[I could absolutely see baby adventurer Felih being her retainer or assistant, if she needed one! Many shenanigans could be had, especially if they're becoming friends.]
{ retainer she has in her service to help her sell the ridiculous amount of things she collects during her adventures, and also send on adventures himself if he wished it? perhaps have him gather supplies for her, but make sure he's trained well enough in combat to defend himself from most threats in Eorzea.
she'd keep him decked out in the finest of gear and tools/weaponry, and always try to pay him extra ventures? she's always going going going, often forgoing sleep for days in order to help people, so perhaps some adventurer friends or misc. scions shoved a retainer at her like 'era plz stop for 2 seconds' and she's just rolled with it since? o/ }
[That sounds like something Felih could do! He's a skilled adventurer in his own right, but perhaps just never got to WoL status- and he's a people pleaser, he likes helping and assisting, and it makes a good living. Plus traveling with her lets him fulfill his desire to wander and explore! c:
Goodness though, if she doesn't care for herself he'd be the type of worrywart retainer to try and get her to sleep and definitely let him do some of the work instead.]
[ Employing a retainer had never been something Era desired to do. She was self-sufficient and would carry her burdens all on her own no matter how heavily they may weigh upon her, never daring breathe a word of her troubles to any of her beloved allies. For every person she helped there was always a handful more she failed. And there was always someone in need of her help. It was a rare day when she traveled to a populated area and wasn't stopped by someone requesting her aid.
Most of the time they had no idea she was their vaunted Warrior of Light, but would merely assume she was naught but an adventurer. That suited Era just fine, and it wasn't as though they were wrong with that assumption. She still was an adventurer, even if she was the Warrior of Light first and a Scion of the Seventh Dawn second.
What did bother her was when the assumptions would be that she was weak or dim-witted, and when they would be unrepentantly condescending toward her. How could she, a tiny slip of a woman, help them where a strong, muscular man could not? But almost every waking moment of Era's life has been spent training. Even while on her various quests she would be training in a new form of combat, or mastering an older one. If she could not overpower a man thrice her size she would not be worthy of her title.
It was only after the liberation of Ala Mhigo that her beloved comrades realized how hard she pushed herself - how hard they were pushing her - and even then it was only because she had fainted of exhaustion during a meeting of the Eorzean Alliance's leaders and unable to be roused for a few bells afterwards. (Alisaie had been the least surprised of them all, for the young woman knew how hard Era worked and oft complained of how impossible it was to mimic).
Shortly thereafter she found herself assigned a retainer. Though at first it was under the guise of Felih being the Scions' retainer, not her own.
Era found out much later that it had been Count Edmont's suggestion, relayed to the Scions via Ser Aymeric. Up until that point she had been quietly angered by the whole arrangement, but it suddenly felt different to know it was because the man who was the closest thing to a father she'd ever known had been worried. That Edmont had gone out of his way to help her like this...
Had it been anyone else Era would have continued to choke down her irritation, but Edmont de Fortemps was one of the very, very few people who treated her as a human being from the first moment they met rather than a weapon to be used or a hero to look up to. It was a strange feeling, to know that there were people who worried for her well-being and wished to ease her burdens.
It has been a handful of moons since being first assigned Felih and Era still hasn't adjusted to the company. He isn't with her all of the time (thank the Twelve. Era thinks he's a lovely person, but she has spent too much time alone to be comfortable with a constant presence) but frequently enough that it's forced her to change her habits. No longer can she just... Teleport across the continent on a whim a few times a day. Her Aether reserves are unnaturally large, and even being as skilled an adventurer as Felih is it would be far too dangerous for him to attempt following her.
They worked out a system of sorts though. Felih wouldn't travel with her to the smaller settlements (beyond attuning to any Aetherytes necessary); Era would leave him in the larger cities with marketboards and markets along with whatever supplies she had on hand that she no longer needed. At least once a sennight she would pull him away for a few bells to spar with him and mentor him in combat, handing him whatever new equipment she managed to find for him on her most recent quest (or buy from the profits of said quest).
Despite the continuing ruse of Felih being employed by the Scions (to be associated with the Scions is dangerous, but were word to get out that he was the Warrior of Light's retainer in particular, well...) Era is the one to pay him. Perhaps Tataru does as well - Era knows nothing of the Scions' finances - but regardless Felih will always be paid double for his efforts by Era herself.
Most frequently her requests of him are to gather base materials for medicines, or meats to feed the starving, or any of the numerous philantropic deeds Era was accustomed to doing herself. She still does many on her own - most frequently the ones near Ishgard, that she might visit her friends there - but over the time she's known Felih Era has slowly begun to delegate more of her less 'essential' tasks to the Miqo'te.
Like the gathering of some rubycress root to go along with the rest of the ingredients to a very specific remedy. ( ⊙ u ⊙ ) ]
Felih is quite content to go do the work he's assigned- he's making a living, he gets to see the world, and there's still plenty of time for him to do as he pleases between tasks serving his boss. Besides, Era has only ever treated him well, and needless to say, she gets her due of respect and admiration from him.
How lucky was he, to be assigned to the Warrior of Light?
He's an excellent hunter and gatherer, amid his myriad of miscellaneous skills, but he can't help but be a bit curious about the strange request. Rubycress usually gets used to treat chocobopox- a childhood affliction, but he doesn't recall Era coming across any ill children recently... And usually there were plenty in Ishgard that needed attending to. He himself often spent free time trying to be of assistance to those in the Brume, orphaned children and downtrodden adults.
Speaking of which, there has been a terrible wave of redthroat spreading through the Brume lately too, he muses, as he returned with a hearty satchel filled with the herb in question. And Era has been helping out considerably, so perhaps it was for-
Wait. Felih stopped dead in his tracks as he suddenly recalled the way Era had carried herself just before sending him off: he had simply figured her fatigued from her seemingly endless work, but then again... And her voice hadn't sounded quite strong either, and the strains in her breaths...
Well, needless to say, he bolted back to House Fortemps very quickly after that.
"Lady Era? I've- er, I've retrieved what you've asked of me..." he says, cautiously wandering into her room, ears up and alert for any sound that might indicate the location of one possibly Very Sick hero.
[ The treatment for Red Throat is a long one, albeit simple: ample rest and an elixir of rubycress root extract taken regularly for a few moons. The first is something Era cannot afford, but with Felih's assistance she should have medicine enough to make up for how little she is able to rest.
She has been resting more frequently as of late, however. With the illness sapping away her energy it's more and more difficult to go quite so long without a good sleep. Days spent subtly pressing a hand glowing softly of healing aether against her chest when no one is paying her any mind (staying in Ishgard for the past fortnight has been helpful in that regard, as it means the long cloaks she wears for warmth can hide the telling light from prying eyes), drinking not water from her flask but a sweet concoction to ease the burning of her throat and the cough that is so desperate to escape her.
This has been the longest stretch of time Era has stayed in Ishgard since the Dragonsong War was resolved - the longest stretch of time she has spent within any city's walls - and she can tell Edmont has noticed. It's not unlikely that the man has concluded she's under the weather, for he knows her quite well and there is only so much she can hide from a father trained in picking apart an unruly child's deception.
There is no reason for the de Fortemps household to think it more than a head cold (she's been so very careful), and as long as Era stays in the privacy of her room when her presence isn't needed it should remain that way. She's kept a stash of silencing potions to take whenever she's unable to hold back her coughs any longer (in need of replenishment eventually), and tea of honey and ginger to ease her fevers. Her appetite... It's been the most difficult thing for her, as she normally can eat enough to feed a stable of Chocobos if given the opportunity and as of late she... hasn't been.
It's during one of her coughing fits that Felih returns, though she is silenced behind her privacy curtain. Era is doubled over, blood-splattered hand covering her mouth when she hears him enter. With some effort she stands up quickly (the lightheadedness will pass), wiping her hand clean on a kerchief of crimson fabric she's been keeping on her person as of late. Hurriedly, she takes a sip of the Echo Drops she carries that she might greet him.
If there is anyone likely to catch on that the Warrior of Light is ill it would be her retainer, and Era would dearly wish for him to remain blissfully unaware. ]
My thanks.
[ Era is normally very soft-spoken and quiet outside of combat, but this is a different level of hushed than her usual tone. She offers a close-lipped smile at her retainer (he would be a friend by now, she thinks, were she not his employer), as though nothing is bothering her.
The way her lips are reddened enough that one might suspect makeup is an unintentional slip. The deep crimson is a sharp contrast to how pallid her complexion is at the moment; freckles stark against her skin, deep purple circles under her eyes.
There's only so much Era can keep track of after so long running on naught but potions and fumes. ]
Edited (just noticed a grammatical error that was bugging me sorry fghjgf) 2018-04-01 06:41 (UTC)
[Felih is, if nothing else, still a healer. Though he oft spends his time doing all kinds of work for his employer, he still spends the majority of time being an assisting or healing hand for those around them both, especially since the Warrior of Light's travels often lead them through perilous and war-torn areas with plenty of sick and wounded to tend to.
And now that he really puts a lot of things about the past couple of weeks together, he's starting to realize that Era is likely sick. Knowing the woman, she likely hid it for the sake of being able to continue working, but it's that workaholic personality that makes Felih even more concerned when he finally hears her voice, soft, words murmured from blood-stained lips.
He knows that lips stained by Red Throat looks like- and his ears pin back immediately when he recognizes it, the final nail in the coffin.]
My lady! Era- gods! Why didn't I see it sooner... You're ill, aren't you? No, no, you go and sit right back down, I'll brew the remedy and you rest.
Why didn't you say something sooner...? Putting it off so long will only make the malady worse...!
[He's stressed and bustling about in moments, gently ushering her to sit right back down onto her bed while he begins to set up his alchemical station- after all, he makes medicines often enough that it's simply second nature to get right to work. He tends to get a bit antsy when he's nervous, and it shows in the twitching and flicking of his fluffy tail, the way his ears keep facing her no matter what he's doing. He is ever the worrywart, the fussy mother hen.]
How long has it been? Are you in pain? Do you have need of numbing draughts, or perhaps even a warming salve for your chest? I need to prepare you a proper meal immediately as well...
[ It says a lot as to how Era is feeling when she does nothing to try and disprove Felih's accusations, nor fuss as he ushers her to sit.
She exhales slowly, shoulders sagging; spine curved as though unable to bear the weight of it all anymore and it makes her appear somehow smaller. Her stature has always been almost humorously small next to her accomplishments, but Era has also always seemed so much bigger - larger than life. Her energy and determination made up for the fulms of height she lacked compared to many of her allies, yet now she has neither to spare. ]
The symptoms began a fortnight ago.
[ Shortly after the initial outbreak in the Brume. Era has remained much quieter than usual during this time, doing her best to minimize the chance of it spreading. It's been selfishness on her part to stay with the Fortemps rather than find someplace in the Brume...
As for Felih's other questions, well. 'Pain' is a very different beast to Era than it is to most folk considering her line of work. Her chest is tight and hurts, but not enough for her to truly register that it's pain and not merely discomfort. The burn of her throat is not worth mentioning, as she has been regularly consuming tea to ease it.
She had never considered a numbing draught for it, however, and can't help the way her eyes light up as Felih mentions it, filing away this method of comfort for future patients. ]
My appetite has suffered.
[ Not that it's likely her retainer missed that, given how much he seems to enjoy cooking for others. But while he fusses Era takes the opportunity to place a hand to her breast, beginning another round of infusing healing aether under her skin. She does this in small doses over the course of a day - frequently enough to make a difference, but not enough to drain her of her reserves. ]
[Felih can't help but worry even more at Era's lack of protest, her lack of energy, the way the lethargy sinks into her bones and leaves her tired as she settles down. Era is still a small woman under all her accomplishments, and the illness only makes her seem even more vulnerable: something so very strange for the vaunted hero of Eorzea.
He knows it's a small miracle no one in the house had caught it while Era had been hiding away, but that was likely due to caution on her part. It only makes his heart ache.]
A fortnight...? Twelve preserve, Era...! I... I wish you'd sent me out sooner. You know I'm here to help.
[He's not put out so much as he is deeply concerned. His respect for Era is ever apparent, even with his fussing and tendency to perhaps be just a tad overbearing. But he couldn't help it, as he had always been a caretaker, one who fed and watched over others, tending to their illness and wounds.
He has no home to return to, but at least he can be of use to Era, and he's grateful for the opportunities that being her retainer allows him. Still, he looks up from where he's preparing the proper medicine from the rubycress, and he sighs.]
I know, this will not lay you low. You're stronger than that- but even so, you know I can't help but worry. You should not suffer so- especially not longer than necessary.
I'll prepare a light and brothy soup once this is done. It ought to be something easier on your stomach, and you'll need the nutrition to recover.
[ In her mind it made no sense for her to send Felih out gathering excess for her instead of the ill in the Brume. Her position offers her comforts and treatments that the poor do not, and Era is loathe to take anything away from them for her own gain. She worries at her bottom lip, anxiety and the beginnings of a cough stirring in her chest.
Era does not like making others fret for her well being. It's still something she's unaccustomed to, after so long spent outside of Ishgard's walls as naught but a chess piece to be used.
But Felih is a worrier. A bleeding heart, one might say. Era is much the same and were their situations reversed she cannot say she would not be doing what her retainer is right now - worrying, fussing, doing all that she could to make him well again. It doesn't make it any easier to swallow, however. She keeps her gaze averted as he speaks.
You should not suffer so
Era would beg to differ. She has always accepted pain as something she was due. ]
My thanks.
[ She curls up on her side on her bed, limbs too heavy to bother swaddling herself in blankets. The most she does to make herself comfortable is shift enough to switch her glamour plates to her nightgown, warm enough to keep even her scales satisfied through the Coerthan nights. Her tail twitches every now and then behind her every now and then, out of Felih's view, when she struggles to keep another cough at bay.
Alchemy has never been something Era was exceedingly good at - adequately competent, yes, but not talented enough to make complex potions or draughts. Luckily the medicine for Red Throat isn't too difficult and one Era was able to learn quickly. There's no finesse to the way she practices alchemy, and so watching Felih work so skillfully is relaxing to her. Perhaps she should seek to improve her crafting skills? But there is always so much combat training to keep up with...
Distracted by her thoughts, a sudden coughing fit catches Era off guard. The first cough is a loud, wet, and painful sounding one. She quickly muffles the rest with her kerchief after that, not wishing to spread any ill humours through more of the room than strictly necessary, nor to alert anyone else in the household of her sickness. The rooms of the Fortemps manor are relatively thick and sound proofed, but one can never be too careful.
Once her fit is over, Era takes a deep, raspy breath that she then exhales slowly. Her kerchief has been soaked with enough blood over the past few bells that it has lost a great deal of its absorbency, leaving her to wipe the excess wetness away with her fingers.
It's an odd feeling, seeing her own blood on her hands but there to be no wound to cause it.
Flexing her fingers, she makes another request - an order, really - of Felih. Her voice is a raspy whisper, but there is still an underlying strength behind her intent. ]
Do not inform Lord Edmont of the nature of my illness. [ After a moment to catch her breath, she adds: ] Not unless my health worsens.
[ It is fairly obvious to the casual observer of Era and Edmont's interactions that the man views her as the daughter he never had, and though Era may not understand it it's clear that she views him as a father-figure in return. So she does not wish for him to worry himself over her, nor does she wish for him to remain in the dark should her situation become dire.
It's selfish of her, but already Era wishes for his presence; a strong, steady hand cool against her burning forehead and a soothing voice lulling her to sleep. She has witnessed this with parent and sick child countless times, and she would like to experience such a thing for herself at least once before returning to the Aether whence she came. ]
[There's a frown forming on Felih's face, small and concerned, worried about his employer's health as Era finally settles down and curls up in her bed. He glances at her a few times, catching the little movements of her tail, the small shakes of her body. He remains focused on his work, but keeps a watchful eye on the Warrior of Light, trying to ensure that the illness was not worsening more than he feared.
It is her coughing fit, the wet and bloody and agonizing sound making Felih's ears and tail shoot up in alarm, bristling as he tenses.]
Lady Era?!
[There's simply a few moments where he waits out her coughing fit, before he sighs and bites his lip. He does not like this- not keeping secrets from Lord Edmont, but he knows she has good reason. The man has a good, kind, wounded heart, and the last thing he needs is to worry over the woman like a daughter to him.]
...yes, my lady. I won't say a word- provided you do actually rest this time. Here... the elixir is prepared. And I shall make more as you need.
[He stands after bottling some of the crimson liquid, going over to her and plucking up a towel from his pack as he goes, offering it to Era along with the elixir.]
Can you sit up? Here...
[His hands are firm but gentle as he helps her sit up, bringing the bottle to her lips and letting her drink. One hand remains on her back, glowing with healing aether as he rubs circles all over the expanse of her back, soothing lungs and muscle alike- he knows firsthand how such vicious coughs wear down the body's strength.]
And let me see that handkerchief- it must be washed properly, to rid it of Red Throat...
[ While Era isn't fond of being fed medicine like an invalid she also has to admit that she currently is somewhat of one. Her hands would likely shake too much right now to allow her to drain the elixir completely on her own, as she manages to do with Felih's assistance. The feel of his healing hand on her back is a comfort she leans into without realizing, taut muscles relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever (one of the few places she cannot reach to treat herself).
She hesitates for a breath before reluctantly allowing her retainer to take her handkerchief, replacing it (temporarily, she hopes) with the towel. ]
Have caution.
[ Unnecessary, most likely, as he is a healer just as she is. But still - Era had been struck down with the Red Throat, so there is no guarantee he won't be either. ]
Once I'm under the covers could you air the room?
[ It's important to keep her room from becoming stuffy, lest the festering air spread to someone else's lungs, but it's so damned cold. Era has a thick blanket lined with small fragments of fire shards to keep the chill out, however, leaving it to be less irritating than it could be.
Though first she'll gather the energy to lift up her numerous, heavy blankets.
...Or she could just send her retainer a pointed look that Era would never admit to being a silent plea for assistance. Her big blue eyes have to be good for something, right? ]
[Felih is thorough in his movements, ensuring that his hand reaches every ilm of her back to ensure all the sore and tensed muscles are tended to- especially those crucial to her breathing. He finds that often, those with Red Throat die either of fever or suffocation, whether by exhaustion or by the blood filling their lungs. He'd rather cover all his bases. With the medicine consumed, and Era starting to settle down, he knows that the next step is to air the room, clean her things, prepare a meal.
...and, when he sees the doe-eyed look she's giving him, he cracks a smile and manages a little laugh, moving forward and helping her get cozy. He's gentle as he gets her under all the heavy quilts, making sure she's tucked in just to ensure that the cold Coerthan air would not reach her once he opened the window.]
Of course. I'll air the room- clean your things. Just call if you need anything at all- I'll just be in the next room.
[It's slightly doting, the way he ensures she's properly covered up, a hand briefly stroking her hair back and keeping it out of her face as she's settled down. With that, he opens the windows and walks the room, conjury drawing wind and air in from outside and then back out again, a few times just to be sure the room is properly aired. He leaves the windows open after that, just to allow Era the fresh, cool air- if nothing else, the Coerthan air is crisp and clean, even if cold.
He simply goes into the bathroom adjacent after this, the sounds of running water and the scrubbing of fabrics in the basin, a soft melody on Felih's voice. He's very fussy about making sure the handkerchief in particular is sanitized properly, though he's careful to ensure it isn't damaged. After all, he doubts Era would be pleased if anything befell it. He's cautious, doing his best to try and reduce his risk of also being infected- but at the very least, if he did succumb, they had a rather large supply of rubycress now.
By the time he finishes all the washing, he's used his magic to wick away the water from the things he's cleaned, leaving them clean and dry as he folds and organizes them all, carrying them back and setting them on a table in the room- and he checks on her once more.
He is admittedly loath to leave her... perhaps he could send for ingredients to be brought to the room. With the fireplace here, he could easily make the soup here, and have the chance to keep an eye on her.]
[ Era does her best not to allow herself to feel ashamed or embarrassed with the assistance for something so simple. She appreciative of her retainer's help regardless, however, and once the heavy weight of the last blanket is spread evenly on top of her she immediately settles, drowsiness overtaking her.
The mattress is firm against her back and she is cocooned in blankets that smell of home.
There are worse things than this. ]
Thank you, Felih.
[ It is as Felih is in the other room, puttering around and creating a soothing white noise in the background that Era realizes she's missing something important to her comfort - her warm, aetherial friend. Her Carbuncle had been the first (and so far still one of the only) clues to her past, and had been the only comfort in life she had for a few moons.
The first time she summoned an Emerald Carbuncle it was like something clicked into place. It came to her like breathing, aether flowing through flesh and ink to create a Carbuncle that - oddly enough - had seemed to recognize her. Era nearly cried right there, in the depths of the arcanist's guild, when a piece of her heart and been returned to her in a loyal companion.
Over the years it's become second nature to summong Carbuncle without the need of her grimoire, nor aetherial ink. The geometry is clear in her mind and takes little effort to activate. As long as she isn't infusing Primal aether into it there is no reason to open a tome.
Still, stricken as she is with the Red Throat it takes a bit more effort than she would like. Not enough to be a worry, but enough to be an annoyance.
It's worth it the moment Carbuncle snuffles its way under the covers with her, curling up against her. It's a gentle, soothing warmth against her chest. A comfort in her arms. She need not worry about her aetherial friend catching any illness from her.
Era tucks her face in the crook of Carbuncle's neck, under the jut of its ear where the fur is softest. She gives it a fond kiss as one might do with a pet and receives a warm lick across her cheek in return.
Yes, this is what was missing.
The amount of aether she expended on its summoning was negligible, and Era looks no worse the wear for it. Though with the faint sheen of sweat on skin so pallid it brings the freckles dappled across her nose into great contrast and the way her lips are more red than rosy... Well, it would be an impossible feat to look much worse in such a short stretch of time.
Era coughs lightly into Carbuncle's ruff once, twice, and a third time. Not the painful coughs from a short while ago, but less forceful ones; manageable ones. The only blood that she expels is a small splatter that is quickly dissolved by her summon's aether.
[He is ever dutiful in his work, and by the time he comes back and sees the familiar glowing lump that is her carbuncle, all snuggled up under the covers, he laughs softly and then spends a moment deciding to leave his own companions to guard and warm her for the brief amount of time he would spend gathering supplies and ingredients to cook for her.
He summons his ruby carbuncle, a big, affectionate, snuggly thing about the size of a wolf. He's quite a big thing- not nearly as big as the topaz- but he is plenty cozy and big enough to curl up against her back and keep Era warm. All it takes is Felih gesturing at Era's sleepy form, and Rolanberry yips and wiggles attentively before hopping up to cuddle and stand guard.
Felih worries when she coughs, but knows that the disease must run its course. All that's left to do is tend to Era and ensure she's eating and resting, taking medicine, and wait it out. So, off he goes, and soon enough he returns with the supplies he needs, settling by the fireplace and setting up a cookpot. He hopes Era is sleeping all the while, and he glances at her as he cooks, just checking.
Though, he knows Rolanberry would bark if he thought Era was in danger, and Era's own emerald carbuncle would certainly make noise if something was wrong.]
[ Era is startled by the sudden weight behind her - so much so that she's dizzy with panic until it hits her that Carbuncle would never let something happen, and neither would Felih. Her summon helps her settle back down, nuzzling against her collarbone. If it could Era knows it would be purring right now, especially as she sets a quivering hand to stroke along a patch of its back.
It doesn't take long for her to sink back into a hazy doze of not-quite-sleep but it's restful enough for now. Deep sleep doesn't come easily to her even on the best of days; body too keyed up and alert for any danger. ]
[Felih notes the way Era wakes with a panic, and he immediately goes over, ears low in apology as he gently rests a hand on her shoulder.]
Easy, easy- I'm sorry, I should've warned you. I'm leaving Rolanberry with you just to be cautious...
[Rolanberry is cuddling happily, giving a little yip of affirmation and purring as he curls up against Era once more, a content guard. He's big and warm, much like the fiery aether that fuels him, and he keeps more or less still once he's settled to keep from disturbing the ill Warrior too much.
Felih is cooking quietly in the meanwhile, still just humming softly as he works. As promised, he makes a fish soup, rich in flavor but light on the stomach. Fresh fish, vegetables, some herbs for both flavor and their medicinal properties. He's done his best to ensure the flavor isn't too strong, however- ill stomachs can be finicky. He lets it simmer, allowing all the nutrients to release into the broth, the flavors to meld together into harmony.
And while that settles, he starts organizing all the rubycress he's gathered into neat and tidy bundles for easy use later. It's all idle, things to keep him busy as he guards his employer.]
[ Era hums a placating note in response to her retainer's apology.
While Rolanberry is warm and a welcome weight once she's aware of it, he can't compare to her own Carbuncle in terms of comfort. Era is much like a child with a plush toy with how she cuddles Carbuncle close to her, exhaling softly (less shaky than a short while ago, before her dose of the medicine) against velvety fur. She hasn't summoned it in a while, so preoccupied with healing that there was no opportunity for her to.
If Era was a different person, a bit more focused on herself and less on others, she might view this illness as a blessing in disguise. It's forcing her to rest and take it easy for the first time in at least twelve moons, and were others to learn of her bout of Red Throat they might be less demanding.
She drifts in and out of her cozy, sleepy haze. The smell of food is simultaneously welcoming and nauseating (a relatively unheard of symptom for Era, whose title may well have been 'of the Iron Stomach' had she not been the Warrior of Light), but she knows enough that she'll be eating a portion of it regardless. ]
I've a notebook of the patients I'm treating. It is open on the desk.
[Felih just feels better knowing his own ball of aether is guarding Era, aware that when folk are ill, they need to be observed just a bit more carefully to ensure their condition doesn't worsen. He is more focused on cooking for now, however, making sure the soup is just right before he finally moves the pot off the fire, though he leaves the fire burning so as to prevent the room from becoming too cold. (Especially considering how the windows are still open to allow the air to circulate and air out.)
But he stands while the pot cools, and picks up the notebook in question, starting to flip through it carefully.]
All this...? Gods... it seems as if no matter how much we try, Red Throat continues to break out in the Brume... There must be a way to remedy this. If there is perhaps a reservoir that harbors the disease between outbreaks...
[He's musing aloud to himself, as he reads through her notes. He knows he will need to gather even more rubycress- but perhaps he can work with the Lord Commander and have a greenhouse built in the city, one where medicinal herbs and plants can be grown en masse for use in the city. His mind continues to spark with ideas he chains together, like numbers in his arcanima, and he finally speaks once more.]
This aside... Can you sit up? Though I know your appetite has suffered, you must eat if you are to recover...
I've spoken with Aymeric. He knew the need for improved living conditions, but not how dire it was. [ She has no head for politics, but her dear friend most certainly does. If there's anyone who might be able to bring about change to the Brume it will be the Lord Commander. ] Things will get better, Felih.
[ Not soon enough for those who have already died, drowned by their own blood. There are enough pages in her notebook with the note of deceased by the names, along with their ages. Mostly the young and the elderly, but it hit a fair number of people in between as well. Hopefully soon she will have no need for books dedicated to the dead and dying.
To her retainer's question, Era does her best to sit up. It doesn't take long for her to realize the futility of this, with the weight of the blankets combined with Rolanberry's making it too difficult for her to push herself up. It's as though having laid down and rested opened a floodgate; her body taking advantage of the momentary respite to turn on her completely and force her to rest more thoroughly. The traitorous thing. ]
There's too much weight.
[ Both on her chest and in it. Though the weight atop of her has been comforting moreso than confining. Era's cheeks are flushed not with the telltale redness of a fever, but instead with the pink of embarrassment. The Warrior of Light, weaker than a pile of blankets. ]
[Felih still seems worried, but he knows that Aymeric is a dutiful man who should be well able to start remedying the issues in the city. After all, he wanted so badly to reduce the gap between the classes, to give both nobility and smallfolk a voice and make Ishgard safer and more livable for all. Still, he wonders if perhaps he could help with the efforts... it makes his heart ache to see such rampant suffering.
But he's distracted by Era's attempts to sit up, and he smiles and goes over to heave Rolanberry off of her.]
Up, Ro. Up- let Era sit. Ah... the blankets? Here.
[He pulls back all the heavy quilts and blankets before making a support for her back out of pillows and cushions, and helping her to sit up and lean back against them. It ought to help prevent her from straining her body too much just from trying to keep upright.]
There- is that better? I can adjust it as you need. So long as you're able to eat, I'll be satisfied.
[He does note the flush of fever, and sighs as he gently presses the back of his hand to her forehead, biting his lip nervously. Though he knows fever is simply a part of the disease running its course, he still doesn't like seeing people suffering from one- after all, how many folk have died from it before?]
[ Thinking of Aymeric actually brings to mind their planned meeting for the following day - he wanted to have another dinner (hopefully uninterrupted), though Era talked him down into a small, informal meal followed by a walk around The Pillars. They were going to brainstorm ideas of how to improve things for the Brume in the immediate future that might help reduce the spread and severity of the Red Throat outbreak.
Her thoughts are interrupted as Felih helps her sit up again, back cushioned by down-filled pillows. She shifts only slightly, adjusting the way her torso is angled so it's a little easier to breathe. While ill, Era is still determined to do what she can of her own accord. But she offers Felih a grateful smile. ]
This arrangement is fine.
[ While the touch isn't unexpected Era still flinches when his hand touches her face. His hand is so cold against her skin, but rather than pull away she finds herself leaning into the touch. ]
I've a meeting tomorrow eve with the Lord Commander. [ Era is tempted to meet with him anyway, regardless of her health. While she would take care not to pass on her illness she should like to inform her friend of the current situation herself, and they did have important matters to discuss. ] Perhaps we could arrange for it to take place here rather than Borel Manor.
[ She has absolutely no clue that it was probably going to be another totally-a-date-but-not-actually-a-date date, nor does it occur to her that it may be inappropriate to invite Aymeric to spend time with her in her rooms at the Fortemps'. But it's Aymeric. And neither Lord Edmont nor any of his staff would think to make any gossip, since Era's oblivious nature with regards to romantic endeavors and overtures is fairly well-known, as is the Lord Commander's gentlemanly and proper nature.
Having high status does have its perks occasionally (even if that's yet another thing Era is more or less oblivious to). ]
Felih?
[ What are your thoughts on this, oh loyal retainer-friend? ]
[Felih blinks a little, immediately concerned at the news of a meeting with the Lord Commander. Era is clearly ill, and she's in no state to be up and about, especially not in the Ishgardian cold talking politics with Ser Aymeric.]
There's... well, it's not that I object to you meeting with Ser Aymeric, but you're ill, and not only do you need to rest, but there's also the worry that the illness could pass to him. Red Throat spreads so unpredictably, my lady, and there's no telling if he will fall ill as well.
...and, well, I know the Lord Commander to be as stubborn as you are about his own well-being, which only adds another layer of concern altogether.
I would recommend postponing your meeting until you are well once more, or at the very least send your concerns to him via letter. It would not be difficult for me to ferry the letters between you both while you're recuperating. Or I could even send Vehr'to- it would leave me more dispensable for your care.
[Somehow, though, he's also got the feeling Ser Aymeric wouldn't be sitting still if he discovered Era had fallen ill. Goodness, these two are hopeless.]
[ And therein lies the problem - Aymeric had been so enthused about having dinner and discussion with her that were she to cancel without giving cause...
She and the Lord Commander are so very much alike. It's why they initially weren't quite so impressed with each other, and now why they're so close. She sends him regular letters detailing her latest adventures (perhaps excluding some of the more harrowing aspects, given how prone to fretting her friend is) and he responds in kind, informing her of current events in Ishgard. They both know she has no head for politics, but they enjoy the correspondence nonetheless.
Era lets out a rattling sigh, lips curved downward in a frown. Considering how tired she is, she would be fine communicating via letter or Linkpearl. Aymeric, however, would want to know why she was not able to meet with him in person. And Era is both a terrible liar and someone who dislikes lying to her friends. ]
I cannot say I'm ill. [ Aymeric would lose his mind. ] He will wish to visit regardless...
[ And she can't say that she's out on a quest, because it would be far too easy to confirm with Edmont that she isn't. ]
And his concern would reach Lord Edmont's ears.
[ Era sinks back into the cushions, shutting her eyes and focusing on her breathing instead of her worries. Her lungs rattle with every inhale, but that isn't unfamiliar to her at this point. ]
There's nothing to be done for it now. [ It can be dealt with later. ] Shall we eat?
[Felih sighs again, knowing full well now the Lord Commander and Era were about each other, and shakes his head gently.]
You two are both hopeless- too concerned about others to worry about your own health. The Lord Commander would take Red Throat if it meant staying at your side. Very well... let's set that aside for now. I would rather see you fed and starting to gather strength.
[With that, he carefully sets a tray over her lap, upon which a filled bowl of the stew is set, along with some water, and some fresh fruit juice- something Felih no doubt went off to make himself, considering his fondness for the fresh treat. There is a small roll of bread with the soup as well, fresh-baked by the Fortemps kitchen.]
Go on ahead- let me know if there is aught you desire.
[And he begins to eat as well, at her beside, his own meal resting on her bedside table. Rolanberry is fussily nosing at Felih's arm, trying to get to his share of food, and Felih has to laugh and sigh, offering him a piece of bread to appease the greedy carbuncle.]
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valoirs
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she'd keep him decked out in the finest of gear and tools/weaponry, and always try to pay him extra ventures? she's always going going going, often forgoing sleep for days in order to help people, so perhaps some adventurer friends or misc. scions shoved a retainer at her like 'era plz stop for 2 seconds' and she's just rolled with it since? o/ }
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Goodness though, if she doesn't care for herself he'd be the type of worrywart retainer to try and get her to sleep and definitely let him do some of the work instead.]
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Most of the time they had no idea she was their vaunted Warrior of Light, but would merely assume she was naught but an adventurer. That suited Era just fine, and it wasn't as though they were wrong with that assumption. She still was an adventurer, even if she was the Warrior of Light first and a Scion of the Seventh Dawn second.
What did bother her was when the assumptions would be that she was weak or dim-witted, and when they would be unrepentantly condescending toward her. How could she, a tiny slip of a woman, help them where a strong, muscular man could not? But almost every waking moment of Era's life has been spent training. Even while on her various quests she would be training in a new form of combat, or mastering an older one. If she could not overpower a man thrice her size she would not be worthy of her title.
It was only after the liberation of Ala Mhigo that her beloved comrades realized how hard she pushed herself - how hard they were pushing her - and even then it was only because she had fainted of exhaustion during a meeting of the Eorzean Alliance's leaders and unable to be roused for a few bells afterwards. (Alisaie had been the least surprised of them all, for the young woman knew how hard Era worked and oft complained of how impossible it was to mimic).
Shortly thereafter she found herself assigned a retainer. Though at first it was under the guise of Felih being the Scions' retainer, not her own.
Era found out much later that it had been Count Edmont's suggestion, relayed to the Scions via Ser Aymeric. Up until that point she had been quietly angered by the whole arrangement, but it suddenly felt different to know it was because the man who was the closest thing to a father she'd ever known had been worried. That Edmont had gone out of his way to help her like this...
Had it been anyone else Era would have continued to choke down her irritation, but Edmont de Fortemps was one of the very, very few people who treated her as a human being from the first moment they met rather than a weapon to be used or a hero to look up to. It was a strange feeling, to know that there were people who worried for her well-being and wished to ease her burdens.
It has been a handful of moons since being first assigned Felih and Era still hasn't adjusted to the company. He isn't with her all of the time (thank the Twelve. Era thinks he's a lovely person, but she has spent too much time alone to be comfortable with a constant presence) but frequently enough that it's forced her to change her habits. No longer can she just... Teleport across the continent on a whim a few times a day. Her Aether reserves are unnaturally large, and even being as skilled an adventurer as Felih is it would be far too dangerous for him to attempt following her.
They worked out a system of sorts though. Felih wouldn't travel with her to the smaller settlements (beyond attuning to any Aetherytes necessary); Era would leave him in the larger cities with marketboards and markets along with whatever supplies she had on hand that she no longer needed. At least once a sennight she would pull him away for a few bells to spar with him and mentor him in combat, handing him whatever new equipment she managed to find for him on her most recent quest (or buy from the profits of said quest).
Despite the continuing ruse of Felih being employed by the Scions (to be associated with the Scions is dangerous, but were word to get out that he was the Warrior of Light's retainer in particular, well...) Era is the one to pay him. Perhaps Tataru does as well - Era knows nothing of the Scions' finances - but regardless Felih will always be paid double for his efforts by Era herself.
Most frequently her requests of him are to gather base materials for medicines, or meats to feed the starving, or any of the numerous philantropic deeds Era was accustomed to doing herself. She still does many on her own - most frequently the ones near Ishgard, that she might visit her friends there - but over the time she's known Felih Era has slowly begun to delegate more of her less 'essential' tasks to the Miqo'te.
Like the gathering of some rubycress root to go along with the rest of the ingredients to a very specific remedy. ( ⊙ u ⊙ ) ]
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How lucky was he, to be assigned to the Warrior of Light?
He's an excellent hunter and gatherer, amid his myriad of miscellaneous skills, but he can't help but be a bit curious about the strange request. Rubycress usually gets used to treat chocobopox- a childhood affliction, but he doesn't recall Era coming across any ill children recently... And usually there were plenty in Ishgard that needed attending to. He himself often spent free time trying to be of assistance to those in the Brume, orphaned children and downtrodden adults.
Speaking of which, there has been a terrible wave of redthroat spreading through the Brume lately too, he muses, as he returned with a hearty satchel filled with the herb in question. And Era has been helping out considerably, so perhaps it was for-
Wait. Felih stopped dead in his tracks as he suddenly recalled the way Era had carried herself just before sending him off: he had simply figured her fatigued from her seemingly endless work, but then again... And her voice hadn't sounded quite strong either, and the strains in her breaths...
Well, needless to say, he bolted back to House Fortemps very quickly after that.
"Lady Era? I've- er, I've retrieved what you've asked of me..." he says, cautiously wandering into her room, ears up and alert for any sound that might indicate the location of one possibly Very Sick hero.
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She has been resting more frequently as of late, however. With the illness sapping away her energy it's more and more difficult to go quite so long without a good sleep. Days spent subtly pressing a hand glowing softly of healing aether against her chest when no one is paying her any mind (staying in Ishgard for the past fortnight has been helpful in that regard, as it means the long cloaks she wears for warmth can hide the telling light from prying eyes), drinking not water from her flask but a sweet concoction to ease the burning of her throat and the cough that is so desperate to escape her.
This has been the longest stretch of time Era has stayed in Ishgard since the Dragonsong War was resolved - the longest stretch of time she has spent within any city's walls - and she can tell Edmont has noticed. It's not unlikely that the man has concluded she's under the weather, for he knows her quite well and there is only so much she can hide from a father trained in picking apart an unruly child's deception.
There is no reason for the de Fortemps household to think it more than a head cold (she's been so very careful), and as long as Era stays in the privacy of her room when her presence isn't needed it should remain that way. She's kept a stash of silencing potions to take whenever she's unable to hold back her coughs any longer (in need of replenishment eventually), and tea of honey and ginger to ease her fevers. Her appetite... It's been the most difficult thing for her, as she normally can eat enough to feed a stable of Chocobos if given the opportunity and as of late she... hasn't been.
It's during one of her coughing fits that Felih returns, though she is silenced behind her privacy curtain. Era is doubled over, blood-splattered hand covering her mouth when she hears him enter. With some effort she stands up quickly (the lightheadedness will pass), wiping her hand clean on a kerchief of crimson fabric she's been keeping on her person as of late. Hurriedly, she takes a sip of the Echo Drops she carries that she might greet him.
If there is anyone likely to catch on that the Warrior of Light is ill it would be her retainer, and Era would dearly wish for him to remain blissfully unaware. ]
My thanks.
[ Era is normally very soft-spoken and quiet outside of combat, but this is a different level of hushed than her usual tone. She offers a close-lipped smile at her retainer (he would be a friend by now, she thinks, were she not his employer), as though nothing is bothering her.
The way her lips are reddened enough that one might suspect makeup is an unintentional slip. The deep crimson is a sharp contrast to how pallid her complexion is at the moment; freckles stark against her skin, deep purple circles under her eyes.
There's only so much Era can keep track of after so long running on naught but potions and fumes. ]
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And now that he really puts a lot of things about the past couple of weeks together, he's starting to realize that Era is likely sick. Knowing the woman, she likely hid it for the sake of being able to continue working, but it's that workaholic personality that makes Felih even more concerned when he finally hears her voice, soft, words murmured from blood-stained lips.
He knows that lips stained by Red Throat looks like- and his ears pin back immediately when he recognizes it, the final nail in the coffin.]
My lady! Era- gods! Why didn't I see it sooner... You're ill, aren't you? No, no, you go and sit right back down, I'll brew the remedy and you rest.
Why didn't you say something sooner...? Putting it off so long will only make the malady worse...!
[He's stressed and bustling about in moments, gently ushering her to sit right back down onto her bed while he begins to set up his alchemical station- after all, he makes medicines often enough that it's simply second nature to get right to work. He tends to get a bit antsy when he's nervous, and it shows in the twitching and flicking of his fluffy tail, the way his ears keep facing her no matter what he's doing. He is ever the worrywart, the fussy mother hen.]
How long has it been? Are you in pain? Do you have need of numbing draughts, or perhaps even a warming salve for your chest? I need to prepare you a proper meal immediately as well...
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She exhales slowly, shoulders sagging; spine curved as though unable to bear the weight of it all anymore and it makes her appear somehow smaller. Her stature has always been almost humorously small next to her accomplishments, but Era has also always seemed so much bigger - larger than life. Her energy and determination made up for the fulms of height she lacked compared to many of her allies, yet now she has neither to spare. ]
The symptoms began a fortnight ago.
[ Shortly after the initial outbreak in the Brume. Era has remained much quieter than usual during this time, doing her best to minimize the chance of it spreading. It's been selfishness on her part to stay with the Fortemps rather than find someplace in the Brume...
As for Felih's other questions, well. 'Pain' is a very different beast to Era than it is to most folk considering her line of work. Her chest is tight and hurts, but not enough for her to truly register that it's pain and not merely discomfort. The burn of her throat is not worth mentioning, as she has been regularly consuming tea to ease it.
She had never considered a numbing draught for it, however, and can't help the way her eyes light up as Felih mentions it, filing away this method of comfort for future patients. ]
My appetite has suffered.
[ Not that it's likely her retainer missed that, given how much he seems to enjoy cooking for others. But while he fusses Era takes the opportunity to place a hand to her breast, beginning another round of infusing healing aether under her skin. She does this in small doses over the course of a day - frequently enough to make a difference, but not enough to drain her of her reserves. ]
Do not worry so, Felih. It will pass in time.
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He knows it's a small miracle no one in the house had caught it while Era had been hiding away, but that was likely due to caution on her part. It only makes his heart ache.]
A fortnight...? Twelve preserve, Era...! I... I wish you'd sent me out sooner. You know I'm here to help.
[He's not put out so much as he is deeply concerned. His respect for Era is ever apparent, even with his fussing and tendency to perhaps be just a tad overbearing. But he couldn't help it, as he had always been a caretaker, one who fed and watched over others, tending to their illness and wounds.
He has no home to return to, but at least he can be of use to Era, and he's grateful for the opportunities that being her retainer allows him. Still, he looks up from where he's preparing the proper medicine from the rubycress, and he sighs.]
I know, this will not lay you low. You're stronger than that- but even so, you know I can't help but worry. You should not suffer so- especially not longer than necessary.
I'll prepare a light and brothy soup once this is done. It ought to be something easier on your stomach, and you'll need the nutrition to recover.
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[ In her mind it made no sense for her to send Felih out gathering excess for her instead of the ill in the Brume. Her position offers her comforts and treatments that the poor do not, and Era is loathe to take anything away from them for her own gain. She worries at her bottom lip, anxiety and the beginnings of a cough stirring in her chest.
Era does not like making others fret for her well being. It's still something she's unaccustomed to, after so long spent outside of Ishgard's walls as naught but a chess piece to be used.
But Felih is a worrier. A bleeding heart, one might say. Era is much the same and were their situations reversed she cannot say she would not be doing what her retainer is right now - worrying, fussing, doing all that she could to make him well again. It doesn't make it any easier to swallow, however. She keeps her gaze averted as he speaks.
You should not suffer so
Era would beg to differ. She has always accepted pain as something she was due. ]
My thanks.
[ She curls up on her side on her bed, limbs too heavy to bother swaddling herself in blankets. The most she does to make herself comfortable is shift enough to switch her glamour plates to her nightgown, warm enough to keep even her scales satisfied through the Coerthan nights. Her tail twitches every now and then behind her every now and then, out of Felih's view, when she struggles to keep another cough at bay.
Alchemy has never been something Era was exceedingly good at - adequately competent, yes, but not talented enough to make complex potions or draughts. Luckily the medicine for Red Throat isn't too difficult and one Era was able to learn quickly. There's no finesse to the way she practices alchemy, and so watching Felih work so skillfully is relaxing to her. Perhaps she should seek to improve her crafting skills? But there is always so much combat training to keep up with...
Distracted by her thoughts, a sudden coughing fit catches Era off guard. The first cough is a loud, wet, and painful sounding one. She quickly muffles the rest with her kerchief after that, not wishing to spread any ill humours through more of the room than strictly necessary, nor to alert anyone else in the household of her sickness. The rooms of the Fortemps manor are relatively thick and sound proofed, but one can never be too careful.
Once her fit is over, Era takes a deep, raspy breath that she then exhales slowly. Her kerchief has been soaked with enough blood over the past few bells that it has lost a great deal of its absorbency, leaving her to wipe the excess wetness away with her fingers.
It's an odd feeling, seeing her own blood on her hands but there to be no wound to cause it.
Flexing her fingers, she makes another request - an order, really - of Felih. Her voice is a raspy whisper, but there is still an underlying strength behind her intent. ]
Do not inform Lord Edmont of the nature of my illness. [ After a moment to catch her breath, she adds: ] Not unless my health worsens.
[ It is fairly obvious to the casual observer of Era and Edmont's interactions that the man views her as the daughter he never had, and though Era may not understand it it's clear that she views him as a father-figure in return. So she does not wish for him to worry himself over her, nor does she wish for him to remain in the dark should her situation become dire.
It's selfish of her, but already Era wishes for his presence; a strong, steady hand cool against her burning forehead and a soothing voice lulling her to sleep. She has witnessed this with parent and sick child countless times, and she would like to experience such a thing for herself at least once before returning to the Aether whence she came. ]
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It is her coughing fit, the wet and bloody and agonizing sound making Felih's ears and tail shoot up in alarm, bristling as he tenses.]
Lady Era?!
[There's simply a few moments where he waits out her coughing fit, before he sighs and bites his lip. He does not like this- not keeping secrets from Lord Edmont, but he knows she has good reason. The man has a good, kind, wounded heart, and the last thing he needs is to worry over the woman like a daughter to him.]
...yes, my lady. I won't say a word- provided you do actually rest this time. Here... the elixir is prepared. And I shall make more as you need.
[He stands after bottling some of the crimson liquid, going over to her and plucking up a towel from his pack as he goes, offering it to Era along with the elixir.]
Can you sit up? Here...
[His hands are firm but gentle as he helps her sit up, bringing the bottle to her lips and letting her drink. One hand remains on her back, glowing with healing aether as he rubs circles all over the expanse of her back, soothing lungs and muscle alike- he knows firsthand how such vicious coughs wear down the body's strength.]
And let me see that handkerchief- it must be washed properly, to rid it of Red Throat...
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She hesitates for a breath before reluctantly allowing her retainer to take her handkerchief, replacing it (temporarily, she hopes) with the towel. ]
Have caution.
[ Unnecessary, most likely, as he is a healer just as she is. But still - Era had been struck down with the Red Throat, so there is no guarantee he won't be either. ]
Once I'm under the covers could you air the room?
[ It's important to keep her room from becoming stuffy, lest the festering air spread to someone else's lungs, but it's so damned cold. Era has a thick blanket lined with small fragments of fire shards to keep the chill out, however, leaving it to be less irritating than it could be.
Though first she'll gather the energy to lift up her numerous, heavy blankets.
...Or she could just send her retainer a pointed look that Era would never admit to being a silent plea for assistance. Her big blue eyes have to be good for something, right? ]
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...and, when he sees the doe-eyed look she's giving him, he cracks a smile and manages a little laugh, moving forward and helping her get cozy. He's gentle as he gets her under all the heavy quilts, making sure she's tucked in just to ensure that the cold Coerthan air would not reach her once he opened the window.]
Of course. I'll air the room- clean your things. Just call if you need anything at all- I'll just be in the next room.
[It's slightly doting, the way he ensures she's properly covered up, a hand briefly stroking her hair back and keeping it out of her face as she's settled down. With that, he opens the windows and walks the room, conjury drawing wind and air in from outside and then back out again, a few times just to be sure the room is properly aired. He leaves the windows open after that, just to allow Era the fresh, cool air- if nothing else, the Coerthan air is crisp and clean, even if cold.
He simply goes into the bathroom adjacent after this, the sounds of running water and the scrubbing of fabrics in the basin, a soft melody on Felih's voice. He's very fussy about making sure the handkerchief in particular is sanitized properly, though he's careful to ensure it isn't damaged. After all, he doubts Era would be pleased if anything befell it. He's cautious, doing his best to try and reduce his risk of also being infected- but at the very least, if he did succumb, they had a rather large supply of rubycress now.
By the time he finishes all the washing, he's used his magic to wick away the water from the things he's cleaned, leaving them clean and dry as he folds and organizes them all, carrying them back and setting them on a table in the room- and he checks on her once more.
He is admittedly loath to leave her... perhaps he could send for ingredients to be brought to the room. With the fireplace here, he could easily make the soup here, and have the chance to keep an eye on her.]
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The mattress is firm against her back and she is cocooned in blankets that smell of home.
There are worse things than this. ]
Thank you, Felih.
[ It is as Felih is in the other room, puttering around and creating a soothing white noise in the background that Era realizes she's missing something important to her comfort - her warm, aetherial friend. Her Carbuncle had been the first (and so far still one of the only) clues to her past, and had been the only comfort in life she had for a few moons.
The first time she summoned an Emerald Carbuncle it was like something clicked into place. It came to her like breathing, aether flowing through flesh and ink to create a Carbuncle that - oddly enough - had seemed to recognize her. Era nearly cried right there, in the depths of the arcanist's guild, when a piece of her heart and been returned to her in a loyal companion.
Over the years it's become second nature to summong Carbuncle without the need of her grimoire, nor aetherial ink. The geometry is clear in her mind and takes little effort to activate. As long as she isn't infusing Primal aether into it there is no reason to open a tome.
Still, stricken as she is with the Red Throat it takes a bit more effort than she would like. Not enough to be a worry, but enough to be an annoyance.
It's worth it the moment Carbuncle snuffles its way under the covers with her, curling up against her. It's a gentle, soothing warmth against her chest. A comfort in her arms. She need not worry about her aetherial friend catching any illness from her.
Era tucks her face in the crook of Carbuncle's neck, under the jut of its ear where the fur is softest. She gives it a fond kiss as one might do with a pet and receives a warm lick across her cheek in return.
Yes, this is what was missing.
The amount of aether she expended on its summoning was negligible, and Era looks no worse the wear for it. Though with the faint sheen of sweat on skin so pallid it brings the freckles dappled across her nose into great contrast and the way her lips are more red than rosy... Well, it would be an impossible feat to look much worse in such a short stretch of time.
Era coughs lightly into Carbuncle's ruff once, twice, and a third time. Not the painful coughs from a short while ago, but less forceful ones; manageable ones. The only blood that she expels is a small splatter that is quickly dissolved by her summon's aether.
She hums a soft note into its fur, cozy. ]
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[He is ever dutiful in his work, and by the time he comes back and sees the familiar glowing lump that is her carbuncle, all snuggled up under the covers, he laughs softly and then spends a moment deciding to leave his own companions to guard and warm her for the brief amount of time he would spend gathering supplies and ingredients to cook for her.
He summons his ruby carbuncle, a big, affectionate, snuggly thing about the size of a wolf. He's quite a big thing- not nearly as big as the topaz- but he is plenty cozy and big enough to curl up against her back and keep Era warm. All it takes is Felih gesturing at Era's sleepy form, and Rolanberry yips and wiggles attentively before hopping up to cuddle and stand guard.
Felih worries when she coughs, but knows that the disease must run its course. All that's left to do is tend to Era and ensure she's eating and resting, taking medicine, and wait it out. So, off he goes, and soon enough he returns with the supplies he needs, settling by the fireplace and setting up a cookpot. He hopes Era is sleeping all the while, and he glances at her as he cooks, just checking.
Though, he knows Rolanberry would bark if he thought Era was in danger, and Era's own emerald carbuncle would certainly make noise if something was wrong.]
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It doesn't take long for her to sink back into a hazy doze of not-quite-sleep but it's restful enough for now. Deep sleep doesn't come easily to her even on the best of days; body too keyed up and alert for any danger. ]
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Easy, easy- I'm sorry, I should've warned you. I'm leaving Rolanberry with you just to be cautious...
[Rolanberry is cuddling happily, giving a little yip of affirmation and purring as he curls up against Era once more, a content guard. He's big and warm, much like the fiery aether that fuels him, and he keeps more or less still once he's settled to keep from disturbing the ill Warrior too much.
Felih is cooking quietly in the meanwhile, still just humming softly as he works. As promised, he makes a fish soup, rich in flavor but light on the stomach. Fresh fish, vegetables, some herbs for both flavor and their medicinal properties. He's done his best to ensure the flavor isn't too strong, however- ill stomachs can be finicky. He lets it simmer, allowing all the nutrients to release into the broth, the flavors to meld together into harmony.
And while that settles, he starts organizing all the rubycress he's gathered into neat and tidy bundles for easy use later. It's all idle, things to keep him busy as he guards his employer.]
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While Rolanberry is warm and a welcome weight once she's aware of it, he can't compare to her own Carbuncle in terms of comfort. Era is much like a child with a plush toy with how she cuddles Carbuncle close to her, exhaling softly (less shaky than a short while ago, before her dose of the medicine) against velvety fur. She hasn't summoned it in a while, so preoccupied with healing that there was no opportunity for her to.
If Era was a different person, a bit more focused on herself and less on others, she might view this illness as a blessing in disguise. It's forcing her to rest and take it easy for the first time in at least twelve moons, and were others to learn of her bout of Red Throat they might be less demanding.
She drifts in and out of her cozy, sleepy haze. The smell of food is simultaneously welcoming and nauseating (a relatively unheard of symptom for Era, whose title may well have been 'of the Iron Stomach' had she not been the Warrior of Light), but she knows enough that she'll be eating a portion of it regardless. ]
I've a notebook of the patients I'm treating. It is open on the desk.
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But he stands while the pot cools, and picks up the notebook in question, starting to flip through it carefully.]
All this...? Gods... it seems as if no matter how much we try, Red Throat continues to break out in the Brume... There must be a way to remedy this. If there is perhaps a reservoir that harbors the disease between outbreaks...
[He's musing aloud to himself, as he reads through her notes. He knows he will need to gather even more rubycress- but perhaps he can work with the Lord Commander and have a greenhouse built in the city, one where medicinal herbs and plants can be grown en masse for use in the city. His mind continues to spark with ideas he chains together, like numbers in his arcanima, and he finally speaks once more.]
This aside... Can you sit up? Though I know your appetite has suffered, you must eat if you are to recover...
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[ Not soon enough for those who have already died, drowned by their own blood. There are enough pages in her notebook with the note of deceased by the names, along with their ages. Mostly the young and the elderly, but it hit a fair number of people in between as well. Hopefully soon she will have no need for books dedicated to the dead and dying.
To her retainer's question, Era does her best to sit up. It doesn't take long for her to realize the futility of this, with the weight of the blankets combined with Rolanberry's making it too difficult for her to push herself up. It's as though having laid down and rested opened a floodgate; her body taking advantage of the momentary respite to turn on her completely and force her to rest more thoroughly. The traitorous thing. ]
There's too much weight.
[ Both on her chest and in it. Though the weight atop of her has been comforting moreso than confining. Era's cheeks are flushed not with the telltale redness of a fever, but instead with the pink of embarrassment. The Warrior of Light, weaker than a pile of blankets. ]
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But he's distracted by Era's attempts to sit up, and he smiles and goes over to heave Rolanberry off of her.]
Up, Ro. Up- let Era sit. Ah... the blankets? Here.
[He pulls back all the heavy quilts and blankets before making a support for her back out of pillows and cushions, and helping her to sit up and lean back against them. It ought to help prevent her from straining her body too much just from trying to keep upright.]
There- is that better? I can adjust it as you need. So long as you're able to eat, I'll be satisfied.
[He does note the flush of fever, and sighs as he gently presses the back of his hand to her forehead, biting his lip nervously. Though he knows fever is simply a part of the disease running its course, he still doesn't like seeing people suffering from one- after all, how many folk have died from it before?]
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Her thoughts are interrupted as Felih helps her sit up again, back cushioned by down-filled pillows. She shifts only slightly, adjusting the way her torso is angled so it's a little easier to breathe. While ill, Era is still determined to do what she can of her own accord. But she offers Felih a grateful smile. ]
This arrangement is fine.
[ While the touch isn't unexpected Era still flinches when his hand touches her face. His hand is so cold against her skin, but rather than pull away she finds herself leaning into the touch. ]
I've a meeting tomorrow eve with the Lord Commander. [ Era is tempted to meet with him anyway, regardless of her health. While she would take care not to pass on her illness she should like to inform her friend of the current situation herself, and they did have important matters to discuss. ] Perhaps we could arrange for it to take place here rather than Borel Manor.
[ She has absolutely no clue that it was probably going to be another totally-a-date-but-not-actually-a-date date, nor does it occur to her that it may be inappropriate to invite Aymeric to spend time with her in her rooms at the Fortemps'. But it's Aymeric. And neither Lord Edmont nor any of his staff would think to make any gossip, since Era's oblivious nature with regards to romantic endeavors and overtures is fairly well-known, as is the Lord Commander's gentlemanly and proper nature.
Having high status does have its perks occasionally (even if that's yet another thing Era is more or less oblivious to). ]
Felih?
[ What are your thoughts on this, oh loyal retainer-friend? ]
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There's... well, it's not that I object to you meeting with Ser Aymeric, but you're ill, and not only do you need to rest, but there's also the worry that the illness could pass to him. Red Throat spreads so unpredictably, my lady, and there's no telling if he will fall ill as well.
...and, well, I know the Lord Commander to be as stubborn as you are about his own well-being, which only adds another layer of concern altogether.
I would recommend postponing your meeting until you are well once more, or at the very least send your concerns to him via letter. It would not be difficult for me to ferry the letters between you both while you're recuperating. Or I could even send Vehr'to- it would leave me more dispensable for your care.
[Somehow, though, he's also got the feeling Ser Aymeric wouldn't be sitting still if he discovered Era had fallen ill. Goodness, these two are hopeless.]
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She and the Lord Commander are so very much alike. It's why they initially weren't quite so impressed with each other, and now why they're so close. She sends him regular letters detailing her latest adventures (perhaps excluding some of the more harrowing aspects, given how prone to fretting her friend is) and he responds in kind, informing her of current events in Ishgard. They both know she has no head for politics, but they enjoy the correspondence nonetheless.
Era lets out a rattling sigh, lips curved downward in a frown. Considering how tired she is, she would be fine communicating via letter or Linkpearl. Aymeric, however, would want to know why she was not able to meet with him in person. And Era is both a terrible liar and someone who dislikes lying to her friends. ]
I cannot say I'm ill. [ Aymeric would lose his mind. ] He will wish to visit regardless...
[ And she can't say that she's out on a quest, because it would be far too easy to confirm with Edmont that she isn't. ]
And his concern would reach Lord Edmont's ears.
[ Era sinks back into the cushions, shutting her eyes and focusing on her breathing instead of her worries. Her lungs rattle with every inhale, but that isn't unfamiliar to her at this point. ]
There's nothing to be done for it now. [ It can be dealt with later. ] Shall we eat?
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You two are both hopeless- too concerned about others to worry about your own health. The Lord Commander would take Red Throat if it meant staying at your side. Very well... let's set that aside for now. I would rather see you fed and starting to gather strength.
[With that, he carefully sets a tray over her lap, upon which a filled bowl of the stew is set, along with some water, and some fresh fruit juice- something Felih no doubt went off to make himself, considering his fondness for the fresh treat. There is a small roll of bread with the soup as well, fresh-baked by the Fortemps kitchen.]
Go on ahead- let me know if there is aught you desire.
[And he begins to eat as well, at her beside, his own meal resting on her bedside table. Rolanberry is fussily nosing at Felih's arm, trying to get to his share of food, and Felih has to laugh and sigh, offering him a piece of bread to appease the greedy carbuncle.]
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