(collab with Falcon)
It was like waking up from a long, dreamless sleep full of uneasy, half-formed and feverish fears. At first she came into her core, and then slowly her limbs until she felt the weight and press of stones and limbs; it was enough to jolt her into action, scrabbling like a mad woman at her makeshift grave until she could see trees and ground and water. Not too far from her she saw, too, the rotting corpse of a man, only his feet immediately visible from where she sat. Carefully she uncovered the rest of her body and stumbled out of the debris, at first falling when her legs shook and crumpled under her. However, after a few tries, she managed to stand and saw that it was Llir, although curiously to her, she saw no marks or signs of struggle. Still dazed, Shola stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before passing a hand through her wet, dirty hair and realizing she had no horse, no company, and was totally alone. Looking back at the pile, and then at Llir, Shola tried to piece together what had happened, tried to rack her memory for the moments leading up to whatever had happened--
When she saw the pool of blood on the ground she remembered the choking poison and the sound of a sword slicing through the air, and then nothingness. Her hands flew to her throat and she trembled and gagged as she felt the new scar. Shola staggered away from the scene, her body leaden, as she sought a way out and away from proof of her death. Halfway towards the edge of the swamp she suddenly realized she couldn’t feel the bond, couldn’t feel Trevean on the other end of it, and her mind rushed back to the pool of blood. Had Llir taken him too, or had he survived somehow? What had happened to Ed? Had they made her grave and left, or had some other traveler done that? There had been no bodies nearby, and Shola clung to the hope that Trevean and Ed had somehow gotten away.
Unsure of how much time passed in the swamp, Shola was relieved to see the barest glow of dawn on the horizon when the tree canopy broke and she was closer to the field. Gladder still was her heart when she saw torchlight and a company farther ahead, mounted on horseback and apparently scouring the area. She shouted, finding her voice hoarse, and then could only wave until one of them saw her approaching. To her surprise, she saw Kaden among them and waved frantically at him even as she stumbled, exhausted and weak.
It was a scouting party Kaden was with, out scouring the land for any hint of the growing darkness. It stood to reason that with the death of a guardian they might see some signs of its growing. Yet it wasn’t the darkness they found but a lone figure stumbling from the swamp. The person called and waved, and a jolt of familiarity shot through his spine.
Wheeling his horse around Kaden rushed towards her before any of the others could stop him, dismounting from the moving saddle to land within two strides of Shola as the horse slowed and stopped just beyond on its own.
“I’m not even gonna bother to ask how,” he stated as he moved to her side just in time to catch the slightly taller woman as she stumbled. She held onto him as she tried to steady herself, swallowing roughly and shaking her head.
“I couldn’t tell you if you asked,” she replied, her voice so hoarse it was almost difficult to understand.
“Do you have water? I need a drink-- something. And Kaden, where is my altera-- Where is Trevean? Is he, did he…?”
She seemed unable to ask if he was still alive.
”He’s alive,” Kaden answered as he fumbled for his water skin and held it to her lips, keeping one arm around her back for support should she need it. “If you can call it alive. He’s -- well you’ll see when we get you back to him. His brother, Edolan? Managed to drag him back to the city after whatever it was had happened. Must have been a chore too. He kept trying to get back the the woods the first few hours.”
“Light,” Shola murmured, gulping down the water and sighing as some strength returned to her. She passed the water skin back to him and gave him a brief hug before she stood on her own and looked towards the city.
“I know you’re all here on a mission, but Kaden, can you take me back? I need to go at once, to see everyone-- to see if I can’t repair the bond somehow. I… I know how bad he must be. And I know it must be hard on Amilah too. Will you take me back?”
“Quite possibly the best mission I’ve been assigned in some time,” he managed a shaky smile at her. “You want the horse? Or you want me to ride with you?”
“I’ll ride with you,” she replied. “I’m not sure I’m up to being in charge of one of those things yet, and you’re more than capable. I’m glad to see you out with the guard.”
She mounted the horse behind him and leaned against his back, closing her eyes as they began the familiar journey home. She dozed part of the way there, not far gone enough to fall off the horse, but enough to feel less tired by the time they reached the drawbridge and were let in. Shola found it difficult to keep moving as everyone who saw her stopped her and demanded a story, and eventually she borrowed a cloak and stole anonymously through the market, telling Kaden to go inform the others while she saw to Trevean. The journey was smooth until she had to identify herself at the gate, but Shola managed to ward off too many questions and slip into the castle, avoiding servants and guards until she found Trevean’s door. When knocking provided no answer, Shola flagged down a young scullery maid and soon had a key. Inside the room Shola moved quietly to the bed and sat on the edge, her heart breaking as she looked at his sleeping form. Gently she touched his cheek and his brow, calling his name to draw him out of sleep.
The first people went for were Lilith and Dante, figuring the two would be together.
Trevean’s brow furrowed as he heard his name, but his dreams were troubled, and of late he seemed to have as many nightmares waking as sleeping. He stirred slightly but not much, and when she called his name again he opened his eyes just enough to see her before closing them tight again and murmuring, “No, not this again -- enough of these dreams”
“Altera,” she said gently, but firmly, and traced her thumb over his cheek.
“This is no dream, irriam. Wake up.”
His eyes were bloodshot and gummy. He had to wipe the haze from them to see her properly. But though he knew he was awake he dared not hope, and the truth of that was written in his features.
“Not a dream?” he whispered cautiously, “then are you a ghost?”
“Hardly,” Shola replied, reaching out to take one of his hands and place it over her heart so that he could feel the beating of it through the scar. A moment later she kissed his palm and placed it there again, placing both of her hands over his.
“I am alive and returned, Altera. Truly, neither a ghost, a dream, or a trick.”
“But, how?” and there was no missing how hoarse his voice was. “I saw you die! I saw you fall, felt your blood on my face . . . how?” It took everything he had to hold in the sobs that threatened to wreck his body.
“ I don’t know,” she said softly, squeezing his hand.
“I only remember seeing you, being ill, and then waking up under the stones and limbs. It was like waking up from sleep; I don’t remember anything, I only know that I’ve returned. Kaden happened to be on patrol near the swamp and he brought me back here.”
“It’s real?” he whispered slowly, “you’re real? Then --” his faces clouded for a moment, “why can’t I feel you?” trevean closed his eyes, just for a second he thought, but it was more than enough for his tears to begin to leak out. And then it was too late. He couldn’t stop the sobs that came, or the anguish and grief with it.
“Trevean--”
Shola moved beside him, drawing him quickly into her arms and cradling his head to her breast as he sobbed, stroking his hair and murmuring soothingly to him, encouraging him to meet and release whatever he felt and to cry as much as he needed to without fear of judgment. For that time it seemed like they were the only people in their tiny world, her doing her best to comfort him and hoping that somehow it would be enough to dispel whatever had haunted him.
He cried himself out in her arms, and then tried to talk, to explain, in incomprehensible murmurs, but one word became clear as he continued to repeat it. “Stay - stay with me - don’t leave.”
She rocked him a little, kissing the top of his head and reassuring him at every murmur that she would stay, that she was there to stay, and that everything was alright. As they laid there she felt a small spark within, the tentative way a sprout first comes through the earth. Although it was tiny and new, a mere seedling, the bond between them had begun to repair and fill up just a tiny bit of the hole it had left.
“The bond is returning, altera, can you feel it?” she whispered to him.
“Everything is going back to the way it was. Everything will be okay, my darling.”
Trevean had no words as he too felt the spark and his tears began to fade, but he slowly, carefully reached up a hand to touch her face, almost as if he still believed his fingers would pass through. “Real,” he whispered as he traced her features and the hope began to come back into his eyes. “You’re real . . .”
Suddenly his expression changed to one of embarrassment. “Light, but I’m sorry--”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Altera,” Shola murmured, bending to kiss his cheeks and eyelids and nose, kissing away the last of the tears as she ran her fingernails gently along his scalp.
“You are strong enough you survived two breaks in the bond, something many cannot do even once. No one rational would call you weak now.”
She gently laid him back on his pillow and smoothed his hair out of his face, again kissing his brow and cheeks before nuzzling him tenderly and tucking him in.
“I need to go see the others, and you need rest. I will be back soon, that I promise you. Rest, repair, and you will see me soon.”
She slipped away as he dozed and found the others, first entering Amilah’s chambers and spending a long time there before finding Dante and Lilith and Kaden, hugging Lilith tightly and pressing Dante’s hands. Hearing the commotion, Nadia found them, still looking groggy and barely awake. Upon seeing Shola she stumbled into the arms of the taller woman and cried into her shirt, clinging to her tightly. Once Shola had sat with them for some time, recounting her journey out of the swamp, she made her excuses and returned hurriedly to Trevean’s side, still worried that his state remained fragile. As quietly as last time she slipped in and once again sat on the bed by him.
“Altera?”
But by the time she re-entered trevean was already awake. He had come to some five minutes prior and in her absence determined once again that it was all a dream. The bond spark, still growing like a sprouting seed, he was convinced was some left over remnant, And though hope whispered that it was there, and that Shola had only left to say hello to the others before returning, he couldn’t quite believe it.
The face he turned on his pillow to look at her was almost haunted for his mind had come up with another solution as well. A plausible scenario hinted at by a previous attempt to break his remaining sanity.
“If this is another ploy by the Dire Queen to get me to end my life, tell her to go take that up with Dante--”
“Trevean?! What do you mean?” Shola asked, looking horrified.
“What do you mean-- what has she done? You have no reason to-- to take your own life. Did you forget seeing me earlier?”
Shola put a worried hand to his forehead, wondering if fever or other delirium had set in from the intensity of their earlier meeting.
“I’m right here, darling, I’m real. This isn’t a trick or a ploy. Are you feeling ill? I can take you to the healer’s wing if need be.”
Trevean blinked slowly when Shola demanded an explanation, But it was the feel of her hand was what broke him of it.
“I - I thought it might have been a dream after all,” he murmured quietly, “Goddesses know I’ve had enough of them lately.” His skin was a tad warm to the touch, but nothing that wouldn’t have been brought on by a good cry. “Can you stay?” he asked again. And though still reforming the bond carried with it his need to hold her and be held, to feel her near once more.
“I’ve already seen everyone, so I can stay,” she replied, reaching out and pulling him into a tight embrace. In the brighter morning light she had seen how disheveled and ragged he’d looked, and Shola knew then that the extent of his pain had run more deeply than she’d imagined.
“And this is no dream, that I promise. I will be here as long as you need me, altera. I think we could both use a bath and food if you’re feeling up to taking care of each other?” she asked tentatively, running her hands over his back and feeling his thinness.
Arms curled around her, pulling Shola closer as Trevean nuzzled into her shirt for a moment, breathing in her scent to once more reassure himself before speaking.
“They probably left a tray outside my door again. I can't say for sure what will be on it. They keep changing it to see what I’ll eat, but probably enough for two.”
His hair was a mess, Trevean knew he needed a shave, and the suit of pajamas seemed almost two sizes too small as he forced himself out of the bed and went to look. When he returned there was a tray in his slightly shaking hands, and when uncovered it revealed an assortment of cheeses, breads, and salamies along with a bunch of grapes and a chilled pitcher of what appeared to be fresh milk.
Trevean shook his head slightly at the milk. “It seems as though they’re trying to get something in me even if I only drink it.”
“Not a bad idea,” Shola said, helping steady the tray and then divvying out the portions, giving him slightly more than she gave herself.
“You look like you’ve missed some meals,” she continued, layering a piece of bread with cheese and salami. She also noted, with worry, how shaky his hands were.
“Is that why you’re shaking, or do we need go to the infirmary?” she asked gently, pouring him a glass of milk and touching it to his lips so he could drink without spilling. Whatever he needed help with she provided before he could ask, ensuring they both ate and drank their fill before sitting the tray outside again and returning to sit on the bed with him.
“It looks like your face rat has become a face cat, altera. Do you want the bathroom first?”
It was easier for Trevean to make himself eat with Shola helping him. Easier when he knew she was watching him. Dante would watch, but a glass of milk alone would satisfy the assassin and Trevean had really only been eating just enough to keep the other man off his back. It was with a bit of shame that he admitted as much to Shola now, and with a sense of embarrassment that he accepted her help so readily. Had Shola not returned he really would have become a burden to the others.
“I - no. You go first. I’ve been selfish and you have needs too,” he mumbled when she asked after the bathroom. “Only - will you still talk to me?”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” she said gently, kissing his cheek.
“And yes, I will still talk to you. I don’t know if it would be comfortable--or comforting, but if you wanted to stay in the bathroom and talk while I bathed--”
She looked at her hands, a little embarrassed herself to offer, but also finding herself far less bothered by the idea of him seeing her almost nude than she thought she’d be.
“And, perhaps, if your hands are steady enough later, you wouldn’t mind brushing and braiding my hair? You’re very good at it, and it feels so nice when you do it. I probably need to wash the swamp out of my hair, I seem to have gotten quite a lot of swamp water debris in it somehow.”
Shola made her way into the bathroom and gratefully chucked the clothes, rapidly filling the bath tub with piping hot water before sinking into it with an audible groan.
Trevean stayed near the door, looking back toward the sleeping space as she got herself ready and slid into the tub. Only when he heard the splash of water that told him she had submerged herself did trevean turn, and very carefully both averted his eyes and tried to stay behind her. Shola had given him permission to be in the room, and not to look and he was suddenly very aware of that.
It was fortunate the tub was a freestanding claw foot because that made finding a small stool and positioning himself at her back much easier than it otherwise would have been.
“Shola, I -- is this really okay, Chickadee? -- are you okay? Do you need -- help?”
“It is alright with me if it is you-- the water is doing much to make me feel stronger, better.”
She sank completely under the water for a few moments before popping up again and leaning her head back so that she could see him sitting behind her.
“If, and only if, you are up to it, I wouldn’t mind some help with my hair? My arms are still sore… Well, all of me is, but my arms are tired. You don’t have to, but it would be appreciated if you were.”
Shola smiled at him warmly and closed her eyes.
“I’m just glad to be back with you-- I feel as though I was gone for quite awhile, although really, too, it feels like no time at all. How long was I…?”
“Seven days,” Trevean answered tiredly, but he moved his stool behind her and found the shampoo. “I - well it’s not fancy or scented or anything. I really only keep basic stuff --” He wished more than anything he could find more eloquent words, be charming, but this was all he could manage. “I hope it’s all right.”
“I have no preference,” she replied, tilting her head back a little as he began working on her hair.
“That feels wonderful, darling,” she said after a long silence, reaching up to caress his hands briefly before dipping under the water again to clean the shampoo off her hair. Once she’d washed it off she turned in the tub so that she was looking at him, her chin on her arms, which were folded on the rim.
“I believe it’s your turn now. I’ll drain the water and get you fresh since this has swamp debris in it.”
For a moment more she simply looked at him, drinking him in as though he were a fine portrait. Finally, however, she let him go into the other room and climbed out, wrapping herself in a robe. As she did so, from the bathroom, he heard her exclaim wordlessly, and when she met him in the bedroom, she was alight.
“Trevean, the scars on my stomach-- they’re gone! They’re all gone!”
At her cry Trevean moved to the door unsure if she had fallen and he needed to go in, or if it were something else. Fortunately she immerged before he had a chance to choose the wrong thing.
“Your scars --” he repeated dumbly before it set in, “the half finished mark that . . .?”
“It’s gone! The other ones remain, but that one, that awful one-- It’s gone! I don’t know why, or how, but…”
She was smiling giddily and reached out to hold his hands.
“But it is finally gone, the last mark of that awful place. I feel like a free woman, Trevean, finally!” she exclaimed, embracing him before moving to let him in the bathroom.
“Let me know if you’d like company or help,” she said, tightening the knot on the robe.
“Both maybe, once I’m in,” he answered. But it was like he was sharing Shola’s high,perhaps because of the bond he was. Yet it had been so long since he had felt so good, or at least seemed so long after the binds breaking that the sensation was almost overwhelming.
Hands shook as they worked on pajama from buttons and eventually he simply gave up and pulled the shirt over his head. Cloths that were usually neatly folded were instead dropped next to Shola’s on the floor, and he nearly slipped getting into the tub. He barely remembered to let Shola know all was clear as he settled back into the fresh, hot water.
Shola took advantage of the stool he’d used earlier, settling in behind him herself and reaching in to stroke his wet hair before shampooing it. As she did so she massaged his scalp and hummed softly to him, hoping to help the man relax and quell a little of the shaking too.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asked softly, kissing the back of his head once she’d rinsed his hair for him.
Trevean found himself melting into her hands and trying to hum along, but at her question his hand jerked instinctively to his untouched week’s growth of beard.
“Would you?” he asked. But though the question was unfinished his hands placement left it’s meaning clear.
“I, um… I have never worked with a beard before, darling. If I mess up…”
But she had seen how badly his hands were shaking and began working at it, slowly and very carefully trimming his beard until it was some semblance of tidy. Once she’d finished she stroked it appreciatively and hugged him from behind as best as the tub would allow her.
“I’ll leave you to get dressed, alright?”
“If you mess it up we can fix it later,” had been his only answer, but the truth was that even if she had done some sort of irreparable damage, which was not the case, it would have been well worth the feel of letting her work on him.
Trevean dressed quickly as much as he was able to manage, but when he returned to the bedroom with his shirt in hand and an uncertain look on his face.
It was immediately apparent how thin he actually was. Rather than the usual swimmer’s body she usually saw on him, Trevean now looked like he hadn’t been eating well for months instead of a week. The outlines of his ribs were visible, his shoulders seemed thinner, his collarbone just a tad more prominent
“I - uh - can’t quite manage the buttons,” he tried to explain..
Shola moved to him instinctively, touching his upper arms as her eyes roamed his thin body with a clear expression of pain.
“Irriam, how-- this isn’t a week’s worth of loss,” she said softly, working the buttons into their holes slowly but deftly.
“Has this been going on longer? Are you ill?” she asked, lightly touching his collar bones and shoulders as if she could will good health back into him. Once she had finished buttoning the shirt she smoothed it out and adjusted the collar, looking up and tracing his thinner cheek.
“What can I do, l-- irriam?”
“Kiss me?” he queried softly. Shola didn’t hesitate to comply, taking his head gently in her hands and kissing him with every ounce of tenderness and concern she felt, pouring into him every bit of her worry and affection and desire to give him solace and hope. She was warm and solid against him, holding to him there and kissing him as if to breathe life itself back into him. And in a way she did. He responded slowly at first, before moving to wrap her in his arms, and when the kis finally broke he buried his nose in her hair breathing her scent in deeply.
“I am a shapeshifter,” he because to explain, speaking against the skin of her forehead, “and it is in our nature for our forms to reflect our being. For anyone in a shifting class or with an alternate form this is true. For most it is a reflection of the physical, scars, injuries and so on. For the Nack, for the yet untrained or those with little talent, our forms can also reflect the emotional.”
She held him tighter.
“Then if you heal emotionally, you’ll heal physically too?” she questioned.
“Would… would it help for you to go to the beach? It’s living water, and it could be just the two of us… I imagine we could use that time, we both have things to work through.”
“The beach sounds wonderful,” he answered tightening hold hold just a little, “And it’s my hope the answer to the other question is yes.”