Atair follows, letting the women make their way and then keeping true to the place a guardian must take to be at the best advantage. His wounds sting, but it is better for him that they do - he so missed being of actual use and with real purpose. He grinds his teeth only once when the pace starts them up and over the initial dunes, but within no time at all he is properly accustomed again to movements in spite of the pain.

When Sayyida does finally remember the state her excursion left him in, he is already past the need for apologies and he shakes his head in silence at her offer to fetch the healer. "The wound hardly warrants calling her across the territory. It will not hamper us, now." His eye flicks to the silver lady, not trying to be brave but not entirely knowing if this was some other means for Sayyida to push her purpose again in the realms of matchmaking.

"Besides," a voice comes from an oddly angular dune, though Atair must have known he was there with how little he reacted to his birth-twin’s appearance, "he would never give you the satisfaction, I think." The tease at his brother’s expense is all the segue he needs, of course. He approaches Sayyida with a gentle breath puffed to Sayyida’s own nostril before extending his neck to better reach for Corona from a distance of respect. "I am Sir Lacks Humor’s twin. My name is Rigel," when he says it, it sounds like REE-ghel, and he draws his nose back in after without waiting any longer for her choice to exchange a breath or not.

The thunder of hooves announces the next brother, of course, his ripping over the sands so fast still causing enough sound to do so without needing to rely on his deep, rich, red coloration to catch the eye. He is leaner, longer, than his brothers and the wind seems to favor him most fondly. "A new one, Sayyida? I think she’s tired of only having boys to talk to!" He sounds as boisterous as his wild appearance would have called him already, a boyish grin of mischief fitting lopsidedly on his lips.

"Aldebaran. Manners." The deeper voice comes from the most predictable direction, though it had been subtle and quieter in approach than any of the others. "Wife, will you introduce me to your companion?" There is strain in his voice, a tension that is clearly arisen from his eyes locating the wounds on his younger brother and right hand general.