From being an Abandoned who had rarely left the Hollowed Grounds, to embracing the call of adventure, to dying and being reborn first as an Ascended and then as an Ancient, Maea has gone through quite the amount of changes in her life. One thing remains common, though, in her attempts to find out just where she belongs; she’s always had a craving for knowledge which has brought her to so many places and to meet so many people here in Caido. We can’t wait to see what else is in store for her!
Congratulations, Maea!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
06-16-2023, 06:22 AM (This post was last modified: 06-16-2023, 06:23 AM by Evie.)
Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
She is not called to the infirmary often these days. Her talents are more often used in the tending of plants and dedication to retrieving samples from far reaches of Caido for the medics to use in their tinctures and balms. It doesn't mean she isn't still at the top of the list for emergency medical situations - not many, even in Halo, have healing magic as strong as hers.
His name is Yosef. She has had a sporadic hand in his treatment for the past six months, but the prognosis had never been particularly good. Magic can heal most anything, but it cannot postpone natural human ailments like age and death. It doesn't make her feel any less guilty as she sits at his bedside most of the night, wearing herself thin using her magic in waves to combat the pain he is feeling.
It doesn't stop.
The moment her magic fades back into her body, the hurt begins to make its way back into his old bones. Evie can do nothing but watch, helpless. Organ failure, she notes in a detached voice somewhere in the back of her mind. Life support options exhausted. Imminent failure of adjacent systems. Pain management and hospice care are all that's left. Except his failure has become acute, and while her magic can take away the pain, frankly he is simply not dying fast enough - her stamina cannot match what he needs.
"You can't keep this up Eve." His soft, wheezing voice pulls her out of her head as she stares helplessly at his hand held in both of hers, wondering why she has to fail so often. The nickname feels like hot irons in her stomach, and there is a desperate sort of manic energy to her as she lifts her head, eyes painfully dry because she can't let herself think this is the end yet. "Yes I can. I can - I can call for Hotaru, she can help me alternate -" the woman's magic is not as strong as her own, but it would be better than pitiful human medicine. Except he interrupts her with a shake of his head that's more like a flop to the side, eyes that are far too coherent and clear finding her own. "No. I just...I want it to be done."
She sits in the wake of his tired confession like a forgotten buoy out on the ocean. There are too many implications there, and she is terrified to know which he means. "It will be Yosef. I'll make sure it's painless, I promise, I just need to get Hotaru." The cajoling, begging tone shouldn't be so easy to hear. Evie should be a professional about this. But he had always asked for only her, no matter how many nurses and doctors offered their services in the infirmary instead. She can't fail him now, at the very end.
His hand makes the long, slow journey across the sheet to settle frail and bony over her own clasped as if in prayer around his own. "Eve. Please. No more. I don't want it prolonged. I want it done." And this time there is no mistaking his intentions, his last request that he is entrusting to her shaking hands. Something she has no business entertaining as a professional, as a healer. But here in their private room where no nurses dare enter without her call, they both know it is a taboo nobody else will be privy to.
The first tears well in her eyes as she leans over and presses her forehead to the back of his hand. Lets her magic flow stubbornly back into his body despite her exhaustion, causing him to sigh and relax back into the pillow as the relief takes over him all at once. In the silence that follows she hiccups quietly into his skin, and he turns his hand to caress her cheek. Evie has never gotten to say goodbye before; mother, father, brother, friends. If it hurts this badly, she regrets ever having wanted them.
One hand lifts to shakily touch the cuff on her ear, and her voice is thick with tears as she activates it with Deimos' name. "Deimos," her voice breaks as she says it the moment the connection is made, "I-I need you at the infirmary. As quickly as you can." He knows she had been called to Yosef's bedside given they'd been interrupted at dinner, but dawn has nearly arrived by now. From the bed, Yosef has the strength to look confused, and Evie pulls her hand away from the cuff to clasp his hand again. "I promised you," she manages through a shaking voice, "painless. I'll make sure of it."
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
He’d long since put the food away, took to ensuring the companions were fed, bedded down into their comforts, tended to the fire multitudes of times, before finally succumbing to the study, and jotting down notes for the end of the day, and the impending morning. At some point he probably dozed off across the desk, imprints of paper and charcoal left on his cheek, forgotten when her voice in his ear caused him to bolt upright. Blinking more than once to ascertain his surroundings, the reality of the matter contorted in on his mind, and he unfurled another breath, alone in the room. Nodding to nothing and no one, he pressed the cuff at his ear, steeling and preparing for some other onslaught. “Evie – on my way.”
Grabbing his coat at the door, and then Zuriel, for he wasn’t certain about necessities at the present, the pair drifted across the wintry road together. The mixture of dread and apprehension curled in the corners of his ribs, just below heart and lungs. The Sword wasn’t frequently called to the infirmary, existing as the opposite of a mender. But it always pulled stark reminders of white tents, blood, and screams, the echoes of friends not returning, of carrying their figures across battlefields and burying them hours later. Nowadays, he usually lifted one of his soldiers over to the building for broken bones or nasty wounds.
Greeting anyone remaining at the door with a nod, he and the unicorn entered. A few quiet questions left his lips, striving to ascertain the situation before it hit him fully, and the other nurses gave gestures towards the back room. Snagging at a few mugs of water and tea, he ventured in that direction too, Zuriel close behind and a calming presence, before he saw Evie’s familiar crimson hair.
And the patient before her.
“Yosef,” he greeted in a quiet rumble first, before grabbing a chair, and handing over Evie’s mug of choice. The lurking denizen of exhaustion, fatigue, and impending elements lingered too heavily, and he clenched his jaw, glancing at Zuriel as she lingered closer to the man’s bedside. For Deimos’ efforts, he sat beside the Evergreen, his eyes on the elderly gentleman. In all his days of war and worlds, very few had ever made it to the Halovian’s age. The Sword was used to seeing the haggard breath of the young, battle-torn and bludgeoned.
His machinations settled, something resembling stoicism passing over his features when he was anything but, and he leaned close to Evie’s ear, a low whisper. “What did you need?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
06-20-2023, 09:37 PM (This post was last modified: 06-20-2023, 09:37 PM by Evie.)
Evie
Did you ever love her? Do you know?
She can hear the sleep still clinging in the husk of his voice, but hearing him at all helps her steady her hands and draw in a deeper breath. She is not ashamed to admit he is her rock, and knowing he will be here at her side within minutes makes the weight of the moment ease away from her shoulders. Together, she and Yosef sit in silence, Evie's wavering energy giving him what little she has left now that reprieve is on the horizon. When the quiet sound of the handle turning breaks their silent vigil, the Evergreen's tired, blackened gazed finds Deimos within seconds. There is no heart left to smile, but he will see the wash of relief that loosens the clear strain in her expression.
"Deimos," Yosef wheezes from the bed in reply, always far more formal with the Sword than with Evie. As man and unicorn approach, Evie turns her eyes to Zuriel. "Can you take over for me for a moment, Zuriel?" Always striving to give agency to the proud mare whenever the opportunity arose. Yosef's eyes close as her hands pull away, and she turns towards Deimos, knees knocking together as she sways into his gravity. This, she appreciates more than anything; that he does not complain or question her choices, merely asks what he can do, confident in her judgment.
"He is dying slower than we can support magically or medically," she whispers in turn, though her voice is clearly strained and thick with past tears shed. "I can't keep the pain at bay much longer. And he's - he's done Deimos. He doesn't want to keep suffering." To keep worsening agonizingly slowly, entirely reliant upon the efforts and energy of others who are more than just nameless faces to him now. As proud and independent as any old Halovian. Evie knows it hurts his soul as much as it hurts his body. Her eyes are bloodshot from fatigue and grief alike as she turns them to Deimos' own, clearly begging. "He's of sound mind. He wants - he -" How can she say it? How can she word it in a way that will have her lover understanding instead of reeling away as if burned by the gravity of her request? Her hands reach for his, perhaps selfishly, and her thumb traces the dip of his palm. "Your magic is an exact antithesis to mine. It would ensure a peaceful end for him that even our tinctures cannot provide." Natural means would be swift, yes, but equally painful. But this is Evie's world, not Deimos', and she has no way of knowing if this is a moral boundary for him. "You can say no. I promise, you can. But if you do, I will need your help because it will take all I have left to keep him pain free until the end even if Zuriel helps." Which means she will likely fall unconscious herself, utterly magically drained. "Whatever we decide, I - I need you here." Physically and emotionally.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
The mare was first to maneuver once more, the haughty nod of her head indicating nothing at all but some inherent superiority, moving closer to the man, the glow of her blue horn beginning, summoning, healing incantations for the elderly gentleman.
From there, the Sword’s attention came in coiled, knotted, gnarled pieces, listening to Evie’s words, the way the man before them simply lingered, existing in the world merely to suffer. His jaw clenched again, piercing eyes segmented upon Yosef, taking quiet inhales and exhales, the suggestion of his magic to end and ease the pain something that gnawed at the edges of him.
For a long time, he was silent; the ticking and feathering of his muscles perhaps the only strung movement. Deimos had no problem, past or present, in obliterating an enemy. An adversary on the battlefield. A threat to his people. It came as easily as breathing – to ward off treacherous means with equally foreboding measures and means, without a second thought. It clung to his skin and pulsed through his veins, a vigilant course of action always ready, eternally eager for the fight. Wild, vicious, unholy, detrimental layers of contempt and vigilance, contorted in powerful, seditious layers.
But this individual was no abhorrent foe, no wrathful nemesis.
He could remember, recall, the painstaking course of his friends who’d survived the onslaught – but not thereafter – as blood curdled in their throats and chests heaved with sullen voids until they simply couldn’t any longer. Sometimes it took minutes. Hours. Days.
Rexanna lying on the table during LongNight. Saved, but just barely.
“It has to be his decision,” he said ultimately, after a long wait, his gaze on the floor. He wasn’t Remi. He couldn’t fathom how the Lullaby did it so frequently without falling to pieces. “Then do not ask it of me again.” Because this would be just as haunting as the rest of them.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
On her part, most of what she does is simply wait as Deimos sits and considers what she proposes. There is no tension in her anticipation, because nothing he could possibly say would make her react better or worse. His desires are just as important as Yosef's, as hers.
To Evie it is far simpler - a kindness, or an act of mercy. She has seen and assisted far too many deaths to feel any differently. But to Deimos? A soldier, a general? She has no way of knowing. And maybe it was presumptuous of her to think to suggest this at all. Maybe she has already wounded and insulted him. But for the sake of her patient, for the sake of his comfort, she must try. Must ask these difficult questions.
And though he agrees, his amendment has her immediately shaking her head, resolve immediately surfacing. "No, if you need to say that then I'm not letting you do it." He is far too self-sacrificial, and Evie had never wanted to be one of the people who asked him to do it. She won't be. It will simply die and remain a theoretical option, never to be touched again. Yosef is not the only one she needs to protect and advocate for.
Tired mind at work now, Evie slides her hands up into her hair - gone loose for a few hours now after the strain of magic had prompted a headache - and restlessly twists it into some facsimile of a bun. And though her eyes are still bloodshot and her cheeks still ruddy, it's clear some sort of coping mechanism is descending as she re-enters the mindset she needs to occupy. There is no good way out of this, but Evie would rather suffer magical exhaustion than condemn her beloved to the throes of guilt and nightmares. "I'll need Zuriel to keep healing him while I prepare the solution and drink that tea." Caffeine of any kind will hopefully give her that last little bit of stamina she'll need. "I can use your magic another way though - one moment let me -" trailing off now she rises from her chair - and immediately stumbles, having been sat giving her energy for hours now - and heads to the corner of the room with all the ingredients and instruments they've been using to try and combat his pain before calling upon the Evergreen. It doesn't take long to concoct; Efas herb for pain, and a potted Gilded Lily with a glass dome over it. Taking it to Deimos, she holds it out to him. "Can you kill it with your magic? It will make the pollen easier to handle and leave traces that will make it more potent." They need any amount of time they can give themselves. Her bloodshot eyes find his, and she tries for a smile that falls flat for lack of energy.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
An argument settled on his tongue, perhaps to alleviate her discomfort well over his own, and firmly shut, blistering away all the other sentiments. His nose wrinkled, maybe in a matter of defiance that he couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps he’d disappointed her. Maybe there was nothing to forgive and forget, before that too faded into the midst, and all that was left was Yosef.
His piercing gaze studied her as she maneuvered about, the notions firmly back in place. No sacrificial lambs to take the final bout, his jaw feathered again, grasp tightening around his mug. “All right,” followed on the first statement, a nod given to Zuriel as the unicorn persisted, granting a rough snort as if to alleviate any number of things. With the mare’s strength at the ready, nurturing and nursing despite her sovereignly disposition, he and the Evergreen were free to concentrate on whatever came next.
His hand shot out to her arm to steady her as she wobbled, following suit to stand, taking what may come. That he’d be useful in some other accord caused his brows to arch as she snagged and pulled at various ingredients. Recognizing both, but not the layers of potency or potential, he took them in his grasp. “What will it do?”
But his life drain drummed to the surface with implacable ease; the oldest, most familiar to him, snagging, pulling, and tugging at the strands of leaf blades and buds. Perhaps it was easier when it was the earth dying at his beck and call, than that of an elder, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge so many philosophies at the moment. Within seconds, they faded – strength taken, snagged, and then nothing.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
In a different time or place, years ago, he may have objected. In fact it settles her heart to hear him quietly capitulate, offering her that small measure of absolution to counter the fear that she had overstepped or implied something about the way she sees him. That he trusts her to take his place, to care for him as well as achieve their goals, it makes her love him all the more - and that carries her through the last stretch of this awful night.
His hand on her arm has her smiling, wan but appreciative. In the bed Yosef has clearly chosen to try and find some small measure of rest under Zuriel's care, giving them their privacy as they gather ingredients and talk in hushed voices. For a moment Evie merely watches his magic at work as she delays her answer. It's beautiful in a way, how swift and easy it is. She has grown so many plants in the reverse, healed crumbling edges of skin and bone like a stopwatch wound backwards, and seeing it happen in fast-forward doesn't stop her from feeling some small measure of awe.
Taking the encased flower back from his hands, she smiles sadly. "It will paralyze him, and begin shutting down his heart and adjacent systems." Death. Deimos may have been able to grant it too, but there is a part of Evie that is stubbornly proud that her knowledge and care of plants can stand in to alleviate that burden from the Sword. "The Efas herb will help with the pain. He was at the maximum dosage but..." Well, soon it wouldn't matter. Taking the plants, she retreats back to the corner for the careful extraction of the pollen, mask pulled back over her face for protection as she does. Once it is crushed and powdered alongside the efas herb, she mixes it in with nothing more than water before pouring it into a paper cup.
Then she just...stares at it.
This one little cup will take her patient away into Mort's arms. This small mouthful of muddied water, made by her hands, will mean the end of Yosef. Maybe it's really not that different to how Deimos' magic would work, but herein lies the differences between them; Evie is a healer, and she only sees this as a merciful thing, a gift she can give to reward the trust her patient has placed in her.
Turning, she takes up the cup of tea Deimos had brought in and drains it as quickly as she can. Unicorns - even when bonded to a man with as much stamina as Deimos - do not have infinite wells of magic, and often much less than an Abandoned. They don't have time to waste. "When it's over I likely won't be conscious," she warns him quietly as she places her empty cup down. "There are beds here the nurses can show you to where you can put me." Lest he try something like carrying her home. "Don't let Zuriel do the same - if both of us run out we'll have nothing left in his very last moments. You'll have to call on Hotaru to get here as soon as possible if Zuriel feels she's getting too close to her limit." The Valkyrie's powers are not nearly to the level of Evie's, but they would suffice for Yosef's last moments. And then for a moment the medical mindset drops away, and she silently reaches for Deimos' hand to squeeze it tight. "Just...stay with me otherwise."
Taking the medicated cup, she returns to Yosef's bedside and gently touches his hand. "I have what you need Yosef," she murmurs, and the man's eyes open slowly, a tiny smile on his lips. "Good. I'm ready, Eve." Her eyes threaten to water all over again as she laughs, choked up. "I know you are." Sliding closer, she takes his hand fully in her own. "You won't be able to speak once you take it. It's time for our goodbyes." Though it's clear Evie is struggling, Yosef merely looks peaceful, accepting of this natural end. He'd been ready for it for some time. "Only a short one my girl. I'll be there to welcome ya home with Mort when the time comes. Won't feel like no time at all to me." Evie laughs wetly, amused as ever by his dedication to humor and cheering her up. "You better be," is all she can think to say, gently holding the cup to his lips so he can drink it. It will happen fast and she knows it, and once it's empty she doesn't bother setting it aside, merely holding it limp in her hand on the bed as it retreats away.
"Thank you Evie." She doesn't expect him to have had anything else to say, and it guts her to have those words be his last, but she forces herself to smile so it can be the last thing he sees. "Always, Yosef." And then she takes his hand in hers and pushes her magic into him, signaling Zuriel that she was ready to take over as the countdown began. Already she can feel his body going too-still, cardiovascular system beginning to struggle as the paralytic sets in. Her head drops, and she leans forward against the side of the bed to prop herself up as she focuses the rest of her energy into the last dredges of her magic and listens to Deimos' breathing in order to ignore the fact that Yosef's is already beginning to stutter. No more than thirty minutes, but exercising constant healing to that degree will mean this will be her last memory of the night as well.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
Perhaps the only underlying consternation was that his decision ultimately made her occupation all the more difficult. Being allowed his boundaries and morals was another notion altogether, and one he couldn’t quite fathom presently, adjusting to directions, indications, and brief, but sudden movements. He had no place in a healer’s realm – nothing about him mended. Much of his life’s work had been about tearing, ripping, bludgeoning, and maiming, and something within gnarled and gnashed at his veins.
But he remained, stalwart too.
Paralytics and organs failing contorted the impassive, nonchalant framework of a mask back over his features – stoic as ever, when faced with the way life came to an end. So he nodded, watching in some bitter, residual silence as she concocted and crushed, maintaining her wisdom and sagacity for hundreds of thousands of moments comprised, composed, like these.
The warning made his brows furrow once more, and the statement thereafter was chased by an abrupt snort followed. “I will take you home.” Where she could rest and relax in her own quarters and sanctum, away from the precipices this instance surmised. As for Zuriel, his piercing stare landed on her, and she shook her head, alleviating any doubt or worry – the mare had always been self-preserving. Opening his palm out to her, the absolution was clear and concise. “I will stay.” Supportive and defiant, stubborn and stern, but there just the same.
Then more rapid notions and actions took claim, and he could only watch, breathe deeper, as the memories of other similar scenes blended into this one, fighting down fragments, blistering edges of wanting to take away pain and torment. The conversation was quiet, and not for him, so he kept his eyes riveted on infirmary beds and white linens, the juxtaposition of too many things simultaneously.
At the signal, Zuriel lifted her head, the glow of her horn diminishing. The rest was up to Evie, and he could only stand beside her crumpling form, as incantations flowed, as healing adjusted into something else.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
His stubbornness is a familiar comfort, though it makes her shake her head, smiling wryly all the same. Evie may not weigh much - and certainly even less when measured up against Deimos' strength - but she still resents the idea of him carrying her all the way home in the snow. Still, she trusts him to take care of her no matter what he chooses.
The rest is all very anti-climactic. Painful in a way that magic can't fix, but otherwise simple in how these threads come to an end. Evie has never forced herself past this physical brink, and it goes against every notion of self-preservation that the human body has built into the very stonework of its cells to do so. Sweat breaks out on her forehead, her skin goes hot then cold, and her hands go clammy. But then - finally - she feels the last rattling breath escape Josef's lungs. Feels the heartbeat tied to her magic go silent. Her soul cries out in simultaneous grief and relief that she has done it, that she has assured a comfortable end for her patient, but her body collapses down in abject relief that the deed is done. Evie slumps forward, and her consciousness winks out seconds later.
07-17-2023, 10:54 AM (This post was last modified: 07-18-2023, 12:33 PM by Deimos.)
DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
It fell to quiet; Evie’s incantations working their way through a body that simply couldn’t hold them any longer, Yosef’s breathing, struggling, and finally nothing else. Maybe the latter finally had some relief, after time embroiled in agony, and the Sword bowed his head for the old man who’d helped cultivate the world of Halo through years upon years.
His heart went out to Evie, slumped over and exhausted, and he did exactly as he’d claimed. Cleaning up their dishes, and patting Yosef on the arm, Deimos was an efficient beast in the wake of turmoil; knowing and understanding chaos, grief, and anguish like the callouses on his palms, well-acquainted with the expanse of melancholy. The Evergreen became his main priority, bundling her up carefully in his arms without much effort, her head lolling in the crook of his neck. Opening the door with one hand, and murmuring to the nurses about the man’s demise, promises were made with care of the body, pyres the following day, and anything else necessary. With quiet nods, and a turn of his head, Zuriel came along behind, and the promise of home rang through their minds again.
With an unfurled breath, they meandered back into the fold of Halo’s evening – dark, midnight skies, stars clustered overhead, smoke curling from chimneys, and lanterns’ warm glows - as long strides took them down familiar paths. Granting her a whisper she likely couldn’t or wouldn’t hear, his rumble still exuded, hushed, on thoughts he couldn’t voice earlier. “Life drain is about taking,” he could acknowledge often and always – snagging, stealing, coaxing strength from another until they had nothing left. He’d weaponized it time and time and time again. “But your healing gives.” Bestowals, offerings, and even those last instances of life. “You gave him exactly what he needed.” Even if it wasn’t what they all wanted, in the end.
And all the while, Zuriel bent her head, gently touching her horn to Evie's shoulder, in hopes of recuperation and aid.
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
She knows nothing in the darkness of her unconsciousness, but the rumble of his voice soothes what little fight there may have been to give that little bit more to open her eyes, like a fitfully sleeping child being soothed by their mother's voice. Zuriel's magic softens the jagged edges of magical and physical exhaustion, which in turn softens the slight wrinkle in her brow and the tired rasp of her breathing.
She wakes up in their bed.
Head aching and eyes bleary she nevertheless sits up immediately, feeling more tired than she ever has in her life without going through a literal war or the mental burden of LongNight. Disoriented and rather confused, her hand reaches sideways immediately towards Deimos' side of the bed while calling out for him. "Honey?" Searching for her touchstone before any memories fully return, only knowing that she feels terrible and she isn't sure how she got here.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
In between placing her on their bed, finishing up any bedtime chores and tending to their companions, he too eventually succumbed to slumber. It’d be a uneasy, restless sort of sleep, in between airs of dreams he didn’t particularly want to have, and by the time Evie had found some measure of consciousness, he’d long since lost his – eyes tracking over shadows, thoughts flicking to past lives and alterations beyond – in and out of fitful proportions until he gave up entirely.
Though he didn’t follow her upwards, watching her, uncertain about her level of exhaustion or disorientation, brow furrowing slightly until she called out. From there he did rise, rubbing at one of his eyes and maneuvering long hair out of his face, hand reaching for hers. His rumbling voice, deepened from the attempts at rest, grumbled in the dark, brow already beginning to furrow with concern. “You all right?”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
Had she known she would be waking him she might have tried to reign in the jolt of fear that came with awakening and not knowing where he was, but perhaps it was inevitable given how lightly he sleeps anyway. Regardless she only knows the dark of their room and the fuzzy tiltawhirl in her head that make her reach out into the imposing shadows with hand and voice, calling for the one person she knows, even in her disorientation, whose mere presence will make her feel more secure.
When his hand touches hers at first she jolts, until his voice comes through the shadows to provide recognition that settles swift over her racing heart to lure it back towards a calmer pace. Turning towards him, fingers ensnaring at his own, her other comes up to her temple with a wince when the motion makes pain lance through her temple. Instinctually, she reaches for her magic, accustomed to whisking away any little hurts - and finds a beleaguered response that makes her stomach swoop with nausea. That’s when she starts remembering, and she sits there staring at the vague shapes of their hands in the dark as she comes to terms with it all, likely silent for far too long given his question.
“Disoriented,” she admits in a soft, raspy voice. Confused, before. Less so now. Slowly lifting her eyes to him both for the sake of her head and her heart, she squeezes his hand and gives him a fond, wry smile. “I thought I told you I could sleep at the infirmary,” she murmurs, not quite able to laugh just yet but wanting some measure of lightheartedness amidst all this darkness.
ache first, but then let the cuts close spit out the blood
His own mind was a clouded, foggy, groggy haze, eyes narrowing, before altering to feline portions in the dark – tilting his head and striving to replicate some semblance of calm in the apprehensive measures still holding firm. They seemed to dissipate almost immediately though, shrunken in between reality and shadows. Time and space swallowed by preceding events, clarity and the hours thereafter not true to form yet; he’d have to gaze out the window to gauge the moments and couldn’t be bothered in this instant.
He could see her wince too, and without a word, save for the silent communications between bonds, he gave a polite nudge towards Zuriel, who was somewhere off in the distance. Most likely near a hearth.
She’d be there eventually, but for now, he concentrated on the Evergreen, and the slow roll of his gaze that followed the fond joke, mockingly exasperated, but altogether an exhausted smile. “And I told you I would bring you home.” If she’d been disoriented here, he could only imagine the collection of confusion and turmoil amidst the Infirmary. Besides, the Sword had always tried to be true to his word – and it’d been no effort to carry her through the familiar surroundings. “Zuriel can heal you again.”
watch your body pull itself back together then let your soul do the same
