Ben feared he was too late.
It’d taken him much longer than he anticipated to locate the wayward Allagans within the floating islands of Azys Lla. Thankfully, Midgardsorm was there, and somewhat willing to help. But not without a lot of grumbling.
Ben had tracked Amon and Scylla from the moment they set foot in the port of Limsa. He’d followed and observed as they made their way through the snowy lands of Coerthas, and had to hold his hand when the bard was taken down by local wildlife… only to be rescued by his white mage companion.
In fact, the beginning of a friendship seemed to form between the two – the kind that happened between travellers on a journey with a common goal. But when they finally got to the base of Syrcus Tower, something happened, and Ben had lost all sense of their location.
They’d simply disappeared.
Well, not exactly disappeared… more like teleported. And at first, he didn’t know to where.
By the time Ben finally picked up their trail again, the damage had already been done. It was apparent that Scylla had come to her former senses, and had taken Amon captive. For what exactly, he didn’t know.
-They are here.-
Midgardsormr unfurled a plume of blue flame in indication. Perched on Ben’s shoulder, he pointed the mage through the winding Allagan construct.
“Your assistance is appreciated.”
-Speak naught of such.-
-These vile creatures deserveth this not.-
Ben smiled faintly. “Yet you are here.”
-Aye. Despite the failure of the Allagans to remain civil or overcometh the trials set before them. I remain dutiful. Which is more than can be said of them.-
The mage did not reply as his attention was fully centered on the scene in the small room before him. What had once been part of an ancient lab was now reconfigured into a makeshift resting quarters.
There, wrapped in a lab coat and lying on the bed, was Scylla. She was heavily aether-drained and had taken a good bit of physical damage. Amon leaned over her, wrapping one of her wrists in a bandage that looked to be old enough to fall apart at the touch. He, too, seemed to be wounded, but was currently ignoring his battered state of being.
The other Elezen’s ears twitched ever so slightly as Ben approached, his chin instantly jerking up. Wincing way from the mage’s gaze, Amon gave a deep, suspicious scowl. The bard seemed to fight the urge to put a hand up in front of his face to cover it from view.
“Relax,” Ben spoke softly, “I’m here to help you.”
Amon didn’t relax. And he didn’t look particularly convinced. He rasped quietly in response, “Who are you and how did you come to this place?”
The mage pointed to Midgardsormr.
The bard made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.
“And here I’d always heard you were the friendly type,” Ben teased the other Elezen gently, hoping a little humor would diffuse the tension.
“Aye, when I have reason to be. Meeting another unexpected… and in this place… holds many complications,” Amon had turned away so that his face couldn’t be seen, but not so much that his back was to the mage.
-Quit thy belly-aching, Allagan.- Midgardsormr finally chided. -Thou art fortunate to have any assistance, much less from one capable of bringing thy thankless posterior away from this floating tomb.-
The bard looked as if he wanted to retort, but remained silent and simply nodded. Then, he walked over, picked up a battered Allagan node and wordlessly studied the damage.
-Tis a sign of acceptance,- the dragon told Ben before coming to perch on what once was a counter on the far end of the room.
Not wanting to waste the opportunity, the mage approached Scylla and took a good look at her wounds. Ben was no skilled healer, but he was afforded enough knowledge to hopefully get her into travelling shape and back to a town where she could be properly tended.
At least, that’s what he hoped.