Art/Story – Aeramin – Morning in Shattrath

“Maena, you’ve been touching it again.  Haven’t you?”  Aeramin Firewind questioned as he pushed her hair back away from the wound.  He dabbed his finger into the healing salve on the table next to him.

“No.”

She had.  He was no healer, but he could tell that much.  It looked worse than it had the day before.  The small cut along her hairline that was caused by her fall against the table looked larger today, and it was still raw.

“If you keep picking at it, it won’t heal.”  He smeared the salve over the wound.  Maena flinched as he did.  “Hold still.  You don’t want it to get infected.”

“It stings.”

“That means it’s working, Maena.”  Aeramin replied as he made sure the wound was completely covered with a thin layer of the salve.  He wiped the extra salve off his finger.  It was the same thing she used to say to him when she doctored his scrapes and cuts when he was young.  He wondered briefly if it was true as he snapped the lid back over the salve container.

“Here Maena, I drew some more pictures for you to color.” he said, drawing her attention to drawings on the thick paper cards on the smaller table near the couch.  “Remember how much you liked to do landscapes.  I drew some outlines for you to…”

Maena stood, rather quickly.  Aeramin stopped mid-sentence and stood with her.  “Careful, Maena.  You don’t want to fall again.”  He helped her to the couch where she could sit and paint the simple outlines he had made for her earlier.  She had always been good with painting, but lately her forgetfulness was even affecting one of her favorite pastimes, causing her to forget what she was painting while she was painting it.  He hoped the basic drawings he made would help.

Her condition was deteriorating steadily.  Although she had calmed down since arriving in Shattrath, she was forgetting more and more.  The calmness meant she was less likely to start yelling at him for no reason.  He was unsure whether it was the effect of the Naaru on the population as the draenei priestess had claimed, or if it was because she had begun to at least recognize that he was taking care of her.  Those were the only two things that had gotten better.  She was calm.  She recognized him.  She still didn’t realize who he was in relation to her, and he wasn’t sure she ever would again.  He wasn’t counting on it, not with the way everything else was going.

At least he had finally heard from the priestess on the Aldor Rise.  She still hadn’t found anyone who could help with Maena, but she had spoken with some of the other priestesses.  As a temporary solution, so that he could run errands and such without too much worry, he could take her to the Aldor Rise to them.  He understood that they were hesitant to come to the Scryer’s Tier, but Maena’s mobility was rapidly declining.  Still, it might be good for her to get out.

He sat at the table where he did his work, bending briefly to pat the dark cat rubbing against his leg.  It might be good for him to get out as well.  As it was now, if he went anywhere without her, he always felt in a rush to get back.  If he took her with him, it was the same rush to return.  She was safest at home, despite falling against tables.  He could only imagine if she fell elsewhere, especially in this city with it’s tiers and ramps and elevators.

He needed a break.  He knew it.  He couldn’t take care of her if he wasn’t taking care of himself, and right now, he had too much to worry about.  His mother was sick.  His boyfriend was missing.  A demon in Shadowmoon Valley was looking for revenge.  Perhaps something as simple as a trip to the library without having to worry about Maena for a couple of hours would be enough.

Aeramin takes care of Maena’s cut.

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Filed under Aeramin, Art, Story, World of Warcraft

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