A bard in time saves...

[Lanya Caliope]

Her composure was starting to crack. Tears made her eyes glossy, and she turned to the stove to stir the soup with a shaking hand, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. Lucian had asked what could be done, and now Metarie was offering to help him with the mark. A small part of her hoped that it would be enough...but staying here would put them all in danger. And she knew Lucian well enough to know he would realize this as well.

"You should tell him those methods, Metarie. He will need them."

When she turned back, her eyes were still bright with unshed tears, though she'd fought them back enough to be able to blink freely. If he were looking in her direction, she would meet his eyes in silence, letting him see the conclusion already upon her face. She clenched her jaw and glanced to Metarie, then spoke on a seemingly separate topic, staring hard at Lucian until he looked at her again before speaking.

"We've only just gotten you back."

[Lucian]

Lucian gently returned to the pressure on Metarie's hands, smiling a small but genuine smile. We will overcome this, he said with his eyes. And he believed it. He was a survivalist and a fighter in his core, what his entire existence was based around.

But looking over at Lanya, seeing her eyes when she said, "You should tell him those methods, Metarie. He will need them," he knew that she had followed the same thoughts to the same conclusion as himself.

He said nothing at first, looking at Lanya and the brightness of her eyes that said there was a dam threatening to break, and he smiled softly, at her, then at Metarie, and back to her.

"And I am here." His rasp was soft, and his eyes came back to Metarie, and he nodded toward the stove, not letting go of one of her hands as he stood started to walk over to where Lanya stood and the smell of the soup emanated from.

He wasn't avoiding it. He just saw no point in saying more of it now. What had to be done, would be done.

"Would you pour me some?" Lucian spoke to Lanya, indicating the soup.

[Metarie]

Metarie looked at Lanya. "It will take working with him, not just telling. We will need to try together first. My strength can help him, but to do that I must rest. I have exceeded my limits." Metarie denied the look in Lanya's eyes. Lucian told her they would overcome and they would. She refused to even say that he might leave.

"I must rest and then I can show you." Metarie stared at Lucian, daring him to say no, say that he would leave. There was no danger unless they did something wrong, broke laws... right? But, Lucian only inclined his head to the stove and stood, keeping one of her hands in his.

Metarie closed the book, came to a stand, and followed behind Lucian. She looked to Everett. He was probably coming to the worst conclusions as to why they had been so long in the bathroom. She shook her head as if to say, "Please, don't."

"Perhaps Everett could find out some information... anything that we need to be concerned with..." Metarie's voice drifted off as she looked at Everett again. For once, she had no answers. Falling back to a safe place, she offered Everett some of the soup as well. "Are you hungry, Everett?" Her glance fell to the clumps of dirt on her table and she reached out to brush the dirt off and throw it away.

Everett stared at her for a moment as if she had sprouted two heads. This was a different Metarie than he had ever seen before. A twitch developed on his face, giving his look a slight comic cast. Everett grunted and shoved the chair back from the table.

"Nah. I got some work I gotta do. Besides, better get to Rosie's before my arm decides to act out again." Everett stared at the metal appendage then at the others.

"Lanya. Lucian. Pleasure to meet ya." Everett looked at Metarie, a glint in his eye.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, Grammaw." With that, Everett stumped off and out of the house.

[Lanya Caliope]

Lanya's nostrils flared a bit at Lucian's initial comment, but she focused instead on his request and ladled soup into a bowl for him. He had to be famished, and his welfare was more important than his attempt to avoid the subject. She set the bowl along with a spoon at the table and pulled the chair free, giving him another hard stare which clearly ordered him to sit and eat.

She did have one stop to make before speaking with Metarie and the gypsy once more. She took Everett's hand again between her own, waiting until he made eye contact and letting her gratefulness beam from her features.

"Good evening, Everett. Thank you for your help."

He left for some rest of his own, and she turned to regard to two remaining in the kitchen.

"We all need rest. Lucian, eat. Metarie, where would you like us all to sleep?"

The question had a bit of a teasing lilt to it, and the bard couldn't help a wink at the elf's expense. Despite knowing what Lucian was planning, the two clearly had a connection, and she had no trouble teasing the healer about this.

[Lucian]

It nearly broke him inside, but Lucian saw in Metarie's eyes that she would not understand, would not accept. She wanted to remain here and try to thwart the monster to its very face, while it held a cruel grip over what she was trying to save.

Lucian never disputed an insurmountable mountain pass, and he felt no dishonesty in remaining silent with what he felt coming from her. She would not hear him- could not hear him. There was no return in her eyes if he left- once gone, he would be gone forever. This night, it was the only way that she could see it.

It would have pulled him down into sadness, but he would not let it. That was a future, and this was now. And now, he held her hand, and was here. Just as he said.

As Everett left, he nodded his head deeply to the other man. Without him, he might never have made it here. Made it at all.

Once Everett left the room, he walked to the table and lifted the bowl with one of his hands, tipping it to his lips and taking a few mouthfuls of the broth. His other hand had snaked around Metarie's waist and held her tightly against him.

When Lanya turned and ordered him to eat, he lifted the bowl to her in salute, dutifully taking another swallow, and in the process missing what she said next to Metarie.

And given his dislike of blushing, that was probably for the best.

[Metarie]

Lucian pulled her to him, as if to say, he was not going to let her go... but he was. She knew it, even if she stubbornly did not want to admit it.

Please, stay. Let me help you. All I need is to rest... one night's rest... Metarie watched in interchange between Lucian and Lanya, but suddenly felt her cheeks light on fire.

"I... I suppose you can sleep on the couch. I can make a pallet on the floor and Lucian can have the bed, so that he may rest well. He needs it."

[Lanya Caliope]

"If that is the case, you will take the couch while I take the pallet. You have broken ribs, Metarie."

Her tone was firm and unrelenting - this option was unacceptable. She was tired of others making needless sacrifices for her. The blush that lit the elf's cheeks served to lighten her mood a little, but for the moment the bard was through with simply accepting what others did in her presence. It was neither right nor fair for the woman who'd healed her and granted her shelter to rest her own injured body on the floor.

"I am used to sleeping on the ground. I did travel a bit, as you might know."

She smiled to indicate the joke, though her sense of humor was strained.

[Lucian]

Lucian smiled as they argued sleeping arrangements, until he pointed out, "I have never slept in a bed- or even used a cushion." He was quietly amused, "And you think I will be able to sleep on a sinking, heaving, bouncy mass of fluff, even less, relax on it-"

He used the moment to allow himself a small laugh. "I will take the floor. I doubt I will be able to sleep on anything less stable." Lucian didn't have to sound challenging or authoritative on this matter, nor did he try to. He was right, and he knew he was right.

"Lanya can take the couch, Metarie, your own bed."

He glanced at both of him, his eyes bright and his smile relaxed, and he set the empty bowl down in the table. "Good?"

[Metarie]

Metarie opened her mouth to say no, but Lucian interjected. The admonishment in his tone, humor twinkling in his eyes, and the mirthful twist of his lips stopped any words. Wholly unlike her, Metarie smiled in a way that completely feminine and a little girlish. The smile was a smitten kind of smile and she found herself agreeing with Lucian, "Alright."

Metarie moved away from Lucian long enough to retrieve one of her pain-relieving potions. This time, this one was for her. Lanya's reminder about her ribs had caused an echoing grumble of pain in her right side. Metarie drew herself a cool glass of water and drank it down. By the time she had finished the drink, the pain was neglible again.

"I'll get some linens and a pillow."

[Lanya Caliope]

Lanya took the empty bowl to the sink and covered the still-warm soup on the stove to make sure the minimum amount of dust made its way into the broth. She then moved to help the elf without thought, gathering the linens and needed comfort items right along with Metarie as she thought to herself. She remained silent as she helped, intent on focusing on her thoughts rather than discussing what had passed between the gypsy and her friend.

She did, however, give Metarie a small amused smiled as she helped to create the pallet, raising her eyebrow to indicate her thoughts. The elf would be questioned at some point, though not very harshly. Lanya only had curiosity to satisfy.

Soon enough the bedding was set on the floor and the couch, and it seemed there was nothing else to do beyond lie on it and try to sleep. She looked at the others, then moved to the couch and began removing her boots. She left her hair plaited for convenience, though she would take out the braid tomorrow. She'd only kept it to hide her natural curls, and it did not seem that there was no further need for the disguise. She would ask Metarie tomorrow to be sure.

When she finished with the boots, she gave Metarie and Lucian another glance before settling herself back on the couch, giving them a small flutter of a wave goodnight with a kind smile to enunciate both her good feelings and her small attempt to give them a measure of privacy. She closed her eyes a moment later and said nothing further, doing her best to appear asleep.

[Lucian]

Lucian watched the two women prepare the sleeping arrangements wordlessly, smiling softly as the tempo of the house slowed around them with the occupants preparing to sleep. Or perhaps it only seemed to slow, as they all seemed to be thinking about sleep. They were all tired, certainly. But sleep was now being prepared for by reflex, because it was all they could think to do now.

He smiled as Lanya settled on the couch, making herself comfortable, waving goodnight and then closing her eyes. She was not asleep, nor would she be for some time, and it only took a moment for him to understand that she was trying to give them the feeling of privacy.

Stepping forward from where he leaned against the counter, looking to Metarie and approaching until he was within her sphere of space.

Her hair was a little awry from her motions of preparing the beds, and he raised one hand to smooth back a few stray strands into line with the others, then leaning in and gently wrapping her in his arms, holding her close to him, turning his head inward to brush his face along her neck, taking in her smell again.

The embrace lasted a little while, feeling her heartbeat against his chest and her breath on his neck, and in the moment he wanted to fold into her and stay. Pretend that there was no mark, no murderous judges, nothing but the two of them.

When he did, at length, withdraw, Lucian looked into her eyes, holding her gaze with a deep, quiet glow.

"Goodnight, Metarie."

[Metarie]

as she began to pull linens from the linen closet, Metarie mulled over what needed to be done and the best way to work on helping Lucian master what had been done to him. The act had been done without his consent and against his will, therefore, the magic would already have been incomplete... or had they broken him enough to... Metarie's brows furrowed. She did not realize Lanya had stepped in to help until they both reached for the same blanket. Metarie blinked and smiled a little a Lanya. Banked questions were obvious in Lanya's eyes and Metarie had the grace to flush a little and smile in a way that said she was quite smitten, yet again. Metarie knew Lanya would ask questions later.

The two women set about organizing the bedding on the couch and into a decent pallet for sleeping. Lanya, obviously giving them time to themselves, made a motion with her hand. The action embarrassed Metarie a little. She felt exposed by this knowing going on all over the place. Running a hand through her hair again she finally made her way back to the kitchen to begin tidying up before going to bed. Everything must be in its place after all.

Lucian watched her and Metarie was aware of the watching and so aware of her every movement. It was a strange feeling. She wondered if she would get accustomed to it. She had been alone for so long...

She saw Lucian's movement from the corner of her eye and turned to meet him. Lucian embraced her and Metarie melted into the embrace. All the tense lines were erased with just a touch. He was a balm, soothing to her, yet he energized her and pricked her senses all at the same time. Gently, oh so gently, he touched the hair by her face and smoothed it down. She felt him breathe her in. She loved that he did that.

Metarie closed her eyes and touched her nose to the side of his neck breathing him in as well. She was content to just breathe and be. Metarie held him close.

Stay! Just one night... just one night of rest is all I need. Whatever, whyever this has been done doesn't make any difference! We can fight it! We can win!

Lucian broke the silence bidding her a good night.

Metarie met his gaze with a deep, quiet glow of her own. She bit her bottom lip again and found the courage to be bolder than she had ever been.

"You can come to me. Tonight. If you want to..." Her words were barely spoken. He did not need the sounds, but she wanted to say it so that he would have no doubt that she would welcome him.

Metarie kept his gaze a while longer, then slowly disengaged from him. At her room, she looked at him as she closed the door. The lock was left open.

[Lucian]

He did not blush, but he felt heat rush out of him when she bit her lower lip like that.

And he was invited. With words, with her eyes, with the desire that flashed like fire between them. He watched her go, all the way to her room, his pulse racing as she favored him with one last look before disappearing behind the door.

The gypsy stood in the kitchen for a long moment as his heart rate calmed and he was able to pry his eyes off of the door, exhaling shakily.

He had not known such a pull could exist.

Walking over, Lucian settled down onto his pallet, softly exhaling again as he drew his legs in and crossed them, letting his weariness fully wash over him for a moment as his head sagged forward and his shoulders slumped, allowing his body to relax as it would.

He would rest for a few hours and then leave, he decided. Metarie was... was in her room. He simplified the thought to that. He would wait until the house was sleeping. It was the best way. The only way.

After a moment he looked up, opened his eyes and beheld Lanya, flashing her a tired but genuine smile.

He flashed to a memory in the woods, what seemed like weeks ago- after the dryad had come, and he had told Lanya that he would remember her as the one who reconnected him to humanity. In that moment she had light-heartedly called him dramatic.

Not so dramatic after all, it seemed.

"You know what I'm going to do." It was spoken softly, as a statement of mutual understanding.

[Lanya Caliope]

She was lying on the couch with her eyes closed, though sleep would take a few hours to claim her yet. She never fell asleep immediately - a combination of latent insomnia and a built-up fear of what nightmares might visit her in the night. She'd come to hate sleep, and found the endeavor pointless. She never received any rest from the gesture. Her body demanded that she try, though, and so she remained prone.

His voice drew her eyes open to look at him, a sad, weary smile drawing her lips into a grim line. Finding her position both awkward and useless, she pushed herself up to sitting, patting the couch near her to indicate he should join her. There was no need to reply to his statement; they both knew it was true.

"Tonight?"

She had regained what she'd lost in composure a while before, but her voice broke on the word, stuttering past the welled tears balled up just behind her tongue. She cleared her throat and raised her chin, reminding herself that she hated to cry in front of anyone if she could help it. She waited in silence for his answer, watching his facial expressions.

[Lucian]

His tired smile grew a little as she opened her eyes at him, and his eyes wrinkled because there was nothing else he could do and it felt good to smile.

He nodded at her gently and stood, walking over to sit down on the couch next to her, which felt awkward to him as he sank into the cushions, but he made the most of it, again drawing his legs in and crossing them.

She hurt because she knew he was leaving, and the fact stuck in him. In all of his life, there was never a time where anyone knew, much less cared about the coming and going of Lucian the gypsy.

Now, when the rhythm insisted he leave, there were two who felt his passing, and two who he didn't which to pass from.

His forehead wrinkled a little and he scooted closer to Lanya, looking into her eyes that poorly concealed the tide of emotion behind them, even to unenchanted vision.

"I am not dying, Lanya." His voice was the same quiet, perpetual rasp, but it carried the overtones of a brother telling his kid sister that it was going to be alright.

He didn't tell her to not be sad. Sadness was a response, it was not a bad thing. In some ways, he was grateful that she was sad. That she had let him in to a place where he mattered to her.

It was a far greater gift than perhaps she realized.

His eyes watered a little and he smiled at her again, stretching out his arm and resting a hand on her shoulder.

"We carry each other, now." He squeezed her shoulder a little, not bothered by the tear that escaped his eye. "I can not go away forever."