[Ezra/Rhys] - Rescue

[brokencrescendo]

Who: Ezra and Rhys
When: During the landslide and we are sorry we forgot to thread it there before it got too big to copy and paste
Where: Base of Kandre Volcano
Before/After: During landslide!
Warnings: Blood, injury, smoke and burns, etc. Rhys has some throat issues.

In which Ezra isn't the one who ends up bedridden this time.



The evacuation was well underway. Ezra had stayed behind to help with its organization, but partly also to make certain that not all of the guild leaders had run headfirst into danger. There was some hesitance on his part, admittedly, but Nadir kept him updated as best he could while he was out there, though reception was spotty. Rasmus had gone out as well, and he felt a little better for it. Not enough. Luckily, there was more than enough to keep him occupied.

Nadir's messages came, short and prompt. He'd found Lera and was about to help her out. Some of the tension in his chest eased. Another message came through a little while later. Can't find your other stupid redheaded friend. Ezra scowled at it, about to protest, before he realized what that meant.

He couldn't find Rhys.

He looked up and around, flagged one of his squires down as he tucked his phone away, giving him directions to inform Cuthbert that he would be joining the others. Without waiting, he headed to the warp mage, making sure everything was ready, that buffs were set and his weapon was ready even as he stepped through.

Ezra moved aside, taking one glance around. It was hot, even from here. He pressed his lips together tightly before he reached up to his face.

A thin needle came out of the fake eye, allowing him to take hold of it and pull it out. The sensation was odd, but not entirely unfamiliar. Disconnecting it, he held it up and watched its little insectoid wings pop out. Like a snitch, he thought to himself, not for the first time, shutting the lid on the empty eye socket. The cybernetic eye lifted and took off, giving him a dizzying view of the battlefield.

He'd have to think of something really good for Harriet, that was for sure.

The second landslide had caught them all off guard, but it was an aggressive elemental that separated Rhys from Victor and Duncan. For a moment, he contemplated leaping back through the flames, debating whether the burns or the separation was more deadly. In the end, the fire elemental had kept him so occupied he had to assume Victor and Duncan would have been forced to move on without him or risk being burned alive.

He gasped for breath, struggling to find oxygen in the smoke and the heat, and trying to keep low to the ground. His dizzied mind reminded him about something about that being important. With a grunt, Rhys shoved himself back up and did all he could think to do: travel forward, and hope he found some pathway out. It wasn't a bad opportunity, he told himself. There may be other survivors trapped, and he kept his eyes and ears out for them.

Instead of survivors, he only found elementals. Dragon's Blood had no effect here, and Hurricane Fury, or anything like it, would only further feed flames of this side. He relied on the earth, smashing into the hot ground to make walls for himself, trying to snuff enough of the living fire that came for him to send it fleeing.

Each step, the sky was darker. The smoke, he thought. His chest felt tighter. Exhaustion. There was no luxury to stop. Rhys willed his body onward, trying to circle around the worst of it. He clenched the side of a half destroyed building, wondering dimly if it was the same one from fifteen minutes ago.

Rhys lifted his phone. No reception. Would it have helped? His head slumped into the wall with a violent cough, but that wasn't unusual when he ran out of breath, either... So tired. Rhys needed a quick break. A moment to rest his eyes from the sea of orange, black, and red.

He didn't notice Ezra's eye scouting the fields, already slumped against the door from of a smoldering building. Some of his armor was missing, lost in the fighting, or burned away and leaving unprotected, reddened flesh and broken skin.


The eye backed away when it found him, turned to survey the area, then lifted up to see it from above. Visibility was limited- smoke and fire made everything difficult to process, but Ezra felt he could make his way there.

He'd have to, he determined.

The eye stayed in the air, moving around to avoid getting hit or burned, the buzzing sound drowned out by the crackle of flames and fighting. Ezra dove in, spirit armour engaged. He could outrun a lot of what tried to follow him and daze the rest- he couldn't stop, but instead needed to line up what his right eye saw with what his left eye saw. Disorienting, but nothing better than immersion to get the hang of something, right?

He was glad he didn't have his full armour on. It was hot, and he could only imagine roasting in platemail in a place like this. His concentration took up all the room he had for panicking- or, any room he had for panicking his directed into finding Rhys.

Was he close? He couldn't tell. He coughed and covered his nose before he let himself breathe in, ducking to try and avoid the smoke. His good eye was tearing up and he squeezed it shut, too, though he could still see the scene from above. Was that- ah, he was in the vicinity! He repressed another cough.

"RHYS!"

Rhys heard the voice, dim and distance, but familiar. His first tired thoughts wondered about the name. So often people called for the Ahura. A few friends still clung to his name. The other guild leaders, mostly, but not always. Ezra, usually.

Ezra. Rhys' eyes lifted open. He tried to move and winced, pulling off of the building and laying his hand over the burn on his cheek. He tried to stand and fell immediately, looking up at the swirl of smoke and fire around him. There would be no way for Ezra to see him here, surrounded in debris and fallen earth. How had he gotten surrounded? How long had he been out? The building beside him was blazing, threatening to consume the small space of safety Rhys had found before collapsing.

He couldn't shout back. It was an odd, surreal realization. Of course he couldn't shout back. He stared at the flames as they licked closer, breathing in deep, remembering, briefly, how it felt to feel his throat vibrate in Victor's body. But he couldn't shout for help.

His phone. Rhys cranked up the volume as high as he could and let a ringtone play. It was the highest, shrillest ring-chime he could find, and it hurt his teeth to hear it.


Everything had become so much the same, it wasn't until Rhys moved that he could tell he was still in the area. Hissing, he made his way forward. If he could keep moving, that was all he needed, just-

The ringtone came through the thinning air, shrill and sharp and terrible. He barked a laugh despite himself. That goddamn phone! He sent the command to the eye to come back (that had taken some practice) and moved towards the ringtone, finding stone and charred logs in his way. "Shit... shit," he muttered, throat burning. He coughed again even as he stepped back, flexing his fingers. He reared back and punched the block in front of him- the impact left a huge dent and deep spiderweb cracks radiating from it. He hissed- his spirit armour had spared him the pain but the reverberations went up his arm with enough force to make it sore.

Instead of focusing on that he reared back and punched again. The block began to collapse and he shoved some of it aside, barely noticing as the eye settled just above his head, buzzing away. Movement in both caught his attention. Another elemental, and he couldn't afford running off this time. "Hold on!" he yelled over to Rhys. He could jump over, but then they'd just be trapped in some little makeshift arena. That wasn't any better. Grabbing his warhammer, he skidded aside just as the elemental swung at him, arm like a lash made of fire.

He stopped the phone as soon as he heard Ezra in case of some kind of instruction or, well, anything. (And anything to make the ache in his jaw stop.) The first punch made Rhys dimly aware of what Ezra was trying to do, and his first thought was he was the Ahura, he should stand up and take care of. He tried, again, forgetting from moments before that he couldn't without the world swimming in black and knocking him down again.

Just breathe. Even that was difficult. Every time he sucked in air it was like swallowing a knife, and though his chest burned with the need to cough, he tried to hold it back, afraid of how it would feel.

Fire moved beyond the wall. An elemental. Ezra needed to get out of here. Rhys forced himself up onto wavering feet, reeling in preparation to swing his arm. He slammed his fist uselessly into stone, the power stolen in a violent cough. Pain that should be feeding his strength had reached its peak, finally stealing it away. He sank, unable to control his convulsions, and catching his own blood in his palm while his dry, broken throat tore itself apart.


"God damnit," he muttered to himself. He did not have time for this shit goddamn! Wasn't he supposed to be with Victor and Duncan? Hadn't he been?

There was a rumbling in the ground. Ah- landslides? He could only take in a bit before he had to focus on the elemental again. It was fast and strong, and he had to block more than he'd like, preferring to just end the thing. A block, a swing, a jab, another block, another block- another blow powered with smite sent the thing flying, and it crumbled into ash even before it hit the debris he sent it careening into.

Not waiting, he drove the warhammer into the chunk of stone- it shattered and fell apart, leaving cracked logs and a few more broken boulders. Cursing up a storm, sniffing and coughing again, he kept tearing away at it, able to lean over and look in, finding Rhys off to the side of it. Giving up tearing apart a clear path, he stepped up and jumped over, not even bothering to look around for danger- the cybernetic eye was doing that work for him.

Warhammer down, his hands immediately went to Rhys' arms, pulling him upright even as he kneeled down beside him. "Hey, hey. C'mon buddy, come on," he muttered, trying to be encouraging. He didn't know about the soot all over his face, the fine layer of ash on his clothes. Taking his right glove off, he reached up to wipe at Rhys' face, to try and clear it up. (Why was there blood? He couldn't see anything bleeding-)

God, he looked awful. Potions, he had potions, didn't he? He shifted, holding on tightly to Rhys, leaning him on his shoulder as he dug into the packets on his belt. Potion- right, there it was. One-handed wasn't easy- he dropped it, spilling some into the dirt. "Ah, fuck off," he snapped at it, as though it were the bottle's fault, snatching it up again and wiping it off. Some was better than none. "C'mon, Rhys, stay with me, all right? Help me out here," he said, bottle to Rhys' mouth. "You're fuckin' heavy," he added, face itchy where the sweat was rolling down it.

It didn't help that Rhys' body flit between struggling to move and going slack. The comment made him fight for balance again, blindly reaching for and finding a bit of stone to latch onto. His arm shook while he tried to hold himself up, his eyes dull as he looked to Ezra, but his face cracking into a weak grin, as if, Hey, fancy meeting you here, was all he would have had to say.

Ezra's presence was too much of a relief to let panic seep back in now. A relief and a comfort. If Rhys collapsed again, and couldn't get back up, at least he'd go in good company. Wait. He didn't need to be thinking that at all. How tired was he?

The potion was at his lips before he saw it, missing Ezra's fight with it. He tried to swallow it down, but it was like pouring alcohol into an open wound which it reached his neck. Rhys sputtered a cough before choking it back, forcing himself to take down what little was left by squeezing his throat. He kept his hand there, clawing into his skin just to feel a different kind of pain to distract from the first.


"Jesus," he muttered. Of all the things to get in the way, it was Rhys' goddamn throat. He continued to hold him up, give him one less thing to focus on, though his fingers were digging into Rhys' arms to do so.

He reached up, hand to Rhys' face where the worst of the redness was. God, it felt like it was burning. He couldn't do anything in-depth- no time- but he forced the heal through. In terms of priorities, he had to keep in mind that he could save his mana, but waste his strength carrying Rhys. Halfway with both and they might get somewhere.

"Motherfucker," he said to no one in particular, ducking his head as he coughed again. The eye descended a little, taking stock of the two of them before it flipped itself to check the area around them. Still nothing, for now. He huffed a breath. "Right. We gotta get you to the sidelines, okay? I can't fix you up here."

If this was Rhys... "Heim and Bristol. Are they okay? Do you know?" Simple questions, no other means of communication right now. "Can you get up?"

The light of healing washed over him with the faintest relief. It brought Rhys just enough over the edge that what pain remained fed into her berserker's strength, like an especially stubborn kind of adrenaline. He shook his head with the first question, then nodded with the second. Because Rhys always nodded at such a question, even if his legs were broken.

This time, it was thankfully a little more than an absent nod. He pulled himself up, clinging tight on Ezra until he had enough of his own support to notice that he was and pulled away. Again, he tried to breathe, but the throb pulsed from his neck to the rest of his body and he found himself clinging to the tallest debris for stability again. He tried to wipe the mix of blood and soot on his lip away, but only smeared it while tossing his head forward to try and signal he was good to move.

Well, good enough.


He watched Rhys wobble and reach out, and Ezra reached out for him again, his own breath lighter now despite the pressing need to breathe more. "Fuckin' liar," he said with a grin. It dissolved into a grim kind of concern as Rhys looked away, wiping at his mouth.

He picked up his hammer again, and set to bashing a path into the wall. Should he go out again and look for Heimdall and Victor?

One thing at a time. Rhys needed a minute out of here first before going back in. He hopped over when it was only a foot or two high and reached back. "C'mon, Rhys."

Yes, names were incredibly important at times like these. It was one of his "stupid, redheaded friends" that he was saving right now, not the Ahura.

"Okay, a way out," he muttered, looking up as the eye made its way upward again. He sighed. "Gonna have to clean that thing before I put it back in," he muttered.

Rhys took Ezra's hand, needing it more than he realized to yank himself over the small wall. No excessive movements. He should have pushed off of Ezra, but his body didn't respond just yet, slumped in need of the support for balance with one hand while the other kept unconsciously clawed on his neck.

Even with the healing, his thoughts felt like a thick fog, drifting in space with only rare moments of clarity and decision making. He focused on himself, on his gut, like the god organ inside of him might have some instinct or cosmic knowledge to share. Instead it hurt. The outside flesh, though, not the inner tissue. Burns were a very distracting. And oddly cold.

He looked to Ezra a few seconds too late, then tried to look up and after his eye, which had already gone on its journey. With a sharp breath, Rhys forced himself to straighten and made a sign, but his hands moved like they were pushing through water. Have you named it?


His grip on Rhys' hand was firm, whole arm tensing to support him as he made his way through. He didn't even question Rhys leaning on him again, even went so far as to hook an arm around him to help hold him up. "Oxygen's thinning out," he said, trying not to cough again. Idiot- he should have brought water. Overconfident or just unthinking? Probably both.

"This way," he said, not about to let Rhys try and argue with him, moving him before he could protest. There would be some annoyed fire elementals ahead, he was sure of it. Could he go through with Rhys? Probably not. They might have to try and stealth it.

Ezra caught Rhys' hand signal out of the corner of his eye. Trusting the other to keep an eye out for them. It took him a minute to catch on and he laughed, his nerdy little cackle, ending in a wheeze. "What? No, of course I- no." In other words, yes, but he wasn't going to admit to it. Not right now, anyway.

They moved onwards, Ezra stubbornly holding Rhys up, turning his head this way and that and at times keeping absolutely still. Once he pulled Rhys behind fallen debris with him, his breathing tight, as much because of the burning in his lungs as the sudden worry about the elemental that went by them, not noticing their presence. Many of them seemed content to wander now. They must be finding the environment pleasant by this point.

It took him a minute to get back to his feet. "Bit further. No reception for the most part- too much interference." Talking to himself, it felt like, unable to look to Rhys while he kept a lookout for everything else.

Coughing would be deadly. Did fire elementals sense by hearing? They didn't, technically, have ears. But they could probably feel vibrations in the air, if nothing else. He clung to Ezra with one hand, struggling to put one foot in front of the other, and tried to squeeze his throat shut with the other. His throat made a weak whistle for it, and he made a wry grin again with a shrug. Things like that, they needed to be funny, not worrying.

Rhys cleared his throat with a gurgle and spat out blood. He didn't know how to make light of that and gripped Ezra a little tighter, forcing one foot in front of the other.

Awareness dimmed the more they moved. Ezra's voice, not urgent or commanding, had become a distant buzz. Belatedly, Rhys realize Ezra had spoken and looked back at him with glazed eyes. He hoped that hadn't been anything important.


He hesitated, staring with one eye at Rhys as he spat out blood.

The heat around them meant nothing. He felt everything inside of him go cold.

"Hey," he said, trying to sound sharp, but a waver hit his voice and weakened the blow. "Hey, come on. Pay attention, all right?"

Ezra shifted, arm under Rhys', clutching the other man against his side to help keep him upright as they walked. There were elementals ahead. They wouldn't make it out alone. "Back up," he muttered to himself, tossing his head aside to take in more of their immediate surroundings with a single eye. "Back up, back up... ah!"

He'd hesitated. Didn't want to be a waste of resources. But this wasn't a game, this wasn't some small thing. Rhys was weighing on him more and more every moment. The eye sped off to grab the attention of this or that aide, Whitehall maybe, Cuthbert- didn't matter.

"I got some work to do, okay?" he said, stopping suddenly. He reached his free hand up to smack Rhys' face lightly. "A'right? Just hold out a bit, okay? Show me you heard me, Rhys. You wait and keep it together. Shouldn't take long, okay?"

Fire elementals were a restless sort. Even without his eye, he knew they were milling about close by. Already bending to slide Rhys onto the ground beside him, he was bringing his warhammer out again. His armour sputtered and dissipated. He needed his mana for other things.

Rhys nodded dully, repeating it over and over in his mind like a mantra. Pay attention. His throat felt hotter than the air around him did, and like someone had clawed down it from the inside. He pawed at it again, trying to make sure there weren't any foreign bits of a car impaled somewhere in him, giving him that half suffocated feeling. He couldn't really remember it. Was that how it happened? Maybe Mom would come see him.

Pay attention.

Ezra's smack was enough to jerk him out of it. Blackness faded and suddenly everything was red and hot and loud. He sucked in air, but it came out again in a wheezed, sharp cough against his throat. Rhys nodded through it. He heard Ezra. He could still hear him. Barely.

Ezra was moving away. Rhys closed his fingers around his arm weakly in a pathetic, clingy tug. Pay attention. He let go as soon as he remembered himself, holding up his own head instead. There had to be something he could do. Something less helpless.


Almost as though he could sense Rhys' thoughts, he pressed his hand onto Rhys' head, holding it there a moment as he forced himself to breathe past that terrible, hot scratchiness in his throat. He could hear fire churning close by, a sudden uproar- they'd been noticed.

It was just a matter of holding out. He could do that. He looked back down to Rhys and grinned.

"Watch my back."

Hand pulling away, he summoned the chains and ensared the closest of the three already approaching, yanking it close at a frightening rate, knocking it back into another with enough force to have them both fall back with a swing of his warhammer. Stance defensive, hovering over Rhys, he moved as little as possible from some imaginary line he'd drawn in the baked earth beneath them.

More than three. Five or six now. Buying time with a shockwave one way, he turned and slammed the flat of the hammer into another elemental. He could feel the burn damage seeping in through his enchantments. They were being beaten back, but not beaten. That was fine. He just had to hold out.

Whatever happened, Ezra wasn't going to leave him. Rhys couldn't decide if that were a good thing or not. He kept still, trying to breathe while the warmth of Ezra's hand lingered on his forehead, a far different kind of warm than the red heat that blazed around them, dancing into dangerous, humanoid shapes that began to surround them.

Every attack rumbled through the ground and vibrated in Rhys' body. Pay attention. Yeah, he was. Fire elements. Some down. Others in their place. Not beaten, but he couldn't let Ezra take this alone. Back to back, struggling for breath, but in this together. It wasn't the first time. Wouldn't be the last.

He smashed his fist into the ground to tear the earth and make it rise, grabbed his sword and drew it as he kicked the new earthen spike and unleashed a windy shockwave with a swing of his blade right after, showering the elements behind Ezra in dirt and stone to snuff out the fires and push them back. Everything came out in a sudden burst, one that was too much, and he blinked to find himself on his knees.


He hadn't meant for Rhys to join in, but that he did was no surprise. It meant that he had to keep even closer attention on him.

He smited one that came up onto his blindside- the heat was enough of a giveaway that a lack of vision on one side wasn't as huge a handicap as it usually was. The creature died in an explosion of sparks and he hissed, pulling up a sanctuary around the two of them as quickly as he could to avoid the worst of it. Burns were the worst, he felt, though he had the explosion of Aerveas' elemental to help him on to that conclusion. The damage had been repaired, but he still remembered how the pain seemed to linger on long afterwards, under his skin.

He almost put it down before he noticed Rhys on his knees again. Keeping it up instead, he gave Rhys was time he could to pull himself together again. "Just block," he said, coughing. He covered his mouth as he did so, a series of short hacks that he had trouble containing. "Nothing fancy, all right?"

Putting the shield down before it could go down on its own, Ezra bashed one away with his shield and caught another with the hook of his warhammer, dragging it through the air and onto the ground, where the dust smothered the flames on its back.

Rhys nodded. He couldn't stop. If he did, he would give into the tempting whispers of his mind to lie down and close his eyes. Pay attention. Just block. As long as they could find a break, or keep moving it would be okay. He would have to depend on Ezra to keep track of that.

Rhys jerked himself up into a spinning whirlwind blade at an approaching ball of flame. The wind fed fire, but threw it a distance away as it raged. He was down again, choking on his own breath. He swallowed, trying to wet his sandpaper throat and rid himself of the coppery taste. A thrust into the ground tore the earth upward, keeping the active flames from reaching them before it burnt out. It was no spellsword's earth wall, but it served its intended purpose.

He didn't get up a third time. Rhys clung to his sword for support, head bowed. A short rest. That was fine, wasn't it? Ten, fifteen seconds to close his eyes...


Ah, he couldn't keep track of how many there were. For all he knew, there were more. Or less. Or the same amount. Some had died, maybe, or just been replaced. He couldn't tell. Not good, not good- he couldn't rely too heavily on reinforcements. He was relying on them heavily enough as it was. Three, four... five over there, six to the left, seven... seven behind him-?

Ezra turned and punched the elemental with his own fist grasping his warhammer as it tried to take advantage of Rhys' position. It seared- he could see the flame coming off of his sleeve as his fist flew through the air after the connection had been made. The smite infused into it had been a reaction, not a conscious decision, but even then had done little to protect him from the damage. A shout escaped him, pain shooting up his arm, but watching the creature explode into sparks was enough satisfaction for him.

Pain. He hated pain, no matter that he was built to handle it better. He could feel a shudder go all through him and he reined it in as best he could.

It would be easier if he weren't stuck to a single place, he knew, but he'd dedicated himself to this spot for Rhys' sake. Breath tighter and sharper because of the pain, he gave in to a quick heal to take the edge off. He couldn't think about either of those things- he chained another and drew it close enough to hit, not wanting to have to wait for them.

"A little bit longer. Just, a little bit longer- okay? Rhys?"

They were coming. A detachment, following that mechanical eye as it buzzed along, enough to get them out of there, to see them safely out. A few minutes more- "Please, please, please..."

Even Ezra's cry of pain was lost to him. Rhys coughed again, mixing blood with dark saliva. It was more than his own throat, something he only started to realize with the warm drizzle from his nose. His fingers loosened on the hilt of his sword with a token squeeze of resistance.

Pain was starting to fade with his consciousness and he even tried to choke just to feel it tear through his neck, but his grip finally gave up and his body slumped with a clatter of his weapon beside him. He was out before he had the chance to hear it. Each breath came ragged, scraping through his swollen throat, and his skin had turned from its usual fair pink to a blue-grey.


"Rhys-" oh fuck, oh jesus, oh shit-

Sanctuary went up again, so suddenly, so forcefully, anything coming at them bounced off. Ezra kneeled down, immediately picked him out of the dirt. He tried to wipe the blood off of Rhys' lips, smeared it instead. That small, frightened part of him that never quite quieted became especially noisy now, and he whimpered without hearing himself do it.

A few more moments. He forced the sanctuary to stay up with every beat of his heart, with every breath. The heat, the dryness, was sucking mana out of him with each second that ticked by.

Shouting. He could hear shouting. The elementals were turning towards that instead. Rhys grasped tightly in his arms, he kept the shield up, not trusting them to turn away from them if he took it down.

He almost sobbed in relief. He could hear Whitehall's voice. The eye came back and bounced harmlessly off of the shield.

Full attention grabbed, the elementals came after the troupe of paladins that broke through into the area. The shield came down- Ezra barely noticed when one of them kneeled beside them and immediately began to check over Rhys, encouraging him to not clasp the Ahura so tightly or he wouldn't be able to heal him, another standing nearby on guard while the others dealt with the elementals that had gathered.

More were coming. It was simply a bad place to be. With a bit of healing turned on him, he got to his feet, sharing the weight of the Ahura with another of the paladins, and they set out to make their way out of the mess.

Makeshift tents were up. Ezra paced in one long after the cleric had come in to take over, advising him to wash his face and stop hovering. Rhys was left to recover on a pallet, covered in blankets to keep the shock off, given the tiniest trickles of water to try and clear his throat. Ah, his stupid throat, Ezra thought dumbly once or twice. He really out to get it looked at.

Consciousness found him again with a start, but probably not as much of one as Rhys gave his healer. His eyes had barely lifted before he pulled himself up and sputtered out water, body protesting at being pushed down with enough of the Ahura's strength that the healer physically could not.

Rhys stared at the healer with wild eyes as his mind raced for his last memories. He was helping with the evacuations. Separated from Duncan and Victor, then found by Ezra. Then...? He didn't know. What happened to Ezra? He shot a look around the tent, vision passing Ezra once before setting back on him with relief. Only then did he get off of his elbow and let the healer push him back down.

The healing had dealt with the burns, though the memory was still lingering, but oxygen and dizziness would have to pass on its own. His throat, too, was a mess of irritated scar tissue that couldn't be healed past the burns from the smoke he inhaled, and his breaths still ached as they squeezed through. Rhys closed his eyes, forearm over his head a moment, then tilted it enough to look for Ezra again with a half grin.


The healer'd had some troubles with Ezra, too, and finally had made him stop trying to help by telling him if he didn't settle down he'd get mana burn, and then where would he be? It was partly sulking that had Ezra pacing the length of the tent, his jacket tossed over a chair and his hands behind him. He'd kept occupied by cleaning the soot out of the eye, but it was a deceptively easy-to-clean design and hadn't taken much time at all, and even had its own self-cleaning system when it came to the wings. He wished he'd known that before it'd sent ash flying everywhere while he was holding onto it.

The curse of the already irritated cleric snapped his attention back and his long legs brought him back to hovering over her shoulder and him better into Rhys' view. He held his breath a moment then let it out when Rhys caught sight of him and let himself fall back.

He made a noise and reached up to rub at his forehead with his forearm, unwittingly streaking more ash across his forehead. A few quiet words with the cleric ascertained it was all right for her to leave, and she did, with the promise to return in a little while.

Ezra took her place, catching Rhys' look. "...don't smile at me like that, you asshole," he said with a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut even as he rested his elbows on his legs and buried his face in his hands, tightly squeezing his nose between them.

Ezra's scolding only made Rhys grin wider, but it faded quickly. The usual lightness that came with being addressed like that had been replaced with Ezra withdrawing in on himself. Slower this time, Rhys pulled himself up and set his hand gently on Ezra's shoulder, conscious of the possibility he still suffered from burns or other injuries.

He waited until he had Ezra's attention again before attempting to sign a Thank you, searching Ezra's face for further distress. Had something more serious happened while he was out?


He did look up after a moment, taking a moment to put himself in order. Another breath in and he let it out with a heavy sigh, looking back up to Rhys. He smiled briefly at the sign.

He wasn't angry with Rhys- it wasn't like he'd charged in on his own, it wasn't like he was doing anything more or less reckless than usual. Circumstances beyond his control had changed what had been a fair situation. There was no blame there, just that uneasiness that Rhys had nearly died from asphyxiation.

Hand over his mouth a moment more, he shifted and sat up straighter. "Might have to give you a few hours to rest up before you can go back out. Though- I dunno. Rhys, your throat- I mean, there was just- a lot of blood, right, and-"

Again he rubbed at his forehead, eyes away from Rhys' face. The subject of Rhys' previous injuries always seemed a little dodgy, and it showed in how unsure he was of how to breach it now.

Rhys set his fingers to his throat and felt against the sides of it. It wasn't the first time he wished he could see into it and find exactly what all was wrong. It also wasn't the first time there had been blood, and he learned not to panic.

Ezra cut off and Rhys looked to him with a frown. It wasn't a subject he and Ezra had ever touched on, and even those who knew a little more about the basic history didn't have the details of the accident. He looked down with his own uncertainty, then looked back at Ezra with a wave to get his attention before he started signing.

He pointed to his throat first. Crushed in a car accident. Paralyzed. Rhys forced a weak grin and tapped his head. Used to wonder if I hit this too. The B-R-O-C-A. Jokes aside, he didn't have any other signs of brain damage that he knew of.

Doctors made a mistake. Scar tissue, and my throat rubs on itself. U-L-C-E-R-S, he spelled out, not knowing the proper sign. Sometimes. They bleed.

He shrugged, done, hoping that was enough to not be worried about. If any internal burning or injury had contributed, he hoped the healers had taken care of most of it. His throat was probably more sensitive than most, but he didn't think there was anything to be done about it.


He did look up, hands clasped before they rubbed together, something to keep them occupied. He'd never thought to ask, but it's a matter of concern for him, even if it doesn't seem to be much of one for Rhys. His expression concerned, it lightens briefly with a snort as he taps his head. "Don't count it out yet," he answered, resting his chin in his hand.

His expression screwed up. That sounded terrible, and it must have been terrible for Rhys to leave it as it was for so long. Watching Rhys shrug, Ezra bounced his knee, clearly thinking about something.

"You know," he said, looking down to his clasped hands, trying to keep his leg still and failing every few seconds, "you know, there's probably something for that now."

He rubbed the back of his neck before he put his chin in his hand again. Bounce bounce. "I mean, modern medicine aside, there's clerics, even alchemy... I'm not saying it's going to restore anything, I mean, that's probably shot, but just, like, generally speaking... for comfort, or at least, something to stop the bleeding... I mean, that's some freaky shit," he added, turning his head as he peered at the front flap of the tent.

Rhys looked away at the suggestion, his expression carefully measured in a way only trying to be the Ahura had taught him to do. He took a deep, slow breath through his throat, trying to ignore that wasn't part of what Ezra was talking about now.

They arrived in Bastan, and the second Rhys was alone with a cleric after their spar of proving, he wrote down that request. Too much scar tissue. At least Ezra was quick to admit it was definitely shot. Other treatments... Rhys forced a dark smile and shrugged. T-R-A-C-H-E-O-T-O-M-Y He wondered if it was too long a word to properly read in finger spelling and motioned hole and neck before crossing his arms in an X of rejection. He could only imagine alchemists trying to improve on an idea that couldn't be improved enough.

But his expression relented as he watched Ezra, turning to a frown. You're a healer. Can you see any options? he signed, then carefully lowered his hands to his lap, away from his neck.

It may not have been Ezra's specialty, but Rhys would ask him before letting strangers prod around his throat again, magically or otherwise.


Given the look on his face, following Rhys' spelling took some effort. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be stringing together until about the end and he sits up again, always naturally going back to a slouch. "A- one of those things- the hole, like with cancer patients and smokers, right? The microphone?"

He'd be proud of himself for remembering that if it weren't for the fact this was Rhys he was telling it to. He hesitated, trying to temper that sudden rise of almost-excitement, digging the heel of his palm into his leg and sitting back a little.

He could appreciate that, not wanting a hole dug into your body. He reached up to rub at his temple. There was the involuntary stuff, of course, that you couldn't do anything about, but then the voluntary stuff... that was a lot harder to consider. And he'd been through that- losing his eye had been a little traumatizing, to say the least. To lose your voice, well, that.

The question caught him off guard. Healer? "Not really, man- it's pretty shoddy..." Basic, enough to get the job done. He reached up again to rub the back of his neck. "Delicate stuff I have no hand for, so for me, I mean, it'd be impossible." His half-grin was sheepish and faded easily. "I dunno, Rhys, it just... it just seems like something that shouldn't happen. That's all," he finished, trying to reign in the miserable look on his face as he looked down again, letting his hand fall from his neck to his lap.

Rhys nodded, though a microphone or artificial voice box wouldn't work with vocal cords that couldn't vibrate. For breathing, he'd deal with the inconveniences. They weren't life threatening-- well, not most of the time-- and the complications of other options outweighed the benefits. And this was without his melodramatic internal pleas to just let him suffocate if this was how things would be.

He waved his hand dismissively and gave Ezra's shoulder a firmer pat, smiling. It's fine. I'm used to it. Then he pulled into a grin. Being the Ahura helps.


He quirked an eyebrow as he looked back up with the shoulder patting. It took a moment before he sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I know, I just... well."

He managed a slight grin at the comment. Being the Ahura... for Ezra, pain was something to withstand. For Rhys, it was something to embrace. They could both soak it like it was nobody's business, but to have that little bit of pain, all of the time-

Well. Maybe it did help, what with being the Ahura.

"Think about it, okay? I mean, you've got the resources now."

A shrug in return.

"...how're you feeling otherwise?"

Rhys faltered. They had the Khshathra and the Vahishta. Nyx and Heimdall. They would help, if he asked. Asking meant admitting it. Explaining it. He gave a shallow nod of obedience, looking back at the blankets, but his mind was already well on its way to the decision it always made.

There was the temptation to grin and play everything off as fine, but the longer Rhys looked at Ezra, the less sound he felt about doing it. Ezra already knew. Sometimes it felt sort of like Ezra always knew. Okay, thanks to you. He smiled more nervously and rubbed the back of his head, but his expression slipped, eyes betraying his vulnerability. I would have died.


Ezra had come down to picking and choosing who he'd look out for, specifically. Rhys was at the top of the list. His family- even his family, he'd stepped back from a little. His older brother was a paladin himself now. One of his sisters had joined the clerics. Miriam was still waffling over whether to be a mage or a druid. They'd be looked after, they'd told him so. So he'd stepped back.

Even Lera, he felt that need to step back every now and then. It made him feel guilty and he tried to ignore it. But Rhys, with Rhys it wasn't even a question. He watched Rhys' expression shift as he looked up from his signing, and he took a breath in and another out. Seeing Rhys go grey like that, not because of the ash, because of his breathing, because Ezra was limited in what he could do, because they were still mortal.

"Yeah," he said softly, looking down to his hands. Well, it wasn't like Rhys hadn't been through that before. Ezra managed something like a laugh. "I mean, I guess I know how you felt, now... I'm not usually the one sitting bedside, right?"

Rhys grinned at the laugh. Better me than you, he signed, completely serious. Seeing Ezra like that once was more than enough. But he softened again, still not able to hold his smiles for longer. They were mortal. Greycloaks, tournaments, gods, fires... That the least dangerous on paper had been what almost killed him wasn't lost on Rhys.

He rubbed at his throat again and glanced at Ezra. No matter how much Rhys tried to play it off, Ezra kept making that face. It wasn't unwarranted.

I'll talk to the Vahishta and the Khshahtra, he promised, belatedly.


"Better neither of us, but that's not gonna happen anytime soon, I don't think."

He managed a bit of a grin himself this time to meet Rhys', and let it fade, not looking quite so dire by the end of it. Whatever the case may be, Rhys was all right for the time being. He'd just have to be content with that. "This really is a day-by-day sort of thing, isn't it."

He rubbed his nose with his forearm, sniffing a bit as he did so and coughing reflexively. His throat was still scratchy and it showed in his voice. He'd be going back out in a little bit himself- it was just hard to do it while Rhys was still out.


A blink met the new sign and he stared a moment before he pressed his lips together. "...all right," he siad, trying not to look as relieved as he felt. If he could get the promise from Rhys, that would be good enough. He'd ask after it, anyway. That was all Ezra could realistically expect.

Maybe it was because it all didn't seem so dangerous that was the problem. Ezra had a point in all his worrying. Rhys couldn't afford to be so cavalier about the small things, but already he was dreading how he could even word the problem to people who had more of an idea of who he was.

He shook it off with sheepish smile that suggested he already knew the answer to his next question. What are the odds of you letting me back out there?


Ezra made a face at the question, but he sighed. He'd do the same, he had to remind himself, and there'd be no resting until he knew.

"Zero, right now. Let the healer look at you again and give it another hour, just to make sure. I'll go out with you then."

Rhys gave Ezra his best 'but moooom' look before giving up with a more understanding nod and a dismissive wave of his own hand, dismissing his own question.

He looked to his lap and folded his hands, playing with his fingers, then looked back to Ezra. Thanks, he signed again, but didn't finish there. For coming with me.


"I wouldn't go out there alone," he said, rubbing his hands on his knees. "...not to say anyone else would let you, but I'd feel better going out there myself. Besides, we make a kickass team."

He grinned a little before he continued. "You were with Heim and Bristol, right? I haven't heard back on them yet, but I'm sure they're okay, too. There's too many of us crawling around to let each other down."

Rhys kept a smile to himself. There was that, but Ezra had come with him at the start. He had always been there and, Rhys hoped, always would be.

He snapped his eyes back on Ezra with the mention of Heimdall and Victor, remembering for the first time just how they had been separated. Maybe someone else has seen them.


Unaware Rhys was reaching so far back, Ezra continued to muse over the matter in his own head, recalling suddenly that he was supposed to be drinking water, and making Rhys drink water, and got up to go fetch said water, plopping back down in the chair and passing off a mug to Rhys.

"Like I said- or did I say?- I have Nadir out there scouting things out. He told me he couldn't fnd you- ah, shit, I should tell him. Reception's shit but every now and then stuff gets through," he said, getting his phone out suddenly. "...dragons won't go in," he added. "Part of the new contract, I think. Or, very few of them. Well, I don't wanna use 'em if I don't have to... though makes you wonder how bad it's gotta go before I'll think to use one..."

Mumbling to himself, he typed out a quick message and let it go.

"So yeah. Drink water and just rest up for a bit. Healing doesn't do much for dehydration."

Rhys tensed, but accepted his mug and nodded. Nothing for it right now. He would have to trust Victor and Heimdall.

And Nadir. Rhys visibly perked at the name before he tilted his mug back to drink, thirstier than he realized, but forcing himself to stop and slow down. It was too late, or maybe never would have mattered. A trickle fell down the wrong tube and he brought into another coughing fit, eyes watering the more he tried to stop. Aah, this was so embarrassing, especially given their last conversation, and he reddened as he grinned back at Ezra before sipping more carefully just to confirm he could without choking.

I'll thank him later.


Ezra jumped, startled as Rhys started coughing, and there was a moment he paused before letting Rhys to recover his dignity on his own, burying his face in his glass as he finished it off. He got up and got the jug of water and refilled it.

He did it for Rhys, too, regardless of how much water was missing out of his glass.

"Yeah. I'll have to, too." Nadir didn't particularly mind, but it had been a favour all the same, asking him specifically to go out on his behalf. He sighed a bit and rubbed at his nose again.

"All right. An hour. Rest up, let the healer know if you need anything. I'm gonna go check on things." He'd been out of it longer than he should have been, maybe. It was hard to tell. He had people he trusted to lean back on, but that didn't mean he had to make a habit of it, or take advantage of it more than he was meant to. That wasn't what he'd promised himself as Spenta, anyway.

"An hour," he said with his eyebrows drawing in, firm. "I'll be back then."

Rhys saluted Ezra with all of the seriousness he could muster. It lasted all of a few seconds before it cracked into a grin that he tried to stuff down just as quick, but even with his lips pressed together, the sentiment on Rhys' face was obvious.

He cleared his throat and set his mug aside, obediently lying back down and curling in his blankets to rest. Rhys' hands escaped to sign an hour in the air, just for extra confirmation that he was listening, really.

For all his joking around, being down reminded him how tired his body was. His hands fell back down more slack than he intended, and it was easier to let his eyes fall shut than keep them open.