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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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.

Clothes? Fuck. Amelia cheeks turn a light pink as she ducks her face away. "I brought one of your favorite dog shirts as well as the one I embroidered for you. I didn't think you'd need anything or I'd have brought more." A beat. "Including some pants."

She and Chris certainly won't mind the view in the temple, but it will make things awkward if they need to go into any town or fight someone off.

Huffing a laugh, she smiles a little and leans up to kiss him on the cheek as a small apology. "I have supplies to adjust any pants Chris has that are close to your size. We'll make buying some," or stealing some, "our first priority once we have a safe place to do so. We won't let anyone else see you walking around naked." That honor belongs to her and Chris ...and Jon, who's apparently being cajoled into not paying attention to her or Wolfe making their way into the bath by a clinging cleric. Amelia can't help but chuckle at the sight as she slips down into the water with a soft sigh.

"The water's perfect. Thank you for creating this for us, Chris." She throws a smile at the cleric and then turns her attention back to Wolfe to invite him next to her. He prefers some amount of physical contact when discussing difficult things and right now, she could use that too. After so long apart, she doubts there will be many times she won't want the same while they're recovering.

"Take your time, love," she murmurs to the mage, keeping a hand on his arm or shoulder as he'll allow. "We have as much as we need." From now until the gods of this plane take them, and she hopes beyond all else right now that they've got decades ahead of them to do whatever they want.

Shaking his head ruefully, Wolfe pads over to spread out his now seemingly precious pants and underclothes to dry instead of leaving them in a wad to molder. He can't blame anyone, this is what they expected, nor would he blame them even if he could.

"With all due respect, I don't think there's enough stretch in elastic to bridge the gap between my thigh muscles and yours, forget waistline," Wolfe teases as he steps unceremoniously into the water to sink next to Amelia. Under the water, he slips his hand around hers. "I do appreciate the offer, though. And the shirts, but I'll make due with the ones that are mine unless it's some kind of shirt emergency."

Like a cold snap or something.

The smile falls away again into that same worn look he's been wearing at intervals since he was rescued. "Those things are some of the only ones you have of other loved ones. I don't want to take them from you. I know how important that feels right now. If I didn't have Anders' ring with me all the time, I wouldn't have anything left of him."

For Alaric he only has a tattoo, and for Morrigan he has nothing...

Looking at Jon, Wolfe feels he needs to explain a little. He feels a stronger tug to go into gory detail too, but he knows what that is and without Jon actively channeling the Eye he can avoid it, at least for now. "We were talking just now, if you couldn't hear, about if we're ourselves or someone else and I thought you should be in the conversation. We're all thinking the same things, wondering if we're real or if we're even who we think we are if our memories are technically borrowed."

His gaze goes from one of his friends to the others each in turn, then turns down to the water at the middle of the spring. "The way I see it, we are ourselves. It's the same as different versions of ourselves from across the multiverse, only this time the split is Duplicity. Our experiences are still no different before that, or before Drift Fleet in my case. I'm still the son of Malcolm and Leandra Hawke, I still have-... had. Two siblings. I still went through what I did and made the choices I did, and barring there being another mirror of me, everyone I've ever met would still recognize me as myself. Only now there's a time and experience difference, and... Another uninterrupted version of ourselves."

Sinking a bit in the water, Wolfe lets out a long sigh. "That's where I've landed on it. It's messy, but it's... Better than feeling like I shouldn't exist. That seems wrong."

But he definitely thought it.

"Hey!" is Jon's response as he's pinched into submission beneath Chris' hands. It's a solid distraction, and he ends up flailing only a bit as he's pulled in and the cleric's fingers dig into his shoulders in a way that makes him groan as he tilts his head back against the other man. At least until the other two join them properly. In spite of being told he should get over it, Jon averts his gaze from Amelia and Wolfe and outright closes his eyes until he can hear they've stepped in and the lap of water tells him they've situated themselves.

The reason for the fear and much more somber mood is made clear quickly, and Jon turns his head to catch Chris' eye with a warning glance. This is one of the things he is very worried about. If Wolfe somehow starts going off on an eloquent tale, Chris will need to shove the Archivist underwater or otherwise deafen him to avoid doing something no one ~~mostly~~ wants tonight.

He keeps his attention on Chris to avoid having to look at Amelia and potentially catch a risque glance at her very nice curves, but he's clearly speaking to Wolfe as he responds. "That sounds sensible to me. I've never much believed in souls, but memory? Memory is what makes someone who they are. Everything good and bad." It's why he'd been so adamant against any sort of alteration on that front for him. The time he'd had his memories wiped and rewritten as a native of the city remain some of the most traumatizing.

And he's already lived through questioning if he's Jonathan Sims anymore, anyway. Is he something like Michael or Helen? Just a puppet for the Eye to use? "I think all of you might... I appreciate you involving me in the conversation, Wolfe. But I think it's... easier for me? I've been questioning who I am for a very long time. If I'm the same man who should have died and stayed dead eight years ago. It's the nature of what avatars are in my world. So, our memories are copied over? And all of the physical characteristics, as well? Then it's a divergence, like you said.

"I'm only sorry you got this version of me. Martin said I was far more powerful the longer we were in the apocalypse." It's sort of meant as a joke. But sort of not.

Jon catches his eye and he gives a small nod. He’ll be watchful and close by. Just in case.

He can tell the response is for Wolfe and Jon’s gaze is more a precaution to not see what he doesn’t wish to, but something in his chest clenches all the same. The words aren’t directed to him, but he clings to them all the same. He needs them to be true.

Didn’t the Raven Queen collect unique memories? That was part of her fascination; for all the importance of soul and soul threads, memory was what made a person them. If that wasn’t the case, then it wouldn’t hurt so badly to have had people show up in Duplicity without their memories of being there.

Jon continues while Chris gathers those thoughts to use as mooring for all the clutter in him, but he can’t help the huff that escapes him at that final sentiment.

Luckily, Jon is still under his hands, so it’s plenty easy for Chris to pull him in and kiss his temple.

“I’m not. This is the version that’s mine; I’d not trade him for anything.”

So definitively said, Chris looks back to Wolfe and Amelia.

“Souls are real here, but it’s memories the Raven Queen values and judges, they’re what separate twins who share a soul thread. We’re just…late born twins, now made to live our own lives, whatever that’ll be. How I feel’s not fake, what we’ve suffered and celebrated isn’t fake, whatever that’ll other measure do we need?”

Amelia rolls her eyes at the end of Jon's statement. If the man is this insufferable now, she doubts the other would be any less. There's no reason to voice that when she's still grateful that he's here for Chris's sake.

Memories and souls and all else being brought up are more than Amelia's ready to grapple with right now. Knowing what she is doesn't help her understand who she is. Yes, she has her own memories and experiences, but what of those that came from someone else? If they're not hers, then what are they? What do they even matter? What does she matter? There are no gods where her original comes from; what does it matter about what the gods here think about her?

Her lips press into a frown. This is all just... too much so soon after getting away from the hell they were forced to live in for years.

"We are who we are, and we have the freedom to do what our originals can't or wouldn't do." It's a repeating of words one or the other of them have said since they left Duplicity. At this point it's all she has. "Everything from now on is ours alone, no matter where we come from or who we are." Dreams, she hopes it's enough.

She hopes she is enough.

"I'm not either," Wolfe replies, making eye contact with Jon, or at least trying to. What he says is earnest but not painfully so, at least he hopes not. To him, its just the truth. "You're the Jon that reached out to help me the first time I arrived in Duplicity. I'm not sorry you're not someone else. Power and usefulness have nothing to do with it."

He squeezes Amelia's hand under the water at that too. He knows she gets bogged down in her value to others even more than he does himself, so this goes for her too. This goes for all of them, as much as Wolfe knows he subconsciously excludes himself.

To Chris he nods, thinking that souls are probably real everywhere but not voicing that very pedantic correction. Chris would know better anyway, cleric of death that he is with magic that can interact with the flow between life and afterlife.

Amelia chimes in and Wolfe squeezes her hand again, watching her face. She's reciting more than stating belief but he's not sure they're not all doing that to an extent. It might lighten the mood to point out the things they all can do now that they're free of previous responsibilities?

"That's true. I have to say I'm pleased I didn't have to wait and study for years to get you back," he kisses the side of her head. "I would, of course, in a heartbeat, but having you here is better. As is not having to be hunted down and forcefed my own memories."

He directs that to Chris and Jon, knowing that in some version of events he'd have been somewhere in the Anderfels, knocking his head against the stubbornness of the Warden leadership, or what was left of it. He'd have had Anders, but an Anders who didn't remember, who never grew without him, who never acknowledged or even discovered the cracks they were ignoring. Wolfe has to wonder if they'll ever figure it out, his and Anders' originals. Since the Anders who really was his was... gone.

Swallowing that thought, Wolfe goes a little quiet, but hopes the others will carry on the conversation without mentioning it.

Chris kiss and sentiment are sweet, but 'originals' from Amelia grates at him. Jon keeps tight-lipped about it, though. For now. It's not worth the fight when she's already fractured and any errant word might make her crumble again. He doesn't particularly want to deal with a crying woman on top of her being naked and... everything else.

He can also see Wolfe is sinking into his own thoughts after the attempted eye contact and soppiness with Amelia. Now would be a good time to give him something different to worry about. Clearly.

"Well, if that's settled, I think I should- While we're on the matter of study... Wolfe, that's something we'll want to attend to. Imminently. Whatever translation effect Duplicity and this... eldritch being provided, we don't know how long it's going to last. I've learned a few Common words here and there, but we'll want to be fully literate and fluent as quickly as possible.

"To that end, if we're going to get clothes for you, I think it's prudent to acquire a few books, as well. I have the two you gave me, Chris, that are in Common, that we can use, but they're... advanced. We'd do better with children's books to start. If... those exist?"

'Originals' is a word that sparks a feeling of annoyance immediately. He can't put into words why exactly. Maybe because he's not sure if they're copies or shaved off pieces or...what if they are the originals and the ones who 'replaced' them are the copies, shunted there to make it seem like nothing was off? When he thought of it that way...it didn't change much. Someone else was still living the life he'd thought was his.

But the Raven Queen might know. If she'd talk to him...he resolves to try and ask later, once the others have gone to bed. They each needed to find what would bring peace to them on this subject; this would be part of his.

"Ah...yes. As I told Jon, I'll write out the Common alphabet and some helpful phrases you two can study, and maybe Amelia can think of a few if there's any more to add that's important." He looks up to the lady rogue, but his gaze doesn't linger long.

"There's children's books for the alphabet, too...A is for Azuth, I think. It's technically to teach about gods and letters, but it's simple enough to start. We can look for them when we get to..." Oh...he should touch on that too. "I think we should go to Ilnivur next. There's someone there that I think will help us, and we can do favors and jobs to pay him back."

Would that things were as they'd hoped and planned that morning when Wolfe burst into their room through the window. She wishes it were that way because then they'd all know what they are, who they are, who they're meant to be. Instead they're... whatever and whoever they are now.

Don't think on it. It doesn't matter. There's more important things to deal with.

She nods but doesn't say anything to the mage, letting the conversation turn over. That, at least, is something she's got plenty of experience with. "I taught," not you, her, but don't think about that, "my sister and many members of the House to read and write. I'll write out a number of children's tales and easy to follow lessons that will be useful for starting once we have parchment and ink." All from her world. All useless outside the context of learning.

Keep your fucking mind away from that. Not yet. Not now. Stop it.

"I'm afraid I know almost nothing about this plane or any of the cities in it, outside of the little you told me of Deismyr. Do you have a map I could study to better understand where we're headed and what lies between us and there? I'll ask you a thousand questions about the city itself when we're ready to go - you know how I like to know everything I can before walking into a new situation." A new city on a new plane with new people similar to those she remembers from memories that aren't truly hers is certainly a time to let her curiosity get the better of her.

Just... if she can keep her focus where it needs to be. She's doing a shit job now and she can tell it shows in the way they're all avoiding looking at her for too long and how they barely touch the things she says. In their places, she'd do the same; no one needs a mess of a rogue right now. Especially her.

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