The world of spirits, despite how closely Dove found herself in it's orbit- was still very much a mystery to her.

Perhaps, in a better place, in a better grip, a better hold: maybe someone could explain it to her one day. But that day- it wasn't today.

Nothing wouldn't reach today. Words navigated against a thick wall of silence, met by the blizzard of ice that she surrounded herself with. The distance growing with each cascade of her chest. It wasn't resistance. It was despair. And it was thick, like molasses. What danced against the 'self' of Dove, stuck, and spread, in many ways clumped and entangled, spreading it's icy chill across the tendrils of shroud.

She didn't respond. Didn't move. Her sense of self recoiled so deep within- it was hard to determine if Dove was still present. Not responding to the pulse check. Not responding to the bits of Vyn coming out. Not even an ounce of relief or joy at Jem coming to save her.

The trembling stopped. But not because she felt safe. But because Dove wasn't home. And if one looked into her gaze- it continued to reflect an hollowness that looked foreign on the healer's feature.

Dove was always full of love, and warmth. Turns out, when she didn't have that- she had nothing to fill the gap.
 
She had seen vessels fail before, and their eyes go glassy. Seen the sagging limbs, and the slow undoing. A surrender you could taste.
But this was different.
The bird didn't break. She was just gone. No fight. Simply let go.
Silence. Worse than any scream.

Her mind was buzzing with different approaches, as they swarmed like ants. She had adjusted the vessel and stabilized it. But the inner hollowness wasn't a thing she could fix.
It rejected the stitch like a wound that no longer bled. It was a corpse now, but it had yet to learn how to rot. That would come with time.

Her head moved aside against her control, to Jem. The man still stood there. Never moved an inch since he was warned not to.
How could he be so calm?
And then it came to her. He had seen this before. Seen her before. So he could stop himself.
Because he knew, Vyn was still inside.

Mask had been slipping for some time, but what came next was an unraveling. The hand that failed to touch spasmed, tension rippling from shoulder to wrist. She tried to steady it, but failed.
The shroud refused the binding command as the body flared with orange glow.

„No.“ The spirit had completely lost vocal control.
„No.“ Voice not yet quite right. Too tired. Too frayed.
„Get out.“ And with the third yell, it was no longer a verbal protest.

The force of it was ugly and raw. No ritual, chant or blood offer. Just fury and love.
The spirit knew what would happen next. She had experienced it before. She had failed this way before.
Always another lesson.

„I won't let you hollow her.“ Vyn had no idea what she'd do. Only knew it was enough of this madness. It was she who was the binder, and the spirit would get pushed back.

Screaming spread through her bones. It wasn't really pain, just the memory of being ripped apart.

The first wall fell.

Her head turned her head, slowly, forehead pressed to Dove's.
„Come back to me, ghost doctor.“ She whispered, as she hugged what was once Dove.
„I'm here now.“

That's why you never got close to people. 'Cause they always fucking broke.

She never even heard him coming.
Silent as ever, Jem put one arm around Vyn's back, the other around Dove's shoulders.
He never knew the right words for the moment. But he understood warmth.

They were not alone.
 
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She often really never remembered the spells.

She tried her best not to remember them.

The mind, and memory, are powerful. They could make you relive the same things- over, and over, and over again. There are always certain aspects of her life that she will live perpetually every time her eyes close. She couldn't carry any more, lest she had any moments for herself to think. And be. Death was a quiet that Lisani craved. She could have lived in the state of nothing forever.

But- Dove still dreamed of a sunny day.

Vyn's presence could be felt, distant, like the hazy sun through the fog. The first feeling. She felt pressure, wrapping around her, and focusing on it, it was warm. Like the soft invitation of the dawn when it peaked through the window. "Come back, ghost doctor."

Her movements are slow, and sluggish. Like waking from a coma, or finally thawing from a harsh winter. "... is it over?" It comes out like a quiet squeak, so fragile the very heaving of the breath could scatter it to the wind. Her hands reach slowly out, her fingers tasting the aura, testing the water. This was not the monster. This was Vyn. It takes a moment for her to realize what was going on- warmth slowly bleeding out from the shell that had forced minutes prior.

....

A movement rapt with chaos and desperation, the healer jerked in her embrace, trying to swallow Vyn whole, trying to fill the gap, trembling, tears flooding. Not a single thought about boundaries. Space. Not a single thought about her own normally flightly or picky nature. Her head dug deep into the crane of Vyn's neck, trying so hard to muster what little left she had of her strength to greedily steal away the deva- afraid that if she let go, for just one moment, Vyn would disappear again.
 
Kept perfectly still. Couldn't move. Couldn't act. Not after everything that happened.
After the cold. She would've shivered had she not been held so tightly.
Stayed perfectly still, because she didn't dare do anything else.
Dove was trembling against her now, head buried so deep into her neck that breathing hurt – still didn't flinch or pull away. She had a very good joke to soften the moment, but couldn't push it out. It felt meaningless somehow.
Only thing she could do is hold tighter. Let the little one take whatever she needed.

„You're safe.“ Resting her cheek on the crown of Dove's head.
„As long as it's up to me. You're safe.“ Tears of her own going down hair, down feathers.
It was a promise. A ward. She would carve it into the air if need be.

The fire had long since gone out – but it wasn't needed.

She remembered another time, another warmth that slipped away because she hadn't held on tight enough. Gallen's Wagon still moved with the rest of them, pulled forward by memory and habit. No man, tho. Not anymore. She hadn't known how to stop him from going back then. Not really.

But this time could be different.
She could try.
So she stayed.
And held.

And if her shoulders shook a little, well...
 
Her voice usually was so soft- and gentle, it could be missed with the wind. Like the ring of a windchime, a perfect addition to a windy day, but very rarely observed. However- in this moment, as the warmth flooded through her body, breaking free from the ice, the river of emotion flushing forward, unfettered and free- her voice could be heard loud and clear. Like the sound of a church's bell at the crack of dawn.

Her first words- they're mixed, twisted and knotted- interwined as they flow all at once, not even quite sure which words went to what thoughts. Messy and disjointed, shared between the two Elum. Her shoulders shaking, trembling, her wings flapping so hard that the restraint that held them in place struggled to hold them, resistance cascading to the ground soft, like snow.

"Vyn- Vyn, something.. Someone, they took you. They took- why? They- stole.. And- And I was scared- It was cold- it was very cold. And- and.."

Another sob. "I almost.. I thought.. I lost you."

Her fists ball, gently beating into Vyn's back like an upset toddler. "I.. I don't.. I don't want.."

She couldn't finish the words before her head twisted to rest against the deva's chest.
 
Her hands stayed firm against Dove’s back, even as the little woman used her as a drum.
It was difficult to explain. Especially since what happened had never happened before. Even Vyn wasn’t sure what it meant going forward. Because if she bled into the spirit, then, most likely, the spirit could bleed into her as well.
“I know.” Her words as measured as she could make them in all the jostling.
“Felt you slipping. Thought I’d already lost you.” Allowed herself to breathe now that her neck was no longer being pressed.

„And it scared me.“ A whisper in her hair, fluff threatening a sneeze.
„Because sometimes.“ And it caught in her throat. „I'm not me.“

She wished she was brave enough to say more. That she knew enough to be certain.

„But I came back. I'll always come back.“ Wiped her cheek on Dove's hair. Voice getting smaller.
„And If I don't...you'll come find me, right?“
 
There is a pause. Anxiety building. A fear twisting her voice and making her tremble. Thoughts bubbled in her cherrywood gaze, something very uncertain- something very scared. Perhaps even a mirror of Vyn's own fears. She remains quiet for a moment, staring at Vyn for a moment, before she goes back to resting back on the deva, greedily absorbing her warmth and affection. Something she wasn't quite willing to surrender quite yet.

When was the last time someone held her like this?

After a moment, her voice cracks, uneven, unsure of her own words. ".. O.. Of course." Hesitation leaked. She couldn't really hide it. Though the origins as to why- debatable.

"... J.. Just like you- you'll find me too, right? I.. If I ever get lost?"

Her voice rises into a soft squeak. Hopeful. But a kind of hope that can be shattered if you simply glanced at it.

Either way, Dove's hand spread out, pushing into the tissue, a very deep warmth rushing from her fingers. Something calming. Something soothing. Something that was sweeter than honey and had a heat that could rival a quiet summer day. It slid against the edges of Vyn's shroud, as if trying to tend to a wound.
 
Vyn could feel the affection slowly drowning her. The water was warm and embracing, but it was still everywhere, and she wasn't equipped to handle it. Comfort was something practiced, not something you actually felt.

„'Course I will.“ Said with the kind of certainty you only heard from people who'd broken that promise before. Her hand adjusted awkwardly on Dove's back.
„If you're ever lost, I'll come lookin'.“ Wasn't sure if she was soothing or being soothed, but it was overwhelming.
„Might not be fast or gentle, but I'll get there.“
She didn't promise it wouldn't hurt or that it would end happy. That wasn't the kind of world they lived in. But some truths were better than comfort.
She leaned back slightly, peeling Dove from her pillow.
„One each, then.“ And she made sure to look the smaller woman in the face. „Next time's mine.“

A different kind of binding.

Thunder broke in the distance, but the flash was nowhere to be seen. Startled yelps came from further in camp. Jem moved off to check.
The world was done waiting.
 
Shaky, but aware.

She couldn't linger in this moment forever, despite every instinct that chased it. Birds do so love their nests and that was precisely what Dove wanted more than anything. To hide, in the safety and security of the proverbial nest. She gives a knowing, shaky rock of her head, pulling parts of her back, from the magic, to her arms, carefully folding around her, leaning away, she looked to the camp, her eyes following Jem.

She turned back to Vyn. "... The Road doesn't wait for anyone." There is a weak smile. One hand reached to push a few of Vyn's hairs back into place, her fingers curling back into a palm, particular and careful. A soft little ruffle of her feathers, the kind that comes when things fall back into place, as they should.

".. You should get some rest. Doctor's orders." One finger raised up. Trying to hold the gaze. Without any more to say, she follows Jem back to the wagons.
 
She let go too easily and watched them both vanish deeper into the Wagons. That line hit her like a stone. Because the Road really didn't wait. Especially not for her own weakness.
„The Road doesn't wait.“ Repeated it to herself, barely above a whisper, as if the words made it any easier to believe.

Her hand stuck to where Dove had fixed her hair, glued almost. Moving took effort. She should be with them, checking on whatever had stirred the camp, but she felt spent. There simply wasn't enough Vyn left tonight to act like herself. Maybe rest truly was for the best.

Eventually, she made her way to her own bed. Jem had gone and that was enough.
She could rest easy, because whatever it was – he'd see it handled.

She never even felt night turning to day.


fin
 
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