He heard steps stumbling out after him, a looming presence against the dark sky and the Spire; it swayed and then crashed, near to where he was on his hands and knees, blinking his running eyes and frantically casting around. The relative blindness was terrifying, the unfamiliar voice asking for a drink had to be that other Ascended, so now it was just Amalia and Jigano that had to come up because Roana had thrown herself at the snake, or maybe the light—
A weight settled over his body and a shudder ripped through him at the sudden touch. A gasp passed over chapped lips, but Wessex was there. Her voice was steady, commanding, just as her presence. Whatever had happened earlier was forgotten, and Rory blindly obeyed, shivering as he leaned his head back and opened his mouth.
The water was a blessing and a curse, the cool, clear taste like a balm, the savage bite into irritated skin a whiplash against his already crumbling spirit. Obediently Rory swished it around in his mouth and then spat it out, biting back a whimper as he coughed violently again.
Rinse. Repeat. Tears and water mixed as it was poured into his eyes, ears strained for what went on behind him. A woman seemed to be with Lucas, and then another stumbled out the Spire—Amalia, coughing, his name mixed somewhere in with her breaths. "I'm here," he croaked. It was only Jigano left now, but there was no sound of footsteps...
The seconds stretched, the cold dread forming and then breaking as Amalia's broken voice cried out his name in desperation—
"NO!" Rory screamed, foolishly trying to throw himself around, away from Wessex and her careful ministrations, towards the Spire, towards.. towards Jigano, who had asked for his forgiveness for entering; Jigano, who had touched his shoulder and told him to go; Jigano, who was..
Oh. Through his blurred, burning vision he saw Amalia collide with a tall and slender shape in the Spire's mouth, one that he knew without being able to see the details.
Fear and resentment fell back into the pit of pain, and Rory coughed again, sinking back on his hands and knees by Wessex.
Then Evie was in front of him, and he blinked his bloodshot, irritated eyes at her, wishing he could make out the expression on her face instead of just seeing a pale blur ringed with moonlight-bronze. "Had to try and get them out," he rasped in defense, though she was right: he had been an idiot for going in. What had he thought to achieve? He wasn't strong enough to carry a body out, not brave enough to stay and face a huge snake made of stone when his body was dying.
Why had he gone in at all?
It didn't matter. Evie enveloped him in a painful but relieving hug, and as best as he could he returned it, trying to pat her on the back, trying to not melt into the sensation of relief at being alive—
Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot
The worst of the blur cleared from his eyes, along with the worst of the irritation on his skin and in his lungs. Reluctantly he let her go, watching her give the same blessing to Amalia, then shriek as she saw Kristopher's head. Rory winced. He had thought about grabbing it but between holding on to the bear and the guy's sword, he hadn't had enough hands, nor any real desire to.
He sat back shakily on his heels, and reached out a trembling hand to grasp Wessex's wrist. But he found no words to express what he felt, so he was silent, his clearer eyes searching for hers for a moment before he gave in to a new fit of coughing.
A weight settled over his body and a shudder ripped through him at the sudden touch. A gasp passed over chapped lips, but Wessex was there. Her voice was steady, commanding, just as her presence. Whatever had happened earlier was forgotten, and Rory blindly obeyed, shivering as he leaned his head back and opened his mouth.
The water was a blessing and a curse, the cool, clear taste like a balm, the savage bite into irritated skin a whiplash against his already crumbling spirit. Obediently Rory swished it around in his mouth and then spat it out, biting back a whimper as he coughed violently again.
Rinse. Repeat. Tears and water mixed as it was poured into his eyes, ears strained for what went on behind him. A woman seemed to be with Lucas, and then another stumbled out the Spire—Amalia, coughing, his name mixed somewhere in with her breaths. "I'm here," he croaked. It was only Jigano left now, but there was no sound of footsteps...
The seconds stretched, the cold dread forming and then breaking as Amalia's broken voice cried out his name in desperation—
"NO!" Rory screamed, foolishly trying to throw himself around, away from Wessex and her careful ministrations, towards the Spire, towards.. towards Jigano, who had asked for his forgiveness for entering; Jigano, who had touched his shoulder and told him to go; Jigano, who was..
Oh. Through his blurred, burning vision he saw Amalia collide with a tall and slender shape in the Spire's mouth, one that he knew without being able to see the details.
Fear and resentment fell back into the pit of pain, and Rory coughed again, sinking back on his hands and knees by Wessex.
Then Evie was in front of him, and he blinked his bloodshot, irritated eyes at her, wishing he could make out the expression on her face instead of just seeing a pale blur ringed with moonlight-bronze. "Had to try and get them out," he rasped in defense, though she was right: he had been an idiot for going in. What had he thought to achieve? He wasn't strong enough to carry a body out, not brave enough to stay and face a huge snake made of stone when his body was dying.
Why had he gone in at all?
It didn't matter. Evie enveloped him in a painful but relieving hug, and as best as he could he returned it, trying to pat her on the back, trying to not melt into the sensation of relief at being alive—
Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot
The worst of the blur cleared from his eyes, along with the worst of the irritation on his skin and in his lungs. Reluctantly he let her go, watching her give the same blessing to Amalia, then shriek as she saw Kristopher's head. Rory winced. He had thought about grabbing it but between holding on to the bear and the guy's sword, he hadn't had enough hands, nor any real desire to.
He sat back shakily on his heels, and reached out a trembling hand to grasp Wessex's wrist. But he found no words to express what he felt, so he was silent, his clearer eyes searching for hers for a moment before he gave in to a new fit of coughing.
