Verence opened his eyes to the stars twinkling far overhead, dancing muzzily through a slowly clearing haze. Night time... Had he fallen asleep? No, not mere sleep; one's head does not swim like this after a simple nap. Last he recalled, he had journeyed to Sarutabaruta in hopes of learning more of his condition, but had no memory of setting up camp... The Elvaan moved to rise and get his bearings but found an unfamiliar weight on his chest, preventing him. Glancing down in the dim light, he saw what appeared to be a spread blanket and a still form slumped against him.
By Altana, thought Verence. I've come this far bringing harm to none of the Five Great Races only to awaken disoriented, a corpse my only companion? And I'd thought myself making progress... A false hope, dispelled by blood on my hands anew. He groaned, wondering how to properly dispose of the body.
The form made a soft sound and shifted, seeking a more comfortable niche in response to his groan. Not a corpse, then... Nor did they seem to be injured, at least from what Verence could tell in the diffuse moonlight. How then, did he come to find them in all seemings to be using him as some sort of pillow? It made no sense... No sense until they shifted again, moonbeams falling full upon their face. Diamondelle! Recollection came crashing down upon Verence's fogged mind.
From the depths of Horutoto Ruins he'd dragged himself, nearly as much dead as he was alive after his scrap with the doppelganger twins. He was bleeding profusely, though his injuries lie as much without as within, thanks to the icicle's edge he had discovered in the fight... The gateway to a void beyond reckoning had opened, and Verence had acted as ferryman to the twisted souls of Gog and Dio. Their blades had exacted one price, but the heavier toll by far was demanded by the means of their passage.
Diamondelle found him then, incoherent and limping across the plains of Sarutabaruta. Though her magics took care of the wounds left by the spirits' scythe and spear, the wounds within remained. He had ranted some, he recalled, before rising and attempting to make his way towards Windurst. Diamondelle forbid him, saying she would not allow him to wander off and subsequently collapse... So he had obliged her by doing so then and there. He remembered no more.
And now he had awoken to find himself stretched out beneath the stars of a Sarutabaruta night, his erstwhile companion apparently having seen to his care before herself surrendering to sleep. Turning his head, he caught the gleam of his greatsword and pack, leaned against a rock. All was in order, at least... And while he knew that he ought to be setting out, he could not do so without disturbing Diamondelle. His gaze fell upon her again.
Serenity lay in those features, a word Verence had nearly forgotten was in the lexicon of late. With sleep came blessed forgetfulness, the briefest of surcease from worldly trouble... Let her sleep, then. Time enough to sort things out on the morrow. Verence lay his head back and closed his eyes.
Yes... Time enough for all things tomorrow. And time enough tonight for rest.