makinglies | Respite

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faerun

Respite

The lake is dark and calm with a small breeze by the time they arrive at its shores. The stars above reflect perfectly in the still waters before them, and a small copse of trees lines one side, starting on their side of the river and jumping along the other side.

Chris takes a moment to re-prepare the spell he hadn't been able to cast in five years and gestures vaguely to the area around them as a suggestion for what the others can do. Gathering in the forest, sitting on a nearby over-turned log, it didn't matter to him. What he needed was an hour without interruption.

He settles down on the ground and presses his hands together as he closes his eyes to focus on the image in his mind. Within minutes, the white, shimmering outline of a large building forms in thin air. The gentle glow of its light barely spreads from the growing structure.

As promised, it takes the full hour before the slowly filling-in form is complete and finishes with a jaunty, echoing click.

Chris takes a breath, now sitting in front of the stoop that looks annoyingly like the one he'd passed earlier in the night, and gets back onto stiff legs as the glow fades away, leaving smooth, but otherwise unremarkable, white stone behind.

"Here we are. Home for the next however long we need. I'll start working on food and water next." Once they're inside, anyway, which is why he takes back his things from where he'd left them and leads them into the temple, marked only with the carving of ravens on the black wood of the double doors.

Inside is something just shy of opulence. The same polished white stone makes the walls, though black and gold veins course through the marble. The floor is the inverse, a black stone with white, shimmering speckles like a night sky if looked at for long enough. A single window faced East high up on the wall. The temple was alight with sconces at regular intervals along the walls, illuminating an open area that held all the offerings of comfort Chris could think of.

A large hot-springs-like bath, complete with a miniature waterfall, took up the left side of the room and ran into a smaller, similar bath at dog-height. Next to it, covered by a retractable screen, was a shower. Along the back wall, a raven's head emblazoned the white wall in black and watched out over a set of tables, chairs, and a couple of sofas. The majority of the center was clear for walking, but the right edge and right side of the room held a deeply inset pit of pillows, cushions, and blankets in various soft (black and purple) fabrics.

Finally, in the middle of the right-hand wall, there were two closed doors that, when inspected, revealed one room with a large, soft chair and rug, while the other room was made of nothing but stone with jars, pitchers, and plates on shelves along two walls and a cork wall perfect for catching daggers on the other side.

"I hope it works for everyone. I didn't...I didn't make separate bedrooms this time. I didn't figure we would need them tonight."

♥

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She's well aware that someone's coming to join her before Wolfe steps in. Instinct kicks in as she rolls onto her side away from the presence - Wolfe or Chris, most likely, but maybe someone convinced Jon to come in and she'll have none of that mess right now - and her chest tightens in anticipation. If it's Chris, he's going to hold fast and not allow himself to break when he needs to. If it's Jon, she might punch him before telling him to get out. If it's Wolfe...

Cool fingers touch her shoulder, barely there yet more than enough for Amelia to know who they belong to. She turns her face to look at him, sees those open arms, and what little order she'd managed to find within herself over the past few minutes falls apart again.

Wolfe. Her Wolfe. Their Wolfe. Here on the floor with her under water that's much too hot still for how long she's been in here.

Dreams, she needs this. She needs him.

Within seconds she's tucked against his side, crying again but the sound far more happy than it was when she got in here by herself. Things are complicated and everything is both good and wrong at the same time, but Wolfe is at her side again. For the first time since he was taken from them, she feels home again. It's a feeling she worried she might never have again, but here it is again, in Faerun, in this temple that their cleric conjured for them, in a shower he made for all of them so they could be clean and warm and find their wholeness again.

She's going to give Chris the tightest hug he'll allow when she sees him again, whenever that may be and however clothed they may be. For now, she clings to Wolfe, an arm across his chest protectively and a delirious smile on her face as her tears mix with the water falling over them from high above.

"I'm so happy you're here," she whispers above the sound of the spray. "I'm not myself without you anymore. I... I can't be." She can't. She's tried living for herself and it never works without at least one anchor in her life. Wolfe is one of the major anchors in the same way Chris is, and her heart can't even begin to beat properly without them around. She rests her hand on his cheek, just for the contact. "I love you, and I'm so glad we have you again."

We, because even if he's hers, he's as important to Chris and Jon as he is to her, and she'll never try to take that away from any of them.

"You could. You are, but its everything to me that you don't want to," Wolfe says, muffled by the water and his nose buried in her hair. It makes the words buzz against her scalp.

He lifts his head at her touch to his cheek, looking down at her as if memorizing her face again, as he'd done when they'd first fallen in love. That is, in fact, what he's doing. It's only been a month but a month is forever when parted against your will and with little else to do but think and wish and want. Carefully, he brushes some of her hair from where it sticks to her face from the water, letting his thumb trace her cheek.

"I can scarcely believe we're really here. That we actually made it. I-" He interrupts himself with a little chuckle. "Nothing I've ever had a hand in planning has ever gone smoothly. Not that getting separated was part of the plan, but getting here. Being out, and more importantly together is..."

Trailing off, Wolfe tries to come up with what it means to him. To be free of Duplicity and everything its done to them, but also of Thedas. The impossibility of it, that they all found each other, all from disparate worlds that are so oddly similar in some cases, but so different too, and now he gets to keep them. His chosen people who have chosen him in turn and dragged him sometimes kicking and screaming into becoming a better version of himself. He doesn't have to take back up the weight of a world that despises him for his gifts because the long shadow of his father's legacy blows out the sun. Its some other Hawke's problem now, and he has Anders to help him through and to protect. They'll be alright.

His chest squeezes at the thought. Its going to take time to let that part go.

"I don't have words. I feel... Light. And like a missing piece has been slotting back into place," he finally says, giving her a small squeeze.

There's an argument on her lips about how he's wrong about this part of her. The Shadow Mistress, the real one, was able to stand on her own, to keep her Family out of reach and continue on every time one of them was killed, hurt, or otherwise taken from her. She could weather things in ways Amelia simply can't, even though she has that woman's memories. Being in Duplicity made it impossible not to rely on other people, to exist without them, to reshape herself around the largest holes when people she loved were snatched from her grasp. In Ragneux, that woman she was based on, did that dozens of times in the decades since she left the family home she started her life in. It wasn't easy, but she did it every time and came out just as strong on the other side.

Maybe that's what Duplicity really is for those copies it places in the city: a way to force change in those people to see what they do about it when they're put through the worst over and over again. It would explain why they hurt her over and over in the same ways, why they took those she loved most or made her physically helpless. Who is the Shadow Mistress if she's alone and unable to take up arms? Who is she when she must learn to rely on those around her by asking for help when she's at her most vulnerable?

It's too big a thought for now, and the fact that it covers some of Wolfe's words upsets her. Now's not the time for that shit. In truth, she hopes the time for such thoughts never comes.

She clings harder to her partner and buries her nose against his chest. They're together again and they've ended up in the plane they said they wanted to finish their lives in. Things are so much more complicated than that because they were separated, as Wolfe said, but their being together means they have everything they need to choose their path. They have no Guardians - to fight or to help them - but also no kingdom to worry over. They have no people to go to on other planes. They have no reason to do anything but stay. That... it's more powerful than the thousands of other paths they could take.

"I know what you mean. My heart... it's still broken by some of what's happened, but I feel like I can pull myself together again. Like I can breathe where I couldn't before." She shakes her head a little, not moving from where she's pushed herself into his side. "I didn't breathe at all while you were gone. People were there and I let them be, but I-I couldn't--"

It doesn't matter. None of it does. This shouldn't be about you right now.

She inhales slowly, breath shaking, then shifts to look up at Wolfe again. "I tried, but even with Chris and the girls, it wasn't enough. And Chris, he..." Her lips pull into a small frown. "I wish I could have done more for him. I already feel like I took advantage of his care at times." When she asked for his arms to cry in without being able to offer anything in return. When she said and did stupid things and he rightfully snapped at her in return. She should have done better by him, for him. Dreams, he deserves so much better than her.

"I'm sorry, love. I... I wasn't strong enough to help us both."

Leaning into him as she does, Amelia discovers that Wolfe is perhaps a bit softer than he was. A bit less chiseled. His muscles aren't gone by any means, but there's clearly been a lack of daily activity. He would have loved to have even been able to do push-ups in that lab room that passed for a cell but no. He was allowed time to walk and move from food to his "room" - cell, more like - but not the gym regimen he'd maintained in the city. He'll have to work to get that back.

There might be a small part of him that wants to stall going back out there so Chris doesn't see the new softness around his middle and tease him. Amelia is hopefully too close to notice... This is really not what he should be thinking about right now.

"Everyone grieves differently. Chris is difficult to get close to in his grief. You have to push on it, but if you're grieving yourself, then he almost always pushes first," Wolfe smiles wryly, playing with a strand of Amelia's hair between his fingers. "Whatever bad feeling may still exist there between you over it, it won't last long. Especially not if you tell him what you just told me. I'm sure he knows you weren't in a place to support the both of you. It's something you and I have both noticed, I think, that it becomes harder to ignore ourselves once we stop. It's a process he's going through too."

With a glance at the edge of the screen, Wolfe let's out a breath in more of a worried noise than a sigh. "He's going to take ownership of all of this for a while, Faerun being his world and all. We'll have to make sure he doesn't run himself to the ground and say it's for our sake. He may not be a selfless man, but for people he loves he'll move mountains."

"Just tell him, Love. He only ever just wants to be treated as an equal." It feels good to give advice again, just to talk, even if his voice is growing a little hoarse. He'd not really spoken to anyone much in the last couple weeks. He's going to keep talking anyway, though. A sore throat is a small price to pay to be heard. "It's very hard not to apologize, though, knowing my absence is at the center of that rift."

Edited (autocorrect sucks) 2025-10-01 00:44 (UTC)

Could it be that simple a solution? Part of her wants to trust this, but she isn't certain. That may be because of how difficult the day has been or because of how terrible she feels she's been. Whatever the case, today's not the day for it and she knows it.

"I will. I promise. I'll talk to him and tell him everything I've been feeling." Soon. Right now, she needs to be with Wolfe, to hold him and touch him in ways she's missed so much. She can tell that something's different about him, but the truth is, she doesn't care at this moment. Whatever it is, it can wait. All of it can wait when their day has been so chaotic and they haven't seen each other in weeks. She shifts against him again so she can press their foreheads together as she looks deep into his eyes.

"But don't apologize, love. He won't tolerate it, nor will I." Gently, she brushes his bangs from his face. He looks so tired. "We're going to need you to rest and recover with us before we begin our journey. And..." Her breaths slow, the smile on her lips fading at this next thought. "Can we wait until morning to hear more about what happened to you? I want to know and to help you through it, but after everything else... I'm not certain I can."

As with Chris after Wolfe was taken, she can only take and give so much to her partners at once. Given she's still in her clothes in the shower, it should be obvious she doesn't have much left in her. Today's been one of the hardest and best days of her life all at once.

"I'm not expecting that from anyone, Love," Wolfe says softly, kissing her gently. "At least, not in the active way you mean. More that just being here, together, able to have bad days and feel through it all together, that will help more than anything anyone can try to do. That's all I want, is to exist for awhile by all of your sides with no expectations."

For everything to remain stopped for a little bit so they can decide how they're going to wrestle with the idea that they're not exactly who they thought they were.

"As for speaking to what happened, I... I would like very much not to, but it depends on Jon and Chris as well. If they need to know now I don't want to deny them. Its going to hurt just as much now as tomorrow." He sighs, his gaze dropping from examining each strand of color that makes up her irises to the top curve of her cheeks, but not really seeing much more than a blur of color for the proximity. "I don't know which is better."

"I don't want you to have to repeat it just for my sake. If they need it tonight, I'll listen." And only listen. Anything more...

Fuck she is so tired after everything that happened while they were separated and the rush of battle leading to such a crash when they learned the truth of what they are. Why couldn't they have had just a few days, hours of peace before the very essence of who they thought they were was ripped from them? Couldn't the gods of this plane or whatever the fuck controlled that dreamsforsaken city they escaped from give them that?

Why must it all be so hard when they're finally free?

Nothing worth having comes easy. She knows that. She can handle that. Any day but today she could handle that. But not today, not--

She exhales slowly, pressing her forehead a little more insistently to his. Grounding. Being close to Wolfe is grounding. Wolfe is safe. No matter what they are, no matter what's happened to them or what's coming, she knows him. So long as they have each other, they'll find their way through.

They have to.

"I'm here for you, no matter what comes." She forces her eyes open and to give them both space enough to see one another. "We'll ask the others their thoughts when we get out of here, and make the choice about when to talk about all of this then. After we're settled and clean--" Clean. Fuck. She groans and drops her forehead to his cheek.

"I left my soap on the table. I guess we aren't getting very clean in here." So much for her plans of using a little soap on her clothes to clean out the blood and to make herself smell more like 'normal'. Dreams, she's a fucking mess right now.

Hopefully he'll still love that about her.

"Lucky you have me, then." Still holding Amelia against him, Wolfe leans forward enough to see around the edge of the screen. It's awkward and silly and he's getting a face full of water but he can at least see the edges of some of the things on the table. One of those has to be soap.

Too tired to cast without motion to guide his spell, Wolfe gestures with the hand not currently supporting Amelia and uses his magic to coax what he thinks is probably soap from the table. That's the wrapper of the place she liked around the corner from Venia, hes reasonably sure. Unfortunately, even though he is right that it is soap, his aim with his magic is entirely off. The bar flings itself off the table in the general direction of the shower but instead of landing and skidding to Wolfe's hand like he intended it bounces off of Chris' shoulder and lands on the marble floor with a sad smack.

"Balls. Sorry!"

He was actively enjoying watching Jon in the water, even if he'd sunk back down from his impromptu and delightful show, but any appreciative thoughts Chris might have been indulging are negated by a bar of soap to his shoulder. Chris jerks and looks from the ill-fated soap to the showers.

With his cloak already peeled off and set aside, there's not much else he's worried about getting wet besides maybe his boots, but it shouldn't be a problem...not when he scoops up the soap and leans around the screen to look at the still-clothed set on the floor.

"What were you gonna do, soap up over your clothing? You know I can't magically dry all that anymore, right?"

He unceremoniously drops the soap onto the two of them with the expectation someone would catch it. Even if a petty part of him hoped they wouldn't.

"Are you gonna be a while? Jon's worried about Amelia feeling weird being naked near him...since I think he does in the reverse. I was meant to be keeping watch." He doesn't roll his eyes, but his voice does for him.

Amelia rolls her eyes as she catches the soap, reflexes still too good to miss it. It's been a long day emotionally, but she's still wide awake. "The plan was to wash ourselves and our clothes once we're out of them. We're not exactly in a rush or I'd have been out a while ago to get the soap myself."

No, she will not be apologizing for the soap smacking you, cleric. She will silently wish it would've smacked you on the ass, though.

At the mention of Jon being so modest, she rolls her eyes again. "If he needs more time without me around, we can stay in here longer. I don't care one way or another about his state of undress, nor about mine in front of him. I was well used to being around people at various levels of nakedness from my time at the House long before Duplicity."

Don't think about how those aren't your memories. Not now. Not now. Not yet. No.

She sighs dramatically to cover the slight shake to her breath, then smiles softly at Chris as she sits up. "If he wants to be fully alone, we'd welcome you to join us. I have plenty of soap, and I haven't managed to use all the hot water yet."

There's a moment where Wolfe pauses, gaze on Chris with a tired but mischievous glint in his eye. If they can't magically dry their clothes that could be a problem... if they weren't in a safe and dry space already. They'd all three of them spent the first several decades of their lives with clotheslines instead of clothes dryers. Now is no different than those formative days.

"I think he's the only one with an undressing problem because I know you don't have an issue being naked," Wolfe declares as he gestures to Chris to come join them. With the gesture comes a tug from the front and a push from behind. Not hard, not enough that he'll fall or even stumble, but definitely enough to get the point across that his presence is not just being invited but requested specifically. "We'll rinse together and then switch over, but come here and let me kiss you, damnit."

Even so eager to have Chris near again, Wolfe doesn't let go of Amelia. He's going to allow himself this selfish act of hoarding when he's missed them both so desperately. Just for a few moments.

"You're not going to, though I could tell you're testing it." The hot water should just happen, but no one had tested the limits of his will on the temple before. More likely, it was just recycling the water over and over again...but he keeps that part to himself.

At the tug, he gives a perfomatively exasperated sigh, but steps back. "Let me at least take my shoes off. I don't want to wait for them to dry."

So saying, he steps back out from the shower area and strips his boots off...and then his pants and shirt along with it. He looks back over to Jon as he does and gives a small wave. "My presence has been requested. We'll be in to join you soon. Oh, and Amelia says get over it, she doesn't care." Just to be clear.

Once he's down to just his smalls, he returns to the shower and gets down on the floor with them while his curls immediately flatten under the water's spray. He leans into Wolfe's space, his expression teetering into something playful. "You wanted me to let you kiss me?"

Go on then.

Edited 2025-10-02 04:08 (UTC)

Chris' comment to Jon earns a small, genuinely delighted laugh. Jon will not get over it and they all know it. She can practically feel the inevitable grumbling from their side of the screen, which only makes it that much better.

Dreams, she needed that.

Of course with Wolfe trying to keep hold of her as she shifts to start getting out of her clothes, she finds another reason to laugh. The mage gets a gentle push to his shoulder and a tap of his hand. "Go on, love, and let me get undressed. I'm going to need a few minutes anyway." Her bodice is certainly not going to enjoy this, but she did remember at least one small bottle of oil for her leathers that she can use once it dries out. To help convince him to let go, she leans over to give him a gentle kiss.

"I've had my share of you since we broke free." She flicks her eyes over to Chris with a little smirk, then looks back down at Wolfe. "I'll come back to you both as soon as I've gotten out of everything and given it a brief washing." That should be plenty of time for the pair to enjoy a proper reunion kiss or ten.

"Alright, alright," he says, laughing a little. Its difficult to let her go but he manages with that flick of a smirk on her face. That look is home to him, that look and the one Chris is giving him now where he deigns to allow Wolfe's affections because Chris knows he deserves them (and desires them too, of course. Wolfe would never assume Chris does anything he doesn't want to do when it comes to physical intimacies, even small ones.) This feels normal and right like nothing else has since he was taken a month ago.

Swallowing down the lump that forms in hus throat, Wolfe allows Amelia her escape and then leans in towards Chris, reaching to cup the back of his head with one hand. Fingers lost in golden curls, Wolfe presses his lips to Chris', aware of everything. Aware of Amelia nearby, of the taste of the water as it runs down their faces, of his utterly sodden trousers sticking to him. He's aware of how Chris' hair spirals around his fingers like it has a mind of his own, the ends still valiantly trying to keep their shape even under the onslaught of the showers downpour. He's aware of how long its been since he's felt this.

"Maker's balls, I missed you."

Wolfe kisses him in that stupid reverent way of his and Chris wants to curse him for not wearing a shirt he can yank on. His fingers curl like claws into Wolfe’s (plushier, he notices) side. He’d dig his fingers beneath Wolfe’s skin if it would ensure he never vanished again.

Something cracks and Chris’ throat feels thick with thorns, but he doesn’t need it to lean back in for a more biting, deeper kiss.

A kiss for drunken pool halls. For betting on fights in the arena and arguing about form. For stumbling home and laughing too loud. For sex because it was fun and then because it was safe and then because it was for love. A kiss for saving and hurting and healing each other but always there at one another’s backs…until they weren’t.

He pulls back and bites the inside of his mouth instead of Wolfe’s and turns to lean his back into his mage’s chest with a huff.

“Me too.” He pauses. He should say more, offer any of the words he’s locked down since their escape, since Wolfe vanished. He’d imagined so many things he was going to say when Chris got him back…

“You’ve gotten softer. It’s sweet.”

They don't need the space, but Amelia grants it all the same, letting her loves have their moment without her watching or interrupting. She stays quiet, keeping her thoughts occupied with how difficult it is to get off all her wet clothes and how she really should have gotten out of them before turning on the water. It's working remarkably well until Chris speaks.

Soft. It's not a word used lightly or about Wolfe's attitude as that's always soft, which means...

How did she miss so much when she held him close? Why didn't she feel more closely? Why didn't she let herself acknowledge what was under her fingers? How terrible a partner does that make her?

She says nothing as she moves around them to toss her wet bodice onto the floor just outside the screen, then back over to her pile of clothes to begin soaping them. If she says anything, it'll show her negligence. Or that she's so tired emotionally that she's all but refused to take in obvious details.

She should have noticed. Chris saying so shouldn't be the first time it comes to mind that Wolfe is more changed than just the lack of color to his skin and slightly sunken eyes. She should be able to hear about that. Why can't she--

The soap slips from her hands and she huffs a short, tense laugh at herself as she grabs it and then sets it aside so she can focus on rinsing out her clothes again. "Sorry. Was trying not to break up the moment." Her smile's tight around the edges as she keeps her focus on the fabric in her hands. "Ignore me until you're ready for the soap. I'm trying to get out what blood I can before it fully sets in."

Wrapping his arms around Chris from behind to encompass him as much as possible, Wolfe groans. He'd hoped they wouldn't notice, but here he is shirtless with a little roll over his waistband and definition lacking in his torso and a bit in the arms.

"And you're more annoying," he says with deep affection, nuzzling into the crook of Chris' shoulder. He's definitely going to start exercising again first thing in the morning. Push ups, sit ups, planks, staff forms, a jog around the lake woth the girls, the whole shebang. Still, his strength hasn't deteriorated that much. Muffled, he chuckles defiantly. "I can still pin you should I have the need."

Its not meant to be flirtatious. Or maybe it is, and little, but it more carries the same weight as Chris' fervent kiss. For all that they were, all that they are, and all that they have to look forward to. Wolfe wraps that silent promise around himself like a blanket, centered in the skin on skin contact and having his arms full of one or the other of his loves for the past... what, half hour? Hour? Time is difficult right now. It feels as if its racing and standing still all at once.

The clatter of soap on the marble startles him out of his reverie and Wolfe looks over at Amelia. She explains immediately, almost as if she's concerned she did something wrong, and Wolfe's eyebrows crease. "What's wrong?"

Despite everything, the static and the thorns, the feeling of arms around him and the rumble of Wolfe’s voice against his neck is a balm to some of it. They are here, all of them, regardless of what else that means. He can still have this.

It helps to shore up some of the cracks that had started spreading through him; it would be enough for now.

Amelia’s clatter jars his attention to her, and sharp eyes take in the slight waver of her breath and the way she stubbornly looks away from them.

“Come here. It’s clean enough. If we need to dye it, we can do that too.”

He opens his arms to her with a look of expectation. “Or go back to his other side, if you prefer, but for all the time you’ve been in here, you’re still trying to be strong and calling it for us and not yourself.”

It’s…maybe a little harsher in content, if not tone, but he can’t help it. There’s still thorns to be excised between them.

He is trying.

This. This is what Chris has been on her about since they lost Wolfe: the way she hides her needs in others and causes them more harm in the process. He's yelled at her, berated her, told her to fuck off until she'd actually let someone in. It's difficult and it feels painful even though it's not.

She feels like she should be stronger than this need. It feels like weakness to give into this when her loved ones need comfort and support.

That's why she knows she's wrong.

"You're right." She smiles ruefully as she looks over at them. "I'm sorry. It's hard to let that habit go."

A habit that's not hers and never was. Did she adopt it because that's what her granted memories said to do or because it felt natural? Would she choose it if she didn't remember a life she never actually led?

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts as she moves over to them, burying herself against them both. As it did with Wolfe alone, being against and between these men feels right in a way little else has in too many weeks.

"I'm struggling with my thoughts right now. I keep wondering if my reactions are my own or something I've taken from someone else." A soft frown takes over her face as she rests her cheek against Wolfe's shoulder so she can look at them both. "And then I keep thinking that it doesn't matter right now because we're alive and together. It's disorienting, and I'm trying to keep it at bay so I can enjoy the fact that we're not in the city anymore. I hate that it's so hard when I'm so grateful to be with all of you."

Yes, even Jon, but she's not going to say that out loud.

"I was too when I found out. Flames, I still am struggling. We're all going to be for some time as this isn't normal. None of what we've been through is normal or even right." Wolfe breathes out between pressed lips, moving one arm from around Chris so he can encompass Amelia as well.

"It matters both not at all and immensely all at once. You're not the only one feeling that way, or should you hide it. I appreciate not being alone in coping." He squeezes them both, holding them close to him for a very long beat as he gathers strength from their victory. From having them here, in a place that's not Duplicity but also entirely theirs because they're not their original selves. Copies, but unique. Their own people, perhaps moreso than they've ever been. But it certainly comes with a deep sense of loss...

"If we're going to talk about this, I think it should be with Jon too. Is that alright?"

He doesn't want to talk about this right now, but his jaw goes tense in his silence. If he's not Chris Sonom, then why does he have to have his problems? Why does he have to have his failures and limitations? If he's all of the bad things of the man he's not, why couldn't he also have the good things?

He can't be anyone but himself. He remembers what it was to be Crystal. He remembers the weight of himself and shedding her to become him. He remembers the chain of his name and family and the strength that chain could sometimes provide; a weapon as much as a binding.

Yet he's not Chris Sonom anymore, is he? He's softer and harder all at once. The last thing he shares with the now-king South of them is the feeling of ice crystals in their veins...and from it, they branch. Chris Sonom is chained, trapped by his own decision. He gets to live what life he can eak out for those he loves without the privilege, but without the burden.

He feels sick, and the static grows louder, and Wolfe suggests they go to Jon, and even though it's barely been a handful of seconds, the press of Amelia and Wolfe around him is all at once too much.

"Yes. I agree." And as soon as he can without indicating too much rush, he disentangles himself from his partners to head back out into the temple.

Dripping wet...fuck, he'd forgotten towels...

She can feel that tension in Chris even before he pulls away. His thoughts are spiraling, too, a series of 'what if's, 'why not's, and 'what now's. It's why she needed time to herself under the soak of the water and also why she still feels like she could fall apart into disparate threads at any moment. Her fingers brush down his arm in their way before he fully retreats, then carefully gets to her feet and turns off the water. The soap can wait on the floor, but her clothes should come with to hang dry. Maybe they're ruined or maybe they can be saved, but right now it doesn't matter. She puts them over one arm and offers Wolfe her other hand.

"Let's talk about it while we can, but have a care not to push too hard. It doesn't help any of us to do that." Something she knows all too well. She smiles softly after Chris and then at her mage as he gets to his feet. It feels so good to just look at him again, no matter how he's changed from his time while they were separated.

"I'll stay behind the both of you as we move to the bath so you can distract Jon from looking in my direction. Dreams know I don't want to deal with saving him from drowning because he blushed so hard he fainted." And there is no way in any hell that she's going to put on clothes long enough to move from the shower to the bath. That's ridiculous and the man needs to learn to deal with everyone in this group being naked at times, her especially when she's not about to duck into another room just to change or undress to wash.

"I'm not-" Wolfe starts to protest, then falls quiet. Chris' retreat isn't unexpected but it gnaws at him in a way that strikes deeply when he knows in his head that it's not about him.

"I'm not trying to push," he murmurs, quieter for the lack of noise now that the water's off. It's not silent, not with the gentle burble of the spring water between their spring and the dogs, the general dog noises over near the door, and what little noise Jon makes while washing, but it still feels oppressive to him. He hates being the one to bring up things others would rather forget, but this is something they need to work out.

Allowing Amelia to help him up, Wolfe gets to his feet and runs a hand back through his hair. His trousers are soaked and they're about to get in a bath anyway, so he takes them off and chucks them in a corner, followed by his smallclothes. Then takes a second to stare at them as one of the myriad of things that's been bothering him jumps to his fore-brain. "Um... Did any of you bring any of my clothes?"

Jon is trying very hard not to listen in on the conversation, but he can sense when things take a turn for the dire once more and can't help looking toward the screen and wondering. What are they talking about? Is it something he shouldn't listen to? It would be safer if he didn't listen to some things, after all. Wolfe's experiences with being experimented on, prepared to be fed to this eldritch entity they'd apparently been linked to in Duplicity. It's the stuff of Statements, and while all of the excitement has tempered the Archivist's hunger, it hasn't eliminated it.

Chris emerges with that thought looking far more dour than before... and naked. While Jon's seen him in the nude more than a few times, he knows this means the others are likely coming soon, and that means he should-

He doesn't have a towel. The cape he has could be wrapped around him, but it's seen the most flecks of blood and muck from their arrival. It wouldn't exactly be clean.

"Chris!" he calls, sinking low as he turns away from the cleric and the general direction of the screen. "Blankets. We need some of the blankets. You don't have towels."

Or trousers, it would seem. He keeps quiet and purses his lips. It's not like he could offer Wolfe his spare-

"You could try my pajama trousers? They're, er... stretchy?"

"I know, love." It's all the comfort he can offer his mage when he knows he'll likely feel like the cause for the turn in mood, but it's not his fault. It's not any of their faults, it just is and would be for a while. Besides, they have more immediately pressing things. Like needing alternatives to towels.

"I brought one of your flannel shirts...and you'll fit fine in what couple of items I brought from Jacob and Martin." He tosses back to Wolfe as he looks around.

He looks to the blankets in the pillow pit and spies a couple that will work well enough. Some of them are too soft, but a couple are more cottony, and he shamelessly pads over to collect those three and sets them to the side of the spring. Not in offering to Jon, his Archivist is instead treated to a naked cleric climbing in and beelining for him to grasp at his hips are arms. Whatever he can pinch at to be annoying and distract Jon from Amelia's naked arrival.

"Now your modesty can be spared for a limited time...but not until you lay in here with me for a bit, I want to work at your shoulders." Give his hands something to do while they talk about this...and maybe distract the more human part of Jon from trying to drag this into a statement? He can hope. He just...wants them in the baths...and then something in his brain will feel like it's accomplished something good today.

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