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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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)

She starts at the sound of Chris's voice, eyes wide as she stands taller in front of Wolfe.

No no no no not yet. What if I say the wrong thing again? What if she breaks them? What happens when this all falls apart because of her?

When... Dreams, when.It's always a matter of when.

"I--" She almost apologizes out of habit, a reflex with Chris that's so necessary it aches. The realization makes her hurt all over again and has her face pressed to Wolfe's chest as she cries harder. It shouldn't be like this. She knows better and she should be better by now. For all of them but especially for their cleric. Why can't she be better? They have Wolfe again, why isn't that enough?

Because all improvement takes time. Even if she wanted to snap her fingers and force the change, it won't happen without work. She knows this. She's been trying long enough to know how painful that truth is.

Words aren't going to help here and even if they would, she can't find them. Rather than try, she shifts her weight to steady herself and then reaches out to Chris. Her fingers trace down the outside of his arm from shoulder to elbow, then lift to ghost across his cheek. Glassy hazel eyes meet his green as she timidly rests her hand on his face then quickly retreat to his neck, as if she's scared of the touch. She pleads with him without speaking, lifting herself closer so she might press her forehead to his, if he'll allow it.

Stay with me. Please. I'm sorry for all I've done.

Jon scoffs at the innuendo as he goes to fetch his bag and squirrel it away under the blanket before he heads for the quiet room. It’s… physically quiet, anyway. He can sense the others nearby, Little Thunder, Poppet, and the girls with their simpler fears. And there’s so much in the world beyond, a cornucopia of horrors he’s never seen or dreamed of, nor the Eye.

Once he’s dressed, he settles on the sofa and pulls out a tape recorder along with several labeled tapes. “Ava 1” goes into the player. It’s the oldest one he has, the one that holds the greatest shame and the deepest hurt.

Ava’s voice fills the room, his chest aches, his jaw tightens, and his eyes burn as he sits unblinking, listening.

“Roberts. Ava Roberts. I'm not from this year. For me, it's 2004, October. I died...I guess it was seventeen days ago now, since I've been here for a little bit…”

Ava Roberts, the version he knew, his first friend in Duplicity, is dead. Worse, sacrificed to some horrific entity that ate her essence, destroyed the woman she’d become. It had happened to all of them.

As he listens, he pulls out Chris’ notebook and begins to write names. Every name he can think of, every person he’d known there and disappeared. It won’t help, but they won’t be forgotten.

It suddenly feels a little too much, just as it had in the shower. Wolfe's open arm is enticing in a way that scares him. Amelia's tears and touch, too, feel like a siren's call he can't afford to heed, and it makes something in his stomach lurch. Jon needed his space or he'd just go back out to him...but he also wouldn't -couldn't- retreat when his other two people were reaching for him like this. Like they needed him too.

'But when will it hurt again? When do they leave him behind?'

It's a ringing moment of clarity, even as he's pushing aside his own hesitation and instinct to physically lock up to step into their holds. If they needed him, he'd be there, like when Amelia had needed holding after her idiotic decision. Neither of them had any words at the time; she'd promised to say nothing, and he'd taken her up on it even as it scratched at him. He'd offered the same, not trusting his own voice or ability to be kind in the moment...but she'd needed him, so he'd been there.

He was here now, even as something old and selfish and scared cried out in him and made him want to keep his distance. Insidious wonderings shifted in his mind: when would they stop asking him his thoughts? When would they stop considering him? When would they leave next? Amelia already had; her actions back in the city spoke plainly of no interest in keeping Chris or herself in her heart when things got hard. And, even if it wasn't his fault, Wolfe had vanished. He'd left, and Chris had grieved, and part of him wasn't ready to open the door he'd never wanted closed in the first place.

It was like Kallian all over again...except Chris had eight years for that loss and pain to dull enough for trepidatious happiness to overtake anything else in their reunion. There'd only been a month for Wolfe. Which was good, he reminds himself. He didn't want that loss of time, especially what it would have meant; the alternative wasn't tenable, he was just being a child.

Yet, that was the source, wasn't it? It's a child's fear and cold, sinking, feeling of loss and abandonment he tries to chase away now.

It makes him...less responsive on the outside than he should be as he joins them. He does as he should, he wraps arms around them both, holds them tight enough to bruise and presses kisses to her head and his jaw in absent habit, but he's not there, not entirely, and it's frustrating...probably not only for himself.

"I'm...I'm just trying to take care of you two. I promised...I'll do whatever's in my power to keep you both safe, whole, and together."

"We know you are," Wolfe replies immediately, guessing at far too much just from Chris' expression and mien, and mostly from having been pushed away twice now. Gently, but pushed all the same.

Chris is hurting.

It's not too far a leap of logic given the circumstances, but Wolfe still keeps it in mind in a way that he keeps the states of each one of his loves in mind at all times. There's something specific in how he sets his mouth, how he pauses in his speech, and how fiercely he declares that he'll keep them together. He'll take care of them.

"We'll take care of you too, my heart. I've the strength to prop you both up tonight, and tomorrow it may be you're both keeping me standing, or us for Amelia, or all of us for Jon. I know we're not all going to be able at all times," he kisses Amelia's hand still in his to illustrate the point, then presses his forehead to both of theirs. "But I can't see anything tearing us apart now. My soul's thread is so knotted into yours it's impossible to untangle."

He lets that sink in for a moment, breathing a little labored for the wave of emotion that rocks him. It's laying it on a bit thick, and he knows it. He knows Chris will probably want to withdraw for too much too fast from both him and Amelia, but it seems urgent that he know that being king doesn't matter, that having a city doesn't matter. The loss of Chris' people is gutting, and the missing resources they'd planned on is certainly a problem they'll have to contend with, but the most important thing is that they are together.

"You are taking care of us." He gives a kiss to the bridge of Chris' nose and then withdraws a hairsbreadth, only far enough to give Chris the space he knows their partner will want when he's overwhelmed, but not so far as to give any doubt to where he wants to be. He's not going to budge until he's told. And even then maybe not. He's a stubborn sort. "Let us take care of you a little, too."

He only hopes that Chris will at least talk it out with him later, if he can't bring himself to do so with Amelia now.

You shouldn't have to hold me together. It feels like all I ever do is ask that of you.

The words get caught in her chest, trapped between soft sobs as she clings to the both of them. Wolfe is right about the way things are and will be, that they'll each have days where they need or can give support to the others in their group. Right now, she's in need of more support. The day has been so much that her thoughts are in a spiral, one she knows she can't fight when the smallest of pushes led to the state she's in now. She needs a safe place to fall apart, and this is it: Wolfe on one side, Chris on the other, all of them together with Jon only a short distance away in the temple the cleric created for them. This is the best place she can be.

"You've t-taken such care of me, even when I didn't deserve it. I want to do the same for you." The way she kept offering after Wolfe was taken and was never able to do for him. She wants it so badly, but... "I can't tonight, but I will. I promise."

Just another promise to break when you hurt him again, that. How long will until he wises up and cuts you loose?

The unbidden thought makes her clench her eyes tight as she breathes through the pain it drives through her heart. "This isn't-- it's not like before." She forces her eyes open to look up at Chris. "I'm not hiding this time. I'm not trying to pretend things are fine. They're not, not yet. I know I need this, so I-I... I'm asking, please... stay here with me, with us for a little while." Her breaths shake a little as she struggles against the urge to look away from him. "I don't want to hurt anymore. You help with that."

She's fucked up so many times, that last network post being the worst one yet. She hadn't had much time to think on it, but he'd spoken the truth: she'd wanted to hurt and she'd hurt him more by not speaking to him about her pain. Now that they've escaped that dreamsforsaken city and have their Wolfe back, she doesn't want it to happen again.

"I'm asking for your help so we can bear our burdens together when we're both strong enough." So she can find her footing and won't do to him as she's done dozens of times before. "Please... stay."

His mind clamps down on every assurance, some to keep and hold in a vice, and others to keep at arms' length...or at least breath's length. Until he can believe them. He knows they know he's trying. He knows Wolfe wants to be there for him and Amelia both. He knows Amelia can't possibly help him, not yet. He knows his and Wolfe's soul threads very well might not yet be tangled together, not now that he knows the truth of what they are...they might not even have any yet.

But they still make space for him. Amelia offers honesty he'd been wanting since Wolfe vanished, and he's lost too much in the last few hours to keep apart when they're both so godsdamned earnest in his face.

"I'll stay." It comes out quiet, but there's no one else who needs to hear it. He shifts so his fingers curl into her clothes against her back, and he kisses her forehead. "I'm here...and we'll get through this, whatever it looks like on the other side. This-" they "won't change. Except for the better." Now that they didn't have to live in the city or even be who they were, they could learn the rest together.

His other hand curls into claws at Wolfe's hip, and he'll look up to get a proper kiss when their mage allows.

"I'm sorry...my words are..." Failing him? fading? Paltry? He's not even sure. "It's been a long day."

"It's alright," Wolfe murmurs, his voice matching Chris' gentle volume but with encouragement and love. He's proud of them both for reaching out, even if it was with coaxing. Maybe someday they can do it on their own, but selfishly he's mollified that they still need him in a way that makes him feel so much like himself when what constitutes 'himself' has been brought into question.

The kiss he gives Chris is soft, but with a desperation roiling under the surface. The hand not in Amelia's goes to the back of Chris' neck, not clawing but heavy and grounding. He needs them and he knows they need him too. It's such a relief and he's missed them so much that once the tension has broken even this small amount between Chris and Amelia, Wolfe finds that need for them flooding his system even with how worn out he feels. He tries to ignore the physical part of it, knowing that's a taught reaction from the city, but the emotional? That's all him. That's always been him. And that's real. It's what this version of himself has that he doesn't share with the Adalwolfe Hawke that's still in Thedas; Chris and Amelia - and Jon, too - are his.

A little flushed, with an intensity that he's tried to keep down all evening, Wolfe fails at softness just for a moment in that kiss before pulling away, putting some bite in it. When he pulls himself away, his breath is harder than he'd like. He should apologize, but Chris won't want him to. Still, it comes out anyway, abashed at the carnal urge that came over him exactly when it wasn't his intention.

"Sorry. I-..." He actually blushes, mildly embarrassed, and decides to make a joke of it with a sheepish grin. "It's been a rough month."

There's barely space for her to huff an incredulous breath at Chris' apology before she's inevitably drawn closer by that kiss Wolfe pulls the cleric into. Her cheeks flush out of the suddenness of it, the heat she can see in Wolfe's expression, the wanting that's there. It's been so long since she was blessed with that sight and it stirs something that's been pushed down and dormant in her since finding the city's letter about the mage having 'gone home'. She doesn't want to feel it, thinks she shouldn't when that desire isn't directed at her, but it's traitorously there. The way it was only once in Wolfe's absence with yet another loose thread that will never be tied off.

She shivers and exhales slowly, breath shaking as she tries desperately to keep herself in check. Now's not the time to do anything reckless, not when she's finally managed something right with Chris. She could wait, even if she should say something about what she's feeling.

"It's been difficult for all of us," she chides, gentle but stern. There's no need for him to joke about this. "I haven't wanted to be with anyone since they took you. If this is what you want or need now, though..." She squeezes his hand gently. "I've missed you in every way, and I have more than enough strength to be with you."

Her eyes move to Chris as she brushes her thumb across his neck. "I'm scared after-- what happened, but this is something I want. With each of you, with both of you, when you're ready. It's been a long day, but if you want this," if she is wanted, "I would still choose this over rest."

Tonight is the worst idea for more reasons than she's willing to talk about right now. She hasn't admitted what happened to Wolfe yet and she's barely processed it herself after her fight with Chris. This should wait. It would be better for all of them if it did. But, dreams... dreams she's missed wanting the people she loves simply for them. If this is her chance to reclaim it, then she wants to reclaim it.

The kiss initially is grounding and settles some other piece in him. Eventually he’d find them all.

The heat and bite on the other hand jolts him and he returns it on instinct…but as quickly as the need stirs in him, it sputters out like a failed spark.

He hates this, hates when he gets like this, it feels…he feels bad looking at them both. He wants this, them…but not right now.

He looks down, face hot with shame even as he tries to smile to soften his own words.

“I’m sorry, loves, I think you’d find me a less than pleasing partner right now. I…when things are too…when I’m too in my head about everything, I can’t find the mood, not even were you to strip bare in front of me. Maybe after some sleep.”

His face feels like an inferno. He knows how ridiculous this sounds coming from him of all people.

“Kissing and holding would be nice, though…or I can leave if you need a moment…?”

"No, of course. I don't really-- I mean, I do, but I'm-- I don't think the smaller head should be doing the thinking right now. Especially not mine."

If Chris' face is heated, then Wolfe's is downright roasting. Its uncommon for him to blush, but he does so now, all across his face and down the back of his neck. He brings one hand up to cover what of his face he can while still being able to talk.

"There were a lot of aphros and I don't think they're entirely out of my system yet? And having been apart from both of you for so long, my body just reacted. I love you both, I do want you both!" He drops his hand and looks at Amelia specifically, since she'd been the one who warmed to the idea almost immediately. "But I want to find our footing first. You were just sobbing your heart out, Love."

He feels like that's a point that needs to be made.

"I think some cuddling and some sleep thereby would be best. Clearly we're all too exhausted to be making any choices." If the floor could open up and swallow him that would be great.

Edited (what even is my autocorrect) 2025-10-11 05:09 (UTC)

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cw: PTSD, body horror, death, mild gore

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