Rory was resting, in his restless, uneasy way. Jigano knew how he felt, but had no doctor's orders to confine himself to a bed, nor desire to sleep until exhaustion forced his body into dreamless unconsciousness. Isuma was keeping watch over the hunter in his stead, the gryphon more somber than she had been before Long Night and all its attendant horrors. He hoped that it would pass and the spring would return her natural cheerful buoyancy, but for now his own grief and guilt weighed them both down.
He was not as fragile as he'd been when he'd first dragged his friend into the Temple, thanks to Rexanna. Rory, Amalia, and Edy had all survived, after all. But everyone was still tense and on edge, waiting for the next emergency, the next death knell to sound. The next assault on their protections. He should have been downstairs, encouraging his other friends, coaxing joy back into fearful hearts, but... not yet. He needed more time. Time to heal wounds no medic could reach. Those who had been outside with him... those who had felt the madness... knew something of what it was. Those who hadn't, well... he hoped they would never find out. But he couldn't find it in himself to reassemble his performer's mask just yet, from the broken pieces that still lay scattered at his feet.
For now the Infirmary was quiet, though, the remaining patients resting with their guardians and Isla's assistants taking what breaks they could to grab food or sleep. Jigano busied himself with cutting and rolling fresh, clean bandages in the dim light, fox's eyes better for seeing so he didn't need to bother anyone else with brighter lights. He glanced up briefly at the noise of soft feet whispering over stone, expecting one of the nurses to be returning, but instead he saw a stranger, green eyed and strikingly handsome wandering by, seemingly unhurt...
"Are you here to see one of the patients?" The tall, white-haired man asked softly. He was dressed in his usual clothes of pale colors, fitted close to this body and flowing into loose sleeves and trousers. His long hair was pulled only loosely back instead of in its usual braid, and his bruised eyes held shadows deeper than the dim infirmary lighting could account for as he watched Lucas approach.
He was not as fragile as he'd been when he'd first dragged his friend into the Temple, thanks to Rexanna. Rory, Amalia, and Edy had all survived, after all. But everyone was still tense and on edge, waiting for the next emergency, the next death knell to sound. The next assault on their protections. He should have been downstairs, encouraging his other friends, coaxing joy back into fearful hearts, but... not yet. He needed more time. Time to heal wounds no medic could reach. Those who had been outside with him... those who had felt the madness... knew something of what it was. Those who hadn't, well... he hoped they would never find out. But he couldn't find it in himself to reassemble his performer's mask just yet, from the broken pieces that still lay scattered at his feet.
For now the Infirmary was quiet, though, the remaining patients resting with their guardians and Isla's assistants taking what breaks they could to grab food or sleep. Jigano busied himself with cutting and rolling fresh, clean bandages in the dim light, fox's eyes better for seeing so he didn't need to bother anyone else with brighter lights. He glanced up briefly at the noise of soft feet whispering over stone, expecting one of the nurses to be returning, but instead he saw a stranger, green eyed and strikingly handsome wandering by, seemingly unhurt...
"Are you here to see one of the patients?" The tall, white-haired man asked softly. He was dressed in his usual clothes of pale colors, fitted close to this body and flowing into loose sleeves and trousers. His long hair was pulled only loosely back instead of in its usual braid, and his bruised eyes held shadows deeper than the dim infirmary lighting could account for as he watched Lucas approach.
