screamed in agony, and it was just as she was reentering the space that she tripped, her feet weak and giving out. The blankets braced most of her fall as she sprawled out on the stone floor, wincing as she did.
“. . . Ow,” she mumbled into the wool below her.
Watching as Euphemia flitted out of the room to do as she was told, the commander moved aside to allow the physician to leave, before returning to her post by the bedside, leaning against the wall. Her eyes flickered again to his chest of drawers, but stubborn as she was, Nike refused to even entertain the idea. Like it or not, he'll have to go find those so-called letters himself, even if she had to bring him back to life herself to do it.
Nodding wordlessly at Zanon's words, she allowed as he please, but made a mental note to keep an eye out for him as well. While the second prince may not be as responsible and uptight as Vangelis, Nike knew that he valued his sibling just as much as the elder one did his family, so in all honesty, the commander was not surprised. She had just imagined he would want to check on his son, considering his wife was possibly, as always, at her family home.
The silence was tight as the servants bustled around to do their latest orders, when a sudden loud crash at the door, made Nike look up, just in time to see the sprawl of the handmaiden named Euphemia, the blankets scattered all around the doorway, and the girl in question spreadeagle on the ground. Frowning again, the commander wasted no time in pushing herself off the wall, taking long strides in her booted feet to get to the girl.
Upon getting there, Nike crouched down, picking up the blankets that had flew beyond her, clearing the way until she got to the groaning handmaiden. Only then, did her hard eyes flash as they met Euphemia's, obviously unhappy. She was no slavedriver - Nike, while tough, had never been unkind to others. Like Vangelis, she trained hard and expected excellence. In a battlefield, one had no time nor chance to be careless, and panicking in a less then ideal state would not help matters anyway. "Stand up." firm and tough, Nike's tone bode no nonsense, as she offered a hand to the servant girl. "Don't be sorry." she cut in immediately, when Euphemia started apologizing, tone sharp and curt. She had no time for this. "Just be better. Excessive amounts of apologies will get you nowhere. A change, will be the biggest difference."
Leaving her with that, Nike picked up the remaining blankets, and carried them over to a waiting chair.
Over the course of the night, Nike had never been more alert. As a commander used to occasionally taking the night shifts, she would ask for a fresh tub of hot water every hour, replacing the pigskins (regardless of location, because really, its about getting him to stay alive, and not what she saw at this point. She's stayed in a military camp long enough to know when life mattered more then someone getting squeamish or acting up on seeing private area) with hot water on his extremities. Every so often, she would slip her fingers around a free hand, and feel his forehead and toes to check on his temperature, adding on the blankets as the temperature dropped throughout the night.
By the time the sun started rising, and the silence of the Archontiko was broken as the servants woke up, Nike still stood at the wall opposite facing Vangelis, her eyes never leaving his sleeping form and the rise and fall of his chest. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her palms throbbed, and everything made her feel like throwing up. By that point, she has not gotten proper sleep nor rest in the past 24 hours, and with the way she had yet to get her wounds properly cleaned (including all the cuts and scrapes she had gotten from tumbling down the cavern), she would be getting a fever in a day or two if she didn't do something about it... but Nike being Nike, was too caught up in making sure her sucidal prince actually stayed alived, then do something about her own self.
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Watching as Euphemia flitted out of the room to do as she was told, the commander moved aside to allow the physician to leave, before returning to her post by the bedside, leaning against the wall. Her eyes flickered again to his chest of drawers, but stubborn as she was, Nike refused to even entertain the idea. Like it or not, he'll have to go find those so-called letters himself, even if she had to bring him back to life herself to do it.
Nodding wordlessly at Zanon's words, she allowed as he please, but made a mental note to keep an eye out for him as well. While the second prince may not be as responsible and uptight as Vangelis, Nike knew that he valued his sibling just as much as the elder one did his family, so in all honesty, the commander was not surprised. She had just imagined he would want to check on his son, considering his wife was possibly, as always, at her family home.
The silence was tight as the servants bustled around to do their latest orders, when a sudden loud crash at the door, made Nike look up, just in time to see the sprawl of the handmaiden named Euphemia, the blankets scattered all around the doorway, and the girl in question spreadeagle on the ground. Frowning again, the commander wasted no time in pushing herself off the wall, taking long strides in her booted feet to get to the girl.
Upon getting there, Nike crouched down, picking up the blankets that had flew beyond her, clearing the way until she got to the groaning handmaiden. Only then, did her hard eyes flash as they met Euphemia's, obviously unhappy. She was no slavedriver - Nike, while tough, had never been unkind to others. Like Vangelis, she trained hard and expected excellence. In a battlefield, one had no time nor chance to be careless, and panicking in a less then ideal state would not help matters anyway. "Stand up." firm and tough, Nike's tone bode no nonsense, as she offered a hand to the servant girl. "Don't be sorry." she cut in immediately, when Euphemia started apologizing, tone sharp and curt. She had no time for this. "Just be better. Excessive amounts of apologies will get you nowhere. A change, will be the biggest difference."
Leaving her with that, Nike picked up the remaining blankets, and carried them over to a waiting chair.
Over the course of the night, Nike had never been more alert. As a commander used to occasionally taking the night shifts, she would ask for a fresh tub of hot water every hour, replacing the pigskins (regardless of location, because really, its about getting him to stay alive, and not what she saw at this point. She's stayed in a military camp long enough to know when life mattered more then someone getting squeamish or acting up on seeing private area) with hot water on his extremities. Every so often, she would slip her fingers around a free hand, and feel his forehead and toes to check on his temperature, adding on the blankets as the temperature dropped throughout the night.
By the time the sun started rising, and the silence of the Archontiko was broken as the servants woke up, Nike still stood at the wall opposite facing Vangelis, her eyes never leaving his sleeping form and the rise and fall of his chest. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her palms throbbed, and everything made her feel like throwing up. By that point, she has not gotten proper sleep nor rest in the past 24 hours, and with the way she had yet to get her wounds properly cleaned (including all the cuts and scrapes she had gotten from tumbling down the cavern), she would be getting a fever in a day or two if she didn't do something about it... but Nike being Nike, was too caught up in making sure her sucidal prince actually stayed alived, then do something about her own self.
Watching as Euphemia flitted out of the room to do as she was told, the commander moved aside to allow the physician to leave, before returning to her post by the bedside, leaning against the wall. Her eyes flickered again to his chest of drawers, but stubborn as she was, Nike refused to even entertain the idea. Like it or not, he'll have to go find those so-called letters himself, even if she had to bring him back to life herself to do it.
Nodding wordlessly at Zanon's words, she allowed as he please, but made a mental note to keep an eye out for him as well. While the second prince may not be as responsible and uptight as Vangelis, Nike knew that he valued his sibling just as much as the elder one did his family, so in all honesty, the commander was not surprised. She had just imagined he would want to check on his son, considering his wife was possibly, as always, at her family home.
The silence was tight as the servants bustled around to do their latest orders, when a sudden loud crash at the door, made Nike look up, just in time to see the sprawl of the handmaiden named Euphemia, the blankets scattered all around the doorway, and the girl in question spreadeagle on the ground. Frowning again, the commander wasted no time in pushing herself off the wall, taking long strides in her booted feet to get to the girl.
Upon getting there, Nike crouched down, picking up the blankets that had flew beyond her, clearing the way until she got to the groaning handmaiden. Only then, did her hard eyes flash as they met Euphemia's, obviously unhappy. She was no slavedriver - Nike, while tough, had never been unkind to others. Like Vangelis, she trained hard and expected excellence. In a battlefield, one had no time nor chance to be careless, and panicking in a less then ideal state would not help matters anyway. "Stand up." firm and tough, Nike's tone bode no nonsense, as she offered a hand to the servant girl. "Don't be sorry." she cut in immediately, when Euphemia started apologizing, tone sharp and curt. She had no time for this. "Just be better. Excessive amounts of apologies will get you nowhere. A change, will be the biggest difference."
Leaving her with that, Nike picked up the remaining blankets, and carried them over to a waiting chair.
Over the course of the night, Nike had never been more alert. As a commander used to occasionally taking the night shifts, she would ask for a fresh tub of hot water every hour, replacing the pigskins (regardless of location, because really, its about getting him to stay alive, and not what she saw at this point. She's stayed in a military camp long enough to know when life mattered more then someone getting squeamish or acting up on seeing private area) with hot water on his extremities. Every so often, she would slip her fingers around a free hand, and feel his forehead and toes to check on his temperature, adding on the blankets as the temperature dropped throughout the night.
By the time the sun started rising, and the silence of the Archontiko was broken as the servants woke up, Nike still stood at the wall opposite facing Vangelis, her eyes never leaving his sleeping form and the rise and fall of his chest. Her head hurt, her chest hurt, her palms throbbed, and everything made her feel like throwing up. By that point, she has not gotten proper sleep nor rest in the past 24 hours, and with the way she had yet to get her wounds properly cleaned (including all the cuts and scrapes she had gotten from tumbling down the cavern), she would be getting a fever in a day or two if she didn't do something about it... but Nike being Nike, was too caught up in making sure her sucidal prince actually stayed alived, then do something about her own self.
Zanon nodded absently in response to all of the commander's words, barely aware of the things happening around him as time passed. Even his sister's maid tripping in her rush to get extra blankets hardly caught his attention, staring instead at the face of the man who lay dying or surviving before him. He wished he knew which one it was as he watched his brother's every labored breath. It had always been in his nature to act because he assumed Vangelis would be first. In his mind there was no possible way that his brother would die before leaving an heir, never a possibility that he himself would get to the throne. And now here he was facing down that very possibility.
Gods above and below, he prayed all night to every single one he could think of, whether they could have any bearing on the situation or not. It was not his right or his time to be king. How could he bring a witch to the crown of Colchis as their queen, raise the Thanasi family in their grasping to exactly where they wanted him. Had they perhaps been behind this incident? The more he thought of it as a possibility the more fear closed around his heart, hardening it even more to the beauty he had married and the family that stood behind her, always moving her closer, pushing their daughters in to take power.
If Vangelis died and he took the throne, how long would he survive before he was removed. Dion was eleven now, of an age where he would still need a regent, and who would he look to more than his mother. His mother and her family. Even if his father lived many years beyond the passing of his eldest sons, if Dion took the throne, his heart and advisors would be mainly Thanasi. His name might be that of Kotas, but he had seen the way his son looked at him, at all of them. He was of the witch's blood through and through.
At some point he had fallen asleep, propped up in his chair he didn't stir until the sun had begun it's climb back to height. Zanon startled himself awake, looking down in relief to see his brother still breathing, slowly then taking in the rest of the room, Commander Nike and Euphemia still in their places of careful watch. It was only as he was realizing this that he saw the injuries that had seemed so unimportant last night sported by the commander.
"Nike, you should take a moment to tend to your own wounds. It wouldn't do for my brother to wake and find that his commander had fallen ill from his wounds instead."
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Zanon nodded absently in response to all of the commander's words, barely aware of the things happening around him as time passed. Even his sister's maid tripping in her rush to get extra blankets hardly caught his attention, staring instead at the face of the man who lay dying or surviving before him. He wished he knew which one it was as he watched his brother's every labored breath. It had always been in his nature to act because he assumed Vangelis would be first. In his mind there was no possible way that his brother would die before leaving an heir, never a possibility that he himself would get to the throne. And now here he was facing down that very possibility.
Gods above and below, he prayed all night to every single one he could think of, whether they could have any bearing on the situation or not. It was not his right or his time to be king. How could he bring a witch to the crown of Colchis as their queen, raise the Thanasi family in their grasping to exactly where they wanted him. Had they perhaps been behind this incident? The more he thought of it as a possibility the more fear closed around his heart, hardening it even more to the beauty he had married and the family that stood behind her, always moving her closer, pushing their daughters in to take power.
If Vangelis died and he took the throne, how long would he survive before he was removed. Dion was eleven now, of an age where he would still need a regent, and who would he look to more than his mother. His mother and her family. Even if his father lived many years beyond the passing of his eldest sons, if Dion took the throne, his heart and advisors would be mainly Thanasi. His name might be that of Kotas, but he had seen the way his son looked at him, at all of them. He was of the witch's blood through and through.
At some point he had fallen asleep, propped up in his chair he didn't stir until the sun had begun it's climb back to height. Zanon startled himself awake, looking down in relief to see his brother still breathing, slowly then taking in the rest of the room, Commander Nike and Euphemia still in their places of careful watch. It was only as he was realizing this that he saw the injuries that had seemed so unimportant last night sported by the commander.
"Nike, you should take a moment to tend to your own wounds. It wouldn't do for my brother to wake and find that his commander had fallen ill from his wounds instead."
Zanon nodded absently in response to all of the commander's words, barely aware of the things happening around him as time passed. Even his sister's maid tripping in her rush to get extra blankets hardly caught his attention, staring instead at the face of the man who lay dying or surviving before him. He wished he knew which one it was as he watched his brother's every labored breath. It had always been in his nature to act because he assumed Vangelis would be first. In his mind there was no possible way that his brother would die before leaving an heir, never a possibility that he himself would get to the throne. And now here he was facing down that very possibility.
Gods above and below, he prayed all night to every single one he could think of, whether they could have any bearing on the situation or not. It was not his right or his time to be king. How could he bring a witch to the crown of Colchis as their queen, raise the Thanasi family in their grasping to exactly where they wanted him. Had they perhaps been behind this incident? The more he thought of it as a possibility the more fear closed around his heart, hardening it even more to the beauty he had married and the family that stood behind her, always moving her closer, pushing their daughters in to take power.
If Vangelis died and he took the throne, how long would he survive before he was removed. Dion was eleven now, of an age where he would still need a regent, and who would he look to more than his mother. His mother and her family. Even if his father lived many years beyond the passing of his eldest sons, if Dion took the throne, his heart and advisors would be mainly Thanasi. His name might be that of Kotas, but he had seen the way his son looked at him, at all of them. He was of the witch's blood through and through.
At some point he had fallen asleep, propped up in his chair he didn't stir until the sun had begun it's climb back to height. Zanon startled himself awake, looking down in relief to see his brother still breathing, slowly then taking in the rest of the room, Commander Nike and Euphemia still in their places of careful watch. It was only as he was realizing this that he saw the injuries that had seemed so unimportant last night sported by the commander.
"Nike, you should take a moment to tend to your own wounds. It wouldn't do for my brother to wake and find that his commander had fallen ill from his wounds instead."
With the sun rising for the new day, Athanasia felt like the previous day had been a nightmare that beat all other nightmares. It seemed unreal to her that her brother Vangelis was hurt, so unstoppable and impervious he seemed, so much like he was one of the gods themselves. The day before, she was in such a daze of shock that when her brother Zanon told her to help everyone else out, she didn't argue. Even at their parents words, telling her to stay where she was needed, Asia didn't argue with them and didn't try to sneak into her eldest brother's room. Her only hints at what was going on were when she saw Euphemia running into the kitchens to demand constant hot water, listening in when the head of the kitchen staff was informed about what was going on.
All night Athanasia fretted, hearing his screams echo down the hall and watching people run in and out of Vangelis' room. For the first time ever, Asia behaved, not wanting to distract any attention from her brother as she prayed to the gods that he would heal and live. *Ares, please give Vangelis strength to live. Apollo, please heal his body. I pray to you both, please spare my brother's life!* Silently she prayed, not knowing what else she could do, feeling helpless throughout the night. Working to keep the water boiling, filling more bladders that headed her way, Asia sent them with a servant to the room at a dead run after she gave him a solemn promise. "Take this, hurry. If he dies because you are slow I swear to the gods I will kill you, and I will make sure it's in the slowest way possible."
Now that it was morning Athanasia couldn't wait any longer, wouldn't wait any longer, as she made her way to Vangelis' room with a scalding hot bladder in her hands but she ignored the heat. Peeking her head in as she openes the door quietly, Asia could see Nike standing ever watchful in the corner by the door and Euphemia laying not far away. When Zanon jumped away, Asia almost dropped the hot blatter before she spots her brother Vangelis on the bed, resting quietly. "I-is he.. will he.. please tell me he is ok." Athanasia has had broken bones before, cuts and scrapes almost everything that could be imagined that a girl could get as she ran wild with her brothers, but never had she cried once she hit the age of 10. Watching her brother lay prone in the bed had tears threaten to fall down Asia's cheeks as she moved to stand beside the bed, tucking the bladder beside Vangelis.
Asia didn't pay anyone any mind as she watched Vangelis take one breath and then another, fighting the tears with everything she had, turning only when Zanon commented on Nike's hands. "I will help. Come here Nike so I can see your hands, please?" With the small please, it showed everyone in the room just how out of sorts she felt, having kept her cool demeanor all night as she made sure orders were followed. In the company of just her brothers and those she would consider extended family, she could let down the guard, showing just how scared and helpless she felt in these moments. As she moved to grab a bowl, Asia pours one of the cool bladders of water into it before passing it to a servant with orders to refill it, grabbing some unused bandages and placing it all on a near-by table. "Let me see your hands.." With a rag in one hand, Athanasia looked up at Nike with her own hand out to him, silently daring her to argue.
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Check out their information page here.
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With the sun rising for the new day, Athanasia felt like the previous day had been a nightmare that beat all other nightmares. It seemed unreal to her that her brother Vangelis was hurt, so unstoppable and impervious he seemed, so much like he was one of the gods themselves. The day before, she was in such a daze of shock that when her brother Zanon told her to help everyone else out, she didn't argue. Even at their parents words, telling her to stay where she was needed, Asia didn't argue with them and didn't try to sneak into her eldest brother's room. Her only hints at what was going on were when she saw Euphemia running into the kitchens to demand constant hot water, listening in when the head of the kitchen staff was informed about what was going on.
All night Athanasia fretted, hearing his screams echo down the hall and watching people run in and out of Vangelis' room. For the first time ever, Asia behaved, not wanting to distract any attention from her brother as she prayed to the gods that he would heal and live. *Ares, please give Vangelis strength to live. Apollo, please heal his body. I pray to you both, please spare my brother's life!* Silently she prayed, not knowing what else she could do, feeling helpless throughout the night. Working to keep the water boiling, filling more bladders that headed her way, Asia sent them with a servant to the room at a dead run after she gave him a solemn promise. "Take this, hurry. If he dies because you are slow I swear to the gods I will kill you, and I will make sure it's in the slowest way possible."
Now that it was morning Athanasia couldn't wait any longer, wouldn't wait any longer, as she made her way to Vangelis' room with a scalding hot bladder in her hands but she ignored the heat. Peeking her head in as she openes the door quietly, Asia could see Nike standing ever watchful in the corner by the door and Euphemia laying not far away. When Zanon jumped away, Asia almost dropped the hot blatter before she spots her brother Vangelis on the bed, resting quietly. "I-is he.. will he.. please tell me he is ok." Athanasia has had broken bones before, cuts and scrapes almost everything that could be imagined that a girl could get as she ran wild with her brothers, but never had she cried once she hit the age of 10. Watching her brother lay prone in the bed had tears threaten to fall down Asia's cheeks as she moved to stand beside the bed, tucking the bladder beside Vangelis.
Asia didn't pay anyone any mind as she watched Vangelis take one breath and then another, fighting the tears with everything she had, turning only when Zanon commented on Nike's hands. "I will help. Come here Nike so I can see your hands, please?" With the small please, it showed everyone in the room just how out of sorts she felt, having kept her cool demeanor all night as she made sure orders were followed. In the company of just her brothers and those she would consider extended family, she could let down the guard, showing just how scared and helpless she felt in these moments. As she moved to grab a bowl, Asia pours one of the cool bladders of water into it before passing it to a servant with orders to refill it, grabbing some unused bandages and placing it all on a near-by table. "Let me see your hands.." With a rag in one hand, Athanasia looked up at Nike with her own hand out to him, silently daring her to argue.
With the sun rising for the new day, Athanasia felt like the previous day had been a nightmare that beat all other nightmares. It seemed unreal to her that her brother Vangelis was hurt, so unstoppable and impervious he seemed, so much like he was one of the gods themselves. The day before, she was in such a daze of shock that when her brother Zanon told her to help everyone else out, she didn't argue. Even at their parents words, telling her to stay where she was needed, Asia didn't argue with them and didn't try to sneak into her eldest brother's room. Her only hints at what was going on were when she saw Euphemia running into the kitchens to demand constant hot water, listening in when the head of the kitchen staff was informed about what was going on.
All night Athanasia fretted, hearing his screams echo down the hall and watching people run in and out of Vangelis' room. For the first time ever, Asia behaved, not wanting to distract any attention from her brother as she prayed to the gods that he would heal and live. *Ares, please give Vangelis strength to live. Apollo, please heal his body. I pray to you both, please spare my brother's life!* Silently she prayed, not knowing what else she could do, feeling helpless throughout the night. Working to keep the water boiling, filling more bladders that headed her way, Asia sent them with a servant to the room at a dead run after she gave him a solemn promise. "Take this, hurry. If he dies because you are slow I swear to the gods I will kill you, and I will make sure it's in the slowest way possible."
Now that it was morning Athanasia couldn't wait any longer, wouldn't wait any longer, as she made her way to Vangelis' room with a scalding hot bladder in her hands but she ignored the heat. Peeking her head in as she openes the door quietly, Asia could see Nike standing ever watchful in the corner by the door and Euphemia laying not far away. When Zanon jumped away, Asia almost dropped the hot blatter before she spots her brother Vangelis on the bed, resting quietly. "I-is he.. will he.. please tell me he is ok." Athanasia has had broken bones before, cuts and scrapes almost everything that could be imagined that a girl could get as she ran wild with her brothers, but never had she cried once she hit the age of 10. Watching her brother lay prone in the bed had tears threaten to fall down Asia's cheeks as she moved to stand beside the bed, tucking the bladder beside Vangelis.
Asia didn't pay anyone any mind as she watched Vangelis take one breath and then another, fighting the tears with everything she had, turning only when Zanon commented on Nike's hands. "I will help. Come here Nike so I can see your hands, please?" With the small please, it showed everyone in the room just how out of sorts she felt, having kept her cool demeanor all night as she made sure orders were followed. In the company of just her brothers and those she would consider extended family, she could let down the guard, showing just how scared and helpless she felt in these moments. As she moved to grab a bowl, Asia pours one of the cool bladders of water into it before passing it to a servant with orders to refill it, grabbing some unused bandages and placing it all on a near-by table. "Let me see your hands.." With a rag in one hand, Athanasia looked up at Nike with her own hand out to him, silently daring her to argue.
A familiar friend of pain by now, it was to no one's surprise that Nike barely blinked an eye as Zanon had spoken upon waking up, shaking her head. For the first time in the whole night, the commander allowed her eyes to drop from her watchful gaze of her only general, and flicker to give the second prince a kind smile, about to wave him away, when another entrance caught her words before they were uttered.
"He'll be fine." she immediately addressed the teary words of the youngest princess, her heart going out to the only girl of the family. Athanasia had always held a soft spot in Nike's heart. The girl was a wild one, always running and tumbling. In fact, half of Nike's affection for her was perhaps largely due to the fact that Athanasia encompassed Nike's life had she chosen to remain in Taengea, where her father was a wealthy merchant. In a way, the girl missed her chitons and long hair - she had only become what she was today out of necessity and survival. "If its the last thing I promise you, it's that he'll be fine, Princess."
Her murmurs were low, but there was no doubt of the conviction behind Nike's words. She loved Vangelis, dearly. Many would scoff at her own definition of love, they themselves preferring the flittery, flirty feeling of love, that blush in the cheeks, the smile and laughter. But Nike... well, after many years of death and war, she's got a different definition. To her, love is sacrificial, ferocious, yet not emotive. Others loved the idea of love, but Nike's love was quiet, abiding, never expecting anything from the other, and only wanting the best for that someone, even if the best may not necessarily be herself. She was no fool. Nike knew her place, and had no plans on acting upon whatever she felt - but she loved Vangelis nonetheless, and she would die before she let anything happened to him, even if it meant making a deal with the grim reaper himself.
She wanted nothing but for him to live.
When Athanasia moved nearer with the bandages and water, Nike sighed, but did as the princess told, giving her a wry look. She often spent time with the young girl when she was back, and knew how stubborn she can be. Her streak of hardheadedness rivalled her own, and at this point, Nike was feeling too tired to argue. As long as she did not leave the room, they can do whatever they wanted to her.
Once the bandages fell away, it was clear that her fall to the cavern had not been a harmless one. The biggest ones were right across her palms, multiple jagged cuts that ripped up her skin. The bloodflow was slowing, clotting in some places, but the edges of the wounds were now red and throbbing, a clear sign that infection was beginning to set in.
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A familiar friend of pain by now, it was to no one's surprise that Nike barely blinked an eye as Zanon had spoken upon waking up, shaking her head. For the first time in the whole night, the commander allowed her eyes to drop from her watchful gaze of her only general, and flicker to give the second prince a kind smile, about to wave him away, when another entrance caught her words before they were uttered.
"He'll be fine." she immediately addressed the teary words of the youngest princess, her heart going out to the only girl of the family. Athanasia had always held a soft spot in Nike's heart. The girl was a wild one, always running and tumbling. In fact, half of Nike's affection for her was perhaps largely due to the fact that Athanasia encompassed Nike's life had she chosen to remain in Taengea, where her father was a wealthy merchant. In a way, the girl missed her chitons and long hair - she had only become what she was today out of necessity and survival. "If its the last thing I promise you, it's that he'll be fine, Princess."
Her murmurs were low, but there was no doubt of the conviction behind Nike's words. She loved Vangelis, dearly. Many would scoff at her own definition of love, they themselves preferring the flittery, flirty feeling of love, that blush in the cheeks, the smile and laughter. But Nike... well, after many years of death and war, she's got a different definition. To her, love is sacrificial, ferocious, yet not emotive. Others loved the idea of love, but Nike's love was quiet, abiding, never expecting anything from the other, and only wanting the best for that someone, even if the best may not necessarily be herself. She was no fool. Nike knew her place, and had no plans on acting upon whatever she felt - but she loved Vangelis nonetheless, and she would die before she let anything happened to him, even if it meant making a deal with the grim reaper himself.
She wanted nothing but for him to live.
When Athanasia moved nearer with the bandages and water, Nike sighed, but did as the princess told, giving her a wry look. She often spent time with the young girl when she was back, and knew how stubborn she can be. Her streak of hardheadedness rivalled her own, and at this point, Nike was feeling too tired to argue. As long as she did not leave the room, they can do whatever they wanted to her.
Once the bandages fell away, it was clear that her fall to the cavern had not been a harmless one. The biggest ones were right across her palms, multiple jagged cuts that ripped up her skin. The bloodflow was slowing, clotting in some places, but the edges of the wounds were now red and throbbing, a clear sign that infection was beginning to set in.
A familiar friend of pain by now, it was to no one's surprise that Nike barely blinked an eye as Zanon had spoken upon waking up, shaking her head. For the first time in the whole night, the commander allowed her eyes to drop from her watchful gaze of her only general, and flicker to give the second prince a kind smile, about to wave him away, when another entrance caught her words before they were uttered.
"He'll be fine." she immediately addressed the teary words of the youngest princess, her heart going out to the only girl of the family. Athanasia had always held a soft spot in Nike's heart. The girl was a wild one, always running and tumbling. In fact, half of Nike's affection for her was perhaps largely due to the fact that Athanasia encompassed Nike's life had she chosen to remain in Taengea, where her father was a wealthy merchant. In a way, the girl missed her chitons and long hair - she had only become what she was today out of necessity and survival. "If its the last thing I promise you, it's that he'll be fine, Princess."
Her murmurs were low, but there was no doubt of the conviction behind Nike's words. She loved Vangelis, dearly. Many would scoff at her own definition of love, they themselves preferring the flittery, flirty feeling of love, that blush in the cheeks, the smile and laughter. But Nike... well, after many years of death and war, she's got a different definition. To her, love is sacrificial, ferocious, yet not emotive. Others loved the idea of love, but Nike's love was quiet, abiding, never expecting anything from the other, and only wanting the best for that someone, even if the best may not necessarily be herself. She was no fool. Nike knew her place, and had no plans on acting upon whatever she felt - but she loved Vangelis nonetheless, and she would die before she let anything happened to him, even if it meant making a deal with the grim reaper himself.
She wanted nothing but for him to live.
When Athanasia moved nearer with the bandages and water, Nike sighed, but did as the princess told, giving her a wry look. She often spent time with the young girl when she was back, and knew how stubborn she can be. Her streak of hardheadedness rivalled her own, and at this point, Nike was feeling too tired to argue. As long as she did not leave the room, they can do whatever they wanted to her.
Once the bandages fell away, it was clear that her fall to the cavern had not been a harmless one. The biggest ones were right across her palms, multiple jagged cuts that ripped up her skin. The bloodflow was slowing, clotting in some places, but the edges of the wounds were now red and throbbing, a clear sign that infection was beginning to set in.
"That is why I told you to bandage them..."
The words were quiet, raspy, sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a deep hole, and shocked everyone present, given that they had been focused on the young princess's entrance and the ensuing medical aid being given the Nike - aid that should have been administered the night before, not left to fester.
Not that he was one to talk. Nike was like himself. Wild and courageous when it came to protecting others, regardless of self-preservation and stubborn and defiant that everyone else seek medical help or comfort before herself. It was one of the reasons the two of them worked so well together. Even when separated on the battlefield, they knew where the other would be, how they would operate... they were always there to protect each other's backs and ensure their safety. It was easier to watch out for the livelihood of someone that wasn't yourself. And so, they had filled that role for one another.
It was of no surprise the Vangelis that Nike hadn't had her wounds seen to. Just as it was no surprise to her that he had tried to get the men to free Euphemia from the cave despite his own situation.
As Vangelis had become conscious again it had taken some time for his senses to come back online. It had felt as if he were drowning, at the bottom of the Aegean sea. In darkness and in fog, unable to see where he was going. Vangelis was nothing if not stubborn however and he had continued forwards. Forwards, up, down, over; he had no idea. Unconsciousness didn't seem to permit direction. All he knew was that, after a lot of black - of which he was unaware - he had finally started to see grey. A grey he knew well... It was the dimmest and darkest grey of the light that streamed in under the drapes in his bedroom in the morning. It was a light he had woken up to on more than one occasion and that he knew well.
He also woke up to the feeling of his hand being held. The palm wasn't rough enough to be his father and too large to be his mother so he surmised that it was one of his brothers. Probably Zanon as he had been there when he was last awake.
Unable to control his fingers yet, Vangelis had tried to open his eyes and found himself looking at a very blurry image of his bedroom ceiling. A few blinks had cleared it and he had winced as his pain receptors started to come back online. His arm and leg hurt and it hurt to breathe... each expansion of his chest was agony.
He had glanced about himself and seen the blessed image of his sister removing bandages from his commander's hands and revealing angry looking cuts that are red and puffy.
That was when he had spoken, shocking everyone around him into looking his way.
All of them looked horrendous.
It was clear, even to his half-conscious mind and gaze, that none of them had slept all night. While he'd been merrily dozing. They each had dark circles under the eyes and appeared to have aged a decade in however many hours he had been asleep for.
"Gods..." Vangelis murmured, his lips actually obeying his commands this time. "Who died?"
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"That is why I told you to bandage them..."
The words were quiet, raspy, sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a deep hole, and shocked everyone present, given that they had been focused on the young princess's entrance and the ensuing medical aid being given the Nike - aid that should have been administered the night before, not left to fester.
Not that he was one to talk. Nike was like himself. Wild and courageous when it came to protecting others, regardless of self-preservation and stubborn and defiant that everyone else seek medical help or comfort before herself. It was one of the reasons the two of them worked so well together. Even when separated on the battlefield, they knew where the other would be, how they would operate... they were always there to protect each other's backs and ensure their safety. It was easier to watch out for the livelihood of someone that wasn't yourself. And so, they had filled that role for one another.
It was of no surprise the Vangelis that Nike hadn't had her wounds seen to. Just as it was no surprise to her that he had tried to get the men to free Euphemia from the cave despite his own situation.
As Vangelis had become conscious again it had taken some time for his senses to come back online. It had felt as if he were drowning, at the bottom of the Aegean sea. In darkness and in fog, unable to see where he was going. Vangelis was nothing if not stubborn however and he had continued forwards. Forwards, up, down, over; he had no idea. Unconsciousness didn't seem to permit direction. All he knew was that, after a lot of black - of which he was unaware - he had finally started to see grey. A grey he knew well... It was the dimmest and darkest grey of the light that streamed in under the drapes in his bedroom in the morning. It was a light he had woken up to on more than one occasion and that he knew well.
He also woke up to the feeling of his hand being held. The palm wasn't rough enough to be his father and too large to be his mother so he surmised that it was one of his brothers. Probably Zanon as he had been there when he was last awake.
Unable to control his fingers yet, Vangelis had tried to open his eyes and found himself looking at a very blurry image of his bedroom ceiling. A few blinks had cleared it and he had winced as his pain receptors started to come back online. His arm and leg hurt and it hurt to breathe... each expansion of his chest was agony.
He had glanced about himself and seen the blessed image of his sister removing bandages from his commander's hands and revealing angry looking cuts that are red and puffy.
That was when he had spoken, shocking everyone around him into looking his way.
All of them looked horrendous.
It was clear, even to his half-conscious mind and gaze, that none of them had slept all night. While he'd been merrily dozing. They each had dark circles under the eyes and appeared to have aged a decade in however many hours he had been asleep for.
"Gods..." Vangelis murmured, his lips actually obeying his commands this time. "Who died?"
"That is why I told you to bandage them..."
The words were quiet, raspy, sounded like they were coming from the bottom of a deep hole, and shocked everyone present, given that they had been focused on the young princess's entrance and the ensuing medical aid being given the Nike - aid that should have been administered the night before, not left to fester.
Not that he was one to talk. Nike was like himself. Wild and courageous when it came to protecting others, regardless of self-preservation and stubborn and defiant that everyone else seek medical help or comfort before herself. It was one of the reasons the two of them worked so well together. Even when separated on the battlefield, they knew where the other would be, how they would operate... they were always there to protect each other's backs and ensure their safety. It was easier to watch out for the livelihood of someone that wasn't yourself. And so, they had filled that role for one another.
It was of no surprise the Vangelis that Nike hadn't had her wounds seen to. Just as it was no surprise to her that he had tried to get the men to free Euphemia from the cave despite his own situation.
As Vangelis had become conscious again it had taken some time for his senses to come back online. It had felt as if he were drowning, at the bottom of the Aegean sea. In darkness and in fog, unable to see where he was going. Vangelis was nothing if not stubborn however and he had continued forwards. Forwards, up, down, over; he had no idea. Unconsciousness didn't seem to permit direction. All he knew was that, after a lot of black - of which he was unaware - he had finally started to see grey. A grey he knew well... It was the dimmest and darkest grey of the light that streamed in under the drapes in his bedroom in the morning. It was a light he had woken up to on more than one occasion and that he knew well.
He also woke up to the feeling of his hand being held. The palm wasn't rough enough to be his father and too large to be his mother so he surmised that it was one of his brothers. Probably Zanon as he had been there when he was last awake.
Unable to control his fingers yet, Vangelis had tried to open his eyes and found himself looking at a very blurry image of his bedroom ceiling. A few blinks had cleared it and he had winced as his pain receptors started to come back online. His arm and leg hurt and it hurt to breathe... each expansion of his chest was agony.
He had glanced about himself and seen the blessed image of his sister removing bandages from his commander's hands and revealing angry looking cuts that are red and puffy.
That was when he had spoken, shocking everyone around him into looking his way.
All of them looked horrendous.
It was clear, even to his half-conscious mind and gaze, that none of them had slept all night. While he'd been merrily dozing. They each had dark circles under the eyes and appeared to have aged a decade in however many hours he had been asleep for.
"Gods..." Vangelis murmured, his lips actually obeying his commands this time. "Who died?"
Zanon smiled slightly as his sister entered the room. It didn't look as if she had gotten much sleep either, though he doubted if anyone in their family had. Nodding along with the commander's promise, he tried not to show his own fear or worry with Asia in the room. She was something sweet and innocent as Colchians go, to be protected and kept safe, his only sister in a world of men and war.
"All will be well."
He said it mostly for her, but it was also a reassurance for himself as he looked down at Vangelis once again, his hand still clutching his older brother's in that desperate attempt to hold him here, to life. Watching his sister bandage the commander's hands, Zan frowned at the red that showed around the edges. Nike of everyone should have been aware of the risk of infection, a man who couldn't hold a sword was of little use when it came to battle, and much else, so it was important to care for any wounds that may arise in a timely manner.
His brother's voice nearly made him jump out of his seat, staring down at the older man as he stirred and giving a shaky laugh of relief as he moved to place a hand over his forehead, checking for fever. The quip about death though made him scowl, and injured or not he couldn't stop the smack placed on Vang's less injured cheek. How dare he worry them for so long and then make jokes. Joke time would come later, not now.
"You did, you arse. Euphemia, inform the King and Queen their eldest idiot is awake if you would. And you, idiot, what do you need? Water, wine?"
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Zanon smiled slightly as his sister entered the room. It didn't look as if she had gotten much sleep either, though he doubted if anyone in their family had. Nodding along with the commander's promise, he tried not to show his own fear or worry with Asia in the room. She was something sweet and innocent as Colchians go, to be protected and kept safe, his only sister in a world of men and war.
"All will be well."
He said it mostly for her, but it was also a reassurance for himself as he looked down at Vangelis once again, his hand still clutching his older brother's in that desperate attempt to hold him here, to life. Watching his sister bandage the commander's hands, Zan frowned at the red that showed around the edges. Nike of everyone should have been aware of the risk of infection, a man who couldn't hold a sword was of little use when it came to battle, and much else, so it was important to care for any wounds that may arise in a timely manner.
His brother's voice nearly made him jump out of his seat, staring down at the older man as he stirred and giving a shaky laugh of relief as he moved to place a hand over his forehead, checking for fever. The quip about death though made him scowl, and injured or not he couldn't stop the smack placed on Vang's less injured cheek. How dare he worry them for so long and then make jokes. Joke time would come later, not now.
"You did, you arse. Euphemia, inform the King and Queen their eldest idiot is awake if you would. And you, idiot, what do you need? Water, wine?"
Zanon smiled slightly as his sister entered the room. It didn't look as if she had gotten much sleep either, though he doubted if anyone in their family had. Nodding along with the commander's promise, he tried not to show his own fear or worry with Asia in the room. She was something sweet and innocent as Colchians go, to be protected and kept safe, his only sister in a world of men and war.
"All will be well."
He said it mostly for her, but it was also a reassurance for himself as he looked down at Vangelis once again, his hand still clutching his older brother's in that desperate attempt to hold him here, to life. Watching his sister bandage the commander's hands, Zan frowned at the red that showed around the edges. Nike of everyone should have been aware of the risk of infection, a man who couldn't hold a sword was of little use when it came to battle, and much else, so it was important to care for any wounds that may arise in a timely manner.
His brother's voice nearly made him jump out of his seat, staring down at the older man as he stirred and giving a shaky laugh of relief as he moved to place a hand over his forehead, checking for fever. The quip about death though made him scowl, and injured or not he couldn't stop the smack placed on Vang's less injured cheek. How dare he worry them for so long and then make jokes. Joke time would come later, not now.
"You did, you arse. Euphemia, inform the King and Queen their eldest idiot is awake if you would. And you, idiot, what do you need? Water, wine?"
Athanasia didn't know if she should smile or cry as everyone seemed to try and assure her even as they all looked like they didn't believe their own words. If it were any other time, she would have gladly called them on it, but not today. Not right now with her eldest brother laying there as if he were dead, even as they say he isn't.
To distract herself, Asia looked around the room, finally noting Nike's hands. After commenting on getting them bandaged, Zanon making her smile the tiniest of smug little smiles, she got to work on removing each of the bandage wraps one by one. With each bit of skin, she became more angry. "You idiot. You should have looked after these sooner." As she growled at her friend, no one would miss the hint of caring in her tone. One of her closest friends, and here she was, being a stubborn ass. After all the bandages were removed, Asia got to work on Nike's hands, her own personal punishment as she scrubbed with the clean water in the bowl in an attempt to make sure the infection didn't spread. Admittedly, Asia wasn't completely nice about it, but she wasn't cruel about it either as she glared up at random moments "These never should have gotten this red. What were you thinking? While the doctor was here and Vangelis was stable, you could have gotten him to look at your hands. Are you TRYING to play the who has the bigger scar with Vangelis?" Placing alittle of the paste stuff that the doctor left for Vangelis, Asia rewrapped Nike's hands with fresh bandages. "You both are idiots and I swear to the gods I am going to beat both of you up when you are better. So get better."
It was then that Vangelis decided to speak, scaring the life out of Asia that even as she ran over, the moment Zanon's hand left the slap on Vangelis' cheek Asia followed with one of her own. "You.. you.. You ass! You could have died! Why?! You could have left us! Did you have kopros(poo) for breakfast or something?!" She knew she was on a tirade, mad even as she was happy that he was awake, still on his good side as she risked laying her head against his good shoulder. "I meant it, when I said I plan to kick both yours and Nike's butts when you get better. If you didn't, I would be forced to make any deal I could with Hades to get you back brother." With a small sniffle, she was quiet as Zanon got his drink, not moving and staying where she was as she listened to Vangelis' heart beating strong. Proving that he was indeed alive.
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Athanasia didn't know if she should smile or cry as everyone seemed to try and assure her even as they all looked like they didn't believe their own words. If it were any other time, she would have gladly called them on it, but not today. Not right now with her eldest brother laying there as if he were dead, even as they say he isn't.
To distract herself, Asia looked around the room, finally noting Nike's hands. After commenting on getting them bandaged, Zanon making her smile the tiniest of smug little smiles, she got to work on removing each of the bandage wraps one by one. With each bit of skin, she became more angry. "You idiot. You should have looked after these sooner." As she growled at her friend, no one would miss the hint of caring in her tone. One of her closest friends, and here she was, being a stubborn ass. After all the bandages were removed, Asia got to work on Nike's hands, her own personal punishment as she scrubbed with the clean water in the bowl in an attempt to make sure the infection didn't spread. Admittedly, Asia wasn't completely nice about it, but she wasn't cruel about it either as she glared up at random moments "These never should have gotten this red. What were you thinking? While the doctor was here and Vangelis was stable, you could have gotten him to look at your hands. Are you TRYING to play the who has the bigger scar with Vangelis?" Placing alittle of the paste stuff that the doctor left for Vangelis, Asia rewrapped Nike's hands with fresh bandages. "You both are idiots and I swear to the gods I am going to beat both of you up when you are better. So get better."
It was then that Vangelis decided to speak, scaring the life out of Asia that even as she ran over, the moment Zanon's hand left the slap on Vangelis' cheek Asia followed with one of her own. "You.. you.. You ass! You could have died! Why?! You could have left us! Did you have kopros(poo) for breakfast or something?!" She knew she was on a tirade, mad even as she was happy that he was awake, still on his good side as she risked laying her head against his good shoulder. "I meant it, when I said I plan to kick both yours and Nike's butts when you get better. If you didn't, I would be forced to make any deal I could with Hades to get you back brother." With a small sniffle, she was quiet as Zanon got his drink, not moving and staying where she was as she listened to Vangelis' heart beating strong. Proving that he was indeed alive.
Athanasia didn't know if she should smile or cry as everyone seemed to try and assure her even as they all looked like they didn't believe their own words. If it were any other time, she would have gladly called them on it, but not today. Not right now with her eldest brother laying there as if he were dead, even as they say he isn't.
To distract herself, Asia looked around the room, finally noting Nike's hands. After commenting on getting them bandaged, Zanon making her smile the tiniest of smug little smiles, she got to work on removing each of the bandage wraps one by one. With each bit of skin, she became more angry. "You idiot. You should have looked after these sooner." As she growled at her friend, no one would miss the hint of caring in her tone. One of her closest friends, and here she was, being a stubborn ass. After all the bandages were removed, Asia got to work on Nike's hands, her own personal punishment as she scrubbed with the clean water in the bowl in an attempt to make sure the infection didn't spread. Admittedly, Asia wasn't completely nice about it, but she wasn't cruel about it either as she glared up at random moments "These never should have gotten this red. What were you thinking? While the doctor was here and Vangelis was stable, you could have gotten him to look at your hands. Are you TRYING to play the who has the bigger scar with Vangelis?" Placing alittle of the paste stuff that the doctor left for Vangelis, Asia rewrapped Nike's hands with fresh bandages. "You both are idiots and I swear to the gods I am going to beat both of you up when you are better. So get better."
It was then that Vangelis decided to speak, scaring the life out of Asia that even as she ran over, the moment Zanon's hand left the slap on Vangelis' cheek Asia followed with one of her own. "You.. you.. You ass! You could have died! Why?! You could have left us! Did you have kopros(poo) for breakfast or something?!" She knew she was on a tirade, mad even as she was happy that he was awake, still on his good side as she risked laying her head against his good shoulder. "I meant it, when I said I plan to kick both yours and Nike's butts when you get better. If you didn't, I would be forced to make any deal I could with Hades to get you back brother." With a small sniffle, she was quiet as Zanon got his drink, not moving and staying where she was as she listened to Vangelis' heart beating strong. Proving that he was indeed alive.
The commander appeared contrite as the princess admonished her. Like a doll, Nike allowed herself to be pulled wherever the princess wished as she administered the care she should've gotten upon her injury. In a few days, Nike would let it fall to neglect again as she busied herself picking up where she could while ensuring her general remained recuperating in bed, but for now she allowed it. Hissing as the princess scrubbed at her hands, the woman remained silent otherwise, knowing full well the gruff princess intended it as punishment, for Athanasia was never usually that rough with her.
The youngest of the family was perhaps, the one Nike held the fondest spot for other then Vangelis. She was protective of the whole family, a natural development after spending so long with the family, but the princess reminded Nike too much of herself. Rowdy and adventurous, it was as if she showed Nike a glimpse of what she could've been if her lot in life had been better. Nike taught her some, joined her in other adventures, and drawn to her strong personality, Nike took care of her just as well as she would Vangelis, and was never harsh with the soul.
Wincing at Athanasia's continued tirade as she worked, the woman cringed at the paste she slathered on her palms, disliking the smell and the way the liquid smeared on her palms as the princess wrapped up the palms.
And then he spoke.
Like a dog thrown a bone, Nike perked up, eyes shooting to the male whose raspy voice immediately got her attention. Her eyes wasted no time in zeroing in on his figure. A rock that had been on her shoulders and her heart since she had found him trapped in that cavern, lifted at his voice, raspy as it was. At least he meant he was thinking like himself again.
Surprisingly, the woman managed a chuckle when both siblings immediately turned their angry attentions on Vangelis - Nike was the same, but then again, it was normal between them. They always watched out for each other's backs, regardless of where they were, and had the two Kotas siblings not been around, Nike would likely have been the one to admonish him even as she cared for his immediate needs. With his siblings however, the woman knew well to leave it.
Watching as Euphemia left to acquiesce to the second princes' request, Nike shuffled to hand over whatever liquid her general had asked for to Zanon, before approaching the bedside. Using the tips of her fingers that had been left uncovered, she brushed it over his forehead, the side of his neck, and then went to the palms and arms, careful to not jostle him as she checked for his temperature, on whether he still shivered.
"Do you still feel cold?" her gruff voice asked, masking just how worried she had felt as she applied some of the peppered oil on his feet gently, covering it wth the sheets again before she straightened up. Her gaze levelled on Vangelis from the foot of the bed where she stood, and then deflated as if the fight had finally found its way out of her. She gave a sigh, and shook her head ruefully. "I can't promise you I'll always be around the next time you decide to run into a collapsing mine."
That was just how she showed her relief. Brought up as a man for most of her life, and a military one to boot, Nike knew any show of emotion would be a dead giveaway. But the palpable relief at his escape from the doors of death showed in her eyes to anyone who saw her at that moment.
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Check out their information page here.
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The commander appeared contrite as the princess admonished her. Like a doll, Nike allowed herself to be pulled wherever the princess wished as she administered the care she should've gotten upon her injury. In a few days, Nike would let it fall to neglect again as she busied herself picking up where she could while ensuring her general remained recuperating in bed, but for now she allowed it. Hissing as the princess scrubbed at her hands, the woman remained silent otherwise, knowing full well the gruff princess intended it as punishment, for Athanasia was never usually that rough with her.
The youngest of the family was perhaps, the one Nike held the fondest spot for other then Vangelis. She was protective of the whole family, a natural development after spending so long with the family, but the princess reminded Nike too much of herself. Rowdy and adventurous, it was as if she showed Nike a glimpse of what she could've been if her lot in life had been better. Nike taught her some, joined her in other adventures, and drawn to her strong personality, Nike took care of her just as well as she would Vangelis, and was never harsh with the soul.
Wincing at Athanasia's continued tirade as she worked, the woman cringed at the paste she slathered on her palms, disliking the smell and the way the liquid smeared on her palms as the princess wrapped up the palms.
And then he spoke.
Like a dog thrown a bone, Nike perked up, eyes shooting to the male whose raspy voice immediately got her attention. Her eyes wasted no time in zeroing in on his figure. A rock that had been on her shoulders and her heart since she had found him trapped in that cavern, lifted at his voice, raspy as it was. At least he meant he was thinking like himself again.
Surprisingly, the woman managed a chuckle when both siblings immediately turned their angry attentions on Vangelis - Nike was the same, but then again, it was normal between them. They always watched out for each other's backs, regardless of where they were, and had the two Kotas siblings not been around, Nike would likely have been the one to admonish him even as she cared for his immediate needs. With his siblings however, the woman knew well to leave it.
Watching as Euphemia left to acquiesce to the second princes' request, Nike shuffled to hand over whatever liquid her general had asked for to Zanon, before approaching the bedside. Using the tips of her fingers that had been left uncovered, she brushed it over his forehead, the side of his neck, and then went to the palms and arms, careful to not jostle him as she checked for his temperature, on whether he still shivered.
"Do you still feel cold?" her gruff voice asked, masking just how worried she had felt as she applied some of the peppered oil on his feet gently, covering it wth the sheets again before she straightened up. Her gaze levelled on Vangelis from the foot of the bed where she stood, and then deflated as if the fight had finally found its way out of her. She gave a sigh, and shook her head ruefully. "I can't promise you I'll always be around the next time you decide to run into a collapsing mine."
That was just how she showed her relief. Brought up as a man for most of her life, and a military one to boot, Nike knew any show of emotion would be a dead giveaway. But the palpable relief at his escape from the doors of death showed in her eyes to anyone who saw her at that moment.
The commander appeared contrite as the princess admonished her. Like a doll, Nike allowed herself to be pulled wherever the princess wished as she administered the care she should've gotten upon her injury. In a few days, Nike would let it fall to neglect again as she busied herself picking up where she could while ensuring her general remained recuperating in bed, but for now she allowed it. Hissing as the princess scrubbed at her hands, the woman remained silent otherwise, knowing full well the gruff princess intended it as punishment, for Athanasia was never usually that rough with her.
The youngest of the family was perhaps, the one Nike held the fondest spot for other then Vangelis. She was protective of the whole family, a natural development after spending so long with the family, but the princess reminded Nike too much of herself. Rowdy and adventurous, it was as if she showed Nike a glimpse of what she could've been if her lot in life had been better. Nike taught her some, joined her in other adventures, and drawn to her strong personality, Nike took care of her just as well as she would Vangelis, and was never harsh with the soul.
Wincing at Athanasia's continued tirade as she worked, the woman cringed at the paste she slathered on her palms, disliking the smell and the way the liquid smeared on her palms as the princess wrapped up the palms.
And then he spoke.
Like a dog thrown a bone, Nike perked up, eyes shooting to the male whose raspy voice immediately got her attention. Her eyes wasted no time in zeroing in on his figure. A rock that had been on her shoulders and her heart since she had found him trapped in that cavern, lifted at his voice, raspy as it was. At least he meant he was thinking like himself again.
Surprisingly, the woman managed a chuckle when both siblings immediately turned their angry attentions on Vangelis - Nike was the same, but then again, it was normal between them. They always watched out for each other's backs, regardless of where they were, and had the two Kotas siblings not been around, Nike would likely have been the one to admonish him even as she cared for his immediate needs. With his siblings however, the woman knew well to leave it.
Watching as Euphemia left to acquiesce to the second princes' request, Nike shuffled to hand over whatever liquid her general had asked for to Zanon, before approaching the bedside. Using the tips of her fingers that had been left uncovered, she brushed it over his forehead, the side of his neck, and then went to the palms and arms, careful to not jostle him as she checked for his temperature, on whether he still shivered.
"Do you still feel cold?" her gruff voice asked, masking just how worried she had felt as she applied some of the peppered oil on his feet gently, covering it wth the sheets again before she straightened up. Her gaze levelled on Vangelis from the foot of the bed where she stood, and then deflated as if the fight had finally found its way out of her. She gave a sigh, and shook her head ruefully. "I can't promise you I'll always be around the next time you decide to run into a collapsing mine."
That was just how she showed her relief. Brought up as a man for most of her life, and a military one to boot, Nike knew any show of emotion would be a dead giveaway. But the palpable relief at his escape from the doors of death showed in her eyes to anyone who saw her at that moment.
Vangelis didn't have the energy to do more than allow his siblings and - well, his best friend, let alone his commander - to fuss around him at his return to the world of the conscious.
Feeling more alive than he had a right to - mostly due to their presence he was sure - Vangelis couldn't help but laugh gruffly, even as it hurt his ribs.
"I battle my way back from Hades and my reward is a slap in the face!" He complained with more humour than irritation. The Kotas family tended to be violent in their affections and he wouldn't have his siblings either way.
"Water will do just fine, brother mine." He told the man, fully expecting to be given wine anyway, knowing Zanon.
As his sister turned from angry slaps to laying over his good side and hugging him close, her head over his heart, Vangelis was instant in his response, his good arm curling around torso and his large hand finding the back of her head. Her face was buried in his side, clearly hiding the fact that she was sniffling - Asia never did like to show weakness - and he offered her comfort, his fingers buried in her hair and stroking her head, his arm tight around her. He lifted his head so that he could press a kiss to the top of hers.
He said nothing to assure her he was okay or gave fake platitudes as she knew she was smart enough to have worked out how close to death he had been in the last twenty-four hours. No matter how much he was sure his brothers tried to keep it from her. And he wasn't about to insult her intelligence by maintaining the ruse now. Instead, no words were shared and he just offered her the warm embrace and comforting hug of her eldest brother, assuring her that he was still here.
When Nike asked if he was cold he simply gave a smile.
"Not with this lump here, I'm not." He laughed, kissing to top of Asia's head again.
Vangelis wasn't big on displays of affection but when you nearly die and are thankful to see your family again, all stoicism goes out the window.
When Nike moved to the end of the bed and applied some oily stuff to his feet - he didn't struggle, he was sure there was some kind of reason for it - Vangelis wrinkled his nose at the peppered oil and the small of pig skins that were lingering in his bed.
"So, that's why I smell like a roast pig."
Generally, his temperature felt normal. Which probably meant, given all the pigs skeins that he could now feel settled around him, that he was actually very cold still. That being said, he wasn't slurring, his voice was starting to clear and his mind was working at least. Looking at the tips of the fingers on his good hand, buried in Asia's hair, he could also see that he was no longer tinged blue.
While he had limited knowledge of medicine, Vangelis was at least semi-confident in realising that he would live.
Not that Nike was slow to point out that his deadly expeditions were unlikely to be over; insisting that she wouldn't be there the next time.
All he did was smile at her. A smile that the two of them realised was full of thanks. His gaze dropped to the top of Asia's head and then back to her. It was clear what he was saying without any need for words. You are the reason I am with my family now...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Vangelis didn't have the energy to do more than allow his siblings and - well, his best friend, let alone his commander - to fuss around him at his return to the world of the conscious.
Feeling more alive than he had a right to - mostly due to their presence he was sure - Vangelis couldn't help but laugh gruffly, even as it hurt his ribs.
"I battle my way back from Hades and my reward is a slap in the face!" He complained with more humour than irritation. The Kotas family tended to be violent in their affections and he wouldn't have his siblings either way.
"Water will do just fine, brother mine." He told the man, fully expecting to be given wine anyway, knowing Zanon.
As his sister turned from angry slaps to laying over his good side and hugging him close, her head over his heart, Vangelis was instant in his response, his good arm curling around torso and his large hand finding the back of her head. Her face was buried in his side, clearly hiding the fact that she was sniffling - Asia never did like to show weakness - and he offered her comfort, his fingers buried in her hair and stroking her head, his arm tight around her. He lifted his head so that he could press a kiss to the top of hers.
He said nothing to assure her he was okay or gave fake platitudes as she knew she was smart enough to have worked out how close to death he had been in the last twenty-four hours. No matter how much he was sure his brothers tried to keep it from her. And he wasn't about to insult her intelligence by maintaining the ruse now. Instead, no words were shared and he just offered her the warm embrace and comforting hug of her eldest brother, assuring her that he was still here.
When Nike asked if he was cold he simply gave a smile.
"Not with this lump here, I'm not." He laughed, kissing to top of Asia's head again.
Vangelis wasn't big on displays of affection but when you nearly die and are thankful to see your family again, all stoicism goes out the window.
When Nike moved to the end of the bed and applied some oily stuff to his feet - he didn't struggle, he was sure there was some kind of reason for it - Vangelis wrinkled his nose at the peppered oil and the small of pig skins that were lingering in his bed.
"So, that's why I smell like a roast pig."
Generally, his temperature felt normal. Which probably meant, given all the pigs skeins that he could now feel settled around him, that he was actually very cold still. That being said, he wasn't slurring, his voice was starting to clear and his mind was working at least. Looking at the tips of the fingers on his good hand, buried in Asia's hair, he could also see that he was no longer tinged blue.
While he had limited knowledge of medicine, Vangelis was at least semi-confident in realising that he would live.
Not that Nike was slow to point out that his deadly expeditions were unlikely to be over; insisting that she wouldn't be there the next time.
All he did was smile at her. A smile that the two of them realised was full of thanks. His gaze dropped to the top of Asia's head and then back to her. It was clear what he was saying without any need for words. You are the reason I am with my family now...
Vangelis didn't have the energy to do more than allow his siblings and - well, his best friend, let alone his commander - to fuss around him at his return to the world of the conscious.
Feeling more alive than he had a right to - mostly due to their presence he was sure - Vangelis couldn't help but laugh gruffly, even as it hurt his ribs.
"I battle my way back from Hades and my reward is a slap in the face!" He complained with more humour than irritation. The Kotas family tended to be violent in their affections and he wouldn't have his siblings either way.
"Water will do just fine, brother mine." He told the man, fully expecting to be given wine anyway, knowing Zanon.
As his sister turned from angry slaps to laying over his good side and hugging him close, her head over his heart, Vangelis was instant in his response, his good arm curling around torso and his large hand finding the back of her head. Her face was buried in his side, clearly hiding the fact that she was sniffling - Asia never did like to show weakness - and he offered her comfort, his fingers buried in her hair and stroking her head, his arm tight around her. He lifted his head so that he could press a kiss to the top of hers.
He said nothing to assure her he was okay or gave fake platitudes as she knew she was smart enough to have worked out how close to death he had been in the last twenty-four hours. No matter how much he was sure his brothers tried to keep it from her. And he wasn't about to insult her intelligence by maintaining the ruse now. Instead, no words were shared and he just offered her the warm embrace and comforting hug of her eldest brother, assuring her that he was still here.
When Nike asked if he was cold he simply gave a smile.
"Not with this lump here, I'm not." He laughed, kissing to top of Asia's head again.
Vangelis wasn't big on displays of affection but when you nearly die and are thankful to see your family again, all stoicism goes out the window.
When Nike moved to the end of the bed and applied some oily stuff to his feet - he didn't struggle, he was sure there was some kind of reason for it - Vangelis wrinkled his nose at the peppered oil and the small of pig skins that were lingering in his bed.
"So, that's why I smell like a roast pig."
Generally, his temperature felt normal. Which probably meant, given all the pigs skeins that he could now feel settled around him, that he was actually very cold still. That being said, he wasn't slurring, his voice was starting to clear and his mind was working at least. Looking at the tips of the fingers on his good hand, buried in Asia's hair, he could also see that he was no longer tinged blue.
While he had limited knowledge of medicine, Vangelis was at least semi-confident in realising that he would live.
Not that Nike was slow to point out that his deadly expeditions were unlikely to be over; insisting that she wouldn't be there the next time.
All he did was smile at her. A smile that the two of them realised was full of thanks. His gaze dropped to the top of Asia's head and then back to her. It was clear what he was saying without any need for words. You are the reason I am with my family now...
Watching as the pitcher of wine was passed and then the chalice filled so the drink could be offered to Vangelis to soothe his parched throat, a weight slowly lifted off Nike's heart as she watched the interactions between the siblings. She had spent the past eight years watching as they grew up together, and Nike knew more then anyone else that the quips and banter that they tossed at each other was a sure sign that, while it may take awhile, things were at the very least no longer as dire and dark as they may have seen last night.
She laughed, the first and one of the rare ones when Vangelis motioned at Athanasia on his chest, obviously her presence warming him up just as well as any pigskin pouch. Just as well however, the commander rang for a servant, and quickly instructed them to refill another set of pigskins and bring it up. "And you will continue smelling like a roast pig for the next day or so." her voice was firm, but hid the ripple of a laugh, that accompanied the upturn of her lips.
Belied by his firmer, stronger voice now, it was for the first time in what felt like a very long time, that Nike could finally lean in a relaxed position on the wall opposing Vangelis's bed where he was currrently being inundated by his siblings, for the briefest of moment, Nike allowed herself to be within the cocoon of peace that they felt. She had grown up with this family of buffoons, and were as protective of them as she was over her own general.
And then there was her suicidal general... Nike would never understand why she would give her life to save his sorry ass, but as luck would have it, the human heart works in odd ways that she didn't bother deciphering. She was silly to thing anything would ever come of it, and is smart enough to leave it as that, a secret kept to herself that she would never do. Nike was content watching over, keeping them all safe, so long as it was within her capacity to do so.
Catching Vangelis's eye as he looked at her, her breathe caught when he smiled... because for a brief instant, she honestly thought she'd never see that smile again. It was a horrifying past twenty four hours. Realizing that she had frozen, Nike quickly returned the smile, once she recognized his quiet message as he dropped his gaze to his sister, and back to her again. In return, the commander gently dipped her head, the most motion she could muster as the weariness of being up and injured for more then a day at this point. But her response to his thanks and message was equally clear in her actions.
Anytime, general.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Watching as the pitcher of wine was passed and then the chalice filled so the drink could be offered to Vangelis to soothe his parched throat, a weight slowly lifted off Nike's heart as she watched the interactions between the siblings. She had spent the past eight years watching as they grew up together, and Nike knew more then anyone else that the quips and banter that they tossed at each other was a sure sign that, while it may take awhile, things were at the very least no longer as dire and dark as they may have seen last night.
She laughed, the first and one of the rare ones when Vangelis motioned at Athanasia on his chest, obviously her presence warming him up just as well as any pigskin pouch. Just as well however, the commander rang for a servant, and quickly instructed them to refill another set of pigskins and bring it up. "And you will continue smelling like a roast pig for the next day or so." her voice was firm, but hid the ripple of a laugh, that accompanied the upturn of her lips.
Belied by his firmer, stronger voice now, it was for the first time in what felt like a very long time, that Nike could finally lean in a relaxed position on the wall opposing Vangelis's bed where he was currrently being inundated by his siblings, for the briefest of moment, Nike allowed herself to be within the cocoon of peace that they felt. She had grown up with this family of buffoons, and were as protective of them as she was over her own general.
And then there was her suicidal general... Nike would never understand why she would give her life to save his sorry ass, but as luck would have it, the human heart works in odd ways that she didn't bother deciphering. She was silly to thing anything would ever come of it, and is smart enough to leave it as that, a secret kept to herself that she would never do. Nike was content watching over, keeping them all safe, so long as it was within her capacity to do so.
Catching Vangelis's eye as he looked at her, her breathe caught when he smiled... because for a brief instant, she honestly thought she'd never see that smile again. It was a horrifying past twenty four hours. Realizing that she had frozen, Nike quickly returned the smile, once she recognized his quiet message as he dropped his gaze to his sister, and back to her again. In return, the commander gently dipped her head, the most motion she could muster as the weariness of being up and injured for more then a day at this point. But her response to his thanks and message was equally clear in her actions.
Anytime, general.
Watching as the pitcher of wine was passed and then the chalice filled so the drink could be offered to Vangelis to soothe his parched throat, a weight slowly lifted off Nike's heart as she watched the interactions between the siblings. She had spent the past eight years watching as they grew up together, and Nike knew more then anyone else that the quips and banter that they tossed at each other was a sure sign that, while it may take awhile, things were at the very least no longer as dire and dark as they may have seen last night.
She laughed, the first and one of the rare ones when Vangelis motioned at Athanasia on his chest, obviously her presence warming him up just as well as any pigskin pouch. Just as well however, the commander rang for a servant, and quickly instructed them to refill another set of pigskins and bring it up. "And you will continue smelling like a roast pig for the next day or so." her voice was firm, but hid the ripple of a laugh, that accompanied the upturn of her lips.
Belied by his firmer, stronger voice now, it was for the first time in what felt like a very long time, that Nike could finally lean in a relaxed position on the wall opposing Vangelis's bed where he was currrently being inundated by his siblings, for the briefest of moment, Nike allowed herself to be within the cocoon of peace that they felt. She had grown up with this family of buffoons, and were as protective of them as she was over her own general.
And then there was her suicidal general... Nike would never understand why she would give her life to save his sorry ass, but as luck would have it, the human heart works in odd ways that she didn't bother deciphering. She was silly to thing anything would ever come of it, and is smart enough to leave it as that, a secret kept to herself that she would never do. Nike was content watching over, keeping them all safe, so long as it was within her capacity to do so.
Catching Vangelis's eye as he looked at her, her breathe caught when he smiled... because for a brief instant, she honestly thought she'd never see that smile again. It was a horrifying past twenty four hours. Realizing that she had frozen, Nike quickly returned the smile, once she recognized his quiet message as he dropped his gaze to his sister, and back to her again. In return, the commander gently dipped her head, the most motion she could muster as the weariness of being up and injured for more then a day at this point. But her response to his thanks and message was equally clear in her actions.
