#radiantpaths

Rhys isn't surprised when Ike shows up to ask for healing for mere scratches. He's been doing this for so long that Rhys doesn't remember when it started, but he does remember thinking at some point that, rather than healing, Ike was there for something else. Maybe someone to talk with or to have a moment of peace. He isn't sure, Ike never says, but Rhys never asks.

"Sure, Ike. Take a seat." He gestures to the cot that's been set up for patients (Ike counts, right?) and when Ike sits Rhys offers him a juice box.

"There's a woman passing out juice boxes. I asked her for one, I was feeling a little light headed, and she gave me two. So, here."

After Ike accepts it, Rhys picks up his staff. "This mock tournament is really kind of interesting. I've never heard of anything like this back home." As he speaks, he places his hand over the scratches that adorn Ike's upper arm. The familiar surge of healing magic comes forth and, when he removes his hand, the scratches are gone. He squeezes Ike's shoulder affectionately before pulling away.

"All of this energy makes me want to get up and go see all the matches, but then I get tired." He laughs sheepishly. "A lot of people come by the med tents though so it works out."

What the hell is this sugar bomb on Ike's plate? He looks at it like it's an insult. He doesn't want to waste it, but he doesn't really want it, either. When he sees that familiar woman (girl? He cannot tell), he wonders if she'd like it.

Wait, no. No one would want his leftovers. Or maybe she'd be just as angry at the food waste as he would be?

He bows politely. "Hello, Miss." It's more polite to call a woman Miss than Ma'am, right? Makes them feel younger, and they value that. He thinks. He hopes. He's thinking way too hard about this. "Have you tried these bun things?" Please take them away from him. Please.

Ah, the polite one returns! And as well he comes bearing gifts, no less! It has been a short while now since they last crossed paths, but it appears as though his manners haven’t waned with time in the slightest. That is good. There is still yet hope for this world.

“Hm… They do ring a bell of sorts, yes. Though I cannot quite recall if I have had any, myself…” Sothis sighs, leaning her cheek into a palm over crossed arms with a small frown. Such is the unfortunate consequence of seeing so much over so long, and yet doing so little for even longer. To be alive in the physical sense is much more a memorable experience than the rest, to be sure, but… differentiating what has been tried in truth or tried in dream can be much a struggle.

Still, new or not, Sothis cannot help but chuckle at the look on his face as he speaks of them. “Why, are they not to your liking as you had hoped?” She smiles, feigning a look of empathic concern to mask her amusement at least a little, to hopefully non-offensive levels that wouldn’t be misconstrued as mocking. But honestly, who wouldn’t be a little amused by the sight? Such a large, intimidating figure — yet so terribly uncertain, almost nervous — and over such small little pastries? It’s adorable, really.

Or… perhaps it is simply the prospect of speaking to her again that worries him so? She couldn’t necessarily blame him for feeling as such, should that be the case, but… Sothis’s expression softens ever further, just barely as she reaches her arms out to receive the plate, all the same.

Ike just wanted a drink. It was a party, right? Might as well enjoy the offerings.

Except the crowds were dense, and Ike struggled to push past them, even at his size. He squeezed in when he could, but the tide of the crowd pushed and pulled. Eventually, some drunk idiot pushed him, knocking Ike off balance.

He fell backwards against a wall. Wait a second; there were no walls here. He turned to look, but saw no wall, only a ghost.

"What?" Ike's eyes widened. "You're dead," he said stupidly.

Like a boulder in the middle of a stream, Dheginsea holds strong against the growing current of the crowd. His feet ironed willed to the soft sand bellow. Unmoving and solid, buying his time on went to step and when to wait.

But with moving too and from different stations to keep watch on those by the shore, he supposed it was only a matter of time before someone would crash into him given the growing crowds. Regardless of the precaution he had taken.

However, though he does not budge, a brow of his had slightly quirked upward as Dheginsea turned to see who it was that had crashed into him. Finding it rather.. odd to see the beorc commander from the tower here of all places.

[ TXT ]  :  I am as well as one can be, I suppose.

[ TXT ]  :  Though I have been getting quite the… odd number of texts as of late, now that I am thinking about it.

[ TXT ]  :  But never mind that. It is not your burden to bear.

Rhys isn't the type to want physical things, and Ike knows this. Still, it feels weird walking around and seeing pink banners and things on sale and not do anything for it. They're both comfortable enough, money-wise: they can afford a little splurge. Right?

"I know it's cheesy," Ike says as they're getting ready for the day, "but I kind of made plans for us." He rubs the back of his neck. Ugh, why is this so embarrassing, and so difficult?

"If you're feeling up to it, we can do a picnic by the lake. Or we can eat here if you're not." It's all prepped, either way.

It's their first Day of Devotion together. Rhys wishes he felt better prepared, that he had something in mind, but with how he's been sick and only just getting to his full strength again (little as it is), he hasn't had time to really prepare anything. Though he doesn't think Ike would want much, surely he will want to spend the day together.

And he does. Why had he been worried in the first place?

"Let's go out." He finishes pulling on his cloak and moves toward Ike. "I'm getting tired of being in here all day. Plus, it looks like great weather today."

Looking up at Ike, he feels his heart swell with affection. Without thinking, he pushes himself up on his tip toes and kisses Ike's cheek.

It had been a tough few battles, but he made it out of there alive and in one piece. The same can't be said about his dignity, as he's still wearing the Aytolian garb. Is that what someone calls something from Aytolis? How does Ike even know where Rowan is from? Whatever.

The moment Ike finds Rhys, he gathers him into his arms, and leans his chin on the soft bed of ginger hair. "Hey," Ike says. "I tried something a little different this time: I was a healer." He huffs, a tiny laugh. "I sucked at it. I forgot I was supposed to be a healer, and let a kid pass out. I don't know how you do it."

He's always admired Rhys, but he admires him more now. Ike is exhausted from trying to keep an eye on things.

"Also, we fought against Ashnard. Four times. I don't know what that was about."

Even knowing nothing would happen to Ike during the arena bouts, Rhys had watched on edge. Not because he didn't trust Ike or thought he would get hurt, but he wasn't there to heal him. Never mind the fact that he may not have been given a staff at all if he had participated, he wasn't there. Even though the battles would've been strenuous, he was sure it was nothing he couldn't have handled. Perhaps next time...

He's all smiles when Ike emerges. He would take the time to study his new outfit if he wasn't immediately engulfed in his arms, pulled close until he's snug against him. Rhys curls his arms around his backside and smiles at the thrum of his voice through his chest.

"For someone who has never healed before, I think you did well. Though, if you ever want lessons, I would be happy to teach you. Free of charge, of course." A teasing tone laces his words. After all, he's a professor now.

"Hey. Good work out there," Ike says. "I think you're the only one who didn't get weird out there. Keep it up."

Probably easier said than done.

"Hey." He returns the man's greeting with one in kind, alongside a nod of acknowledgment. A similar compliment could probably be turned on him, too; he's the one who tried to get the mage to behave, even if it didn't pan out. Handled it better than Wolf wanted to, too -- and apparently all while an enemy of his kept coming back for more.

"...Yeah. Thanks. You too." Another nod, short and decisive. "Good work trying to get the battlefield back under control." Just thinking of it hurts his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose briefly. Hopefully that's done and over with. When his hand pulls away, he looks back to the other.