that was the worst nap in the world

[nerdeology]

Who: Mikleo & Visitors
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Huntress
When: 9/25 (and on)



[A seraph child hurries through a chilly, unlit ruin, carrying a lantern. Just ahead, a human boy is shoving at a sealed door with all his might.

"Stop, stop," the seraph protests, pulling the boy back. "You'll hurt yourself."

"But this is the way we need to go!" says the boy. "That's what the sign means, right?"

"You're getting your runes mixed up again. That means 'down', see, and that one's 'level'-- that's just the basement."

"What if it's written sideways?"

"No one writes sideways!"

They bicker. They knock a stone against the wall until a spark lights the wick, and together they wander, still fighting over who's right. In the end it matters very little if the door won't open, anyway. They fumble through passage after passage, turning corners they can't recognize ten minutes later, opening doors that close behind them, searching for a breath of fresh air that won't come. They argue about sore feet. The human child's stomach growls. The seraph forms his hands into a cup and the boy drinks until he comes up coughing. An hour passes. Then, two. Three, and they argue over which corner to desecrate when the human boy has to relieve himself.

They stumble, unexpectedly, upon a gorgeous mural, carved and painted stone. It's cracked and crumbling, bits of it scattered across the ground, the colours washed out by time and the musty air. Tired, hungry, sore, hopelessly lost, they sit in front of the wall for hours with the lantern burning slowly between them; the expedition is immediately worth it all.

"We should come back. With supplies, and books! We can study it!"

The seraph turns to beam at his companion, but the boy is gone. His face is gone. His lips are a sealed wound and his eyes are two great black holes, and he's reaching, reaching--

"You were right all along, mortals, humans, we're just- we're all just rotten.

Hang in there. You’ll be okay soon.

You're my one and only. I love you."

And then there are hands, hands reaching towards him and every touch is corrosive, every brush is as gentle as a feather and still cuts to the bone. The hands are on his skin--

no

his skin (his scales)

his fingers (his talons)

his teeth, his teeth, crunching bone and tasting blood

there's so much blood

he can't breathe, he's in the sky and he can't breathe, he's falling and he can't breathe, everything's broken and everything hurts and he's screaming and

"It's okay."

it hurts

"It's over now."

it hurts

"I'm here."

can't breathe

"I know."

kill me

"Just hang on."

I'm dyi--]

-----

[Mikleo wakes up screaming on the Marsiva.

He has to bite his tongue to make himself stop; at first he doesn't even know why he's screaming. And then, as the memories begin to trickle in, he almost gnaws a hole in his pillow trying to stop himself from screaming all over again. He's certain that if he starts, he might never stop. The taste of blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten down is so disgustingly familiar that he wants to throw up, but he can't throw up, nothing in his stomach--

deer cow horse boar people, people, dragons eat people, did he eat, did he eat

--so he hunches on the floor beside the bed with a garbage pail, dry-heaving until he figures out how to breathe again. He doesn't even need to--

breathe, breathe, he can't breathe, the air's gone around him, Sorey's crying and

--breathe, but he stays on the floor for a while, inhaling, exhaling, struggling for calm. He feels sick in a way that is entirely new to him- it's not like the illness he'd felt from malevolence, or even the poisoned planet, but instead a deep-set weariness that no amount of sleep can cure. He feels... old, something no seraph should ever feel in a physical sense unless they will it to be so, something a seraph of his age should be centuries away from experiencing. He feels wretched in ways he never thought possible.

Eventually he musters the strength to try and move again, but as his hand touches the bed, it meets cool metal instead of fabric; he clumsily draws the item closer and finds the communicator. He stares at it uncertainly, as if the very concept of it is lost on him, as if the memories of his transformation, his degredation, and his subsequential demise have written over everything else. Finally, his hands trembling, he turns it on. Message alerts greet him- dozens of them, most from the same contact. Seeing it, recognizing it, sends a rush of emotions through his body: relief and terror, both. Sorey. They're almost all from Sorey. They date as far back as around two weeks.

Two weeks. Two weeks.

He draws a shaky breath, hesitant for a long time, frightened by what he might find, but eventually he lifts the comm to his ear. He listens. He weeps. He feels heartsick, guilty, and very, very loved. He's lonely and he's lost and dead, he was dead, and suddenly he isn't anymore and he doesn't know how to process any of it. There's two weeks of grieving in his ear, two weeks of the lives of his friends that he wasn't there for, two weeks where Sorey thought he was gone, two weeks since he was a dragon, he was a dragon and he can taste the blood in his mouth all over again.

He flings the comm away from himself, curls up, and cries, and cries, and cries.]

-----

( action; locked to sorey )

[Hours later he wakes again; he doesn't even remember falling asleep. His eyes are still puffy and damp, and somehow he feels more tired, not less, but that doesn't stop him from realizing that he's not on the Marsiva anymore, but rather in his own bed on the Huntress. He casts his gaze wearily around the room at his limited belongings: the elegantly crafted staff hanging on the wall, little pieces of artwork he'd collected from their previous stops, a lovingly packed bookshelf, the half-finished embroidery he'd stored in the corner of the room by the desk. It's been too long and his memories are still too muddled- he can't tell if anything is different, but it smells... lived in, somehow, despite his absence. He's uncertain of that's a good sign or a bad one. He knows Sorey's been here; the project he'd been working on is missing, now that he knows to look for it. The sheets smell like him.

He glances down at his comm, and a flood of memories greets him; the messages people had left for him, some expecting him to come back, hoping he'd come back. Hearing that everyone else is okay. Hearing Lailah's voice, Lailah, who hadn't been here before they changed, who must have shown up in the middle of all of this horrible mess, who severed the pact to save them all, who's been taking care of Sorey in his absence and still trusts him to be the Shepherd despite everything. Dezel, who must understand what he's feeling right now, whose words echo the ache in his heart. And Sorey--

Sorey--

...I need to...

He tries to get out of bed, but his knees are shaky and too weak to move himself on his own; he barely makes it two steps before they buckle beneath him and he collapses in a heap on the floor. Cursing under his breath, he pulls his body up to the door, but even doing that much saps his strength and leaves him trembling. He can't even stand up enough to open it.

Frustrated and desperate, too woozy to force himself any further, the best he can manage to do is slump against the wall beside the exit, his hand on the floor, periodically rapping his knuckles against the bottom of the door. The sound is quiet but steady; all he can hope is that the noise echoes in the hall enough to be heard. He'd left his comm on the bed and out of reach, and with the sub lord pact broken, he can't connect with the Shepherd or the other seraphim at all. The best he can do is wait, and pray, that he's noticed before too long. He can't bear another minute alone like this, but he'll do this for hours if that's what it takes.

Someone- anyone. Please... I need...

Sorey...

...I'm here.

I'm right here.

Come back.]

-----

( ota; days in the aftermath )

[After he's been found and properly looked after, Mikleo will be in his room, laid out or sitting up in bed, still exhausted but available for visitors over the next week or so. Maybe the news of his return spreads around, or perhaps a Huntress resident/visitor just stumbles upon him- either way, his door is unlocked, although he can't promise to be particularly good company. Sorey is likely with him or hovering nearby, unless visitors or Mikleo can nudge him off to take a break (which he will sorely need on occasion) but he won't really interfere with the company Mikleo gets. He might just be sleeping.

Mikleo will also be responding to any messages via comm, for those less inclined to visit in person. He's too weak to do much else right now, unfortunately.]

Comments

action;

[monolike]

[Mikleo's room doesn't feel like him anymore.

Sorey had slept in there a few times, mostly right after it had happened. He'd slept in his bed, cried into his arms at Mikleo's desk, slumped over his bookshelf, exhausted, waiting, waiting for something. Lailah had come by to make sure he ate and drank something, but the vast majority of his time spent not at the clinic was there, in Mikleo's room.

He wishes he hadn't, now.

Mikleo, like most seraphim, Sorey imagines, didn't really have a steady scent. He smelled like mountain streams or a cold snap when he used his artes, and if he ate something with strawberries or mint his breath would smell like that for a while, but there was no one scent Sorey could breathe in and think, ah, this is him.

He had a sense, though. He left behind a presence and Sorey had wondered, giddily, if it was an echo of the blessing he would have if he were being properly worshiped. It felt like the memory of old books, of firelight on ink and paper, it felt like the dust they would blow off of runes, like the scrape of stone beneath the pads of their fingers. Mikleo was knowledge, was attainment. His presence was that of knowing.

Sorey, sleeping in that room, infected it with his lack of certainty. He didn't know if he would live without Mikleo, and now that's ground into the sheets like dirt. He didn't know if he would be be all right and it's stained the pages of his books. He doesn't know if he'll ever forgive himself for what he did to him, and it sits like grime on the floor, footprints in the shape of his heartbeat to the syllables of Mikleo's name, Mikleo, Mikleo, Luzrov Rulay.

After the first week, Sorey tried not to go to Mikleo's room too often. It never recovered from what he did to it, but perhaps that's fitting.

As if in defiance of his decisions, Sorey's feet still occasionally carry him there. He might have made up his mind to be okay, he might have decided that the best way to honor Mikleo is to complete what they started together, but that doesn't make his heart any less heavy. He's smiled a few times, even laughed once, but his constant, his default, his core is forever changed to something less than what it was before and nothing, nothing can heal that, he's sure. Without Mikleo, he's just Sorey. Other people might think that's enough but Sorey knows in his truest of hearts that Sorey is only half of himself without Mikleo.

Tap.

He's tried to fill the emptiness with concern for his friends, but was stopped fairly quickly. Scrambling to fill the emptiness is what the hellion did. Hovering over his friends is what started him down the path that ruined them. He can't allow himself to make the same mistake, and maybe he's never felt so strangled before by the duties of the Shepherd, but at this point this is what he needs. If he doesn't try to think his way through this, doesn't try to check himself, then he really might end up tipping past saving. Even Lailah, dear, sweet Lailah holding together his pieces with her loving hands, can only do so much in the face of a human suffering heartbreak and guilt.

Tap tap.

Sorey stops and touches a hand to his forehead. He'd just changed those damn filters, too.

He turns on his heel and stalks back, listening for the tapping in the vents. Did he not fix them into their slots properly? Sometimes the air filters will rattle around if he doesn't make sure the clips are secure, he used to do that all the-

Tap.

Something trickles into his awareness, cold and crisp.

Sorey turns slowly to face Mikleo's door.

Tap, tap tap.

A flash of anger takes over him and Sorey slams his fist against the panel to open the door. Was someone in here? Was someone seriously-

Hey, Sorey?

Sorey stares.] ...Mikleo?

[I'm really glad we left Elysia.

Sorey stoops carefully, hooking his hands under the figure''s slight shoulders.] You're- What are you doing on the floor?

[Seeing the world outside of Gramps' domain,
meeting everyone, getting to change the world...
for all the complaining I did along the way,
it really was a dream come true.

Sorey pulls him up, an arm slipping around his back, pulling up all his weight as if he were nothing but the clothes on his back, the belts along his side, the long tails of his cape draping down. He's saying something. Someone is saying something but Sorey can't hear it through the roaring in his ears.

He tries to stand.

Fails; falls back against the wall and slides down to sit, clutching tight to keep Mikleo from falling from his arms. Sorey pulls him up into his lap and notes, distantly, that his hands are shaking so hard he can barely slip his fingers into his hair. The skin against his neck feels cool.]

Mikleo?

[I loved it.]

You shouldn't be- You shouldn't-

[ ...I'd better go. ]

[nerdeology]

[He hears the sound of the door opening and looks up, and- oh. Oh.

There you are.

It's just first time seeing Sorey clearly, uncorrupted, since the day they'd fallen together. He knows he'd been purified- had heard it, clear as anything, in the messages left on his comm. Others had confirmed it. And he has a memory, distant and disjointed, of skin on scales, a broken smile, a quiet farewell. When he'd died.

He'd died. He'd been a dragon and he'd died, and here he is, and Sorey can't believe it any more than he can.

Sorey lifts him up and he reaches out (hands reaching towards him) and presses his fingertips against the skin beneath Sorey's eyes, trailing thumbs beside his mouth. It's his face again, he's normal again, he's not a hellion, and there really is a huge difference between hearing it and seeing it. When he looks at Sorey, he sees Sorey, and if he had any tears left to cry he'd be weeping all over again.

Sorey is talking, and Mikleo struggles to focus on the words. It's harder than he'd like it to be. He feels dizzy as he's lifted up, dizzier still as they fall again, and his hands grip Sorey's shoulders as tightly as he can manage in his weakened state, just to remind himself that he's real, that they're both real, that they're both here and alive. He can't sense any malevolence. He can feel the grief that still lingers, the pain in Sorey's heart, the ache of loss and guilt and uncertainty for the future. He can feel the purifying domain of the Shepherd's pact and what a fool he'd been, what a complete idiot he'd been not to realize how corrupted it had become, now that he feels how it's supposed to be. Clean, fresh, new, safe. He closes his eyes for a moment, soaking it in, trembling against Sorey's body. It doesn't last long; he's scared to look away, like it'll be some cruel dream and Sorey will vanish again, or become that thing he'd been, or that he'd wake up far away from here and find himself alone once more.

He's not. He's not alone at all. Sorey's still holding him, still calling his name, and he's come home.]

I know, [is what he finally manages to whisper, his voice dry and wretched, but still his. Not a snarl, not a growl, not a roar. It's the first time he's spoken aloud since he became a dragon. The first time he's spoken since he died.] I know.

[He shouldn't be alive. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be- anything. It's like some fairy tale miracle from their story books, an impossible twist in one of Sorey's stupid novels, and how absurd is it that they're living it now, that the charmingly unrealistic romantic fiction that Sorey loved so much for so long is just them, them, them, together again.

And oh, it looks like he had tears left to shed, after all.]

[monolike]

[Sorey's mind keeps tripping over itself; Mikleo's here, but Mikleo's dead. Mikleo's in his arms, but Mikleo died that way too. Mikleo, Mikleo, Luzrov Rulay. His heart can't comprehend it, having the part it was missing so suddenly.

Mikleo's fingers are trembling against his cheeks and Sorey closes his eyes. He's- he's checking to see if they're there, his mouth, because he must remember what Sorey- what the hellion had looked like. There's the same dumbfounded wonder and terror on his face that Sorey is sure on his own and he mimics him, tracing his face, beneath his eyes, feeling up into his bangs for horns. His circlet is missing- of course, because Sorey has it safe here, in this room. In Mikleo's room.

Mikleo, Mikleo, Mikleo.

Is he back?]

I don't- I don't underst- [Sorey can hardly speak through the confusion, words scrambling to be spoken first; he draws up his knees to keep Mikleo from slipping, spreads a palm over his back as wide as he can, touches his shoulder, his arms, his wrist. Looking. Looking.] Are you okay? Mikleo? [He meets his eyes again just as the tears spill over and Sorey's heart cracks sharp and splintering, full to bursting, bleeding and raw.]

Nnooo, [he moans, curling his sleeve over his palm and trying to wipe Mikleo's face, oh god, he's crying, is he here, really here?] Nooo, no no no, Mikleo, please, [Sorey begs and he's crying now, Mikleo's weight steady in his arms. Is he okay? Is he alive? Is Sorey imagining this?

He's crying, his voice- his voice was so-] I'm okay, you're okay. You're okay, [Sorey tucks around Mikleo, hiding his face against his shoulder, clutching with quaking limbs as he tries to hold him together, shield him, keep him safe like Mikleo's always, always done for him. His doubt, his grief and guilt, his fear and self-loathing from the past few weeks all melt away as he readily allows himself to be consumed by cool, clean water, by the presence of knowing, knowing-

It's him.

He's here.

Mikleo, Mikleo, Mikleo, Luzrov Rulay.]

[nerdeology]

[Sorey feels so fragile against him, shaking like a leaf in the breeze, and Mikleo doesn't hesitate to shift his arms just enough to hold him back. His fingers grasp at the material of his shirt, they sift through familiar brown hair, they scrape over warm skin. He's holding on as tightly as he can, but it still doesn't feel like it's enough.

Is he okay? It's not really a question, and for that, Mikleo is grateful. He wouldn't know how to answer. He is, and he isn't. There are too many questions unanswered, too many holes in his memories, too many memories that will haunt him as long as he lives. He's not okay because he'd lost himself, drenched his soul in malevolence, accepted it and fell headfirst instead of running away, and the fear instilled in him from all of that runs too deep to just wash it away with a single embrace or a few bouts of tears. Even the flames of purification can't fix this.

But... it's a start. It's salve on an open wound, and the weight of Sorey's arms around him is pressure to staunch the bleeding. He's not okay, but he's alive, and he's safe, and Sorey is with him again. He'll be okay. He has to be.

What's more important to him right now is Sorey. He needs Sorey to be okay. He can be strong until he's certain of that.]

Shh, shh... I'm here. Just breathe. I'm here. I-I-

[His voice breaks, and he swallows it back, burying his face in Sorey's hair. Easy. Easy.]

I'm sorry I left you.

[I'm sorry I had to die.]

[sylphystia]

[Of course Sorey is the first to find Mikleo, but a wind seraph knows exactly when something is near them. Dezel is the best security the ship has to offer. He always knows when someone is there or gone, and he knows immediately the nature of any intruder. And there is an intruder. It's a little late for the usual Shuffle, so he discerns the nature of whoever or whatever has appeared in Mikleo's room, and he's surprised (and relieved) when the wind carries Mikleo's description with it.

A water seraph. Fatigued. Alive.

Not a dragon. Not crawling with malevolence. Just-- Mikleo. He lets Sorey take care of him for a while. He gives Mikleo the space as he was promised. And so, even though Dezel was among the first to notice their captain's return, he's among the last to visit him.

The wind seraph comes at a strange hour when everyone is asleep. Dezel brings hot tea and bread with a little bit of honey for either the bread or the tea, or both. He sets it on the bedside table, which is the only bit of noise he's made since stepping down the hallway, and he seems to be considering if he wants to bother Mikleo and Sorey as they sleep.

He doesn't want to smother them, after all.

After a moment of consideration, he gently lays a fleece blanket over them both.]

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo has always been something of a light sleeper, despite his exhaustion, and since his return sleep hasn't been especially kind to him anyway, so he stirs when he feels the weight of the blanket on him, wearily opening his eyes. Sorey is still with him, curled up around his body like a blanket himself, fast asleep. He deserves the rest after everything he's gone through, so Mikleo doesn't wake him; instead he shifts his head to look up, finding that they're not alone in the room.]

...Dezel...?

[Mikleo hadn't been sure that he would come, honestly, so it's a surprise to see him there. There's that same mixture of reluctance and relief that he'd felt with every visitor, but- well, Dezel had known he would feel like that, hadn't he? He'd given Mikleo that warning. His presence isn't unwelcome here.]

[sylphystia]

[Dezel freezes for a moment. Shit, he didn't mean to actually wake them up. On second thought, Sorey is still sleeping. They can talk a little if he keeps his voice down.]

Hey, you.

[A pause, a light sigh.]

Didn't mean to wake you up.

[Yeah, despite the fondness, he's just as socially inept as he was the last time Mikleo saw him. Some things never change. Even with his message, he knows he doesn't want to stress Mikleo out, so he's been keeping his distance and letting Mikleo and Sorey grow accustomed to each other's presence again.]

FUCKING SLAMS INTO HERE GODDAMN IT

[sansseraph]

[Lailah's bringing food to Sorey when she stumbles across Mikleo. She's known that he's been spending a lot of time in the water seraph's room. So, she enters with the expectation that her Shepherd is there—

—and almost drops the tray when the fire seraph sees Mikleo. Lailah hurries to put it down on a desk of some sort before rushing over to him with a choked whimper. As she gathers the water seraph into her arms, a rush of emotions threaten to burn her alive. Relief. Guilt. Love. Joy. Sorrow.

She has them back. Both of them are back.

But lurking underneath it all is a quiet anger. An anger towards the people who make light of death and cause undue suffering to those she loves dearly. As grateful as the fire seraph is for Mikleo's return, she can't help thinking of how grief-stricken Sorey and the others had been. Those Atroma have invalidated those feelings and, by the Five Lords, she will give them a piece of her mind should she ever meet them.

That's not important, though. What's important is making sure Sorey and Mikleo are okay.]

W-welcome back, Mikleo.

[She feels tears rolling down her cheeks, but she doesn't care. Lailah's just so happy that he's safe and back.]

MAWWWWWWM

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo had expected Lailah at some point; he knows she's been looking after Sorey after everything that's happened, and he's grateful for that, as it was clearly needed. Sorey's never been very good at taking care of himself when he's distracted, after all (as if his death and Sorey's grieving could be defined by something as trivial as a distraction, hah). He hadn't expected the hug, though in retrospect he knows he ought to have seen it coming. That's just Lailah's way.

He's stunned momentarily, too weak and bone-weary to properly respond at first, but after a prolonged silence he manages to get an arm up around her back, his face pressed against her shoulder.]

I...

[What does he say to that? Thank you? For welcoming him back from the dead? He's still finding it hard to believe himself, sometimes. Like this is all some cruel, surreal dream and it'll fall apart one day, and he'll go to wherever seraphim, or hellions, or dragons end up when they die. Like it's his punishment for falling to malevolence in the first place.

Is this really okay? Is he allowed to be grateful? How is he supposed to feel?

His hand tightens, clinging to her dress like he's little more than a child. He probably is one, in her eyes. For a seraph he's barely a spot in his own lifespan.

His lifespan had been eighteen. He'd died. He'd died. They all saw it happen. And yet here he is.

In the end, he can only be honest about what he knows is true.]

...I... I'm glad you're here...

TSOOOOOOOOOOON

[sansseraph]

[Mikleo may be a child to her, but Lailah has done her best to treat him as more or less an equal. She's learned that youth doesn't always mean there's a lack of maturity. Sometimes, they're more mature and grown-up than the actual adults around them.

After all that's happened, she can't fault him for wanting to act like a child. The fire seraph will protect him like he's her own. It's why Lailah shifts her hold into something to comfort and protect Mikleo.]

It t-took me a while, but I'm glad I'm here, too.

[Lailah can't imagine how Mikleo's feeling about all of this. Confused, surely, but she won't try to imagine it. It'll be better if he talks about it, either to her or perhaps Dezel, who she's sure is in a similar emotional situation.]

How are you?

[She doesn't ask if Mikleo's okay. He's not and she knows it.]

[save_the_souls]

[ No one told Allen of Mikleo's return.

The rumors haven't circulated far enough to reach the Blue Fish, nor did he receive any messages. The only reason he knew was from intution. He remembered Syeira returning, he remembered the rumors that circulated around resurrections, he noticed how Sorey and the Seraphim abruptly stopped being around the Blue Fish clinic as much.

Allen would tell people it was taboo for him to speak about resurrections. He meant it too. But that didn't mean he didn't listen to every word. He was an Exorcist, after all.

And so once he has reason enough to believe that Mikleo has returned? He heads to the Huntress. He's still in a wheelchair, but he didn't need his legs to do what might need to be done. If it truly was Mikleo, then he'd be fine sitting to greet his friend. If he came back wrong...

...Well. There was a reason he choose to come alone at a time the others were unlikely to be around.

He wheels himself into the doorway, choosing to speak up when he sees that Mikleo is awake. He doesn't look particularly shocked to see Mikleo alive. He's done this song and dance for years.]

Mikleo. How are you?

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo's done a lot of thinking in silence since his return, when he's not sleeping or trying to sort through the aftermath with his loved ones, which mostly translates to spacing out and staring at the wall, or his hands, or- nothing, really. He's tried not to do it so much since it tends to worry people, tried to keep his hands busy with books or embroidery to pretend like he's doing something other than revisiting what happened over and over, other than trying to sort through how he feels about it all. His current distraction of choice is a book. He hasn't turned a page in twenty minutes; he can't even remember the title.

Allen's voice makes him turn, blinking owlishly as he takes in the sight. He's in some kind of... wheeled chair? When had that happened? He doesn't remember- he hadn't been like that before- was it-

Did we do that?

They did, didn't they? It must've happened during the fight. He can't tell by looking, but no one had mentioned any kind of battle that might've occurred after his death. And Sorey- he'd said Clay had threatened him- so Allen must have-

...him, too... we... we did it...

It's distracting enough that he misses Allen's question entirely, and he struggles to shake it off. The exhaustion isn't doing him any favours, but he hates sleeping right now, so he's damned either way.]

I... sorry, what...?

[save_the_souls]

How are you feeling?

[On the bright side, Allen's not detecting any dark energy that an Akuma or another type of undead might be giving off. That's enough to make him relax a little as he wheels into the room, stopping near Mikleo's bedside. He'll offer him a smile.]

Though, I'm sure that's probably a stupid question.

[airily]

[ It takes Zaveid a long, long time to go.

He knows when Mikleo's back. It's hard not to, when he's keeping an eye on the others as much as he can - he doesn't do more than land in the docking station, not really, or check on them through the network, but he knows. As soon as he lands the air, as stifled and sickly as it is on the fleet, seems to scream at him that something has changed, that the world itself is different, and the only thing he can think about is turning around and running in the opposite direction.

It's hard to breathe, which he finds almost too funny, his throat thick and his body tight as he leans back against the wall. His hair is twisted up and out of his face for now, not grown back enough, and Zaveid wants nothing more than to run a hand through it, to force himself to be calm, to be collected, to rest and - and do something. He has to do something more than stand there and shake with uncertainty, because this isn't the first time he's faced hell. It's not the first time he's come to a head with something he loathes, it's just... The first time it's been so obvious and physical.

It's the first time his demons have been able to talk back.

He leaves, that first time, and he waits. He waits and he waits until it feels right, until he can breathe again, until the idea of coming face to face with Mikleo - is it really him, or some kind of ghost, another kind of hellion come back to haunt him and curse his name - is the only thing that occupies his mind. It's only then that he can force himself to transfer over, to make himself climb off the shuttle, to walk through the ship and stand outside the door, hovering as if a thousand unanswered questions would suddenly be given to him, completed and solved without any more confusion.

His hand lies flat against the door, and he reaches out with his wind, reaches out to see, to touch, and it's real, Mikleo is there, and alive, and he can almost hear him breathe, and he doesn't want to be here. Goddamnit, he doesn't want to do this, to step up and come face to face with a friend he had killed - and not just killed, but suffocated, drawn the air out of until there was nothing left, until the wind abandoned them both to darkness.

But he doesn't have a choice, does he? Either he goes now or Sorey or Lailah or Dezel makes him come, later, accusing him of the cowardice he knows is true.

Giving himself one last moment, Zaveid forces a twitching smile onto his lips before he pushes open the door, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. ]

Well, well. Look who decided to join us.

[nerdeology]

[He feels it, first- the wind, brushing past his features in a way that's familiar. His first instinct is that it's Dezel again; the other seraph checks on him now and then, and he's not always awake but he feels it, sometimes. It's just his way. Something about this is different, though. The scent is off. Less leather, more tension. It's... older.

And with it comes a memory: the hum of a pendulum overhead, the scent of burned hair, the sensation of air constricting, pulling back, his body left gasping, dying--

He knows it's Zaveid before the door opens, but the sight of him in the doorway still leaves Mikleo trembling and stunned, staring up at the man who'd taken his life and set him free in the same instant.

His hand clenches in the blanket, knuckles going white. He reaches out for a second, mouth opening to speak-]

Zaveid- I-I didn't think--

[His courage falters. The hand drops, and he bows his head in silence.

I didn't think you'd come.

I didn't think you'd want to see me.

I didn't know what to say to you.

He still doesn't, in truth. He's frightened. Not of Zaveid, not of what was done to him. That was necessary, and they all knew it. But Zaveid came to see him, and there's tension in the air that never used to exist between them; it's new and uncomfortable and he hates it. He hates that he doesn't know how to fix this.

Still, he has to try. Zaveid deserves his best effort; he must've pushed himself to come here. So Mikleo will try.

He takes a deep breath, tremulous and unsure, breathing in the presence of the wind seraph, pushing past those fears. Lifts his head.]

I'm... glad you came.

[And yeah, he's scared, but he means it. Every word.]

[airily]

[ He can feel as soon as Mikleo realises who it is - the air is thick with the knowledge, with the sudden rush of understanding, and the only thing that he can do is focus in on the horrible feeling of cloying fear that settles around his wind, drawn out and wrapped around the very fabric of what makes him who it is. Part of it is his own, he can recognise that - he still isn't sure what Mikleo is going to stay or do - but the rest of it is the young Seraph's, and right now the only thing he can feel is his own self-hatred.

It's hard, to make himself stand at the door, to stop himself from moving forward, but it's the only thing he can do. He has no other choice, the idea of moving closer and striking more fear into Mikleo something he can't stomach. It's funny, he thinks, that he can't move closer, can't talk to him, can't reach out and touch him when he had been the one to end his life; he can still feel the air, thick with death, the way that he had drawn it all out, down to the very last hiss of life. It's wrong, completely wrong, and he feels sickened with himself more than anything else.

'I don't make promises I can't keep, and I promised myself that I would be the one to kill Mikleo. So you wouldn't have to. Because I get it. Understand?'

Stuck, standing, staring, all Zaveic can do is watch how Mikleo grabs the sheets, how he stares, the way that the fear is heavy in the air, and he knows. Turning his head, he forces himself to look away, to bear this burden, because he had to do it. He had to make the promise. He wasn't going to force Sorey to go through what he had gone through - because it wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, and he had saved him that. He just couldn't save himself. ]

Sure, of course I did. Someone had to make sure you and Sorey didn't stay up all night gossiping.

[ It comes out half-hearted anyway, and he pushes himself forward. His hat is placed awkwardly on his head, thanks to the curl of hair tied up at the back, but he adjusts it anyway just so that he can have something to do with his hands. ]

... You're probably exhausted, huh? Alright - [ He makes a huffing sigh noise, almost as if he's exasperated at having come all this way for nothing, playing it off. ] - I guess I can come back later.

[ All he wants to do is run, and his own fear and his own hatred burns thick in his stomach. He doesn't want this.

He doesn't want this. ]

action;

[stefanged]

[Nearly a day passes before Stefan drops by Mikleo's room.

This had been entirely on purpose: after receiving the news from Sorey, Stefan figured that he wouldn't bother them right away. Even seraphim need rest, and Stefan wasn't going to drop everything to verify what his friend had told him. A few years ago, he might've, but he's learned to let sleeping seraphim lie.

As Stefan lingers at the threshold, he can't help taking a deep breath. He knows Mikleo's back. Sorey wouldn't joke about something like this. But it's one thing to know something, and another entirely to see it with his own eyes.

So resurrection magic exists. Atroma's capable of the impossible, far beyond what Stefan's imagined. Just this once, he's grateful for their omniscient captors. Gathering his composure, he knocks on the door to indicate his presence, if his footsteps hadn't already given him away.]

Hey, Mikleo. [He smiles, folding his arms as he leans on the door.] How're you holding up?

action;

[nerdeology]

[It's a bit of a reversal situation this time- Mikleo being the one awake, with Sorey curled up against his side on the bed, dead asleep. Mikleo's propped up against the headboard with a couple of pillows, attempting to focus on the book in his lap. At Stefan's voice he looks up, kind of grateful for the distraction. He hasn't made much progress, truth be told.]

Ah... Stefan. Sorey said you'd be coming.

[Asked if it was okay, really, but he'd had no objections. He's been getting better at handling the stream of visitors; he's still no better at answering that particular question, though, so he inelegantly dodges around it.]

If you're here to examine me, I still don't think it's really necessary.

action;

[stefanged]

[Stefan's expression softens at the sleeping Sorey. Good. The kid needs sleep too.]

Don't worry. I wasn't planning on it this time.

[He's a medical student, after all - but this visit isn't in any official capacity. Stefan's figured, if Lailah and Dezel haven't noticed anything, then he sure won't either.]

Just glad to see that you're up. Hopefully you won't mind some extra reading?

later action

[bythewaves]

[ He didn't find out from Mikleo but from another, and grief and guilt struck him hard - that such a young brilliant soul should be struck so hard. So Maglor stays away for a time, even after learning. But he worries.

(He always worries)

Eventually, he'll tap at the door, harp under his arm and a tray with a few books on marine life, as well as chicken soup.

(Look it worked for his fosterlings) ]

Mikleo?

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo's asleep when he arrives, but as he's always been a light sleeper, even through his exhaustion he hears the knock and stirs in his bed. He takes a moment to check on Sorey - still fast asleep and curled up next to him, as he's been regularly for days now - then turns towards the door as he attempts to sit himself up in bed.]

The door isn't locked.

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor pushes the door open and his eyes widen at the company, before gentling, and he keeps his voice low ]

Oh Mikleo. I heard. I am so sorry. I did not realise it was you.

[ He can only be grateful it was not his hand that struck ... one sin less, at least, although he led the hunters to him ]

[hearsthesea]

[Shirley waits a while before coming to see Mikleo - partly to let him rest, partly to let him have a lot of time with Sorey because it seems good for both of them. It's not for a few days that she knocks on his hatch door, and even then she's careful about it.]

Mikleo? Is it okay to come down?

[nerdeology]

[Mikleo's still pretty exhausted, but Sorey had been forced to leave not too long ago to get some food in him, so he's half-awake when Shirley calls. It only takes a moment or two before he responds.]

It's fine... the door is open.

[hearsthesea]

[Shirley dithers over the slow response, but it'd be rude to leave and she wants to talk even for just a moment. She climbs down and to her surprise, when she looks around she sees someone in the bed. That hadn't worked before.

There are far better ways to see a once-invisible person for the first time. But this is how things are right now.]

You're...thank goodness you're all right. Sorey told me before, but it's good to be able to talk to you again, Mikleo.