goodnight, you moonlight ladies

& i sing hallelujah, ripped through my veins

As a man he'd been given leave to enter into the Village. That was long ago though, as an artisan, and with Ianto and Arduinna has his support. As a manticore Remi hardly needed permission. Then again, perhaps that was because he was overtop of the trees rather than among them. But no, not even Remi was naive enough to believe the Fae wouldn't claim jurisdiction of the air-streams he now traveled in. Let them say something to him about it, if they chose.

Though he knew he'd not learn anything new, still Remi flew with eyes looking to take in information about the blight. Had it risen to the top of the trees? Were there places it hadn't touched? Was there somewhere immune he could take Ronin?

Hope was something deadly these days, with Ronin's hourglass depleting with every breath. And so it wasn't with hope or baited breath that the manticore flew through the starry night, but with despair and anger.

---

Come hang out with Manticore!Remi if you can fly high enough? :P

i heard the hammer drop, my blood in the rain

Coding base by Sky!

He had not meant to find his way to the Fae Village. Winging high into the night, the white raven had sought to clear the sluggish rage from his thoughts, and to pretend for a little while that he could run fly far away from his problems. From his illness, most of all, but also from the shame and guilt that ate at him. It was a temporary fantasy at best; by morning he would be back within the bounds of the Hollowed Grounds, making breakfast for Rory and finding solace in the hunter's worried embrace. But for tonight he indulged himself, flying until the air burned thin and painfully dry in his lungs, winging through the clear night until the world had started to go grey about the edges, and then he had dived, aimless in his descent, focused only on the feel of the wind pushing against his primaries like a solid force until he had pulled up more on instinct than any visual cue.

He was surprised to see structures beneath him, delicate and organic as they flowed into the forest around him. Fresh anxiety coursed through him as he flapped to regain altitude, hoping against hope that he hadn't been seen - or at least, not recognized. He hadn't mean to intrude where he wasn't welcome...

But he doubted Delah or her warriors would appreciate an accidental trespass any more now than they had before.

He flapped higher, searching for a thermal to carry him away from Sidhe when a darkness blotted out the stars above, wings far larger than any normal bird's casting a shadow that struck primal chords of terror in the raven's hindbrain. Jigano choked off a strangled croak of dismay, blue eyes wide in shock as moonlight caught the manticore, silvering upon its mane and wickedly curved tail.

Gods least fortunate, he let slip without quite realizing it, awe and no little fear in his mental tone.

Я

The raven was no more than a blur in Remi's vision. That he had the ability to scour the skies for indications of just how far the blight had spread, only to be made ineffective by his vision once again was frustrating, but at least it was something. Something that got him out of the house, away from the smell of the death that ever served as a reminder that, lest he forget, his husband was dying. Quite quickly now, in fact.

With wings over four meters wide, each thrust of them produced a staggering down draft as the manticore banked and glided effortlessly through the peaceful night air. If the fae below had seen him or cared, they're not indicated as such. Until—

—a voice. But one he recognized, not as fae, but as...well. Jigano had always been a strange not-quite friend, perhaps now even more so. Looking down with a frown upon his leonine lips and seeing precious little in the darkness, the manticore began to glide in a lazy circle.

Jigano? He 'called' back. Much as anyone could mentally 'call' or project outwards.

He had already begun to bank and flee, hoping that he hadn't been seen from below or above, and planning to make a break for his feathered little life. Get past Sidhe and drop below the canopy so he didn't stand out like such a pale appetizer on the wing, that was as far as his plan went, but the familiar voice stopped him in his proverbial tracks.

The problem with a bird being too startled to move was that they tended to fall quite abruptly.

Flapping madly to right himself and flip around to view the manticore again, Jigano's beak opened in continued awe and a little disbelief.

Remi!? came the first shocked question. But... how? When? How?! followed the next ones, examples of bardic eloquence in all its glory. You're huge!

Ah yes, Jigano: master of understatement and tact at his finest.

Я

In another life, Remi might have felt slightly pleased to have rendered the bard to only a few words. Smugness was not a trait the alchemist was known for, but given all that he and the Sage had been through together, a flickering of it might have been warranted. Now though, above a blighted wood with thoughts swirling darkly of his husbands immanent demise, there was little that could lighten the alchemist's mood.

A large vampire gourd full of the blight was making its way towards the Greatwood. It grabbed Melita and... Shrugging mentally, Remi continued his lazy arc around the smaller bird. ..it happened. I became this. As with most of the things that happened to him here in Caido, Remi had no more explanation than that. Mmm, quite large, yes. Large enough to ride, actually. The manticore added, affection colouring his words slightly as he thought of starlit flights with Ronin.

Another emergency shift, Jigano thought ruefully, cautiously flapping a bit closer to get a better look at the great creature Remi had become. As reassuring as it was to know that it was Remi's mind in the manticore, the raven's more primal instincts were still very much aware that he was snack-sized compared to the much larger predator. But I'm glad you were able to save her! It would have been far too cruel a fate for Melita's bright light to have been extinguished by a vampire gourd, when Fangorn was at her side. But the big gourd had the blight? As much as Jigano had hoped to avoid thinking of that tonight, he found his thoughts circling back around to it, a weight falling into his tone.

You said it grabbed her... was she bitten by it, then? he asked cautiously, thinking of the last time he had seen her as they made lanterns; the lethargy in her carriage and the dullness of her usually-bright eyes.

He shivered, feathers fluffing out, and he had to steady himself carefully so he didn't lose altitude again. He fell in with Remi's circling, keeping around head-height with the manticore but staying far enough away that they could both maneuver without bumping into each other. May I ask what you're doing out here? he asked cautiously, tone courteous but uncertain where he stood with the alchemist these days. Did they ever know where they stood with each other? I was... trying to escape my thoughts for a little while, he offered in return, mental tone growing quieter and more withdrawn. Just seeing how high I could go, and then how fast I could dive. Maybe part of him had been hoping he could dive fast enough to escape his problems, but alas, physics didn't work like that, even on Caido.

Я

Mmmm. The alchemist agreed with uncharacteristic darkness. As Jigano had noted, indeed despite the much more terrifying body he was currently in, he'd not lost himself to it. Perhaps it was because of how close it was to his other shifts; a lion's body, hawk wings. The tail was horrifying and new, but then scorpions weren't particularly known for their higher mental functions.

Not bitten, no. None of us were I do not believe. Then again, amidst the attacks and the raw power of the creature it was hard to tell. Rexanna and Sam had been all but crushed but it, after all.

Honest and open as ever, the alchemist wasn't surprised by the bard's question as much as he was by the offering of unsolicited information. Jigano kept his cards close to his chest at the best of times, around Remi anyways. With a soft pulse of appreciation at the offered information, the manticore nodded its great head in weary understanding. I wanted to see how far the blight spread from above. Not that my eyes give the clearest picture but...well. Remi's mind was a resigned ocean of frustration and worry. ...nothing else has yielded any real results.

That, and Ronin was almost literally a monster to be around these days, with nights being the worst.

If I did not think the fae might try and shoot me down, I would suggest a race. Remi chuckled as they flew above the darkened midnight blue wood below.

Do you have any idea how the blight is spread? The question wasn't entirely academic, a worried note of brooding in the bard's tone. I'm... worried about Melita. The admission was softer. She's been different lately. Sick, I think, and I don't know if it's just a Leafchange bug or... something worse. When you mentioned the pumpkin having the blight I thought... well. If it didn't bite her, then maybe not. He knew he didn't need to elaborate on what could be worse. Not to Remi, of all people.

It was hard to put into words what that pulse of appreciation meant to him. He had feared bridges burned and chances lost, too used to being always on the move to remember how resilient a network of people who truly cared could be. But neither Ronin nor Remi was treating him as the pariah he feared becoming, and in spite of their heavy conversation he seemed to perk up a little for a moment.

It doesn't hurt to look, and we might learn something new. It might look different between day and night as well, he agreed, though hearing that no one else had found any results was a disappointing - if not unexpected - revelation. He turned his attention to the passing trees below them, peering through the dark as best he could with eyes better suited to dawn and dusk. Still, the night was clear and the stars were bright. It wasn't impossible that they would see something, especially if it glowed beneath the leaf-lost trees of autumn.

I'd prefer to remain in one piece, too, the bard responded, a spark of dry humor resurfacing. Though if we did race I suspect I'd lose. If only to prevent you from 'eating crow' if I somehow beat you! The joke may have been weak, but it felt better than the seething twist of frustration and pique that hissed within his blood, just below the surface of his thoughts, constantly seeking insult and slight, real or imagined, at every opportunity.

Я

There was a palpable pregnant pause. Not because the alchemist was considering mincing words, but because the levity and emotional weight attached to what he was about to say felt heavy enough that his wings unconsciously beat harder to keep him aloft. The ascended, originally. Sam...told me as much. He did not know of course— For all the disagreements and head-butting between the alchemist and the Sage, on the subject of Sam's integrity there seemed to never be any variation. —but that is how it spread here. For the longest time I thought there was some barrier between plants and animals and us, insofar as the blight was concerned. That the Voice would not dirty her supply, perhaps. Ronin was an exception, as he contracted it through Safrin. Now that others are sick though... Well. Another dead end. I do not have it and have been around it as much as someone like Phoebe has, who has contracted it. I live with Ronin and all that entails as well.. Jigano could well fill in those details.

Worry flickered through the bond at the mention of Melita, the manticore growling low in his throat. How bad is it? He asked in a soft voice, both wanting and not to hear the answer.

Not to me. Remi chuckled wryly. Until I am familiar with a place it is like there is no light at all. Everything is flat. That has its advantages at times, but not now. If he could project what he was seeing to the bard, it would look like an unimpressive monochromatic colour study, painted with little attention to detail.

With a surprising snort of amusement, the alchemist sent a flicker of skepticism. And here I thought you a proud raven. My mistake. He countered wryly.

Oh no, Sam... Given how they had almost argued at Remi's wedding over the cause of the Blight, Jigano could only imagine the guilt his red-haired friend must have felt at learning that he had helped it spread. It would have been a terrible blow for the gentle man, and Jigano could find no satisfaction in hearing that he had been right in his suspicions. He could find no blame, either, for the bookmaker who had only ever wanted to help the people he loved. His weary heart ached for his friend, and he almost didn't realize Remi was still speaking as the importance of that revelation sank in.

He focused again with a bit of effort, a spike of startled concern arcing through the Attuned link at hearing that others beyond Ronin had fallen ill, too. Rory hasn't caught it yet, either, he admitted without thinking, worry and relief in his tone. He didn't know if it was only a matter of time... but the hunter refused to leave him, or to let him leave, even more stubborn than the bard.

Melita? She was... dimmer, somehow. She had no energy, and her hands shook as she worked on her lanterns, he admitted. It could just be a normal sickness, though. I had a bad fever for awhile as well, but it passed in time. Not without a price, though. Had that been the onset of his own corruption, or simply bad timing? At least he still had his sight, which Remi's reminder had him wincing a little internally. Ah, my apologies. I'll keep an eye out for both of us, then. He still had little understanding of how Remi's sight worked, but this did not seem the time to probe at it.

The returning joke felt good, but Jigano felt a prickle of guilt at the alchemist's words that had more to do with himself than anything the alchemist had done. Not so proud as I was, he admitted softly. Except, perhaps, in all the wrong ways.

Я

He is more than a little upset, as you can imagine. The Voice said it had something to do with portals? So far in Remi's limited understanding, the portal simply went from the Spire to the Greatwood. A bit of a time-saver, but seemingly lackluster in the big scheme of things. Sam...I think is caught between wanting to be part of that family and the evidence of the Voice's destruction that he can see. Not that Jigano would need Remi to spell it out so clearly of course. But what is done is done now, I suppose.

Whether or not that was true remained to be seen.

I am glad to hear it. The alchemist thought with a mental sigh of relief. For all the distance between he and Rory and how their paths had irrevocably pulled away from one another, still there was more than enough friendship between them to make Remi's relief almost palpable. And you? Remi asked almost offhandedly, thinking the raven would have led with his own illness had it existed.

The mention of shaking hands had the manticore mentally starting with a foreboding twinge of worry. That was one of Ronin's earliest symptoms too...A lack of appetite, weariness...temperature and mood swings. The list went on, and you only had to look briefly at the captain to see what the illness would do once it progressed. It didn't need saying.

As he was wont to do, the alchemist's words had struck a chord he hadn't intended and a trill of regret flashed outwards from him towards the raven. It would do no good to say that he hadn't meant the quip as a reminder of what had happened, and so the manticore simply vowed to be slightly more cautious. As much as he could, anyways. This place as a way of doing that.

I suppose it's for the best that we haven't unearthed the one beneath the Spire yet. I've been hesitating to do so since we didn't know how the blight was spread in the first place and I was worried about an infected person going through it and bringing the sickness to somewhere new. If the portal itself is one of the main causes... He trailed off wearily, gliding and then flapping to keep up with the much bigger manticore. If the serpent survived he will hopefully be safe now that the poison is gone. Perhaps it would be best to leave the stone wall in place for a while longer, to try and keep the blight contained as much as we can. And part of that meant containing the Voice and her Ascendeds, from what Remi had said. All we can do is give Sam as much support as we can, and hope he can shake free of the Voice. I hate to think of how she's used him. There was a growl in his tone, a more animalistic response than the usually-controlled bard allowed to show as his temper spiked erratically at a target worth his ire.

What lay between Remi and Rory was something Jigano had carefully never pursued; one question that didn't need an answer, for it had little bearing on the present. They were friends now, but the bard didn't question that the alchemist was loyal to Ronin, just as he trusted Rory's love and honesty with him. The needs of harvest and the herd had meant the farmer spent most of his time at home now, though, and so those in the settlement saw little of him these days. No, it was the question that followed that silenced the bard, and he weighed the truth against a clever misdirection, hiding his sickness from all but his mate.

Hiding had caused nothing but trouble, though. And it wasn't as though he could hide this forever.

I am not so lucky, he admitted at last. I thought I was just sick, that my fever had lingered, but... Ludo enlightened me of that misconception. I can deal with the rest, but it's the anger that's the hardest to hold back. But Remi knew far more about that, living with Ronin. The list of symptoms the alchemist recounted shortly after fit well what Jigano had experienced, and he sent a pulse of wordless agreement to the manticore.

The raven snorted - regretting it almost immediately as it interfered with the breathing pattern of flight, and scrambling a little to steady himself - mentally waving off the sense of regret from the manticore. Oh, I did it to myself. I just can't seem to swallow my damn ego long enough to admit it to the ones who deserve it most. I'm too busy being hurt and angry half the time to say what I want to say, and instead it's all bile and excuses and lashing out at those I want least to hurt. Perhaps oddly - or perhaps not - the distance and not-friendship he had with Remi made it easier to talk to the alchemist about some things, their relationship holding different threads of tension but far less personal wounds these days, and more respect for what the younger man had survived and endured.

Я

The manticore gave a shrug. Well, with the poisonous gas cleared I suppose it will not be too difficult now. Although we did crumble a few walls in the process. He added with an unapologetic sort of wince. The point of venturing down into the Spire had been to try and alleviate some of Ronin's symptoms. It might have been incredibly short sighted, but the alchemist (nor the rest of the party, it seemed) cared much for what else the basement might hold past the poisonous plants. I am not sure it is...Ronin contracted the blight because of Safrin...and when asked, the goddess merely said there were other things in the Spire. Knowing now that the ascended spread it to the greatwood...I wonder if we should have ever bothered with the Spire at all..

Whether or not Sam had been used was something Remi tried not to think about too closely. Would the bookmaker have done what the Voice asked, had she explained? Presumably she did have a plan in all of this, and from what little the alchemist knew of her, she could be quite persuasive.  Sam and I did try and go speak with her...but she did not appear. At least, she spoke to him but did not present herself as she normally does. What I was meant to read into that I do not know, but I have my suspicions.

Pulling in a surprised breath at hearing that the bard was indeed sick, the mention of his anger immediately drove Remi's thoughts to Rory. The alchemist knew little of what was actually between the two men, other than an obvious closeness, but having suffered at the hands of his own love, his heart went out to the gentle blue-eyed farmer knowing precisely what it was to see someone so close to you take their anger out on everything within range.

I am sorry to hear it. I suppose I needn't tell you that we are doing everything we can to find a cure, or at least further answers.. Remi would not offer platitudes or empty promises. He hated hearing them himself and for all their differences, he thought Jigano likely wouldn't appreciate it either.

For all that goes on in your mind that is not said...it makes you an easier target than most, I think. Ironically perhaps, it was Jigano's armor of wisdom and experience that made him the villain in most of these instances. Where the rest of them held their insecurities and faults loosely, the bard only showed the best of himself to them...making it all the more unsettling with the facade slipped away to the actual man beneath. I am sure the blight-rage hardly helps. Ronin has smashed up our kitchen simply because he has spilled a bit of water on the floor.

It was a stab in the dark Jigano admitted wearily. At the time I suggested it, I knew that there were sick plants in the Greatwood, and plants that spewed poison in the Spire. There's water beneath it, too; I could feel it rumbling around us the last time I was down there. I thought maybe the poison was seeping into the water and flowing into the Greatwood underground, perhaps rising close enough to the surface there for the roots to reach. It was only a tenuous connection at best, but I was willing to try anything. Even before she was blighted, Safrin warned me that the Greatwood only had a year or less to live at the rate the blight was spreading. Trying something seemed better than doing nothing. And now it had become personal for him, as well, a clock that ticked down with inexorable steadiness.

He listened curiously at the recounting of the visit to the Voice, and there was a sense through the link of eyes being narrowed, a tendril of suspicion at the goddess's behavior. She doesn't trust us. Non-Ascended, I mean... though Attuned more than most, I'd guess. I visited a Shrine with Isla once as well, and found myself excluded. If she really was working for a peaceful coexistence and the benefit of everyone, why does she have so much to hide? ...A rhetorical question, he snorted - mentally this time. I don't trust her. Every time I learn something new about her, the more I want to stuff her back in that Spire and put her back to sleep for another few centuries or so. Preferably without catching the surrounding mortals in a barrier this time, of course.

I know. Thank you, he added, appreciating the honesty as much as the reassurance. Now that I know there aren't any answers to be found in the Atheneum's books, I'm... well, I'm a bit lost, to be honest. I don't know where to look next. I should speak to Arduinna again, he added with a sigh. I told her I'd share any information I learned with her, and what you told me about the Ascended is finally something concrete at least. I just don't want Sam and Rex getting in trouble with the Fae... Or anyone else, for that matter.

Remi's simple explanation gave the bard pause, a flicker of surprise dancing across the link as they flew. He'd never considered that aspect before, and it was an unsettling realization. One he would have to think over for some time to come, but the offered excuse only earned a pulse of rueful negation. No, I can't put the blame on that. Ever since I learned that I was... infected... I've been keeping a closer eye on my temper. I'd rather fight another Spire Monster, some days, but knowing that it's not me has made it a little easier. I've broken a few plates and mugs so far, but mostly I'm able to keep it leashed. A battle that he didn't like to admit that he was losing ground to a little more every day...

And wasn't that what Remi had just pointed out?

It's getting harder though, he admitted quietly. I hate this feeling of losing myself. Sooner or later... He hesitated, but Remi knew better than anyone what was happening. You might have to restrain us, he said softly. For our own sakes. So we don't hurt anyone by... by accident.