Cold as Ice

The cold lingered in his skin, numbing him to all but the greatest heat, but he welcomed the ache of returning feeling as each day grew a little easier to bear. The blackness still made itself known in his blood and the veins of his eyes, a disgusting ropy tar in his saliva that stole the savor from food and drink, but it was thinning by the day. His eyes were visibly blue again, and though his hands shook they were no longer tipped in claws.

He wore his cloak wrapped around himself as he made his way into the Infirmary, giving nods of greeting and wan smiles to the volunteers who worked there; the men and women preparing bandages and suturing thread for the coming Long Night, and tending those who had come down with Deepfrost ailments and injuries. He had once learned in the Infirmary alongside Isla, and worked there under Vai. It had been a season since he had had the time to offer his services, however, and with his shaking hands he was nearly useless at the moment - if his still unstable temper didn't make it unwise for him to deal with patients in the first place.

What he could do, however, was begin the slow task of packing the windows with fresh snow moss gathered while preparing Rory's farmstead against the coming dark. He had shamelessly used his Beastmaster ability to send songbirds and squirrels searching for the icy moss and then followed after to gather up the bounty that they led him to. The large pack on his back was deceptively light as he made his way to the back wall of the Temple and began pressing the moss into the cracks around a window sill, humming softly to himself as he went.

loren

Loren had given up hope of convincing anyone that staying in the Launceleyn Manor was a good idea. Although he still had reservations about the temple—and he hadn’t actually been given the official decision by Wessex—he’d been throwing himself into preparations at the Rathskeller and Infirmary. If people were going to insist on staying there, then he’d do what he could to keep them safe. However, he still couldn’t help but feel that they were endangering everyone by not insisting they stay in a more secure location. Still, forcing the issue would cause more problems than it was worth, and people wouldn’t stay where they didn’t feel safe.

He knew that better than most, considering the reaction they’d had to the Manor. Though he wished someone had raised these objections before he’d started working and before he’d gotten his hopes up, all his dreams had been crushed recently, and he’d messed up with the Fae. All that was to say he wasn’t exactly in a position to complain or to make decisions.

What he could do, at least, was make sure they were ready as they could be. Which was why he entered the infirmary, fully intent on assisting the other volunteers in stockpiling supplies and securing the windows. However, the sight of one volunteer in particular stopped the Launceleyn in his tracks: Jigano was there, and the summoner’s jaw nearly dropped.

Oh sure, they’d put up the perch together without incident, and the bard had seemed fine then. But that was a far cry from letting someone with the blight near their medical equipment. They still didn’t know how it was spread, and though it wasn’t through any known method, this seemed ill-advised. Plus, although people claimed the Roses had worked and the blight was receding, the Launceleyn didn’t know that he trusted the miracle cure.

So as he approached the white-haired man, Loren had a way expression on his face. ”Jigano. What are you doing here?” The words weren’t hostile, but they were devoid of pretty much any and all emotion. Instead, they carried a bone-deep exhaustion and a sense of hopelessness that grew deeper with each passing instant. Jigano might be on the mend, but the Launceleyn certainly wasn’t.

Never judge a book by its cover.

It was a sign of how sick he still was that he didn't notice the footsteps approaching from behind. The bard pressed cold moss into the cracks of the window sill with shaking fingers, lost in his thoughts and letting the repetitive task dull the bite of the blight still in his blood. It dulled his other senses as well, however, and Loren's voice came as a surprise. There was enough traffic and bustle in the Infirmary behind him that it didn't scare him, but he couldn't entirely keep the flinch from his shoulder blades as he was called out by name.

He finished securing the fluffy moss he was in the middle of stuffing a crack with before he turned, using the time to steady himself and bring a smile to his face, even if it was just an act. It wasn't Loren's fault, but the blight made it hard to push through to happier emotions and so the mask had become the norm rather than the exception, ever since Leafchange had changed more than just the leaves.

"Hello Loren," he greeted with a nod, taking in how weary and worn the mage looked with a flicker of concern in black-blue eyes. Amalia and Rory had looked much the same, and he knew he looked no better, though his appreciation for what he had regained offset many of the ravages the blight had worked on him. "Thank you for helping with the perch." He hesitated, remembering how little the Launceleyn had known of Long Night traditions the last time they had talked... which felt like a lifetime ago. "I'm packing the windows with snow moss for Long Night. Did you have a chance to read up on it?" No point being pedantic if it was a tradition Loren already knew of.

Given the other man's exhaustion and flat voice, he hoped that was all it was - simple curiosity wrapped in a shell of weariness. If Loren wanted to pick a fight in the middle of the Infirmary... Taunting a blighted man was a great way to get one.

loren

Loren wasn’t buying Jigano’s smile. For one, it was completely fake: as someone who habitually put up masks, it was easy for the Launceleyn to recognize them on others. For another, the bard still looked like a shadow of his former self, and the blight still lingered on, causing strange effects, both physical and mental. Still, the last thing the summoner wanted to do was cause the white-haired man more distress, so Loren did his best to relax.

Unfortunately, given everything going on in his life—as evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes and the fact that he’d lost all the weight he’d put on since his return—his best wasn’t very good. He continued to stare at Jigano with haunted eyes, not bothering to hide the tired expression. At the other man’s thanks, the summoner just tilted his head, surprise flickering over his features for a brief moment. ”You’re welcome.” His tone was still dark and low, but it had lost a bit of its edge.

At the mention of snow moss the Launceleyn shook his head. ”No, I didn’t.” Sure, he’d read about LongNight, but he’d been busy and had skimmed more of it than he should have. His eyes darted to the plant and the window before returning to the bard. ”What’s snow moss?” Reaching out, the summoner touched some of the fiber, shocked at how cold it was. He rubbed his fingers as he brought his hand back to his side.

Then a familiar head (to Loren, at least) poked her head into the infirmary. Astra was never far, unless she was sleeping or on those rare occasions that she actually listened to the Launceleyn and stayed home where it was comfortable. This time, she’d followed him to the temple, but had gotten distracted by admirers briefly. However, the luxere always returned to Loren’s side before too long, and today was no exception. She trotted forward and rubbed against his leg; for his part, he glanced down and smiled fleetingly at her, burying his fingers in the fur of her head and scratching behind her ears. Spending time with her was the only thing that brought the summoner joy these days, and she closed her eyes briefly in pleasure at his ministrations, before opening them and giving Jigano a curious look.

Never judge a book by its cover.

He would be disappointed to hear that his smile wasn't convincing. Jigano had been a bard, a consummate actor whose livelihood depended on his masking expressions, for a decade before he'd come to Caido. The blight had taken much from him, however, and he lacked the strength and energy to embody the role he tried to play as he once had. The only consolation was that Loren looked as bad as he did, and the loreseeker was half-tempted to think that he wasn't the only one carrying the weight of the Blight on his shoulders in that room.

His smile faded to solemnity as Loren stood worn and weary before him, and he exhaled a sigh of almost-relief that he wouldn't need to play the part too energetically with the Launceleyn. Even so, a more honest smile tugged lightly at the corner of his mouth as Loren reached out to touch the snow moss, apparently for the first time. "Useful stuff. It stays cold year-round, and it's particularly good in Longheat--" He broke off as a glowing-antlered head made its way towards them. Not Auni, as he had initially assumed, but a lovely young luxere all the same. When it rubbed up against Loren's leg he finally made the connection, eyes brightening briefly. "Hello, little one," he said quietly to the companion. "Are you a friend of Auni's?" Auni, whose life had been saved by Isla's death; always a bittersweet acknowledgment. "My Isuma will be sad she missed meeting you today." He looked up to Loren, a brow arching briefly in query. "She's lovely. What's her name?"

loren

Jigano might’ve been a bard but Loren had been trained in spycraft, so he knew to watch the eyes. Someone’s face might smile, but their eyes would always betray the truth. However, he didn’t know what the bard was thinking, so the summoner was just glad to see a real hint of a smile on the white-haired man’s lips as the Launceleyn proved himself once again quite ignorant.

The bard cut off mid-sentence at Astra’s entrance and even tired as Loren was the corner of his eyes and lips crinkled with amusement. Still, the snow moss was interesting enough that he wanted to find out more about it. ”I can see how it might be useful. Where do you find it?" Jigano’s reaction to the luxere was enough to both convince the summoner the last vestiges of the blight were fading and incline the Launceleyn to trust the bard. ”Not yet. But everyone keeps telling me they should meet. ” However, Kiada had been blighted and Loren had been in the pit, so it hadn’t been feasible. ”I’ll get around to it eventually. And Isuma is always welcome to come over and say hi.” And by extension Jigano, though the summoner didn’t spell it out as clearly as that.

At the other man’s regard, the luxere trotted forward to give him a closer look. ”That’s Astra.” The summoner couldn’t keep the affection from his voice or his gaze as she decided that Jigano was good people and looked up expectantly at him for a good head rub.  Loren smiled briefly at the sight. ”Traitor.” However, it was clear from the teasing tone in his voice that he wasn’t actually serious.

Never judge a book by its cover.

"Oh, in the Woods, same as any other moss," Jigano replied absently, his attention on the little luxere. He glanced over at the not-quite-invitation, a more sardonic smile giving his mouth a little harder curve, though he bit back the blight-born sarcasm that wanted to snap and verbally tear at the Launceleyn man's offer. He bit his tongue hard enough to bring moisture to the corners of his eyes, though he hid it be crouching down to offer Astra a tentative hand, unsure of whether the luxere would approach a blighted human. She was a creature of light, after all, and he was still corrupted, tainted by the darkness that whispered dark urgings in his ears and filled his eyes with shadows.

The moisture in his eyes might have been gratitude rather than pain as she stepped close enough to touch, and he offered her a rub right where he knew Auni was always itchiest. "Hello, Astra," he said softly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat - and realizing only then that the wicked whispers had receded again. He drew in a shaky breath and rose, continuing to pat the luxere's head as he gave Loren his attention again, gesturing to the bag of snow moss as he sought to find the thread of the conversation they had only just begun. "Sorry... the moss is fairly common in the Woods, though harder to find in Deepfrost. It's an excellent insulator, though, both for temperature and sound. Especially sound," he added with a faint grimace, reluctantly abandoning Astra's head to go back to his task.

He talked while he worked, nodding for Loren to join him if the other man was so inclined. "One of the local Long Night traditions is to tuck snow moss around your windows and doors, and under any creaking boards your home might have so that no sound escapes during Long Night and the monsters won't be drawn by the noise of your footsteps to your house. I haven't heard any decisions about where people will be staying for Long Night this year... but if I can get Rory to agree to it, I'll likely stay here even if no one else does. Everyone in the barrierlands knows where the Infirmary is, and if anyone is running scared or injured and on instinct, they'll probably end up here before they try for refuge in any of the newer places that have cropped up." As delicate a way as he could manage of saying that he wouldn't be going anywhere near Zariah's Manor, even on Royal edict.

loren

Loren filed away the information about the snow moss for later. Whether or not he caught the hint of tears in Jigano’s eyes, well, the Launceleyn stayed silent, simply watching the bard interact with Astra, a faint smile on the summoner’s lips all the while. When the white-haired man’s hands found that particularly sensitive spot, she gave a contented bleat and seemed to melt into him, leaning against him and giving his hands access to wherever they might roam. Whatever reservations Loren might have about the blighted, it was clear Astra lacked them; maybe she sensed the good in the bard, or maybe she knew the summoner could and would protect her from all threats.

Listening to Jigano’s explanation, the Launceleyn’s eyes drifted once more to the moss and the windows. ”It probably keeps sound from getting in as well.” That was one of their fears, if he remembered correctly, that the monsters would try and trick them by sounding like people they knew and loved. Of course, it would also block real people too, but no one was supposed to be outside anyway. Still, he had no doubt they would try. Without prompting, he went over to pick up a handful of moss and delicately filled in a gap in the padding around the window's frame.

As the bard delicately danced around the issue of where people would be staying for LongNight the summoner snorted. ”I’ll probably be here as well, though I’m waiting for Wessex and Deimos to make the final decision. You all convinced me the Manor was a bad idea.” Granted, if they’d told him that to begin with they all could’ve avoided a bunch of annoying conversations, but there was really no harm done, except to the Launceleyn’s rapidly dwindling ego. He'd been through much worse than a minor and unimportant humiliation that he was already over.

Never judge a book by its cover.

As he went back to his task and Loren joined him, Jigano gave a wry nod of his head in agreement at the observation. "Probably," he admitted quietly. "I haven't actually spent Long Night in a place that was properly insulated yet, so I don't know for sure... but this seems like a good year to start." As jokes went it was as weak and flat as a worn out tire, but no one had said that the blight did much for one's sense of humor. He had missed the cunning tricks played on those who had sheltered in the Rathskeller, though he had heard about them later. The problem was that not all the voices were tricks...

The work went faster with two, and there were more windows to line with the cold moss as they talked. At last Jigano found the energy to arch a brow in surprise at hearing that even Loren would abandon his family's seat of power, pausing for a moment before returning his shaking fingers to the task. "It's not your fault that Zariah made that place a symbol of fear and mistrust," he said quietly. "Admittedly, those who had less at personal stake with her would probably be more comfortable there... but she did manage to piss off quite a few people." He deliberately kept his tone mild through force of will, feeling the surge of dark emotions that thinking of Zariah sparked in him - darkness that fed the blight and made it stronger. It was time to change the subject, and swiftly.

"Not to put too fine a point on it... but you look like hell, Loren. And that's coming from me right now. What's happened since I was last..." He grimaced, shrugging one shoulder in resigned acknowledgment of what he had been so recently. "... sane?"

loren

Actually, Jigano’s joke, if that’s what it was, went completely over Loren’s head. The Launceleyn didn’t have a great sense of humor at the best of times, and these were hardly the best of times. ”Neither have I. And I agree.” And if that meant he had to listen to others for once, well, the summoner was perfectly willing to do so if it meant he could keep people safe, strange as that might sound to those who knew him.

As the bard tried to make the summoner feel better, he just shrugged. ”It doesn’t matter. It’s not worth fighting for, and splitting our meager resources between more than two locations is a bad idea. I’m needed here, it seems, so here I’ll be.” There was nothing in his voice but a quiet resignation, no anger, no sorrow, no exasperation. Just the sound of a man doing what he had to.

Which was probably why the white-haired man’s question came as no surprise. Sensing that the darkness was creeping in again, Astra came to stand by his side, giving him a gentle nuzzle. There was a lot to choose from, so the Launceleyn just picked the first thing that came to mind. ”I broke the Fae’s rules and they threw me in the pit for a few days.” Of course, it was a nicer jail than the cells his family had kept him in as a child, but it had been an emotional ordeal nonetheless. Granted, that was mostly because of Remi and how thoroughly Loren had screwed up his relationship with the alchemist. But the summoner didn’t want to get into that with Jigano.

Never judge a book by its cover.

It begged the question of where Loren had spent the last Long Night, but Jigano distantly recalled some rumor about a 'sex cave' - had Edy said that? - and let that particular mystery go for the moment. The memories it called up of the dark-haired girl's vivacious grin and bright cackle as she tried to make him blush were too leaden still with grief, and he was distracted from pursing that line of inquiry as the least-like Launceleyn cousin came up instead.

Astra proved to be a welcome and much-needed distraction, and he reached to rest a hand on the little deer's head, scratching gently as he let her presence soothe him. Loren spoke with such defeat in his body language that even the blighted bard couldn't miss it, and he cocked his head at the wording. 'Splitting resources' hardly seemed to be a problem to him, whose experience with Long Night was that the naturals stayed in their personal homes (with any outlanders they may have adopted) and the rest of the outlanders gathered in the Rathskeller to drink and make drama and fuck and fight and all the rest of the things that drew the monsters to their door. So long as wherever people gathered was protected, he didn't see a problem with having several smaller enclaves instead of one big one - so long as at least one of those enclaves included the Infirmary.

But he had lost Ronin's trust and his position as advisor to the king, and he and Wessex... well, the less said about that, the better. One semi-civil meeting with Remi playing referee wasn't going to change things between them, though he had grudging respect for how well she had held things together in Ronin's absence. Regardless, it meant that his opinions didn't matter for spit, and even less so now that his blood still stank of corruption and he couldn't even entirely trust himself yet. At least Loren was useful in his skills and magic; of all the spells he'd lost when he'd fallen through the portal, it was his healing spells Jigano missed the most.

But while he had been spending the weeks as a mindless, rabid beast in the wild, what had the talented mage been up to? Getting on the bad side of the Fae...? "There aren't a lot of rules to break," he said quietly, stating the obvious. He gave Astra a pat and went back to sorting the snow moss into usable chunks for insulating the windows. "Though I was guilty of it myself, once. I admit to curiosity... but it does not sound like a pleasant experience. May I at least ask your reasons for breaking them?"

loren

Yeah, well, there might not be many rules to break, but trust Loren’s luck to find the one that would result in a ban. Still, the curiosity in Jigano’s voice was apparent, and it wasn’t as if the summoner’s stupidity was a big secret or anything. ”I thought it might be useful to demonstrate the Spark Bird to them, in case the monsters made it out that far and they needed a defense. The guards denied me access. I tried reasoning with them, but it didn’t work, so when they asked me to leave I decided to show them the Spark Bird anyway. Don't worry, Wessex already chewed me out” For breaking the one rule the Fae seemed to have: listen to them when they said to leave. The queen seemed to think he'd been risking far more than a few days of imprisonment, not that Loren knew any better.

To cover his disappointment in himself and avoid looking at the bard's expression as the Launceleyn recounted the tale, he reached for a clump of moss and shoved it into place with a little bit too much force. Astra gave an anxious bleat, and the summoner sighed, then forced himself to take calming breaths. Maybe he was a little more annoyed about the incident than he'd thought.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Jigano winced as Loren's story came out, familiar in scope if not in detail. "Ah. Yes... You weren't here when Remi and his 'merry band' tried something similar when the barrier was freshly down. It didn't end well for them, either. The Fae made it clear then that they didn't even want us in their Greatwood. That, at least, has somewhat eased as we've provided some help and showed our good intentions, but they were adamant that no human go near their Village. If you broke that rule..." He trailed off, sighing. There was no point belaboring it if Wessex had already had her way with the Launceleyn, but he had no idea what the Queen might have said. If Loren had just burned the tentative bridges that the barrierfolk had spent months trying to build with one well-intentioned but arrogant move (something that described almost every dealing of the humans towards the Fae) it was a blow to the careful work Jigano himself had been trying to forge, one bond at a time.

Gods least fortunate, was it always to be one step forward, two steps back?

Astra's concern drew Jigano's attention back to his moss-packing companion and he realized that the other man was already taking the failure hard. Though the blight twisted and whispered to tear into the mage for his temerity, the bard did his best to hold it in check, pausing his work and resting his trembling hands on the windowsill as he swallowed back the urge to bite and snap at someone who had only been trying to help.

"The Fae are not easy to deal with," he said quietly. "Given the ravages of the blight through their home... I can understand their caution and lack of patience in dealing with humans right now. Especially with the Tulmhainar in their charge. While you were in the pit were you taken to feed him?" Jigano had not met with that particular Tulmhainar, but Amalia had, and she had regaled him with the story. He hoped to meet the great world tortoise himself one day, but hopefully under better circumstances than as a prisoner.

loren

No, Loren hadn’t been here when that happened, and considering the leader of the ‘merry band,’ as Jigano put it, had been with the summoner when he visited the village, a warning would’ve been nice. ”I did. And I apologized to them, and to Wessex, and promised never to return without their explicit permission.” It was too little, too late, but it was all he could do to try and mend the bridges he’d burned in his folly.

The presence of Astra, at least, calmed the storm that had begun to rise in the Launceleyn. Sighing, he took up another handful of moss and stuffed it more carefully, almost delicately, into the barrier they were making around the window. ”I was in the wrong, and they were totally justified.” He could admit when he’d made a mistake.

There were so many to choose from, after all.

When the bard brought up a word that Loren had heard from the Fae, the summoner paused and gave the other man a curious look. ”No, though they mentioned this...tulmhainar? What is that?” The Launceleyn wasn’t sure he’d gotten the word exactly, right, though it was close enough. Regardless, he was dying to know what beast or being the Fae had been contemplating sacrificing him to.

Never judge a book by its cover.