He'd only been gone long enough to take care of some essential hygiene and ask Rexanna to bring some food up to the Infirmary, but when he'd returned it had been to see Remi disappearing into Rory's room with the rear end of... a... horse?
Before Long Night he would have been far more curious about why a horse was inside, but maybe it was an Attuned or...
Or maybe he just couldn't be bothered to care. Though he might have slipped into the room in his foxform, he didn't know what he would do if Remi tried to speak to him telepathically again. As frayed about the edges as his mind had become he didn't trust himself not to lash out, and if Rory didn't want Remi around, well, the hunter was able to speak up for himself, even while he was recovering.
The bard had been avoiding almost everyone else since he'd half-carried Rory into the Temple, except for the hunter, Amalia, and Rexanna. He hadn't ventured down the stairs to the Rathskeller at all yet, feeling a fragile sort of dangerous. Or maybe he was dangerously fragile... guilt could do strange things to a man. This time, at least, no one had died, but he still blamed himself for how close they'd both come. Edy was a primal sort of human, in tune with fire to an almost frightening degree, and still quite young. The madness had taken advantage of her in a way that still made him bristle in a protective sort of protest, but he had no such excuses for himself. What he had thought - what he had done - twisted in his already-fractured soul like a maggot, eating away at him from within in spite of the support from the few friends he had allowed near. Isuma, when she wasn't asleep on Rory, stayed tucked up on his shoulder, subdued and half-hidden beneath the long white mane he'd only loosely tied back.
His slow feet had taken him to the Shrine without him quite realizing where he had gone. The Long Night still raged outside, but the Temple's stone walls were thick. His eyes had adjusted to the dimness, though - or had they become a fox's eyes? He wasn't sure he cared about that, either, though it should have fascinated him to study the limits and capabilities that he seemed to have regained. Not to mention being able to turn into a raven. That was... new. And it had been useful, too, for which he was dimly grateful.
He had another reason to be grateful now, though. He might not have intended to come to the Shrine, but sank to the ground anyways and bowed his head, looking at his empty hands in silence. He had no instrument this time, no gift to offer. He wasn't sure he wanted an answer, for that matter. But it would be churlish to stay silent now that he was here. At last he closed his eyes, his world narrowing to the sound of his breathing and the slow, somber beat of his heart. "Thank you... Ludo..." he murmured, but he got no further before the soft scuff of footsteps caught his ear.
He swallowed down frustration and turned, but the woman standing there had his expression lightening, even if a smile still felt as far away as sunrise. "Amalia ," he murmured, glad to see her up, but blue eyes searched her face hesitantly for signs of anger or approbation. But... no, she had fallen before he'd transformed, hadn't she? She didn't know...
Guilt twisted like a snake in his guts and he winced, rising to his feet with a shadow of his usual grace as he offered her his arm for support in case she was still weak. "I'm... sorry." Gods, the words felt hollow and insufficient. "Would... would you like to pray in private?"
Before Long Night he would have been far more curious about why a horse was inside, but maybe it was an Attuned or...
Or maybe he just couldn't be bothered to care. Though he might have slipped into the room in his foxform, he didn't know what he would do if Remi tried to speak to him telepathically again. As frayed about the edges as his mind had become he didn't trust himself not to lash out, and if Rory didn't want Remi around, well, the hunter was able to speak up for himself, even while he was recovering.
The bard had been avoiding almost everyone else since he'd half-carried Rory into the Temple, except for the hunter, Amalia, and Rexanna. He hadn't ventured down the stairs to the Rathskeller at all yet, feeling a fragile sort of dangerous. Or maybe he was dangerously fragile... guilt could do strange things to a man. This time, at least, no one had died, but he still blamed himself for how close they'd both come. Edy was a primal sort of human, in tune with fire to an almost frightening degree, and still quite young. The madness had taken advantage of her in a way that still made him bristle in a protective sort of protest, but he had no such excuses for himself. What he had thought - what he had done - twisted in his already-fractured soul like a maggot, eating away at him from within in spite of the support from the few friends he had allowed near. Isuma, when she wasn't asleep on Rory, stayed tucked up on his shoulder, subdued and half-hidden beneath the long white mane he'd only loosely tied back.
His slow feet had taken him to the Shrine without him quite realizing where he had gone. The Long Night still raged outside, but the Temple's stone walls were thick. His eyes had adjusted to the dimness, though - or had they become a fox's eyes? He wasn't sure he cared about that, either, though it should have fascinated him to study the limits and capabilities that he seemed to have regained. Not to mention being able to turn into a raven. That was... new. And it had been useful, too, for which he was dimly grateful.
He had another reason to be grateful now, though. He might not have intended to come to the Shrine, but sank to the ground anyways and bowed his head, looking at his empty hands in silence. He had no instrument this time, no gift to offer. He wasn't sure he wanted an answer, for that matter. But it would be churlish to stay silent now that he was here. At last he closed his eyes, his world narrowing to the sound of his breathing and the slow, somber beat of his heart. "Thank you... Ludo..." he murmured, but he got no further before the soft scuff of footsteps caught his ear.
He swallowed down frustration and turned, but the woman standing there had his expression lightening, even if a smile still felt as far away as sunrise. "
Guilt twisted like a snake in his guts and he winced, rising to his feet with a shadow of his usual grace as he offered her his arm for support in case she was still weak. "I'm... sorry." Gods, the words felt hollow and insufficient. "Would... would you like to pray in private?"
