It was drawing close to sunset, and Ro had been asleep for hours. The pair had moved into the Library, the room offering a dark enough space to view the crystals clearly. Amongst the bottles of Brandy and crystals they had said a lot of things, words that had needed to be said. Some angry, some heartbreaking, but all working towards healing what had been broken. At some point, the half-elf had returned to the vault to fetch back another batch of crystals, and in the process, had taken a turn for the worse. The armband Ghet had fitted him with glittered softly in the low light of the room, the dosage set on low after he had complained that to much adrenaline would keep him from sleeping. Over seventy-two hours with no rest had finally done the S’Hean King in, and he had passed out in a corner of the couch.
Odd dreams had plagued his sleep, some memories, some illusion… some visions of a future that could never be. The surreal sensation did not ease as he swam towards consciousness, and when cat-slit eyes finally cracked open, they stared blankly at the ceiling. Ginseng filled his senses, a comforting, familiar blanket of scent that blurred the sensation that something was horribly wrong. In that moment, Ro was completely unsure where or when he was, and so he held still, afraid to break the spell that might bring some horrible reality crashing in. It was a familiar fear; one he lived with every day… What if all of it was an illusion… and one day, he woke up to find himself strapped to Samara’s torture table. What if he had made all of this up in his mind… just to escape what his mind didn’t want to see?
Ghet had half-dozed, lying up against Ro on the couch, gone through a half-dozen more crystals, but her mind would not stick with the task. The sight of Ro so ill had torn her heart open. She could not get him back just to lose him again. At the same time, she was afraid of more than his death. The last few years of her life had been peaceful, and now... things were coming back to the surface that had been long-repressed. She wasn't a terribly self-aware creature, but she did know that she would love both Y'Roden and Galain all her life, no matter what course it should take. There was no peace for her.
She lay against Ro's side because then she would know straight away if his breathing faltered. The scent of him, his warmth, they were immensely comforting. She'd worked so hard the last few days, been so worried... lying with him had soothed her almost to sleep. Her head turned against his chest, her lips brushing his skin unconsciously. When she looked up to check the armband again, she was startled to see his eyes open. "Ro? Are you alright?"
Without looking, Y’Roden moved his hand to touch the side of Ghet’s face. He knew instinctively just how her chin would tilt to look at him, the angle of her jaw, the softness of the deep red locks that tickled against his skin. Centuries spent in her company had made the move automatic, no matter how long it had been since he had touched her last.
“Morning Lisse,” he murmured hazily, the skin of his chest burning pleasantly where her lips had brushed against it. The sound of her voice was a tether to reality, something his soul responded to automatically… gods it hurt…
The full force of where and when he was came tumbling back with the force of a landslide and the S’Hean King groaned, closing his eyes against it. “No… no, I don’t think I am.” There was an alarm going off in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t quite together enough yet to focus on what it was telling him.
Ghet rested her cheek in his palm, just savouring the moment before they'd had to move, have to face what was coming. "It's not morning, Rodi. It's... I don't know. It must be getting late." She craned her head so she could look out the windows without moving her skin away from his, but even so, she knew... this couldn't last. The light was starting to fade. "Let me look, then. I thought... sleeping would help." She'd panicked, badly, when he'd come back up so ill, she'd been terrified he was going to die right in front of her. She couldn't bear that.
She sat up, moved away from him, and looked him full in the face. He looked better, physically, but there was definitely something wrong. "You having trouble concentrating? Feel kind of muzzy? Let me help. It's okay, I'm not hopping you up, it's just... extra neurotransmitters. Helps your brain do what it does normally. I'm babbling again, look. Shut me up."
He’d pulled Ghet half way to him before some part of Ro’s brain clicked in and he relaxed the grip of iron fingers, his face just inches from hers, “the old way of shutting you up… probably isn’t a good idea,” he murmured, “wow, see, they are working already. I could use some Brandy I think.”
Untangling his hand from her hair the half-elf drew a deep, shuddering breath and rubbed at his eyes. “Gods…” The beginning of a sentence halted and emerald greens cracked open, his fingers pressing against his forehead and the bridge of his nose. For a moment… he had clearly felt Elerina’s thread. Which was impossible… she was in Alcarinque with her father.
“Ghettie… was Adarin planning on coming to the Festival?”
"Good," she said quietly, "always good, but not a good idea. Adarin? No, Adarin wouldn't come here. He's still in Alcarinque. Why? I could ask Galain, but we're still behind the wards so I can't... I shouldn't be able to feel him." She frowned. Something wasn't right.
“Then why can I feel his thread on the Web?” Ro’s tone was slightly alarmed, “The Wards are not open…” The S’Hean shot to a seated position, his hands grasping out for a moment like a blind man seeking something to balance himself on. “That’s impossible… Ghet… the Wards... there are... gods... huge gaping holes, everywhere."
Ghet gaped at him, not understanding, refusing to understand. "How?" She reached out for her husband, knowing she shouldn't be able to find him. Gone, then there, then gone again... "Oh hells. If the wards are fragmenting..." Nothing could hold together with its structure that badly damaged. The sheer horror of that didn't bear thinking about. "Gods, Ro, you have to go." She looked at him, her face pale with fear and anxiety for a moment, then pushed across the distance between them and kissed him fiercely. "Be careful."
For a moment, he stared at her dumbly, his equilibrium totally thrown off, then without thinking, he slid his fingers round the back of her skull and kissed her back. Life was going to hell… one last moment of peace didn’t seem too much to ask for.
Then he was pulling back and cupping her face between his hands, “Go straight to Rikers, and I mean right this second.” His eyes flashed disturbingly, “there is someone in S’Hea that should not be here…” The half-elf didn’t go into detail, he simply released her and stood, fingers dialling up the adrenaline on the bracelet before his clothing rippled, boots, leather trousers and the harness bearing his Bastard Sword running over his body like quick silver. He still had a handle on his magic… for however long that lasted. “Go,” he urged, refusing to leave without seeing her off safely.
Ghet stared at him, a silent plea, agony writ large across her face. She didn't want to leave him. She knew she had to, she knew why, and it just made everything worse. She stood, her legs shaking, took his hand, drew breath and let it go. They'd said everything already, and whatever happened, she'd always be glad of that. "I'll go," she said quietly, "but I won't forget. Don't forget." She touched his face again, then turned away, opened the portal, and she was gone. It was closed before the tears starting spilling down her face.
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