back and forth to calm the squall

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

Apparently he’s decided to take a trek to Halo during one of the worst possible times he could. He doesn’t know it at the time, obviously, but it’s quite evident when he arrives back in the Grounds and immediately hears of what’s become of the Infirmary. Luckily for him he’d brought his things with him when he’d taken his trip, all except for the arm that remained and the bed he stayed in while there.

The unlucky part, though, is it sounds like most if not all of it has been lost. And in the days after people are finally gossiping about the deaths that occurred. Worry grips him in his stomach in a way it hasn’t in a long while, and it’s with abandoning every single other plan of his return to the grounds that he shifts the pack on his back, a stony, somber face that meets the green door as his first and only stop.

He hopes she's physically okay. He knows her well enough by now to know she likely isn’t mentally, but maybe he can be there for her if she’ll have him — even if it was too late to save the Infirmary.

VARUS

It's been a couple of days, and Isla lives and learns and gets on with things. Stiff upper lip, keep calm and carry on and all that twee bullshit. She has made a very rough go at an in-house infirmary in her living room; she can't house patients here and almost every piece of equipment she owns is nothing but ash and dust and rubble, but what she does have, she uses. The sofa is a treatment bed now, and the coffee table and several shelves house her poultices, herbs, supplies and other medicines. She has started a few new medical files too, for the patients who visit. But the work she'd been doing, and the text she'd borrowed from Sam in the Atheneum to try and expand the Grounds' medical knowledge? Gone. When the tap at the door comes, she's busy wiping down surfaces and opening windows to let the place air out from her last patient. It's dark inside the house and out - call Isla crazy, but lighting a lantern after her labour of love burned down isn't something she's keen to do. But as she opens the door and recognises the face outside, something in her softens. "Hello Varus," she murmurs. "Would you like to come in?" ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

He knocks and he waits, and when she answers? He can tell that the air of excitement and playfulness is gone. He doesn’t blame her, he’s feeling much of the same. While the Infirmary wasn’t his livelihood, it had been his temporary home. It had been where he’d stayed, where he’d met her, where she’d taken his arm off and helped spur on a new kind of life since his rising from the seeming dead.

So his face is somber as he scans her briefly, hears her question, and while he hates that he has to say yes, because he has nowhere else to go, he does nod to her. But as he goes to step in, it’s just to cross the distance, to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug, to tuck her in against him. “I’m so sorry, Isla.” It’s a deeper rumble, a sort of sadness that comes with complete understanding of what it was like to lose one of the things that meant the most to you.

VARUS

She doesn't expect it, to be drawn so close so quickly, and the tension all bleeds out of her as she's tucked in tight against Varus's chest. Her arms slip around him in return, Isla burying her face against the side of his neck, surprising herself in the way her throat suddenly feels tight. It has been days since the infirmary burned down, days since she started to rebuild - the little she's been able to, anyway - and suddenly it's his presence that is making her cave in. "It sucks," she whispers eventually, quietly furious in a way she hasn't been able to show since it happened. "Like... a lot." Slowly drawing back, she absently smooths out his shirt as if to apologise for making such a mess, before ushering him inside properly and closing the door behind them. "You heard what happened, then?" It's a stupid question, but it's all she's got. ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

He steps in, wraps her up tightly against his chest, his arms snaking around her to keep her close as her head tucks in against his neck. “Yeah.” He comments his quiet support, hand rising to cup the back of her head — however fleeting it is before she’s drawing back and he lets her, but he doesn’t go far. He stays near her as she closes the door and the expression on his face is almost a mix of regret paired with her sorrow.

“I did. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help… I went to Halo for a few days.” The frown tugs at his face as he reaches up to run his metal hand through his hair, lips quirking into a deeper frown before he’s looking around the makeshift infirmary, until the blue of his gaze lands back on Isla. “Aside from everything… Are you okay? Can I help with anything?” What he wouldn’t give to be able to try and help her with whatever it was she needed, to try and make this easier for her.

VARUS

"You don't need to apologise for that," Isla says with a gentle shake of her head and a small smile. "You couldn't have known what would happen. It's hardly the thing you expect when you go away for a few days, right?" She shrugs her shoulders, automatically drifting over to the kitchenette so she can put the kettle on for some tea; it's a default reaction by this point, even though neither she nor Varus can taste it properly. Unconsciously echoing his gesture, she runs her fingers through her hair and turns to lean back against the counter. "Uh..." Huffing out a laugh, Isla doesn't know how to say not really, no in a diplomatic way, so she wisely says nothing. "I... Maybe I'll need some help to rebuild the infirmary, when it's time," she murmurs. "But for now...? I think this is... kind of it." Then, because she has no idea what else to say, she glances up at him. "How was your trip...?" ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

She speaks the truth, even if it doesn’t make it easier for Varus. And he nods, quietly, following her to the kitchen for the tea that neither of them would be able to taste well at all, but doing it for the sheer familiarity of it. He can understand that quite well. So he stands opposite of her, nodding his response, because he doesn’t know whether he wants to try and not seem a bit overprotective at this stage. After all, it’s only technically been one date.

“Alright. I can do that.” He murmurs, trying to flash her a small smile, trying to air the grief and sadness from the room one fraction at a time even if he doesn’t quite feel particularly up to it. He can do it for her. So when the question of how the trip went? Well, he flashes her a slightly easier smile, shifting the pack that’s slung around his shoulders to the front so that he can pull out a book, bound in a deep red hue with worn pages. “It was good. Got mistaken for someone else again but… I got what I went there for.” He moves to hand her the book, metal fingers lingering on the cover. “It’s a murder mystery.” Because she liked those and it was all Varus could think about when it came to finding her a gift during his trip away. “With a hint of romance. It’s for you.”

VARUS

Her shoulders relax at how easily he takes it in his stride, Isla dropping her gaze to smile sadly at the floor and nodding. It's refreshing to think about something else, however briefly, and her brows furrow in confusion to hear that he's been mistaken for someone else. "That's strange," she murmurs. "Maybe you have some relatives and they're they look like your long-lost twin. Genetics can be funny like that." It's an odd suggestion, but one that might hold some weight, and Isla would have discussed it further but then Varus is handing her something. Not just any something, though. A murder-mystery-romance something, all the way from Halo. "You got me a gift?" It's such a simple thing - thoughtful to be sure, just a small moment of consideration for her whilst he'd been in another place. It absolutely isn't anything to get worked up about. So Isla can't really explain why it makes her eyes prickle as she accepts it, and why it's suddenly very difficult to talk. "Thanks," she whispers, wiping at her cheeks. "That's really kind of you." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Varus murmurs with an air of relief at the way the tension in the air bleeds to something of confusion, of intrigue. “Whatever it is, it is strange.” That much they can absolutely agree on. But then he’s showing her the gift and whatever reaction she gives him, it isn’t the one he expects.

“I did.” He begins, taking a deep breath he doesn’t need and offering her another small smile, closing the distance again, to reach up with his normal arm and wipe a rogue tear away, before he’s moving to wrap his arms around her again. “I saw it and thought of you and I couldn’t leave without it. I haven’t read it, though, so you’ll have no spoilers from me.” He flashes her a wider fanged smile, trying to lighten the air even more. “I’ve… Well, I’ve thought about you a lot lately.” It’s a softer admission, one that’s reflected in quiet contemplation in his blue gaze, unsure if he should have said it at all but now that it’s left his lips, he doesn’t want to take them back. “And when I got back and heard what happened, I didn’t care about the stuff I left in the infirmary. I just wanted to know that you made it out.” Because he had left stuff there. A few things he’d collected, the arm she’d taken off of him, all of it likely gone aside from what he carried with him to Halo.

And he doesn’t care, because she made it out.

VARUS

She sets the book down on the counter just as he steps forward again, and Isla folds into the embrace without a word. It's foolish to cry - it helps nothing and it changes even less, and yet now that the dam has broken she can't seem to stop. "I won't give you any spoilers this time," she assures him, her voice muffled against his shirt. "I made it out, but there were patients in there too. They died, they couldn't escape." Sniffling, she glances up just enough to be able to look at him properly, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually like this," she murmurs, before a small frown suddenly flickers across her face, followed by a dawning horror. "Oh, all of your belongings were there, that's right. I ought to have asked about them when I was there this morning..." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

She could cry however long she needed to and he’d hold no judgement over her for it. He’s been there, still gets there sometimes when the reality hits him of just how old he is, how the centuries had passed with him completely unaware of it. So his arms slip around her again, hand rising to stroke at her golden hair, his cheek pressed against the crown of her head when he hears her muffled words. He frowns with the realization, of some deep set horror any doctor would have when it came to their patients being unable to make it out alive. “I’m sorry, Isla.” He says again softly, uncaring if the fluid of her tears dampen his shirt.

As for her apologizing? No. He pulls back enough to scan her face, replacing the frown with a softer smile. “Don’t be sorry about that. Crying does help sometimes.” Helps unload a bit of the weight of emotions, and with them being Ascended? Without any other way to drown their troubles? Well, it only makes sense that it would be that they felt things more intensely, needed the ability to let out the pressure of it all one way or another.

Her horror over his things doesn’t break his soft smile, though, but his head does begin to shake softly. “It’s okay, really. Things can be replaced.” His clothes and everything like that could be easily found again. He didn’t harbor any attachments to them. “People can’t.” His metal arm gives her middle a light squeeze. “Besides, I never really liked that green shirt I had. Felt like I blended into the Fields too much.”

VARUS

"It doesn't feel like it, but thank you," Isla says, managing a watery smile up at him and taking a shuddering breath out of reflex, as if that will help to steady her. And it does, but not as much as his presence, and she doesn't step away this time. Instead as his arm tightens around her, she leans up to kiss his cheek; the gesture has butterflies taking off in the pit of her stomach in a way she absolutely doesn't expect, and it's with a smile as sudden as it is bright that she presses another kiss to his lips. "People can't," she repeats softly. It's what Remi had said too, and Isla nods to herself, as if to force both of their sentiments to sink into her skin. "Oh? I quite liked your green shirt," she says with a playful smirk. "Where will you stay now? I... well, there isn't much room here, but you are welcome to the space until the infirmary is back up and running...?" ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

I lie awake and wonder why I feel this way, so far away

“I know.” It’s an easy response for him to give, because usually crying ended up becoming a watery, blubbering mess that didn’t feel good at all until the mental process followed. For now, though, he’s content to be whatever she needs him to be, though he does lean into the kiss to his cheek lightly, then gives into the kiss she plants against his lips quite easily. The smile that overtakes her is infectious and he feels it in the kiss before they part, a light sparking through the shadows of his blue gaze when they focus on her again.

His arms loosen around her, draping around her waist as he watches her, a soft hum of a laugh leaving him with the green shirt. It only grows a touch more awkward, though, with the way that she immediately moves into where he’s staying. “I don’t want to impose on you.” He says softly, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I can stay in that weirdly named bar for a bit until I find my own place.” It was something he had thought about, apparently, but if she wanted him to stay with her he would. “But,” he withdraws from her a fraction as the kettle whistles and he moves to take it off the heat with his metal hand, before his eyes find her face again, “if you want me to stay with you, I won’t say no.” There’s an edge of that playful smile that crosses his face again, a teasing drawl that leaves his lips, while the hand resting at her waist rises in a smooth stroke along her spine. “Whatever the duchess wants.”

VARUS

It isn't an imposition at all. That's what Isla wants to say, but already, despite their closeness, despite the arm that twines so gently around her waist and the way she feels him smile back against her lips, there's a thread of uncertainty that would have her going along with whatever he decided to do. So when he puts the ball back in her court it's a blessing, in fact, and she melts further agains him. "Honestly, I would really appreciate the company," she admits, turning to see him take the kettle off the heat. And with the hand smoothing along the small of her back, it's easier to say what comes next. "They still don't know what happened with the infirmary. Or who did it, or why. All I'm sure of is that it wasn't an accident. So... it would be good, to have someone else here," she murmurs. So, smiling up at Varus, she absently rests her hands against his chest. "Even without your lovely green shirt." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die