Welcome Home

It is late in the evening, the sun falling rapidly from the sky. A trickle of rain falls from the heavens. It holds a reminder of tears.

The temple district is oddly empty, and yet as a singular form steps into the temple of Daeus, there is a flurry of activity within. Instantly there is an awareness that something is wrong. There are at once too many and to few people crowding the space. Everyone moves with purpose, hard glinting in their eyes as they move past one another or gather in small groups to pass hurried words and return quickly to their duties.

It takes only a few steps past the streams of priests and paladins to see the beginning of what is wrong. Blood stains the floors, the walls of the temple. Fresh strokes of crimson like some painter had gotten wild ideas about new décor. Then there are the bodies. Some being tended to, others left alone. There don't seem to be enough healers for all the wounded, and its clear that whatever happened here happened recently enough that triage is still taking place.

A familiar blue-scaled figure is knelt by one of the pillars, his robes stained here and there with streaks of crimson. At first he might not be noticeable by virtue of his position on the floor, but he kneels beside what is an all too familiar fall of red hair.

Still vibrating with the sheer emotion, the pent-up horror of all that had happened, Dolan stares in confusion at first, at the bustle before him. The adrenaline that kept him focused through the rescue and gave him enough strength to get back here, feeding the cats on the way, is just about spent as he reaches the doors, so managing what is clearly an unusual situation takes a moment to process. _What in-_

A few steps forward, and he sees the blood - and suddenly, the tidal wave of adrenaline that had crashed to the floor washes over him again. _Attack on the Temple!_ His heart suddenly pounding in his chest, he picks up his pace to a sheer run - until he spots the all-too-familiar fall of red hair. "ANDIE!" The pained shout cuts like a knife through the din and bustle.

He is still dressed in full gear, his left arm tucked closely against him, but that feeling, that familiar agony, is suddenly muted as his focus transfers to the other half of his world. He pelts up to the pair and drops to his knees by the fall of hair, barely registering the identity of the sith beside her until he's right there. "What in all the green garden hells happened?" The lone brown eye is wide, and he quickly assesses his fallen love.

Andelena's still as Dolan approaches, and the reason why is evident. The whole of her armor and cloak are caked in blood and blood spatter, which looks its worse on the left side of her head, which has bloomed almost entirely in crimson in a way that a person shouldn't be unless they've gotten into serious trouble. Deliverance lies next to her on the floor, where it seems Andelena let go of the blade, and the blade is also covered in blood, even on the hilt.

"Brydion," greets the maternal voice of the sword. Deliverance sounds exhausted, yet satisfied. "We have done His work." The sound of Dolan's voice through the crowd draws Zeke's eyes. He is both surprised, and not surprised to see Dolan himself. The blue-scale nods to Deliverance, but his attention is largely on Andelena; assessing her wounds and deciding the best course of treatment for her. "A fiend attacked the temple. It... was not expected. Thissss one will heal Andelena." His voice is weary, but it is not the weariness of having been long at the effort of healing; instead more the weariness of yet another attack on this sanctuary.

"Dragonfather, let thisss one be a vessssel for Your Light. Let Your radiance heal thisss woman." He says the prayer not as rote, but as one of true faith and need before laying his claw on the unbloodied side of Andelena's face. A warm white light passes from him and into her.

"You're joking." The words fairly tumble from Dolan as he sinks to the grass at her head, staring down at her, planting his good hand about three inches from her face, so that it will be the first thing she sees when she wakes. "You're joking." His whole head turns towards the sith, and in that moment, the blood and the carnage sinks in. _No, he's not,_ the inner inquisitor whispers. "I've still got spells left. I can help some.” As is his way when stressed or overwhelmed, he talks quickly, watching intently as that warm white light pours into Andelena. "What did it look like?"

In the moments after the warm white light that Zeke produces, Andelena's eyes flicker open as she makes a soft groaning sound that begins with almost a sort of rasp, struggling with air for a moment before she manages.

"Fuck," is the first thing she says, and her expression is that of pain shooting through her. Being back in the land of the conscious doesn't come without its unpleasantries after what she's been through. Her steel-gray eyes finally register Dolan and his hand, however, and she offers a small, if pained, smile.

"Hey--hey baby," she murmurs. "Fuckin'... Fuckin' got him."

"Thisss one doess not know." Admitting this seems to upset Zeke slightly. Still, he seems heartened to see Andlena's eyes open. His green eyes are intent on her as he explains to Dolan. "Thisss one wasss busssy healing thossse in the fight with it. Even with the aid of the Dragonfather... we lossst many. Andelena... ssshe wasss at the heart of it. Thisss one knowsss that the ssunguardss closssesst to her..." He falls suddenly silent.

"Fuck." Dolan's curse is soft, quiet, but absolutely dripping with venom. All of his own pain, his own worries, are quite simply dropped into the grass where he sits. He rearranges himself a little to sit cross-legged at Andelena's head, where she can see him. "Don't move, baby. I'll give you all I've got, but I can't carry you right now."

He doesn't explain.

Instead, he pulls off the stylized dragon pendant, out from under the breastplate, and lays it gently on her bloodied shoulder. "Got who, Andie? Tell me what the fiend looked like." Even as he asks the question, he's already starting his spell, such as they are, laying that same hand atop the pendant. "Holy Knight," he breathes, "offer Your compassion to Your servant through me."

He continues, draining several spells until Andelena can move under her own power.

Andelena doesn't move, doesn't speak. She just lets Dolan's prayers do the work, murmuring their signature phrase as she finally lifts her bloodstained hand up to touch the pendant on her shoulder: "You, me, and the Knight."

She breathes easier with the healing, and it takes a moment before she says, "Looked like... Looked like Seb." The last word is said like the weight that it is. And then her face contorts into sheer and utter anger. "A demon wearing my baby brother's _face_."

If there's one thing that Zeke is aware of; it's those under his care. Dolan is one such, and the man's body language speaks volumes to the sith-makar even though when it comes to many things about soft-skins the blue-scale can be utterly oblivious. He sees the pain. He sees the way that Dolan isn't using his arm at all. The care taken not to do so. "Dolan." He rumbles quietly. "Are you injured asss well?"

"Shoulder's out," Dolan answers briefly, all of his attention still focused on Andelena. "You, me, and the Knight," he repeats with a bare quirk of a smile that almost instantly vanishes again. "We rescued her boyfriend, but sweet and holy gods, Andie. I'm the only person he'll respond to. He lost sight of me, panicked, and tackled me into a stone floor. It's - pretty bad." Now that Andelena is safe, and on the way to healing, he lets a convulsive shudder ripple through him, and the pendant and the hand on it slide off of her shoulder, and into the grass at her head.

"Grass. Tree. Root. Zeke. Andie. Deliverance. Jal'goroth hit the Temple." The words are oddly disconnected, and he stares at the grass. "Fucking Jal'goroth. I'm going to find Magpie. We put an end to this. That little puddle of wormy shit is MINE."

Andelena grunts, trying to sit up--which she mostly succeeds at, albeit pained. "Right there--hnnnrkh--with you, babe," the Sunguard murmurs, and she pauses only to take the pendant up from the grass, holding it gently. This is different from her usual self, but then again, she's only ever been hurt this badly less than a handful of times.

She closes her eyes, just breathing for a moment. Anger and pain duel for dominance in the expression on her face, quarreling hard with each other. "Bry," she says on one particularly hard exhaled breath. "Y... Y'gotta rag I can use." It's a question but doesn't come out as one as she gestures to the side of her face that's still caked with blood.

Zeke looks at Dolan, blinking in surprise and then snorts softly. Without hesitation he moves slightly to the side of Andelena, motioning for the other man to come nearer. "Dolan. Let thisss one ressset your ssshoulder and heal it." His tone brooks little argument to this fact, and he glances toward Andelena at her request. "Thissss one will help you clean up when thisss one hasss healed Dolan yesss?" Priorities.

"Yeah, baby." Dolan, still staring at the grass, finally sucks in a deep breath. With an effort, he works the small knapsack on his back off of his right shoulder, then with the utmost of care, lifts it off of the left shoulder and drops it where Andelena can see it. "Center pouch, baby, there are rags in there. Take a shirt if you need to."

He winces, then, visibly, and starts to unbuckle the brace. "I need to get the armor off to get this off, Zeke. Can we go back to your room?" He turns his face again to Andelena. "Baby, do you think you can stand?"

Say one thing for Andelena. Ask her to stand and she will, even if she was locked in mortal combat with a demon not very long before. She picks Deliverance off the floor, not sheathing the blade on account of all of the blood that is caked onto the sword, and she takes up the knapsack in her other hand, rising from the floor in a very stiff motion.

"I can stand," she replies, steel-gray eyes locked onto Dolan. "Only reason I wasn't standing when you walked in--"

Andelena pauses for a breath. "Is because I fell down after putting Livvie through its chest. Exhausted." That last word speaks for the truth a moment before and for now, but that's not stopping her. She turns away and begins to stagger already down to the room where Zeke has traditionally held camp to treat Dolan.

GAME: Dolan rolls sense motive: (3)+20: 23

Zeke looks torn for a moment, but it only takes him a second to accede to Dolan's request. Ponderously the sith makes his way to his feet, eyeing them both with words unspoken. "Leave the brassce Dolan, thisss one will take it off when we are in privascy." It might after all, be the only thing holding Dolan's arm in place. To take it off now would only further injure and pain the man. He follows Andelena toward the more private rooms, eyes roaming over the bodies being tended to by others of his caste.

Thankfully the room is not far away, and Zeke gathers a pot of hot water from one of the many passing by. Once inside he takes some of the herbs from one of his pouches and carefully measures with his claws a portion of them into the tea pot and leaves it to steep before turning to Dolan. "Come, let thisss one tend you Dolan."

Dolan picks up his pack and slings it over one shoulder, slowly and carefully gets to his own feet, and, with a long stare at Andelena, follows the other two. Only when he has closed the door behind all three of them does he lean against the door, closing his flesh-and-blood eye for just a moment.

He re-opens the eye, then, and lets the pack slide to his hand unremarked. "Bullshit, Andie," he tells her wearily, but not angrily. "Go lie down. You just went toe-to-toe with a fiend, and I know damned well you've never done that without me. You're exhausted, and you're fucked up, and for damned good reason. Clean up, and go lie down." The pack is tossed one-handed to the foot of the small bed in the room.

Only when that is done does he reach for the clasp on his cloak, to drop it as well.

"I will, baby," Andelena replies, wearily, but with acknowledgement of Dolan's sense. The Sunguard places Deliverance so that she's standing in the corner.

"You don't have to pretend you're invincible, Andelena," Deliverance's voice says to the Sunguard as Andelena walks away to the bed. The Sunguard stops in her path, staring at her blade, before she turns away.

"I know," Andelena replies. It's the only reply she can manage in her tired state. She takes a rag from the pack and dips it into the water basin in the room, cleaning her face, and she stops as she feels a groove in her cheek that wasn't there before. Some flesh can't be knit back together completely. But she doesn't remark on it, as her man's being treated behind her. She just finishes cleaning up her face and begins to undo her armor, putting the pieces aside for cleaning later and dressing down to the gambeson. She simply lies down on the bed and watches Zeke treat Dolan.

Zeke huffs at Dolan. "You are not much better off from what thisss one can sssee Dolan." He remarks, motioning the man to sit down. "Now sssit and let thisss one ssee your arm yesss?" He is quite firm on this notion.

A few deep breaths, in, and out, go by before Dolan manages to straighten from where he's been holding the door up. In truth, he really does not look so very different from Andelena, only with less blood. None, in fact. He tosses the pendant in his hand to the bed, and starts to loosen the buckles holding the breastplate in place. "Might need help getting this off," he admits, fairly staggering to the bed, siting down on its end by Andelena's feet, and rubbing hard at his neck with his remaining hand, a pained expression on his face. "I - I'm sorry, baby," he mutters. "I wasn't here when you needed me. Damn it. I should never have left."

"We did what the Knight calls us to," Andelena murmurs, her eyes already flirting with the concept of rest. "You broke a man out of the Hells. I killed a demon with my baby brother's face. Shoved Livvie through its chest and watched him die."

Her eyes do close for a longer moment as she says, "You, me, and the Knight. We're alive. Not everyone back there was so lucky. I stood my ground even when it was trying to take out everyone and everything because it wanted me. And I didn't give it the fucking courtesy."

Words can be harsh things. Zeke can feel the guilt in the air. The sense of weight that lies upon these two. He doesn't add to it. In truth he doesn't feel that its his place to do so. He's the healer. Silently he works Dolan's cuff off, his claws nimble and certain in this work. Once its away he touches Dolan very gently. He already suspects that the shoulder is dislocated, but he has to confirm this, and make sure that it's not worse than he thinks it is. "Be sssstill." He says quietly to Dolan, taking the shoulder in claw so that he can begin to heal it.

The agonized gasp that Dolan lets out, squelched from an open scream when the armor and the cuff beneath it come free, confirms that it is fully dislocated, and touching it confirms this as well. The cuff has prevented it from being any worse than that, it appears, but it's quite angry, and the muscles across shoulder, neck, and back are entirely taught and, from the way it has swelled some, at least a little bit strained. His good hand grabs at the edge of the bed to steady him, clearly trying very hard to not reach for Andelena, to let her rest.

"Fucking chains," is all he manages, digging his nails into the wood. "Bed. Bedpost. No, there's no chains there. Chair. Teapot. Tea. Latch. The door is closed. Walls. White stone walls. No. NO! There's no chains there."

Andelena can't possibly rest as she hears that gasp. Her eyes blink open and she fixes him with her whole gaze, her whole face--new mark and all--as she leans up. "You're in the Temple of Daeus, baby," she says. "It's--It's the fourth day of Bernfleur. The year is 1025."

She's in discomfort and pain herself. She needs to sleep. She should sleep. Yet she's focused on him, because she needs him--and he needs her. "It'll be okay, baby," she promises. Because it's not okay now in a sense--there's too many dead in the Temple of Daeus for that to be true. But it will be.

"You are with the healer and your wife, Brydion Donnelly," Deliverance adds from her corner. She is trying to help.

Zeke answers as well, with a low thrum that does not interrupt the words from Dolan's mate. The sith-makar knows fully that Dolan is on the brink, that any action big or small might spill the man into memory or worse. So he does what he does very rarely, and acts without warning given. The warning to 'be still' has to be enough. The limb rotates in his claws and this too tells Dolan what is about to happen. Because this has happened before. Too many times. The slide back into socket is easier than it has any right to be, perhaps in a way less painful, but Zeke does not doubt that the memory of pain is crystal clear to the man he is trying to aid. "Dragonfathersss light." He says in Dolan's ear. "Dragonfathersss blessssing."

The words come with a surge of warmth. The power of healing magics that restore and repair, this too is not unfamiliar to Dolan.

The limb slides back into place far too easily, the motion far too practiced for the liking of either healer or healed, but the benison that follows it short-circuits any slide into memory, any descent into panic. The arm goes limp and pliant in Zeke's hands, and Dolan is left gasping for breath - but present - as the memory of pain is driven away by a blessing, and by the words around him.

He finally answers after several seconds, fingers still clenched on the edge of the bed. "I - I'm here. I'm okay." He rubs at his neck again. "Praise be to His holy light." He is quite clearly still gathering himself.

"Damn it. I'm sorry, baby. I was trying to do that quietly and let you rest." He doesn't look at her, staring instead at the floor. The shoulder is fully repaired, but Zeke can feel that the muscles are still bunched. "Fuck Jal'goroth. So many people hurt. Killed. When does it stop?" His voice cracks.

As if it had never happened, the next words come out deep, final, and full of venom. "It stops when I fucking _make_ it stop," he snarls. "Even if that means marching into the Hells and tracking his sorry arse down and putting a sword through him."

"I don't think there's a single way to do that quietly--and I may be in need of rest, but I can't rest if the man I love's in that kind of pain," Andelena responds. "Fuck that demon. We need to stop that son of a bitch."

Her voice wavers, finally. "I don't know what happened to my brother. Do you think he's got Seb? Or he's just using his face? I..."

Suddenly she looks so much more tired, and she lies back down on the bed, just staring down at the floor with half-lidded eyes. She'd cry, but that's energy she just simply doesn't have.

"Thisss one would like permisssion to relax thessse musssclesss." Zeke offers quietly to Dolan. He glances toward the tea. By the time that he is done with Dolan's shoulder it should be ready. Perhaps a little over-steeped, but they seem in need of the willow bark that he laced the drink with. There are many things that he could say, that perhaps even he should say, but... There are so many words passing between the two that anything he might offer would surely be lost.

"Yeah. Go ahead, Zeke." Dolan's barely moved from his seat at the edge of the bed, and turns his face instead to Andelena. "I don't know, baby. What I do know is that we'd better move fast. We can get help finding them. I know a couple of people who are strong enough to shift planes. We've done it once, we can do it again." He stares off into the middle distance then, across the room, the lone brown eye dark with something remembered, a haunted expression at odds with the impassive mask of scar tissue he wears.

He turns, then, reaching for Andelena's ankle, a caress that is a gentle reminder of his presence. The hand moves back and forth, slowly. "Don't worry about me, baby. I'm used to this. It's not going to stop me."

Andelena's gaze turns back up to Dolan as he touches her ankle, and she gives him a soft smile. "I did it for you, babe," she murmurs. "Told myself I couldn't fall. Told myself I wasn't going to kick it there. Gave myself up to the protection of the Knight--and I killed it."

Her steel-grey eyes flutter shut, and she turns away, showing the scar on her cheek more prominently to Dolan. "Knight keep us," she says lightly. "Knight keep you safe." And it's not very long before she finally, _finally_ drifts to sleep.

Smiling at last, letting Zeke do as he wills with his shoulder, Dolan lets his good hand rest on Andelena's ankle, tracing it gently. He looks her over, and starts as he spots something on the face that is sleeping at last, all trace of smile fading. "What-"

But, there can be no doubt. There it is. He'd failed to protect her, be there when she needed him - and the proof is right there, on her cheek, a stab across his sensibilities. He head lowers. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, a tear falling on the hand that has paused on her ankle.

-End