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It has been too long, since Ventuswill was able to move around freely like this.
The exhaustion had slowly crept up on her over the course of centuries- each time a guardian sacrificed themselves for her, it had helped, pushed her back to what she had thought to be her baseline- but each time the baseline was lower, each guardian helping less and less.
And yet, with Frey's help, with the rune spheres, she can move without pain, without exhaustion, without blackness creeping in at the corners of her vision if she tries to do anything more than slowly, stoically, shift positions.
She can climb out the skylight of her sacred hall! Perch atop it, observing the town she's protected and watched grow over her entire lifespan!
She can fly across the town, over the nearby woods and fields, once again the powerful deity of wind rather than a dying husk who merely holds a title they cannot live up to.
She is, however, a bit too large to properly use most of the roads and pathways of the town. She's fairly certain that she could navigate them freely before her state began to deteriorate - but that was back in Leon's time. The town is practically unrecognizable from then, and she was not fully grown then either.
Instead, she mostly ends up perching atop the houses, listening in on conversations and occasionally butting in with an opinion or thought.
Not too often, mind you - she doesn't want the mortals to become too dependent on her wisdom of centuries, on the power she holds - both because she has severe doubts about her own wisdom and because, well, they deserve their independence.
However!
She cannot stop herself from joining the conversation when she overhears Vishnal talking to Leon-
"Have you seen Frey recently? Her and Arthur have both already been up by the time I go to wake them for the past several days."
Leon tilts his head. "Amber and I have been coming with her on quite a few dungeon crawls lately…"
Ventuswill sticks her head down. "What is this about Frey?"
Vishnal jumps to attention, and Leon merely smiles at her. "It looks like her and Arthur haven't been sleeping much lately."
Ventuswill hums thoughtfully. "A bad habit both of them share."
"Perhaps-" Vishnal stumbles over his words. "That is, if it isn't too much to ask - You are quite close to Frey, perhaps you could talk to her about it?"
She lifts her head. It's not quite sunset, but in the summer months, that's still fairly late. "Hm. I think I will."
She takes off with a single beat of her wings- she'll talk to them about it once it gets to be properly late.
First, she's going to fly a little longer.
To fly so freely, without pain- she had scarcely remembered what she had been missing!
None of the entrances to the couple's room are large enough for Ventuswill to actually fit through.
Her neck is quite long, however.
And despite the late hour, (she'd gotten a bit carried away, flying) neither of them is in their bed.
"Frey!" She calls out.
A few beats pass, and- "Coming, give me a sec!"
Frey ducks out of the back room the two of them have turned into a combined office-slash-crafting-room.
She's wearing a blacksmith's apron, her long hair tied back and out of the way.
Arthur follows behind, dressed in a nighttime robe, ink stains dotting his hands. "What do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Ventuswill?"
She gives Frey a stern look. "Somebody told me you two haven't been sleeping!"
They at least look properly ashamed for a moment before jumping to explain themselves-
"Well," Arthur begins, "Farmers across the region have had a particularly bumper crop of tomatoes and-"
"I've been working on a new sword for Forte for her birthday-"
"The Sechs empire is currently experiencing a food shortage so it's critical that the trade deal be arranged as soon as possible-"
"I've already gathered all the materials to enhance it! It's going to be one of my best yet-"
"Their current leadership, however, in the wake of Ethelbeard's death, is quite fractured, and-"
"It's coming up in under a week and I've got to finish the component hammer- I'm using light ore to transfer the-"
"I need to make sure to appeal to the pride of the restorationist faction or else-"
"ENOUGH." Ventuswill cuts them both off. "When is the last time either of you slept."
They again, have the grace to look properly chastised before her scolding.
"…Last monday." Frey finally offers.
"Only two days ago myself." Arthur adds.
"In my defense, as an earthmate-" Frey begins.
"GO TO SLEEP." Ventuswill roars at them. "You'll work better once you sleep!"
"But-"
"SLEEP." She cuts them off. "Now. Or I will drag you both to the clinic, and if that fails, sit on you until you actually sleep."
Frey sighs. "Fine."
Ventuswill manages to shove the tiniest tip of a wing in to gesture to their closet. "Now. Go put your pajamas on, both of you. I'm not leaving until you're both tucked into bed."
She waits patiently, glaring fiercely until they both fall into bed, wrapped around one another.
A pang of loneliness hits her, and she retreats.
(Mortal lives are so fleeting.)
She takes off into the starry skies, soaring far above Selphia.