Bedside manner

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Remi was alive. Isla was alive. Well.. It was perhaps not so straightforward as all that, but Remi's mind was broken and battered and he couldn't think and it was all far, far too much. But he had won, even if had cost him his soul and his sanity. For now though, the dam held, the fractures were glued, his broken parts poorly assembled. But the mosaic of his shattered soul fit close enough. The light had been green, Isla wasn't gone completely. She was....well. She was in the Temple. On her way to the Infirmary, as it was. With purpose the dark unicorn strode ahead, seemingly frustrated by the doors she could no longer open. Pushing them with magic, a slight twitch on his lips, the unicorn paused to look around, before promptly walking into Rory's room with the alchemist trailing belatedly behind. Covered in whatever ascended fluid Isla's corpse had drained onto him, Remi looked quite bad. It was perhaps the chaotic state of him that made the spark in his pale stare so ... strange. He was walking into the infirmary, accompanied by a rather bossy and disgruntled looking unicorn, and yet he acted as if nothing was amiss. "Rory?" He asked, brows softening. "Rory I heard..what happened?" He mumbled finally as Isla parted from his side, walking as quietly as her hooves would allow to the opposite side of Rory's bed to begin visually examining his injuries.

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

Amalia was awake, the fox was doing fox things, and Rory had been put back into isolation by a disgruntled nurse who had wanted to check on his burns, or something.

He hadn't said a word.

He had only stared at the lid that was laid on his world, the unforgivable stone ceiling. It taunted him in the relative blackness of the Infirmary, like a little bit of his own personal Long Night darkness to carry with him.

How long had he been there? How long until the sun rose? How long until he could burst out of the Temple, like an injured bird finally set free?

He had days left to go. Days. Long, unimaginable hours, filled with the noise of all these people—feet on stone, feet on stone, feet on stone, bouncing whispers, snatches of conversations, a stool scraping over stone, stonestonestonestsontetnseotnetnsont

He wanted the hush of a breeze; the sigh of the wind as it trailed around the farmstead.

In all his twenty-seven years, Rory had never been outside during the Long Night. He had never peeked behind the blackout screens on the windows. He had never, ever thought of even cracking open the door to peer into the soulless dark. He had been born into a world that preyed on those who fell out of line. He had been born fearing the unnatural darkness that swallowed even the stars.

But not this year. This year, he had flung open the door of his cabin and ridden into the darkness, bold and stupid.

It didn't end with just him and Amalia.

Wessex was left alone with the two dogs. Would she play nice? Would he come back to his farm and find her gone? Ella and Vaya would be alright, starved, but alright. It'd suit him right if she'd abandoned them, but gods, he'd murder her if she'd died again.

And Esaia and Talys, turned loose in the frightening dark. His heart ached as he thought of them. Even if the monsters didn't attack them, there were plenty of other things that could.

What if they didn't go back to the farm?

What if they died, and he never found them again?

And why the fuck was he hearing hoof beats?

Oh. Because a unicorn was stepping into his room. It was the color of the night sky, lit up by moon and stars, and the eyes watching him intently were sort of strangely familiar. Rory blinked, his face pale and drawn beneath the burns flecking his chin, cheek, and neck.

Next to the random-ass unicorn was Remi, looking like hell. He was filthy and bedraggled and.. well. He looked like he had no idea what state he was in, and he also looked like he was possibly out of his mind. Or possibly back inside of it, if he'd been outside of it before. "Actually," he responded, "what happened to you? And what's up with the pointy pony?"

It wasn't the nicest thing to say to someone who came checking on you, though whatever edge his voice held was more frustration and less aggression, but sometimes they sounded very close.

And pressing Remi for the details of his newfound unicorn and the state he was in kept Rory from having to say oh, y'know, I thought I'd go outside during Long Night and fix the mythical bird's fucking perch.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Isla was unimpressed. The wounds had been dressed, but it looked like it had been done in a rush. Triage was one thing, but after a crises her nurses knew to check their work to ensure that they hadn't missed anything the first time around. Liping at one of the bandages Isla pulled, horrified to find that it began to unravel immediately. Shoddy, shoddy work. She snorted. Meanwhile, Remi just offered Rory a crooked smile, running his hand through hair made curly and crazy with snow and dirt and whatever life fluid had once been in Isla. "Oh." Remi said, glancing across the bed to where Isla's whiskered muzzle was brushing against Rory's hair. She didn't have hands anymore, so this would have to do. "It is Isla." He replied, voice distracted, the words sounding completely ordinary despite the fact that ... well. It was basically impossible. With a weary sigh, Remi looked down at the messy state he was in and sighed. The unicorn shot him a warning look, a mental pulse of don't you dare contaminate this room, Remi clear through their bond. "Isla says I am too dirty to come closer, but .. are you alright?"

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

Rory liked horses.

Like, he lived for horses, and he spoke their language almost effortlessly, and he always had time for forehead scratches and ear scratches and

this was not a horse

Of course it was a horse: it had the body of a horse. But it wasn't a natural horse. There was just something, making it seem more Attuned than animal, and for some reason it was lipping at his bandages. Rory watched it, perplexed and a little offended that it just came up to him and stuck its nose into his bubble and started undoing his bandages.

Like, woah pony, you could say hi first?

That's where the not-quite-animal bit came in. It was like the spirit of something else shoved into a horse body, and it was definitely uncanny valley for him. He almost shoved the inquisitive nose away, but Remi seemed to think it was perfectly normal for his pet unicorn to a, be in a medical ward and b, undo Rory's bandages.

He was also slightly, slightly furious that this horse was indoors while his were not.

Not like he could feed them in here. They were better off out there, whatever their odds were.

But it ate at him.

Both things: figuratively and literally, as the unicorn was now nuzzling his hair. And... Rory blinked. It was Isla? What the hell did he mean, it was Isla? Had he named his pet unicorn Isla? Why the fuck would he do that? Or did he mean it literally, that this pony was Isla? "It is Isla," Rory repeated, as if Remi had just said the most unconvincing thing in the world.

But their world was a pretty wild place. He had seen it do pretty wild things. Why not turn a fully capable medic into a unicorn while at it?

"No, I'm not alright," he said, drawing his brows together and staring at the dark horse. "There's a weird unicorn undoing my bandages and looking critically at me and it's creeping me out. How did Isla become a horse? What is going on here?"

He took a deep breath.

This was why you didn't go out during Long Night. He had nearly died, Amalia had nearly died, and Isla had become a fucking pony.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned "Mmmmmhm." Remi hummed in sleepy acknowledgement, head bobbing to punctuate. Isla, on the other hand, was less than impressed. She cared and worried little for Rory's state of understanding, focusing on the shoddy work which had been done to him in her absence. And it had been what? 2 hours at most? Nostrils flaring, Isla backed up a few steps, but only so that her horn could lower towards Rory's sternum. "She says to be still." Remi repeated, stifling a yawn behind his hand. A flash of white light bled from the unicorn's horn, and the worst of Rory's burns were suddenly healed. With a snort, she lipped at the cloth again, as if to suggest that it was no longer needed. Not that it had been doing much good in the first place. "She..." Remi paused, the boyish lines of his face growing stern. Leaning against the cabinets, he folded his arms over one another and seemed to stare intently at the unicorn, as if expecting her to field this answer herself. She didn't of course, and so after a moment the alchemist could only sigh. "She died. In the Outskirts ... There was a luxere hurt or something, I do not know the details. I was not there. Sam told me and I—" Tricked him into staying behind and ran out into the darkness without a plan "—I had to bring her body back, Rory. I could not leave her out there. Sam said that...that the monsters.." Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Remi's lashes fluttered over tears that threatened to form. But Isla was here. The light was green. It was all alright. "Ludo led me to her." He continued with slightly more composure. "We...we agreed on a trade, and he placed Isla's consciousness in this body."

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

Oh.

Okay.

Go ahead and stab me, right?

Rory didn't like sharp things pointed at his sternum, much less when the sharp thing was attached to the head of a lean, black horse. It looked evil in the small room, taking up too much space, having rolled in the night sky so it stuck to her skin. Briefly he contemplated heaving himself out of the bed and onto the floor, because it seemed like the wise thing to do when faced with a spear pointing straight towards some of your vital shit, but it also seemed like too much effort. And besides, he'd thought it would be a pretty ironic and amusing way to go. Oh, you know, so I survived my stupid trip outside during Long Night and then I was stabbed to death by this unicorn who was supposed to be my doctor.

His gaze was distrustful and dark though. He'd thought he'd had enough of gambling with his life lately, but apparently not, because there he was, just waiting to see if Isla's medication would be a swift stab to the heart or not.

It wasn't. Surprise surprise! Doctors didn't kill their patients, unless they were bribed, or vengeful. A flash of bright light flooded onto his body, the magic working towards finishing what Vervain had already begun. The worst of the throbbing pain eased.

"Uhm. Thanks," he told the horse.

The fact that her equine body language wasn't on point was still uncanny, but something about the healing (and likely the lessening of the pain he was in; pain made him cranky) had made him a little easier with the fact that she was now chilling out in a unicorn's body. So he transferred his attention entirely to Remi, feeling a little guilty that so far he'd mostly just been bristling like a porcupine at the pair of them.

The story that came out was.. problematic, and very, very sad. Isla had died—and it seemed so utterly impossible, when he thought about the bright-eyed woman moving so easily in the dark, as they gathered firewood together and chatted about the small details of life and death within the barrier. Her confidence, her assurance, the strength in her body: gone.

That the unicorn body had been Ludo's doing was not surprising. Rory bit the inside of his lower lip, and pushed himself up into a more proper, sitting position.

Remi looked like the definition of hell, filthy and tired and dragged through things no one should experience. "Okay," he said after a moment. The word was acceptance of the circumstances: that Isla was now a unicorn, and from what Rory could tell, bonded to Remi like a companion. It would explain why he was able to tell Rory was she wanted, after all. "This.. this is why we don't go outside during Long Night." With his hand, he indicated the unicorn, and then himself. "There was a disturbance at the perch... Amalia and I, and some others, came out to investigate... We fixed it, but here we are. Amalia's somewhere in the Infirmary too."

Rory sighed. "And Sam's right. The bodies are never around, come morning."

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned Isla, who could not appropriately reply, merely stepped back. As Rory had already noticed (and Remi had not) the dark mare before Rory was acting anything like a normal horse should. Not only was her body-awareness terrible, but things that even the most well-trained animals would have spooked at (or at the very least given a second-glance), Isla ignored. She moved as if she had hands, realizing only belatedly that she did not and awkwardly using her lips in place. At the conclusion of Rmei's retelling, Isla appeared to shrug. Or rather, she appeared to be trying to shrug, but of course her shoulders no longer could rise and fall the way she likely meant them to. With an annoyance flick of her tail (that at least, seemed a very mareish-response to the situation). Ruefully, Remi nodded in agreement, though his expression softened at the mention of the perch. The alchemist had heard something outside, but had assumed it was just monsters monstering about. "What?" Remi said, eyes wide. He took a hesitant step closer, glancing towards Isla. Apparently with Rory's burns more or less healed now, the state of Remi was less important. "Are you—" He asked, concern coating his voice. "—Amalia?" At this, Isla pricked her ears forward and immediately clopped out of the room. If there were more patients, then she didn't have time to stand around listening to Rory and Remi talk about what idiots they'd both been. Glancing back towards Rory as Isla passed, the alchemist nodded with comprehension, but not necessarily understanding. "Ah.." He mumbled, nibbling the inside of his lip. Softly his eyes fell on Rory, and a spark of mischievousness appeared in his pale stare as one of his brows raised ever so slightly. "Remember all those times now you have told me to be careful...and now here you are." The words were almost out before he had time to think of them. Really, he had no idea where he stood with Rory. They'd interacted enough that the alchemist would happily count Rory as one of his friends, and yet since their chance-encounter that one day before the air turned cold, they hadn't been alone together (not that they needed to be, or that that meant anything). Only that as far as trying to make light of their situation given that Rory was in a hospital bed, might not go over well. Remi really didn't know.

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

He began to suspect that his first impression of Isla had been very, very misleading. Thrust awkwardly into a new world entirely, the woman he had met that crisp autumn day in the forest had been.. not exactly uncertain, but a little hesitant. Wary. Soft-seeming, in her manners. That Isla had been nothing like the Isla he'd met in the dead of night, and that Isla was nothing like the unicorn standing by his bed with an air of impatience and boredom.

He tried to not feel sadness as he thought he would've liked to get to know her better, for she was still here, wasn't she? Just in another body, another shape, with Remi to translate her thoughts and ideas and impressions. If Rory had managed to cultivate a deep friendship with Jigano-as-a-fox for months, then surely getting to know Isla-the-unicorn better was not impossible?

And yet he couldn't help but wonder if her mind would dull over time, confined by the physique and instincts of her new body.

So perhaps it was a sad tale after all, but he was merely left with a feeling of both wonder and emptiness as the doctor brusquely clomped out of the room, likely hunting for Amalia. The timing was right for it, at least, and that was one thing Rory had understood even that first time: Isla was a dedicated medic.

"She's alright, physically," Rory said quietly, answering some unspoken question he sensed lingering in the air. Some of his sadness and worry bled into his voice. Amalia was mostly unhurt, as far as they could tell. Her only physical injury was a fox bite to the wrist. Whatever Edrei had done to her was invisible, but he thought the wound was in her soul still, bleeding and raw.

Left alone with Remi, Rory settled his attention on the other man again—marveling how much he could look like himself, when that mischievous glint came back into his eyes, despite the filth and grime and gore he was covered in. Something lurched familiarly in his gut, a little twist he knew very well, a sense of heart-ache and wistful longing as he watched the alchemist's face morph.

"Remember all those times now you have told me to be careful...and now here you are."

Called out on his foolishness and hypocrisy, Rory grimaced and averted his eyes. "Yeah, because I was an idiot, and not careful..." he responded with a wince, his fingers moving restlessly over each other. No pony mane to tangle them in; just another stab into his heart, into his memories. He really hoped they'd be alright...

Slowly, he brought his gaze up, looking for Remi's again. "When I say I was this close-" he showed less than half an inch between thumb and index finger "-to dying, I mean it. Amalia too. It was the singularly most stupid thing I've done in my entire life, and for like ten thousand different reasons. I ought to be dead, but I'm not, and I don't know what we gained or learned either.. if anything." He sighed.

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned The way he said physically made something in Remi wince at the implications. Did that then mean she wasn't okay in some other capacity? Healed of most of his burns, Remi's eyes ran across Rory in a quick sweep again, now wondering if there would be signs of some other sort of nefarious injury apparent on the blue-eyed man. But that was the thing about wounds to the heart and the soul, they hid oh so well when you wanted them too. Were they not in a hospital room where Rory had been all but sequestered, Remi might have laughed. He was good at little else, if not laughing at his own misfortunes and stupidity, but the edge in Rory's voice silenced whatever amusement he might have wanted to shower between them to wash away the pain. Instead he merely exhaled a soft hum of understanding. Watching as Rory's fingers rose (were they still sore from how he'd held the lantern all those weeks ago? and why did Remi remember that at all?), the lines on the alchemist's forehead creased as his lips parted in a soft sigh and O of unhappiness. 'If you had died—" He started to say, accent hovering mysteriously around the words as he let them linger and then fall. If Rory had died, what? I would have regretted all the shapes in the clouds I never pointed out. I would have regretted not winning your friendship enough to feed Bakshi the molasses crumbs from my pocket. I would regret not knowing if your hands are as calloused as mine. But even though certain things which might have come to pass between them had not, turning from latency to memory, still there were things the alchemist could not say, and so his eyes simply dropped to the bedside as a warm smile assembled itself onto his face. "—I am glad that you are all alive. " Clearing his throat slightly, the alchemist looked around the room. "How long will you be here for? Is there anything you need? I can—" Still rather awkward about the abundance of magic at his disposal now (how much of it was Rory even aware of?), Remi held up his hands, palms-up, to try and indicate that he could make the man things, if he needed them. It was a poor charade at best, but the words felt uncomfortable on his tongue.

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

"If you had died—"

He would've left so many things unsaid, so many things undone. He would've died the stupid death he knew not to play with; would've walked into the monster's mouth, and been swallowed by the endless dark. He knew these things, and yet he had ridden into the dark, wild and alive and terrified and elated. He had paid for it once already, and he dreaded the dawn as much as he longed for it. He was afraid he'd pay for it again when the sunlight returned.

And somehow, it felt like the price hadn't been high enough; that it should've cost them more to go out into the dark.

"I am too," he responded quietly, watching Remi's face—the smile—the direction of his gaze. He couldn't help but feel like he wasn't enough, as if it was somehow his fault that Remi looked at the bed, that he seemed.. not quite dimmed, but as if they didn't quite know what to say. Rory was not always a serious creature, but it felt like he had spent each encounter trying to hammer into Remi that Caido was dangerous, everything is dangerous, the barrier is dangerous, the demon is dangerous, there's no way out, no way out, no way out, no way out—

He just wanted Remi to be safe. He just wanted the Outlanders to stop trying to change everything, to stop trying to get out, to.. stop...

But everything's always changing, anyway; his mantra since waking up.

"I appreciate the offer," Rory said quietly, watching the man's hands, remember the tiny raccoon sitting cheekily at the top of the perch. "I'll probably be leaving when the Long Night ends. I'm..."

I'm trapped

He licked his lips carefully, studying the face that was now so familiar to him, but had been so alien when he had first arrived in the bubble. He remembered the hand, outstretched. The doubt and threat in Elyna's voice. It felt like in every encounter, Remi offered so much more than Rory could accept, or reciprocate.

"I'm sorry I didn't visit your shop before Long Night. I meant to, I'd love to see what it is you do. I was just..." So busy? Too busy for friends? He wasn't used to having to make time for people in quite such a way. "I kept thinking, 'tomorrow maybe', but tomorrow just had more preparations, more problems, more.. of everything, except free time. I—"

He probably hadn't even told Remi he wanted to visit his shop before. There was a lot of things he thought, but never said. ".. I don't know. I'm just sorry I haven't sought you out."

Naked arms, his secrets still like songs I never learned With a boyish and easy grace, Remi waved his hand easily, absolving Rory of whatever it was lacing his words and creasing the corners of his all-too-blue eyes. "Think nothing of it." The alchemist replied warmly, raising his hands from the bed and placing them lightly against his arms as if encircling himself in a hug. "I came by once to see you, but you were not home. I have ... I was given a mask. It lets me see outside of the barrier. I thought perhaps you might want to look." Remi's eyes flickered uncertainly. There was a glint of mischief and hope in them, but also a sort of wariness, as he expected Rory to rebuke the idea. "And yes, please. You can come by anytime. Or ... we could always meet somewhere else. My shop is not that interesting, unless for some reason you want to see all my half-completed ideas." Laughing at himself, Remi ran a hand through his hair and shook his head wryly. "Well, I should let you get some rest. I am very glad that you are alright." Raising his eyes, he tried to find Rory's, if only for a moment. It was so difficult to hold that too-blue stare, but he made an effort nonetheless. There were things now perhaps he'd never say, and a friendship with Rory somehow seemed second place to some nameless ghost that had drifted away, but still Remi cherished the thought. If for no other reason (though there were plenty of reasons), Rory was special to the alchemist, as he was the first person he had ever met here.

stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires

But he wanted to think something of it: wanted, desperately, to somehow convey that Remi mattered to him. The apology lacing his words was left unsaid, unresolved, and Rory thought that trying to sharpening it into a finer point, to penetrate through the charming armor, might just cause more damage in the end.

So he allowed it to rest, an uneasy death-like slumber, a regret that he had not been at home the time Remi came calling. He would've liked to have been, found sorrow in the notion that he hadn't: that he had missed out on something.

But the reason for the visit chilled him to the bones, a frigid breath released across his grave. A mask? A mask that allowed him to see outside of the barrier? It was terrifying; it was daunting; it was exhilarating, and the words formed by Rory's mouth were what was it like, out there? but only silence passed his lips.

The throb of his heart was painful.

The loyalty of the dog struggling against its leash and collar.

He wanted to leap for the opportunity, to grasp it, hold it, firmly, firmly, to never let it go; to realize all his childhood dreams, to .. to know... To know what couldn't be known... To travel again to the dusty, lifeless expanse by the barrier, with the Alchemist, a vista that seemed almost fated to repeat time and time again.

"Remi, I'd love to see your half-completed ideas," he responded with a laugh, knowing that he had left the subject of the mask untouched. His reaction to it had been slight too, just his back tensing, his eyes growing equal measures cold and alight, and his fingers twisted among themselves and the bed sheets. "And then perhaps you could also show me the mask..."

The words were like dirt and ash upon his tongue, filth and grime, betrayal of something: acceptance of something else. He felt too tired and confused to make sense of it, knew only that he wanted, like he wanted so much else recently.

Then Remi spoke of leaving him, and though Rory's face fell at the words, he saw the wisdom in it. Hesitantly he reached up to stroke a lock of his blond hair back behind an ear, and he nodded slightly. "Yes, otherwise I suppose Isla might have a choice word or two about it... And you look like you could do with some cleaning up and sleep yourself, Remi. So you take care of yourself, alright, hm?"