may the bridges i have burned light my way back home

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

“I see.” She says and it’s confirmation enough that it makes sense. But she says she’s going to go and grab something and the pencil stills on the paper as if he’s unsure whether or not he wanted her to go. The prospect of cooling down is appealing, but he isn’t entirely sure who or what might come for him in her absence. But he doesn’t have good enough reasons to keep her staying, and it would be short wouldn’t it? “Okay.” He finally concedes, turning back to the paper with the very detailed drawing of the mansion he thinks he’s made.

In her absence, however, without much else than that terrible home to think about, he ends up adding a dark shadowy figure in the staircase, the river of blood that pours from it and goes down and down the stairs until it meets in the marble flooring. There’s a sound he hears, suddenly, like a shout in his ear — in Korofi, of course — of how much of a failure he was, how ashamed his family was to be associated with him. It makes him jump slightly, lips parting to pant through his raging heartbeat, his hand accidentally knocking over the water glass. He watches it fall, making no move to try and catch it, watches as the water within the glass turns to oily, inky black. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to no one and everyone all the same.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine Unaware of what's happening in the room beyond, Isla slips out of the office and makes haste across the infirmary to collect everything together. It's a good thing it's Deepfrost, in fact, because she even manages to use a few of the icicles hanging from the windows, creating a makeshift ice pack that she wraps in a thin towel. It might do better on the back of Sunjata's neck than the pillow, currently. Along with this, she returns with an actual sedative, in case it really gets too much. But when she returns it's to the sight of the glass of water smashing against the stone floor, to the mess of the parchment in Sunjata's lap, to his panted apology. "It's alright," she assures him, clicking the door shut once more to move and check on him. "It was just a glass of water. I'll clean it up, okay?"

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

It’s all slow motion, the glass falling, the crash of the glass against the stone floor. It makes him flinch, reminds him of the quiet dinners broken up by his father’s rage, of glasses and dinnerware shattering, reminds him of being on the other end of those switches, reminds him of his inheritance of those suffocating fits of rage. Isla’s voice brings him back, his head snapping to her, before he ducks it a bit — ashamed, perhaps?

It might just be water to her but it’s black and poisonous from where he can tell. So he tries to soothe his heartbeat, tries to soothe the heat radiating from him. And that’s when it starts to get worse. “Ek wou nie hê dit moes gebeur nie.” He utters quietly, forgetting he’s shifted to his native tongue and not the common one. And he moves to close himself off, to set the papers elsewhere, to try and become smaller and more hidden, as if the voices wouldn’t come to him again.

A leg is drawn up, arms wrapped around so he can sit forward a bit, dark leathery wings expanding from his back — one bound and broken, the other opening to try and hide himself away from what he’s done.

---

Ek wou nie hê dit moes gebeur nie. — I did not want this to happen

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine The words are infuriatingly meaningless to Isla, and she adds it to a list of things she'd like to learn, like to know. Now is not the time, though, and as the medic bends to clear the worst of the glass up, she's basked in the shadow of wings. "Sunjata?" She frowns, glancing up at him and setting the glass back on her desk (where it can't cause any danger) before returning to the man shrouded in a dragon's wings. Well, one of them anyway. A brief glance at it with a more-than-human gaze proves the story he told her previously to be true - the appendage is broken, and savagely so. That doesn't mean the culprit is his father, though. "Sunjata, look at me," she tells him, a hand on his knee as she gazes up at him from her place kneeling beside the chair he's seated in. "I know this is difficult, and that it feels frightening. But you are safe here, I promise. I'll stay here with you until it passes, okay?" She chews at her lower lip, giving him a gentle nudge. "I have something that might help you to fall asleep properly, if you'd like to take a break from this."

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

He ignores her initial request, his name aired into the cool and dark office space as she works to clean up the mess he's made. Instead the wing tucks in a bit tighter, his jaw clenched tight, feeling a bit like a small child that’s prepared to be scolded despite her ease in telling him he won’t be. He doesn’t trust it, doesn’t trust the cool feel of her hand on his knee, doesn’t trust that he can look at her without seeing something else. The wings flex instinctively, before shrouding in again, covering him half in a fever warm darkness.

He needs a break from it, from the memories that burn and shift through his mind. He needs it, and yet he fears the results. Eventually his gaze slides to her, working at his jaw as his teeth grind together. “Will it be quick?” He asks her of the sedative, though something about the statement sounds more like a death sentence than being sedated. Already he can see the inky black spiral up from her fingertips, up her arms from where she’s picked up the glass. Already he wonders if it’s poison.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine She wants to cup his face in her hands, to press her fingers against the muscles in his jaw to relax them, to provide some vague relief against whatever war is raging within him. But of course she doesn't - Isla is nothing if not professional - and instead she offers him a gentle and confident nod. "You'll be asleep before you know it," she assures him, giving his knee a pat and rising to her feet again. "I'm going to put this behind you, instead of that pillow," she continues, grabbing the makeshift ice pack wrapped in its towels to slip it against the back of his neck, providing she's not grabbed or bashed by his wings. That done, Isla moves to prepare the sedative - another drink, but only a small one - it will taste faintly of peppermint when Sunjata has a taste. "Drink it in one," she suggests, haste being their main objective here.

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

She assures him it’ll be quick, that he’ll fall asleep and leave the nightmares behind. And luckily for Sunjata, he believes her this time. She pats his leg and moves to place a cold ice pack against his neck rather than the pillow, and he hisses quietly to himself as the cold fights against his warmth. But it works, pulling the heat of him down enough that he can have some semblance of cohesive thoughts, his wings dropping as it begins to kick in and he can watch as she mixes the sedative.

He just has to keep telling himself that she’s a friend, that he trusts her, that if Nate trusts her then he trusts her too. She hands him the glass and he unwraps his arms from around his leg, a hand lifting to grab the glass tentatively, smelling the peppermint and letting it soothe his thoughts. And he does as told, shooting it down his throat with haste, moving to hand the glass back to her before he’s tucking into himself again. “I’m sorry Isla.” He repeats to her, waiting for it to kick in. But he supposes it were best that he’d gotten to do this in her office rather than out in the open.

Who knows how much more he might have seen with more light filtered in.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine "You have nothing to apologise about," Isla says, her voice softly factual, invoking no sympathy or pity. "You came to me for help, and I'm helping. It's my job to help people." Smiling, she straightens up with the pillow to set it down with the blanket she's folded. Still, for all of her reassurances, Isla is still relieved when he knocks back the medicine; she accepts the glass back and sets it down. "Take a deep breath in for a count of four, and out for four," she advises him, all the while adjusting the ice pack and making sure he's not going to end up passing out with a crick in his neck. "And when you feel ready, start counting back from twenty." In Isla's experience, patients are out like a light by the time they get to number eight - Sunjata proves to be no different. He sleeps and the world goes stark and silent, and Isla feels herself strangely relax. She cleans up first - the broken glass, the spilled water, the maddening doodles - and by the time Sunjata comes around, it will be to a scene of serenity and calm. The ice pack is replaced once more by the pillow, and the blanket will be tucked around him. On the table is a cool glass of water and a jug in case he needs any more. And Isla? She's at her desk, the beginnings of Sunjata's file now fleshed out in full with symptoms, his personal explanations, her observations and more. And she's currently gazing at a vial of something, seeming particularly focused on it.

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

A nod is offered to her explanation, slowly coming to the realization that she’s right. And so he does as she tells him to, drinks the medicine, breathes and counts, begins the countdown until he’s out like a light, sleep overtaking him and keeping him still. There are no nightmares this time, no fears that have him squirming in the dark, just a deep rhythm of his breathing punctuated occasionally with soft snores. He barely even moves as she fiddles with the ice pack, barely moves when it’s changed for a pillow and Sunjata finds himself comfortably shrouded with a blanket, wings drooped from the back of the chair so the tips of the leathery appendage drag and fold along the ground.

When he finally wakes, it’s slow. Grogginess overcoming him until he can open his eyes, to rub at them through the blanket because he hasn’t realized he was wrapped up again. He doesn’t even remember it, for the most part, the memories and thoughts leaving him the more awake he becomes. For a moment he doesn’t recognize where he is, panic settling over him, before he quells it with a deep breath and his eyes find Isla with a vial in her hand she’s focused on. “Wh—” He pauses, realizing how dry his throat is. “What happened?” He manages, glancing down to his hands under the blanket, before the sight of water has him moving to grab the glass, wincing against the sharp shooting pain in his head from the drugs.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine Isla blinks to attention, glancing from the vial to the body stirring in the chair, and she sets down her experiment to rise to her feet behind the desk. "Slow," she tells Sunjata, her voice a gentle thrum in the room as she heads over towards him. "Go slow, okay?" she repeats. "Small sips of water. Don't sit up or get up just yet." Her smile is kind, and she draws the spare chair closer that she might sit before him. "You've been asleep for about six hours. It's the middle of the night, so if you feel like you want to sleep some more, please go ahead." She doesn't mention exactly what happened yet, knowing better than to overload him. "How are you feeling, Sunjata? Can you tell me where we are, and the last thing you remember?" Isla is already glancing over him, gazing at his eyes, the size of his pupils, the way he moves and his coordination with the water glass.

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

The panic that had set in quells when he sees Isla, when she instructs him to go slow with the water. And he does, following her instructions down to the dot as he sips lightly from the glass, tries to limber up his tongue, tries to fog away his throbbing mind. The headache grows more insistent the more he moves, so he settles for remaining draped in the chair, peering at her as she sits across from him.

His brows do raise at the mention of six hours, however, surprise and confusion overcoming him as his mind tries to wrap around it. It doesn’t go very far, however, and instead he runs his tongue along his lower lip as he tries to think. “The infirmary in the Hollowed Grounds. Your office, I think.” He begins, pausing to take another sip of the glass, a small one of course. “I feel… Like I’ve been hit by a train.” He says with a furrow of his brows, before passing it on for what he remembers last. “Uh, I remember… Taking the medicine. Talking to you about mansions?” He doesn’t remember the blood nor the drawing, nor the broken glass on the floor.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine He replies and she continues to observe him, offering a gentle smile to hear he feels like hell. "Some food and coffee should make you feel better. I sent out for something for you a while back, it should be here soon." Doctors - what can you do? Listening intently to his recollection of events, Isla gives a slow nod and sits back a bit. "Good," she murmurs, and she means it. The marks of a panic attack had been written plain upon Sunjata - the less he remembers about it, the better. "I was able to learn a lot about your medicine, both after you took it and while you were asleep," she explains. "There are a few things to talk about, when you're ready. I also noticed your wing?" She nods to the bound appendage. "Did you want me to take a look at that, or does Nate have it covered?"

i'll love you till the day i die, even if it's just a bold face hell of a pretty lie

She really has it all covered, huh? He works at his jaw, realizing how sore it’s become and immediately stops so he can drink another sip of water, wetting his parched throat again. “Thank you.” He offers with all the honesty in his heart he can give her. He settles again, stretching out his legs, nodding to her about the medicine and pausing when she mentions his wing. He hadn’t realized he’d pulled them out, and he tilts his sore head to peer up at the wing with the bandage around it curiously before glancing back at her. “We’re uh, pretty sure there isn’t much to be done about it other than keeping it bound. But you’re welcome to give another look?” He invites for her to see.

He doesn’t know about her upgrades, only that another set of eyes might help relieve Nate of any further worries. After all, as his husband had said, animals weren’t particularly in his wheelhouse. “How long did I… Respond before I fell asleep?” He asks instead, waiting to get himself a bit more understanding of what has occurred in order to get his mind mentally ready for the rest of it.

How bad could it be?

Pretty bad, actually.

SUNJATA

Isla take your medicine "How long have you been clenching your jaw like that?" Isla wonders, ever the observant one, all the while rising to her feet so she can move to collect a few things from the desk; the vial, for one, and a sealed envelope for another. Then she returns to sit with Sunjata, glad to see him steady and coming around. Still, that doesn't necessarily mean that she can talk about part of what happened without the rest of it dragging out. Glancing to his wing, she nods absently. "I can take another look at it. I have an upgrade that can help with seeing that sort of damage," she explains, before adjusting herself to get as comfortable as possible (psychologically, of course, because physically it really doesn't matter). "Almost an hour," she tells him gently. "Then you fell asleep. There is more, though - do you want to get something to eat before we talk about it?"