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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He tries to keep his focus on Wolfe. What the other man says is important, but Amelia’s internal turmoil continues to push itself into his head. It has the intermingled taste of the Spiral and the Stranger. Who is she if she is not who she thought? This other person who was her, is her.

Jon shakes his thoughts from her. The sudden burst of fear from Wolfe does help on that front. “Garret told me about Tranquility. And a friend Anders had that he, uh… well, that the Circle made Tranquil. It wasn’t a Statement, just… what it is. As I recall, he had some concerns about it happening to him when he first arrived in the city.” Thankfully, it hadn’t ever gone anywhere. They’d had other things to worry about.

“You think you’ll go Tranquil here, though? Our abilities seem to be restored in full. It more seems like the entity in Duplicity was throttling our connection to the source of them. Unless… was-” No, he doesn’t want to phrase this as a question, just to avoid any accidental compelling. “You may be… better informed, which you might indicate in the… simplest manner possible before explaining it all to Chris and Amelia. In detail.”

It will eat him apart inside to not have that story, but again, there’s a need for caution.

“We should see what happens when we sleep tonight as a starting point.”

He waits as she explains, listens to her fears and offers the barest touch to her collarbone.

“What happened before…that still…it’s not passed in me. Not yet. But how many times have we fucked I’m or been at each other’s throats and still showed up when needed? That hasn’t changed. I can still be here for you even if part of me’s still mad. What I keep hearing you come back to, love, is safety.”

He gestures between them and around them. “We are safe. For now, until we move on, I can guarantee we’re safe. Do you think I’d have us relaxing and standing around in nothing if we weren’t?”

He leans in to kiss the side of her head. “I put that wreck room inside here for the same reason. We’re not trapped here, none of you are bound to this place any longer than you want to, but within these walls, you cannot and will not be harmed. We can fall apart here as we need. As we will.”

It would come for all of them and probably more than once before they were ready to move on.

She's not ready for it. She trusts that they're safe in the temple, but what of everything outside? What of the shit that will come at them anyway, like Jon and Wolfe being cut off from those sources of their abilities? They're physically safe, but what about everything else?

Chris is trying, for all of them. She should be too. She should be stronger and better and all those things she always claimed to be. All those things the woman she was based on was good at. But she's not. Maybe she never was or isn't meant to be. She doesn't know and that's just another layer of terror laid across the top of all the rest.

"I hear you," she murmurs against his skin. He's right about their safety in this very moment and it... has to be enough. She has to make it enough, somehow.

With a loud sniffle and a wipe of her eyes, she steps back from him and forces a watery smile for him. A small one, one that doesn't last, so he knows she's trying. All she can ever do is try - and fail. "As we're safe here for a time, it's best I try to wear myself out enough that I can sleep. Maybe eat something, too, if we're lucky." She huffs a humorless laugh. "If I'm in there too long, have the tea without me. I don't know if I'll manage to put anything in my stomach after all this."

It's... not what she needs, screaming and throwing knives, but she still has no idea what would help. At least this is making an effort. That's better than ignoring it all and saying she's fine. Dreams, she wishes she had something more, though.

"Thank you, love. For all you've done for us. I can't express how grateful I am." This time her smile reaches her eyes and she adds to it with a soft kiss to his knuckles. "I'll make a proper mess of the cork wall before it rights itself, and I promise I'll handle my knives properly." That said, she leans up to press a soft kiss to his cheek before withdrawing completely. She feels like a terrible mess for not doing the one thing she promised she would, but it's... it'll be all right. It has to be, or she has to trust that it will be.

A handful of her knives are collected from the table, strapped to her over clothes that are now slightly damp from how soon she put them on after getting out of the bath, and then she disappears into the room Chris created for them to break every jar, pot, or other breakable object with her knives before she does her best to destroy the entire cork wall.

"I was concerned about that too, but the god of that place simulated our powers quite well, or at least I think that's how it worked, not throttling a legitimate connection. I'm not entirely sure, though, since what I did learn was gleaned just from overhearing and snooping between whatever they wanted to do with me." Cryptic, but honestly what they did with him was less traumatic than the things he endured in the city. Very basic being pumped with aphros and made to have sex, supposedly generating energy for this god of theirs. It wasn't pleasant, but it was probably among the tamest of things he'd done. Mostly what bothers him is they had him so full of drugs he doesn't remember anyone he slept with. Other than that, he was mostly strapped to monitors so they could gage... something? His energy levels? How much libido he had before he could be discarded? Fuck if he knew.

"But I think it was a simulation of power based on what it knew and our own belief, because if we truly were drawing power from our actual sources, I think at least you and Chris would have garnered a great deal more personal attention from yours upon the limits being lifted. Or at the very least our leaving the plane that was blocked against their presence."

Not to say they wouldn't be visited by their deities in their sleep... Gods could be patient, especially a Mistress of Death and a Ceaseless Watcher, he imagines. Fuck, they might have that to contend with. "You're right, we'll just have to see. But even if those connections are sound, I still intend to be writ into the weave. Fuck if I'm getting dragged back to Thedas for the next life even if I'm free of it in this one. If I have to be severed first, though..."

He swallows, then sets his jaw resolutely. "Then I'll deal with it until the Weave takes me in. I'm not leaving any of your sides again. Not even in death."

The thought of losing the Ceaseless Watcher remains... frightening. He's also not entirely sure that he believes Wolfe's suppositions. "I may have given the impression I'm more important to the Eye on an individual level than I actually am, Wolfe. I was only important because Elias made me that way. And he's the one at the center of the apocalypse in my world. I opened the door, he's the one... channeling it all? I was a tool, not the person wielding it. For when I'm from, anyway." He shakes his head slightly. "But you-you're right, too. We do need to be written into the weave of this place. Whatever is going on with us and our abilities.

"But whether or not we actually are is up to their goddess of magic, isn't it? Mystra. I'm not planning to leave any of you, either, whatever happens, but we should be prepared to need to make our case to her. Or figure out what sort of offering she'll need to grant the request."

Nothing is free. Even in this world of magic, Jon can't shake that mindset. If they're going to get something, it won't be for nothing, and he isn't keen to rely on only Chris' connections and whatever favors he might have. They don't know if the other version of himself might need to call upon those at some point.

He watches her watery smile, the determination to make this be something she does, whether it helps or not, he watches her dress and gather her knives to go into the room, and his chest aches. He believes her words for the most part, but it still feels like not enough. He should have been offering them the world, not desperate flailing. If he could be so good as they thought of him, he'd be able to manage that much, wouldn't he?

He blinks the tension from his eyes and moves to pull clothes from his pack. Right...all of maybe two useful outfits and two more Crucible outfits...he hadn't really planned for this either. At least he had pants.

He changes into fresh smallclothes and pulls on Jacob's hoodie before fishing out the flannel of Wolfe's he'd brought to throw onto the small pile for their mage. He sets about making the tea and tries hard not to listen in on Wolfe and Jon's conversation. At least until the water is in a pot, then he brings it over to Wolfe.

"If you'd be so kind to heat this, love, there's food and drink available for any who need or want. Amelia's gone to the stress room...which, as I told her, resets itself when you close the door, so no fears of making a mess if you need it."

Tasks. Focus. Once they were settled for the evening, he could turn to maybe working up the nerve to ask a few questions.

"You're full of tasty horror stories from a sexual hellscape. I think it could take special interest," Wolfe retorts, not thrilled at the supposition but Jon's not one for candy coating. "At least with Mystra it's more like to be some grand quest or gathering ritual bits to enact the process, isn't it?"

The last is directed at Chris, to whom Wolfe nods and takes the pot without preamble, using his limited fire magic to get the the water to a boil by holding the pot in one hand and a flame under it in the other.

"I think my... outburst earlier took whatever anger I still had down with it, but I'm glad its there regardless." Especially for Amelia. He hopes wrecking havoc in there will help with the turmoil he can tell is raging in her. Chris too looks like he could use a good fight or a good cry. Maybe both.

For all the horrors he's read about and seen, Jon can't actually recall many dealing with sex outside of that one about Prentiss, and that had been... incidental. He doesn't want to say the Eye has no interest in sexual horrors, but it doesn't seem to matter one way or the other. At least that's something he has in common with his patron: indifference.

"Hopefully, we won't be tranquil or... whatever might happen to me while being set on this quest." Jon wrinkles his nose. "Poor form, leaving it Chris and Amelia to pick up our pieces." He says this, knowing Chris is now listening in. He does shoot the cleric a glance.

"I don't suppose your gods are known for granting temporary boons in order to complete a quest?"

The rage room is noted and set aside. Destroying things isn't something he feels particularly inclined toward. Maybe that room with just the sofa, though. Amelia is still very loud, and he's getting unasked for snippets from elsewhere, as well.

Edited 2025-10-08 01:41 (UTC)

He nods vaguely to Wolfe’s question and sets the tea to steeping.

“It’ll likely be some trial or quest, something we have to do for her to receive her boon.” And then to Jon, he adds: “sometimes they might grant a sort of…forward payment. Depends on if she thinks it’s worth it. We’ll have to see. She often works for the sake of magic itself, so hopefully we can make a case for ourselves.”

He feels like he moves with little purpose as he haunts his way to a chair to wait for the tea to finish.

“Regardless, if you too…end up worse for ware, Amelia and I will take care of whatever we need to as quickly as possible, I promise.” He pauses and reaches for where his signet ring should be, but now only silvered skin lay under his absent touch.

“And if we’re really desperate, I know where else I could go for help.”

His- the guardians would listen to his plea. Even if he had to press his forehead to the dirt and beg, he’d do so to put his boys back to rights.

The way Chris is drifting back and forth is worrisome but to be expected and clarified by the lack of his signet ring. The white stretch of skin untouched by the sun where it had always been is more telling than anything else. Wolfe, knowing only half of what his love must be feeling, slides his hand around Chris' to give him something else to fidget with as he slips into a chair next to him.

"We're in good hands. Obviously we're going to try not to be burdens on you and Amelia, but even if we become so, it will only be temporary," Wolfe says with all the conviction he feels and far more besides that he desperately wants to. On its heels he plants firm a kiss to Chris' temple.

"Besides, if she wants whatever task she's going to put us to done, then she'll need to make sure we're in a shape to do it. We'll be alright." Squeezing Chris' fingers, Wolfe looks ip at Jon, inviting him to weigh in similarly.

Jon’s mind turns to Bane, which is not an avenue he wants to explore. He knows Chris has considered reaching out to that bastard before, and they don’t need to give him a reason to do so. “With luck, we’ll just be tied to our own world’s entities and… magic, until we get tied into the weave.”

He moves over to the others, but instead of sitting in a chair, Jon wraps himself tighter in his blanket and settles in the floor next to Chris’ leg. He leans his head there, resting against the his boyfriend. Getting dressed would wait for just a little while longer.

“Or at least we’ll be functional enough to help. Catatonia tends to happen when I’m disconnected from the Eye completely. I just might… if I start getting forgetful, we’ll know something is wrong with me.”

Wolfe's hand on his gives his fingers something to trace along: the callouses and lines and the familiar shape that the part of him that's still learning it doesn't need to grieve anymore clings to. The kiss, too, helps, and he offers a small smile in return.

If he could net them an audience with any particular god while in Ilnivur, maybe they could get an idea of not only how to contact Mystra, but how to best appeal to her and what she needed to get what they needed. Mystra possibly wouldn't weave them in without their soul threads being in hand on this plane...so at the least, they could start there. There were people out there who walked among the Planes all the time, how did they do this? Of course, how many of them sought to disconnect themselves from their homes?

Jon settles against his leg, and Chris's free hand moves out of habit to pet through Jon's hair.

"We'll keep an eye on each other. I...I intend to try reaching out to the Raven Queen tonight. I've a few questions for her. If she truly hasn't actually noticed me afore or if I'm not actually connected to her and our powers are doomed to start failing cause of our distance here, we should know soon enough." Hopefully, it would be good news.

He brings Wolfe's fingers up to kiss. "The tea'll likely be ready soon. Do you want to check on our rogue? She said to have it without her if need's be."

That's the second time that Chris has shoved him to Amelia with only a small exchange between themselves. He's certain it's more to do with Chris being just as worried for her as Wolfe is, but there's also a sense of being pushed away. Likely just due to Chris' general demeanor right now, focused on problems and potential solutions, not on the human element. Because if he did that, he might collapse, and he knows that's a little what Wolfe is after in the name of healing.

"I probably should, but Love..." Wolfe reaches over and tilts Chris' chin towards him, making sure they're looking into each others eyes. "After you've spoken with your God, I expect at least a little undivided attention."

Without waiting for an answer, Wolfe gives another kiss to Chris' lips as he rises from the table. "Pour me a cup when its ready, please. We could all use some tea."

With a reassuring squeeze to Chris' hand and a nod to Jon, Wolfe turns to go knock on the destruction room's door. "'Melia?"

Jon watches Wolfe head over to the rage room and then both of Chris' hands are on his head, fingers brushing, separating, pulling. He knows he's going to end up with a head covered in braids and just sighs quietly to himself. It's certainly not the worst option when he hadn't even though to pack a brush. Small necessities he'd been expecting to sort out in Faerun. At least he's brought a toothbrush.

"If you need me to be away so you can talk to him alone... I can just spend the night in that other room you have. The sofa looks comfortable."

It's quiet on the other side of the door, save a single soft grunt and an accompanying sigh. Silence stretches for a moment before Amelia calls back, "My knives are down. It's safe to come in."

Safe enough, anyway. Every single breakable object in the room has been smashed. Most where they were first conjured, a few against various walls. The floor is clean enough for moving around in bare feet thanks to the rogue pushing all the debris out of the way so she could move about. Amelia herself is unharmed, hair now loose and wetting her back as it drips. All of her knives save one, the enchanted dagger Wolfe gave her years ago, are embedded into the cork wall. When the door closes behind the mage, the room resets as promised, all the pieces of various objects magically disappearing from the floor and reappearing on the shelves and the cork on the wall reforming where it had been destroyed, save where her knives still stand out of it.

Wiped away as if nothing had ever happened. It makes sense and it is safer, but somehow it's... painful. She needed the mess.

Because she can't be one.

She turns around and offers a hand to him as she approaches. "I take it the tea is ready? I can't think of any other reason Chris would send you to me." It's an assumption on her part, but it seems a good one based on Chris' mood when he sent her off. Her lips press into a soft frown. "Is he all right? I wanted to give something back to him before abandoning making our tea, but... couldn't."

Chris starts with small braids, little things that would hold their own shape without ties to hold it for them. Once he had enough, he could use the one tie he'd brought...if Jon wanted, he should ask first. Later.

"I'll talk to him eventually, I know. I want to...I'm just not ready for him to press at me. Or to..." He sighs and redoes part of the braid he'd fumbled. "I'd...like to be able to hold you for part of the night, but I'll not fall apart if you would rather the space. So long as you're in here and safe, I promise not to be too overly attached."

"Close to," Wolfe takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. "He's worried for you as well, tea or not. Why would you think it would just be for tea?"

Maker's breath, if they both keep doing this he might shove them both in here until they make up. He can't keep going back and forth like this. "You and he are cut too much from the same cloth sometimes; honestly you both need a good cry and some sleep. And I know you had one earlier in the shower but I don't think it was enough."

He's too weary not to be blunt, and on some level a little... disappointed isn't the right word but he's restless in not being able to just curl up with everyone. There's always some other thing to consider. Wolfe might feel a bastard for simply wishing it were different but damn if he doesn't want simple right now. Easy. Shake hands and make up kind of easy. But its never that.

"Is he why you're trying so hard to hide your mess, my love? Because I promise we all would love nothing more than to focus on each other and not ourselves."

Jon closes his eyes, trying to push against the knowledge that presses toward him. He’d forgotten just how strong it could be. With whatever dampener is off… there are people in Melvaunt who can’t sleep tonight. There’s a woman who can’t get the tick, tick, tick of the clockwork dragon out of her mind. A boy watched as a thing of bone and blood ripped a man apart in front of him, adding him to its stock. There are so many tantalizing and horrifying Statements.

Along with all of the people in this temple. Jon knows he’s a monster and Chris loves him in spite of it, but it’s not feeling like something that can be loved right now.

“It’s not that,” he says after a long pause. “I just… I’ve had you. We’ve had each other. He’s been alone, facing everything about what Duplicity really was. I don’t want to stop you two talking because of my…” He shrugs and sighs. They’ve already discussed the Statement issue. “I want you to have time with him. I can make myself scarce for a few hours. I expect Amelia would prefer that when she’s feeling… as she is.”

It’s not would probably be more satisfying to elaborate, but Jon does make some modicum of effort not to gossip about the things he catches. At least when they’re important.

"I thought it was only for the tea because we're both trying to focus on what's immediately in front of us." He gave her the option to escape into this room to take care of herself and have the space she so obviously needed. Hells, she knows she's a large part of the reason this room exists at all, given he put in a wall that's meant almost entirely for her. They both know they're not in a place to do the hard work required to both break down and keep each other together right now, especially when they still haven't fully found their footing after...

Dreams, after her last horrific and stupid act that she tried to hide from him. What a fucking idiot she had been. Why did she think it was right to hide that she wasn't going to make quota? Why not tell him what she needed to be free of the SLUT Center's effects when she knows he would have been there for her?

Because she's stubborn and reckless and thought she knew better. Because she didn't want to put him through what Wolfe went through.

Because she was scared of wanting him, especially when it wasn't her choice.

She sighs and puts her free hand to her forehead in a vain attempt to push back the headache that's building. It's too soon to tell Wolfe about that. If she says anything at all that hints at it, he'll press and she can't deal with that right now. Not after finally getting him back and finding relief in something as simple as holding his hand. It's hard to focus on that with everything else that's been revealed since they found him, but she wants to. She wants this to be enough so she can sleep again.

"I'm sorry to worry you at all. I know I need more time and I--" A tense exhale as she squeezes his hand gently. "Not tonight, but I will take more time to get this all out. Through tears, through more destruction." Through sex? ...no, no she can't. Not after-- Not after what she did. "Hopefully some sleep as well. When you're ready to lie down, I'll make the attempt. It'll be good to have your arms around me either way."

A beat, and she lowers her free hand to rest it over the one he's twined with hers. "If that's what you want. Just being able to hear you will be enough if you can't rest or want to stay close to Chris instead tonight." She won't push him away, but what comes must be his choice.

This discussion is pulling at him, even as it’s all reasonable. Even as he agrees. But if he doesn’t talk to Wolfe tonight, will his mage assume he doesn’t want to? That he doesn’t want him for not giving a proper welcome back? If he lets Jon pull away, will he pull too far? Amelia’s already falling apart and he’s already proven to not hold the glue she needs to even try and mend the pieces.

He’s brought them here, but how long would it take for him to lose them too? The thought comes unbidden and sits lead-like in his gut. Chris grits his teeth and leans down to kiss Jon’s hair. Swallow. Move on.

“Alright. Just promise me I won’t lose you too far into that pretty head of yours. And…” he hesitates briefly. “Tell me if you still have connection to the people usually in your dreams. If your stable’s empty, we’ll need address that soon.”

He leaves the three braids he’d managed and moves to stand and fetch the palm-sized notebook and pen he’d usually carried around in Duplicity. It had observations, notes, contact information, theories…things he didn’t want to care about anymore. He hands it to his partner before his attention turns to pouring tea.

“Use that as you like, it’s yours until we can get more paper and ink.”

"Why not tonight?" He asks gently, but there's a firmness in it. Sometimes Wolfe thinks what both Amelia and Chris could use is someone to take the burden of leadership from them. Much of the time, actually, as he knows he's the same way with always prioritizing others over himself because that's what's needed in the moment. But right now, thats part of the problem. They don't have that position anymore. Chris is not a king, Amelia is not a guildmaster, and its more difficult for them than even in Duplicity because now they know those positions will not be theirs again.

No city to rule. No house to manage.

Wolfe, at least, has always found his leadership in having a family to protect and he still has that, even if they're not related by blood. And he's already broken down once tonight. He feels clearer than he has in months and wants to give that support while he can.

"There's no one you need to hide yourself from now, love. You're already crumbling, but I know how the pieces go. You can come apart and I'll catch them all. It's hard and its complicated and you've lost so much. It's okay to feel it." He tugs her hand gently, coaxing her to come into the shelter of his arms. "I know this won't be the end of it, that its going to hit all of us again and again possibly for the rest of our lives, but Amelia, that's why I'm here. I'm not afraid of your mess, of how deeply you feel everything. It only makes me love you more."

"Thank you. And Chris?" He weighs whether or not to say anything as he accepts the notebook. "I can... you know I try not to, but everyone is feeling very loudly at the moment. Yourself included. I promise the only place I'm getting lost at the moment is in other people's thoughts and fears."

There's a long pause before he says, "I think I should- I'll take some tea into the quiet room, give all of you a chance to talk. When you're... available, I'd just ask that you come in before going to sleep. I have, um... There are people in Melvaunt. I have- It's a little like I've got one of their stories stuck in my throat. I'd rather have someone who knows and cares about them there to listen to it if I'm going to tell it."

She's on the edge of telling him the many reasons to wait when he tells her again that he loves the mess that she is. The truth of who and what she is at her simplest. Not a complicated lattice of sharp blades and hard edges to protect a soft core; just a mess that doesn't know what to do about most things in her life.

Why that is what makes her break again doesn't matter. The tears come fast as her face scrunches and she all but throws herself into him, one hand still clutching his because she can't let that sort of contact go. She needs to feel the strength and calluses of his hands as she cries for everything that's happened since Wolfe got up to make coffee and disappeared from her life until now. Delivering his letters. Closing the doors of her businesses for a time. The overwhelming support, including Krem breaking into the house to look in on her. The attack on the Creator's mansion and the punishment that followed. Going to the SLUT Center and the dreamsforsaken network post that came from it. All her fights with Chris. Their fight to get out of Duplicity. The shock of learning they're mere copies of who they believed they were. The destruction of Melvaunt. The oppressing weight of everything.

Wolfe, in her arms and returned to them exactly as he was when she last saw him.

There's so much to answer for from that time apart. Things she didn't deal with in Duplicity because she couldn't with her heart in pieces and then was out of time. Everything she's done to Chris in her efforts to protect him that were completely counterproductive. What she chose to do and let happen to herself because her grief was so loud she couldn't hear herself breathe.

And now there's this new truth, causing a shift in her reality that she doesn't know how to deal with. She can't do it all, but she has to. She needs to, for all of them, including herself.

"I'm sorry." For everything. For nothing. For being herself. For not being enough. For being too much. He's going to chide her for it and she knows that, but it has to be said. She needs him to know that she's truly, deeply sorry for far too much to list it all.

Her sobs are likely loud enough to be heard through the door and the mess that she is doesn't care. She will later, there's no doubt in her mind about that, but the safest arms she knows are around her and while she's too weak to speak on any of what's in her heart and mind, this is how it has to come out.

Chris nods when Jon says they’re all the loud ones here right now and pours his boyfriend his tea. That made sense, they were all scared right now and still close enough to a site of great devastation to be tasted; Jon’s abilities were likely on high alert. He should offer the Eye something. Maybe later or tomorrow.

He hands the cup to Jon and leans in to kiss him.

“Of course, I want to hear it.” Not entirely true, but not entirely a lie. He doesn’t know if he wants to hear his people’s suffering when there’s nothing he can do, but part of him needs to know. He wants to hear what haunts the people who will make Deismyr.

“Don’t forget to take your clothes too…unless you want me to keep you warm later.”

He means it innocently, but the salacious smirk he puts on certainly doesn’t help.

It’s meant to be a playful parting, something a little softer between them to soothe and fortify as he can. For them both.

He’s got three cups of tea precariously held when he pauses by the door. He can hear Amelia’s pain…and he takes a deep breath to keep hold of that fortification for himself. It wouldn’t help her to get his emotions involved, it almost always made it worse, in fact.

Thaumaturgy sees the door gently opened for him and he slips in as quietly as he can to deliver cups of tea where they can wait until wanted.

“That’s half your sorry quota, I’m afraid. Think wisely for the final one for the day.”

The way Amelia trembles against him, how she crumples loosely but still holds his hand in hers between them so tightly he can feel every shuddering breath and erratic beat of her heart, has tears threatening the corners of his eyes as well. They don't fall, mostly because they're tiny little prickles made of what dregs are left of what he'd bled out earlier, but the way he's made Amelia cry again is not lost on him. It was intentional this time, but how much had she cried when he was gone? How many holes did she leave in the walls of Shadows Rest? How many SIN guard died for his absence?

He should be worried about that, but honestly... he's only sorry he was ever parted from her, and selfishly flattered by how hard his loss hit her. It's a stupid thing to feel but he doesn't have the will to even chastise himself for it. Not when he has her back now and will never lose her again.

He starts to reply to her apology, not a chastisement but a soft acceptance so they can move on from it, but Chris comes in the door with tea, offering a gentle joking reply of his own. It makes Wolfe smile. Whatever fight they were having must not have been so far beyond the pale that Chris can't set it aside.

"Thank you, Love," he says with warmth in his voice and in his eyes. He opts to wait to take his cup so he can offer an arm to Chris instead, his other remaining tightly in their rogue's grasp.

Edited (pickles. ) 2025-10-10 05:49 (UTC)

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cw: mention of nonconsensual sex under the influence of drugs

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cw: PTSD, body horror, death, mild gore

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