Headed by a Snake

The dark elf's ears twitched, sensing Tycondrius approach.

...He was far too tired to be overly careful of his steps. He'd activated too many skills in succession, in defeating the final gorgon. It felt like his brain was roasting on hot coals... like the heat was expanding the liquid within. When it finally popped, he'd hopefully reincarnate somewhere nicer. It'd all be over for the him in this world... but at least he'd be over this blasted headache.

Aria sat alone on the empty battlefield... adjacent to the magically petrified statue of Gold-Rank Weaponmaster Bannok. Nearby, stone debris laid about, remnants of the human's shield and shield-arm. Those were beyond saving.

The Priestess had stripped off her light armor and tossed the pieces haphazardly around her. In naught but a bloody pink tunic... and with dark circles underneath her reddened eyes, she looked pitiable and frail.

"I'm fine, hon..." She muttered in his general direction, "Ya don't hafta worry 'bout li'l ol' Ari..."

Tycondrius did not consider himself good at determining emotions... but he could tell that the elf was being deceitful.

'Fine' was subjective.

The Priestess was in a state of mourning and was in-fact, still weeping. Her mate had just been effectively killed-- and with his last breath, he sacrificed his body to defend her.

Her magical tattoos, usually a stark white on her dark skin, looked mundane and blurry. Her life force was waning, such was her grief.

Aria was not 'fine' by any definitions Tycon knew of.

He took off his helmet and used it as a seat to quietly sit beside her.

......Hm.

He offered some of his rations, "Would you like a... dried apple slice?"

Elves liked dried apples.

"No... Not quite in the hankerin' fer foodstuffs', Mister Tactician..." Aria smiled politely... "I reckon it won't sit well."

It seemed that Aria was suffering from psychosomatic symptoms, so severe was her distress. Tycon's concern grew exponentially.

Tycon leaned forward, supporting his chin with his fist... trying to strategize his next words.

Thankfully, the dark elf spoke first.

"You know... my momma didn't want me to marry a human..." She chuckled to herself... sad and somewhat derisively... "'He's no good for you,' she'd say. 'Humans are all no-good, unfaithful wretches that only think about one thing... Fightin', fightin' and more fightin''"

Tycon nodded, his mind still distracted... "So technically... three things?"

He was rewarded by the elf's light giggle, a more honest one... shortly followed by more tears silently sparkling down from her eyes.

"Yeah... Papa was all for it, though. I like to think he could tell Bannok was a good man. I just..."

"You just?"

"...I didn't think he'd leave me... not like this," The Priestess sniffed. "Ah always thought-- you know, we'd go out together. Dyin' in a blaze of glory. Big fight, spells explodin' every which way. You know, fightin' fer the Flame! Hah... and he goes off and gets put under... and he does it savin' me from an overgrown cow."

Tycon remained solemn and silent. He had plenty to say about their gorgon opponents... He could hail their martial prowess... or he could insult their general stupidity.

He chose to say nothing, fearing he'd worsen the woman's mood.

"Right after his best friend dies in front'a him..." Aria twisted her lips to each side... "Right after a buncha shites he trusted with his life turned out to be a buncha damn dirty heretics...

"Why... jus'... why couldn't I have saved him?" She began to cry in earnest... "Why... why couldn't it've been me?"

Tycon inhaled deeply. He was going to take a very large risk.

"...Bannok can still be saved."

Aria's tearful face abruptly contorted into a hateful glare, "Don't you start with me, Mister. I know full well what it takes to save mah husband... and it's a SIXTH. CIRCLE. spell. Now *I* don't know any Sixth-Circle mages-- and even if ah did, none of 'em wouldn't walk three STEPS to piss on a human, even if he were on FIRE."

Tycon gulped. His mouth was quite dry... "And if I told you I had a way?"

Aria took a deep breath to calm herself... and still, she quivered in tears and rage... "I'll... I'd do anything to get him back."

Her voice cracked as she spoke... Tycon's chest grew tight, listening to his relatively attractive traveling companion weep. He wanted to help her. More than that, he wanted to help himself by restoring a Gold-Rank ally to relative fighting condition.

"Help him, Mister Tactician..." Aria bowed her head, her tears dripping onto the cold, green Dungeon stones. "Anythin' you hafta do... even if Bannok hates you for it, even if his heart don't beat no more... I'll take all that hate. I'll tell him I made you do it. He can't never be mad at me-- you know that."

"I... will do so," Tycon grimaced... "But I am almost certain that I will regret it."

"Please..." Aria looked up with wide, sparkling eyes... "I'm beggin' you... Anythin' you want that I can give-- it's yours."

Tycon sighed again, standing up... "Very well."

He walked over to the Bannok statue... hatred still deeply set into the human's face.

It was somewhat of a shame. He 'died' well. Tycon was bringing him back for his and Aria's selfish purposes.

Tycon channeled his life force into his lungs... and into his breath. Shutting his eyes... he breathed.

The focused breath of a male from his bloodline had the magical power to undo magical petrification. Even if he wasn't the Ivory Prince... the offspring of Rylania, the Queen of Stone, he would have had an elevated status amongst his people, based purely on the rarity of his existence.

Flecks of stone began to fall from Bannok's form, revealing the color of his skin and armor. So, too, did blood begin to pool onto the floor from his missing arm.

After a few moments, the fully-fleshed, one-armed Bannok collapsed into Priestess Ariadne's arms.

Dazed, Tycon took in a breath through his teeth... The headache only became worse, affecting his balance and clouding his vision. He was teetering on the brink of mana exhaustion. Still... he still needed to stop the bleeding... "Aria, allow me to--"

"Stay back, Maedar," The Priestess warned in a hard voice. She cradled her husband in her arms... almost defensively, "You've done enough."

Tycon swallowed... nodding.

She knew.