Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

[faileas]

Event Log: February, Outpost Problems

I. Adventuring We Will Go (Tomorrow) The word gets around pretty quick. Anybody who plans to journey with the group of Wilders venturing out to set up a new outpost is invited to attend a traditional gathering they have before an expedition: the packing party. On the evening of the 15th, the Wilders' HQ is bustling with activity. The whole group is present making the final preparations, sorting gear, and checking the carts for maintenance. The atmosphere is easy and upbeat, very casual, with Wilders laughing and telling jokes and stories as they work. One has to have a little fun before it's time to be serious, after all! A lot needs done, and more hands are always welcome. Camping gear and provisions need to be checked, inventoried, and dispersed into enchanted rucksacks that can hold twice as much as you might think they could - there will be enough rucksacks for each explorer in the party. Everyone is expected to carry their own. Shrunken-down construction materials for the new outpost need to be loaded into the three self-propelled carts the party will travel with (if only they were self-steering as well!). The carts themselves haven't been necessary for an expedition in a while; they could probably use some fixing up, greasing the axles and making sure the enchantments are fully charged with magic. And, too, this is a chance for the group to mingle and get to know each other. You have to be able to trust your fellows out there in the Wilde, after all. So there's a table with food bought off a few street carts: fried hand pies in meat (no one's sure what kind of meat, but hey!), veggie, and fruit varities; a pot of simmering jellied eel to be scooped into cups and eaten with spoons; fried squabs on sticks dripping grease. Beer is plentiful, as are bottles of a non-alcoholic ginger beer. Everyone is encouraged to eat, pack, and get to know each other. Especially because, the lead Wilders on this expedition will say, it's recommended that everyone going out there have a Bonded - whether it be their own normal Bonds if they're also going, or temporary Bonds with their fellow party members. The table also bears a few dozen of the temporary Bonding potions, and it's highly encouraged, though not required, that more experienced explorers temporarily Bond with those who are much newer to Aefenglom. It's nature's buddy system, you know. Whatever you're going to do, do it before the morning - the group leaves at first dawn, and will not wait for anyone too hungover to be on time. While having a Bond isn't required for the trip, the Wilders will strongly encourage it for anyone who isn't Bonded or whose Bond partners aren't going. The three-Bond safety limit does still apply to temporary Bonds, though! If you'd like to tag around for potential temp Bonds, head over to this thread right here!

II. The Silent Forest It becomes clear that, while the journey starts off easy, it won't remain that way. The group leaves out at dawn and passes first through stretches of land considered 'safe' - safe enough to be generally habitable, and the first couple of hours see the occasional farm on the way. There are few to no signs of Cwyld this close to the city, but then they start to slip into the region considered 'in progress'. These are the lands the Wilders have been focusing on, and so while there are the occasional patches of infected plants, they're easily dealt with by small, controlled burns. As the day drags on and the hike continues, though, the landscape changes. The trees grow thicker and the underbrush more dense. The machetes have to come out at points to clear the path for the carts; whoever is currently on cart-steering duty, please don't damage them! The atmosphere, too, changes around this time; the laughter dies down, expressions become more serious, Wilders are noticeably more alert to the possible presence of Shades or hostile creatures. By evening, the forest is thick and dark, the trees around them ancient and twisting. No one has ventured out to this area in quite a while, the more experienced Wilders will say, and that becomes very obvious. The once-beautiful forest is heavily infected by the Cwyld, and the small cabin that served as a Wilder outpost is overgrown, still bearing the 5-year-old corpse of a dead Wilder. Adventurers are advised to take caution when touching anything - wear gloves and heavy boots and watch your step out here, folks. The way still needs to be cleared. a. The Flora The oldest of the trees present are fully dead, thick trunks turned black and shiny, letting in light from above where their leafless branches reach out to the trees around them. The brush is thick and thorny; even small pricks and cuts in the skin are liable to be infected, a black ring forming around the wound, darkening the veins branching out from it, and need immediate treatment to keep it from spreading. It's hard to avoid other than by simply wearing thick clothing and hoping for the best. Nestled in the roots of the trees are pitcher-like plants filled with a sticky sap; the Wilders are excited to see these, and despite the dangers, comb through them to see if any remain uninfected. The sap in infected plants is black and tarry, while in uninfected plants it runs clear. This sticky liquid is excellent for smearing over wounds to seal them and draw out minor infection, and they'd be delighted to take some whole plants back for cultivation. As well, a certain breed of tree seems to have escaped infection entirely; these tall, woody trees have shiny green leaves, a contrast to the rest of the forest, and bear small green fruits that smell (and taste, should you eat one) deliciously sweet. All is not always as it seems out here in the Wilde, though - be careful which fruit you choose to imbibe. These trees are not immune to the Cwyld, they only hide their infection well. It can only be determined which trees are infected by cutting into them and inspecting the sap (difficult, because the sap of all the trees is highly toxic, and even inhaling near it will have nasty side-effects of vertigo, vomiting, and even temporary blindness). If it runs black at all, the tree is infected, and the fruit, sweet as it might taste, is deadly poisonous. Trees that are only mildly infected are a Russian roulette: you have an 80-20 chance of getting a toxic fruit or a good one. Most of the Wilders don't feel it's worth the risk. b. The Fauna The party spends a couple of days in the Silent Forest out of necessity. Initially, it seems as if there is no animal life left on this desolate patch of land. No birds chirping, no mammals scurrying about, not even an insect to buzz around the explorers' heads. It becomes quite clear that the Cwyld has consumed nearly everything, and the life left is hardly life at all. Shades are not uncommon. When camp is made for the night, capable fighters will have to rotate guard duty and patrols around the campsite, to fight off the shadows of what used to live here as they sense life and magic to consume. Dessicated, white-eyed bucks with cracking antlers, bloated and mutated birds screeching angrily, even, perhaps, the Shade of a bear, huge, enraged, and difficult to take down. But that second night, those who are alert may get the tingling sense that they're being watched. They are, in fact, by a band of nomadic Monsters, primarily Harpies and Arachne passing through. They don't approach the camp, and they won't speak to any of the Wilder group, merely watching them with something like curiosity before they flee into the forest again. It's hard to get close to them before they disappear, more at home in this dead forest than you will ever be, but close observation shows that all are scarred in some way; missing parts of limbs, eyes, or bearing even worse marks on their bodies. c. The Solution It's too thick an area to clear simply by burning. They'd set the whole dry patch of forest alight and kill who knows what along with the Cwyld. Some smaller areas can be taken care of with fire and careful supervision, but the rest of it... The lead Wilder on this expedition, a prematurely-greying Witch named Rilla Sparks, puts forth a suggestion. She admits, it's one based heavily on theory and speculation, along with the findings of certain prominent researchers in the city. If they can find the leyline, she thinks the Witches in their party can flood it with enough positive, nurturing magic to 'flush' the Cwyld out of the vicinity, so to speak. Or, she hopes, enough to make it passable in the future. It's experimental, but isn't that what this trip is about? Discovering new things? If enough of the party is game, the first step is finding the leyline in the area. This can be sniffed out by Witches and Monsters both, as they're drawn to sources of magic, even tainted magic; and, too, if anyone takes a look from the air, the leyline becomes obvious, as it cuts a much darker, more heavily infected line across the forest floor, like a blackened vein. Once it's found, it's up to the Witches in the group. Gathering over the blackened ground, anyone who wants to participate in the ritual should join in pairs or groups, down on their knees to be closer to the earth, and should 'push' their magical energy into the leyline through their hands pressed to the dirt. Each push results in a pulse of light beneath the blackness of the ground, weak at first, but stronger the more magic is expended. It will take several hours, which means the occupied (and then spent) Witches will require the protection of their Monster fellows, and interacting this closely with a tainted leyline will have side effects. A low degree of Cwyld infection is possible in the hands, but not guaranteed. Intense fatigue and dizziness is certain, along with pain when casting spells, and terrible nightmares for as long as the symptoms last - anywhere from 2 to 6 days, depending on how much magic the individual Witch expelled and how much rest they get after. It will take some time to see if their labors bear fruit. They'll check on the area again on the way back; they can't stay in one place for too long.

III. Ruins of a Past Life In the next couple of days, as the journey commences, the obvious signs of infection lessen in the landscape. The trees thin out again as they head further north. With the Wilde just barely dipping toes into autumn, and no thick canopy of foliage to block out the sun, it's a hot, uncomfortable walk. Those on cart-steering duty are considered lucky, getting to sit for a few hours, but it doesn't last - the duty is rotated between volunteers. Enjoy it while you've got it. At one point, with the sun high in the sky, they stop to refill canteens and jugs with fresh water and to take a bit of a swim. Here, the water cascades into a wide lake below, which eventually feeds back into the main river that cuts through Aefenglom farther south. At the top of the waterfall, it's much easier to see something in the distance, that isn't specifically on the route but is a small enough detour (only a mile or two off) that the guides permit it. It's the ruins of a former settlement, clusters of shells of burned out houses and buildings, a dried up well, and the crumbling remnants of a wall - reminiscent of the Bright Wall, but much, much smaller, only about eight or nine feet high at its tallest point. There is no magic left in it, though, nor any people in the ruined town. There haven't been for years and years, judging from the mossy overgrowth and state of disrepair. Some signs of the former inhabitants can still be found in the houses; the Wilders agree to make camp here for a night, to give everyone some time to explore. a. In The Daytime The ruins are depressing, but safe, in the daylight. It isn't hard to put together what happened here - a Cwyld outbreak must have come on them quickly, and judging from the hasty, half-burned homes, it was poorly contained. Some homes still contain skeletons in rotted scraps of clothing, some bones charred and others picked clean by animals. Many of their possessions still remain, except there are no books left anywhere in the town, even on shelves where books obviously were before. The patterns in the dust indicate that the books, all that survived the fires initially, were removed much more recently, within the last year or two perhaps. Otherwise, much is untouched. There are still dishes and flatware on broken tables, rotted blankets on beds, children's toys scattered over floors, axes hung on walls. A sort of thick, somewhat mucous-y grayish-green moss grows in flat sheets over most of the ruins. It isn't infected by the Cwyld; in fact, the areas where it grows seem to be free from it. Coincidence? Not? The Wilders have never seen anything quite like it, and are interested in taking samples back to study. (And for those of you who can't help but put things in your mouths: yes, the moss is edible. It tastes a little... earthy, but gives a pleasant caffeine-like buzz and burst of energy. Good for Witches still feeling the effects of the leyline flushing.) Outside the remnants of the wall, there are years-overgrown gardens, and perfectly good potatoes, asparagus, and raspberries can be found still growing, hardy and perennial even without human hands to tend to them. These people lived a more simple life than those in relatively-modern Aefenglom, as there isn't any magitech to be found, but somehow, they made themselves a home out here in the middle of nowhere. b. Ghosts of a Forgotten Settlement After nightfall, the dead town comes alive again, in a morbid sense. The party will soon find that the sunset brings the emergence of specters of the town's deceased residents - ghastly semi-transparent echoes of humans and Monsters, men, women, and children, in the state they were in at their deaths. Some are badly burnt, others were obviously infected, on their way to becoming Cwyldtid. Now, they go about their former lives every night, filling the ruined town with a sense of dread and foreboding that is impossible for the living to ignore. The ghosts cannot be touched or physically interacted with, and many of them simply ignore the Wilders and Mirrorbound completely. Spectral children play in the streets, adults tidy shops that are no longer there, or head out to the field to farm. They do so with expressions full of sadness, and desperation, as if trapped in this cycle of un-life. Others not only notice the group, but try to turn on them, enraged at the sight of intruders, though their shouts and screams are silent. They can't do any damage, but if they pass through you, you'll feel a bone-deep chill, despite the late-summer heat hanging in the air, and the specters' 'touch' will fill anyone with an aching, heavy despair, or rage - echoes of the emotions the ghosts experienced before their deaths.

IV. The Northern Outpost The sparse forest thins even more to the north. The terrain grows more uneven, rockier and hilly, with drier soil and hardy, sun-bleached grass instead of moss and leaf litter. Several natural rock formations can be spotted in the distance, growing larger as the group gets nearer. The trees here are few and far between, shorter and sturdier, casting only small circles of shade on the baked landscape. Wildflowers dot the grass in every color of the rainbow in the areas that remain uninfected. A low degree of Cwyld infection can be found here, turning the grasses overgrown, dry and brittle, and the sparse trees gnarled and blackened. This is to be expected, though. You can't venture this far out and expect anywhere to be completely untouched. The spot Rilla Sparks chooses for the new outpost is cradled between two large spires of stone, with a cliff-face at the back of it - protected on three sides to defend from animals and Shades, with a relatively clean stream within an hour's walking distance. Construction has to commence immediately. Once they land, it's a flurry of activity, as there is much work to be done. The building supplies are returned to their original sizes and it's all hands on deck to put together the low wooden building. With everyone working as quickly as they can, it should take about three days to get set up enough to consider the outpost open. Also on the to-do list: setting up the teleporter waypoint given to the Wilders by the Coven, to shorten the trip from Aefenglom to this far-flung outpost. It's smaller than the one in Dorchacht, only able to transport three people at a time, but the technology is the same. They'll need as many magitech-capable hands as they can get to calibrate it to the local energies and get it up and running. While all this is going on, exploration of the local area is high on the list as well, to ferret out any potential dangers that may be inherent to setting up here, or potential boons that can be taken back to Aefenglom, and to start work on their maps. There's a job for everyone, and while they're happy to let people do what they're good at, or rotate between different tasks, anybody slacking off will get the stink-eye - you came to work, right? This is no vacation! After the first day, though, things start... getting a little weird. Items start disappearing at random times, just out of nowhere, no rhyme or reason to the things taken. Hammers, half-drawn maps, scraps of wood, your half-eaten lunch if you look away from it for long enough. Personal items may go missing as well, if left unattended, so keep your precious things and weapons close. You may hear muffled voices - laughter, indiscernible chatter - around the times when stuff goes missing; it could be the voice of a stranger, or maybe it's the voice of someone you know, someone you've been traveling with for the last several days. But why would they want to steal your pen, or your handful of nails, or your drink cup? Weirder still, holes in the dirt start turning up in the night. Maybe six feet deep, dug at an angle like the beginning of a tunnel, and cutting off abruptly. Digging further down in these holes doesn't turn much up at first, but checking enough of them will turn up only a handful of the smaller missing items with teeth marks in them. Inconsequential, uninteresting, inedible things, or straight up trash in some cases. With enough persistence and maybe a good old fashioned stake-out, the culprits turn up: a pack of sand-colored, hyena-like animals that perfectly mimic human and Monster voices that they hear (often repeating words out of context, like much dumber parrots - they don't know what they're saying, only what the words sound like), and scavenge for whatever they can get their paws on. The hyenas are aggressive when confronted, and pack-oriented, but can be won over eventually by feeding them, or talking at them: different hyenas like different sounds and different words, so it might take some trial and error. Several bear low-level infections that can still be cured. Maybe eventually they can be trained. But then, where is everything else they stole? Please note that only a very small number of the items missing will be found on this trip! If you don't want something of your character's gone for an indeterminate amount of time, don't have it stolen. It's just possible they might turn up at a later date, however...

Welcome to February's event log, Outpost Problems! The expedition will last about an IC week for everyone who completes the trip; characters can return to Aefenglom with a pair of Wilder scouts at any stop along the way, though. As always, please direct your event-specific questions here! You can tag around for temporary Bonds in this thread, and if your character would eat the fruit in the Silent Forest, please post here for your dice roll (we did say it's a Russian roulette). Enjoy the trip outside the Bright Wall, everyone!

Comments

[eyeforaneye]

[ There's a vacancy in his eyes, a confused panic that he's seen in the faces of the shocked and injured. That he's seen in the faces of the dying, that lack of recognition that everything they're planning for is pointless, that their bodies have already made a decision they can't reverse.

Jonas's is giving out on him as the seconds pass, awareness fading in and out as he grasps at his clothes. Sasuke's eyes narrow as the other teen's sharpen for a moment, his efforts reinvigorated with the arm that locks more firmly over his shoulders. ]

Do what you can and don't relax yet. I told you already that you need to keep focused. Repeat it back.

[ His tone is firm but measured, a sort of forced calm that has his words landing hard and cutting short when he suddenly hoists Jonas up. He locks his arm around him tightly, ready and willing to drag him if need be and it shows in the way he's already starting to move. ]

Repeat it.

[coherer]

(his vision quits when drawn forcibly upright, causing a pronounced stumble that briefly grounds a knee. it takes every agonizing ounce of energy to prevent himself from collapsing, legs misbehaving as badly as his rubber bones. jonas isn't thrilled to be in this position despite choosing it in the first place, but if all he can do to get better is make himself feel worse...?

he stands, shakily, and tightens his grip on sasuke's far shoulder.)

I'm focused. I am, I'm– (nodding with a wipe at an eye, breathing through pursed lips in a shaky exhale.) I can get back.

(a single step pushes him well past his limits; he pushes into a second. soon, thanks to sasuke's help, they're at a crawling pace away from the leyline and through dense shrubbery that catches on their ankles. if jonas considered the situation—something he's avoiding, meant to be focusing—for more than a few grasping seconds at a time, he'd realize this is one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. unfortunately the faint glimmer of pride is overshadowed by the utter failure, drawing a trembling hand away from his face to gaze at the damage done.)

I'm... really sorry.

[eyeforaneye]

[ Jonas falters and all Sasuke can do is attempt to compensate for it, fingers digging at his waistband to firm up his grip in case the one on his shoulders flags. The other teen might be larger than him, but he's carried a hell of a lot bigger. ]

That isn't what I told you to repeat, [ comes the sharp reply, one perhaps callously unwilling to cater to Jonas's feelings of inadequacy. They're undeserved and shouldn't be entertained, but as they climb the slope away from the leyline those troubling words are all he has to focus on. ]

Would you accept my apology if I killed twenty Shades and let in one? That's already enough; tell me where you're feeling pain.

[coherer]

(no, he wouldn't. it'd be unfair after seeing how hard he fought to suppress the shade attacks, feeling as though he did his best and then some. does knowing sasuke would—blame himself, criticize his own capabilities, and reprimand himself for "failure"—make this more or less relatable? hasn't that been a trend in his behaviour now, placing fault on his own shoulders for things out of his control?

it is control and the lack of it that bothers him, afraid of having no real impact on anything when he's been swept along his entire life. no substance, no influence.

sasuke's voice brings him back out of his dreamy haze.) My hands and... and my arms. They hurt bad, all the way to the elbow. But... less in the shoulders. (they're red like they've suffered burns, a backlash of magic output meant to cause alarm and stop him from channelling too much of it into the ground.

he misses his mom, a thought that hits him hard and without warning. she'd speak to him so gently when he was sick, maybe a bit coddling over such ordinary things like colds and flus, but it made him feel better. he'd visit and do the same, the two of them swapping songs over the quiet beeps and whirs of medical machinery; this damage to his body is nothing compared to what she went through. what excuses does he have to be a burden on anyone else?

chin trembling, jonas grits his teeth and pushes his limits farther with each steadier step.)

I'll focus, okay? Can you just talk to me about... you, or– or about anything?

[eyeforaneye]

[ Eyes flit lower for a chance at glimpsing reddened skin, holding back a click of his tongue. This isn't the time for his own frustration because if Jonas notices it, it might damage the message he wants to send to him. One of security, of full confidence in both him and their team, in their situation. Instead he steels himself as he does so often, trying his best to listen to uneven breaths over the sound of their steps through the undergrowth. ]

We'll take care of that when we get back. We're nearly there now, Jonas. [ He can seek out healers, and in the absence of any that might instead be at the leyline? He has the plants he's been foraging, willing to try to see if the sap offers any benefits for him in this condition.

But now Jonas is making a request of a different kind, one that catches Sasuke off-guard. Talk about... himself? ]

... years ago, I was fighting someone whose strength I underestimated. I kept pushing myself... and eventually I used up so much of my chakra that I couldn't move. I was in worse shape than you are now. My best friend had to save me, all because I was as stubborn as it turns out you are.

https://thumbs.gfycat.com/FrailContentHarborporpoise-size_restricted.gif

[coherer]

Yeah. Yeah, alright, (he agrees, winded.

if sasuke says they'll get taken care of, they will. he'll thank him later since putting him through this stress wasn't his intention and there'll be no room for anymore apologies in the schedule that'll no doubt be laid out for him. he has to lie down, eat and drink something, allow himself to be catered to until he's asleep... even then, the tremors aren't about to let him rest well. the side-effects are only worsening with every second he stays upright.

listening to the story he's told, jonas realizes that it's in direct relation to what they're going though now—not the same, certainly, but familiar enough—which makes him think of parables and the moral of this one.)

Jesus, not... not stubborn enough, apparently. (shakily hopes the joke lands, but forces a half-smile that's little more than a brief quirk of his lips.) Now you're the one doing the saving. Was it that you... didn't wanna' let anyone down? Why'd you go so hard?

[eyeforaneye]

[ The sound of hooves in the distance is an unmistakable one, almost enough to convince him to look back... but he keeps his eyes forward. Sure enough there's the sounds of impact, of a fight, and someone else stepping up to take down the Shade that Sasuke had allowed to approach the leyline by leaving with Jonas. There are others. They're capable. All he has to do is trust them.

They crest the slight hill and he can see the fires of the camp not far off from them now, taking a deep breath as he considers hauling Jonas onto his shoulder. But for now? He's more coherent, trying his best to keep up with the conversation and the pace alike. ]

He was dangerous, and he was my opponent. Even before we fought he told me he wanted to kill me... and I knew he'd keep his word. I wanted to be stronger than him and I wanted to keep anyone else from needing to take my place.

As for you, you did as much as you should have. This isn't over yet.

[coherer]

("i wanted to keep anyone else from needing to take my place."

jonas swallows thickly, affected by his reasons. he was defending himself, wanted to conquer something before it could conquer him, and still his mind went to his friends. them filling in to face the danger sasuke couldn't at so young an age, him forced to watch and unable to move. it sounds horrible. that's all he was ever trying to do for alex, push her through that bunker door before anything bad could happen to her, wanting her to live and leave him if anything went south. it's not the same, it couldn't be when their lives differ so greatly, but he gets it.)

I know how it feels. You wanted to– (toeing a root, sending him into a hard stagger that forces him to tighten his grip. the shock of pain lancing up the nerves of his forearm has him gasping out, vision once again a vignette filled with flecks of gold.

immediately trying to right himself, hand on sasuke's chest stabilizing him as he devolves into a heavier panting he's been holding in.) Goddamn it– okay, I-I need to tell you something important. Listen to me, okay? (it sounds final, but his preparations have never come at the right time.

there's always something to do that interrupts him or overwrites what he's trying to say, loop after loop of it. he wants to say it once, if he can.)

Eighteen years and it's just– you meet a couple guys in another dimension and... go figure, it turns out you were better to me than the people I knew before. (a rasping laugh, tired.) I'm just really... thankful for you.

[eyeforaneye]

[ Jonas stumbles and Sasuke's grip tightens to bruising, knowing that he's adding to his pain with a forearm pressing like a steel bar into his side but there's no time for apologies. Especially not when the discomfort Jonas is no doubt feeling is so far beyond a few marks that might be left on his skin courtesy of his newest... friend.

It all crashes down on him in a few words, with that one title tying them all together like a noose around his neck.

No. Not around his. It'd be around Jonas's, wouldn't it? Someone deciding to thank him for who he is now without any knowledge of who he was before, something he'd always taken for granted. Back home his reputation haunts him no matter how far he might try to run from it; no one would speak to Uchiha Sasuke without some kind of idea of what they were getting themselves into. But not anyone here. Not Jonas. ]

... you needed help, so I helped you. I've heard you, Jonas.

Tell me about how things have gone with Stiles; that's something else you can focus on. As a roommate, or as a friend.

[coherer]

(that can't be the only reason he's lingered at his side, surmised after taking his compliments to heart and listening to the way he speaks highly of him. he's helped him, he's heard him, but he's also shared his stories and joked around with him. sasuke's encouraged him to be better, to embrace prayer, to have more confidence in himself. that's not it. imagining if they were to die right here and now, would he be satisfied with everything he's said to him?

closes weary eyes with a wry smile, sweat on his face beginning to bead. he can't feel his fucking hands.)

I won't go on and on about it, then. So long as you know. (it's due to his selfishness, maybe, but he hopes it's the good kind.) Stiles is smart and... intense. I'm not so much either, so there's a good balance there, I think. I really like him. When we get back and I– I'm down and out, could you... tell him what happened?

[eyeforaneye]

[ "I won't go on and on about it, then."

Should he feel pleased with himself for shutting down the heartfelt feelings of an injured teenaged boy who just put his health and safety on the line for all of them? No. And he doesn't. Should he find any satisfaction in that he did what he believes was the right thing? Another no. But he won't rescind it. ]

Yes, I'll handle it. I might send for him after I know you're alright... He can stay with you while I go back. [ Because while Sasuke is feeling a tiredness he hasn't felt in a long time, he knows he's still capable of fighting. And that's enough on its own. ]

... you're both intense in different ways. Or at least you're both a handful.

[coherer]

I know I've been... (dependent? clingy? jonas thinks of what he had before and what he has now, chewing on an irrational worry. they'll ditch him too, eventually. it's happened before, it'll happen again.) I get myself into too much trouble. Sorry about that.

(there's nothing he can do about that now. from the first night, he's needed his friends to look out for him. if he makes it back to the city, jonas promises himself that he'll work hard to become a reliable witch sasuke and stiles see as someone worth calling on for aid (instead of someone always asking questions, complaining about circumstances, and relaxing when they physically can't).)

Think I need to sit, man. I'm not... feeling so hot. (his trembling's gotten worse since his stumble, having thrown off his concentration.) I swear I'll only– it'll be just a sec.

[eyeforaneye]

[ Any response he'd have to that would come out as distantly fond and that's not something he wants to emphasize right now. Too much trouble? Right... like walking into walls, or trying too hard to be helpful to others, or cutting his hand doing a basic household task. ]

No. [ The denial is immediate even if he slows, taking a moment to take a deep breath and regain his own bearings before assessing Jonas. They're close... the camp is just beyond the next thicket of trees, but his condition is declining rapidly. ]

Save your apologies and listen to me. Look me in the eye, Jonas.

I'm going to carry you over my shoulder, so you need to try to relax and focus on your breathing. We'll be there soon, and then you can rest. If you try to sleep now intead... I'm going to have to hit you.

[coherer]

(no, no, no—) 'm gonna' straight up pass out if you... manhandle me onto your shoulder...

(it'd sound blasé if the words weren't figuratively drooled out of his mouth, actually nodding off at the end with a hang of a heavy head. that makes standing all the more challenging, letting go of sasuke entirely for the split second his micro-nap hits him. he's on thin ice now.

there are a few noisy intakes of air as he regains enough sense to hike his arm higher over sasuke's shoulder, sagging against him to make it a bit easier to lift him. he has to admit that being carried seems like the only feasible way getting back to camp is going to happen.)

You only got one arm... (really.) S' if something runs at us, just dump me on the ground...

[eyeforaneye]

[ He scoffs.

Actually scoffs, a quiet huff of a thing that's barely noticeable but nevertheless very much real. ]

To think I'd do that... and to think I couldn't still fight while holding you. I've been in worse situations; do you know what that means? You and I will be okay. You aren't going to pass out, you're going to keep talking to me while we go this short distance.

[ It's the last warning he's inclined to give before he drops that shoulder lower, turning with his arm locking tight around him in order to hoist Jonas up in one fell swoop. His hold is steady and he doesn't falter beneath his weight, instead fixing eyes on the nearby camp with a new determination to get him there and get them out of this. So he starts moving, now faster than before. ]

[coherer]

... 'kay. (deliriously manages to tease him, mouth on auto-pilot.) Showoff...

(nothing can wake him up out of his stupors better than the pain striking him in the wrists, lifted off of the ground and forced out of the tenuous equilibrium he'd managed on his feet. actually sobs, dry and agonized, as he tries to tighten unresponsive fingers in any loose clothing of sasuke's he can find.

let me down. let me down, let me down, let me down.)

I-I feel sick. (voice thick with stress and strain, trying valiantly not to throw up. he can't tell whether it's better to keep his eyes closed or open them to stare down at the ground. it all spins, and the pressure against his skull is disorienting.) Fuck... god, fuck this...

[eyeforaneye]

I know.

[ And honestly? He wants to let him down, to find a way to ease that discomfort in any way he can because he knows the unique agony of a body burnt, bruised, and unresponsive through overuse of chakra and has to wonder if it's at all like what Jonas is being forced to experience. If anything... this seems worse, and his brow furrows at the other teen's cursing. ]

I know... but it's the last push. [ And he doesn't have any other forceful, clever advice to give when Jonas has said it all. It hurts, he feels sick, and fuck this. Those are relevant truths just as much as "focus on your breathing" is valid, likely unnecessary coaxing. Sasuke crests the last hill with a quiet grunt of effort, relieved to be given a gentler slope to ease down while they finally enter the outskirts of the camp itself. ] I'm taking you to my tent; it's close. [ A better idea he decides than trying to force the location of Jonas's from him right now, wasting no time in carefully sinking to his knees in order to help Jonas off his shoulder once they weave their way through a collection of canvas shelters. ]

Here, you can use the bedroll inside–

[coherer]

(the last stretch feels outside of space and time, hands slipping to hang like weights at the ends of his arms. the world blurs by in greens, browns, and blacks, sasuke's comments unanswered with how much blood has rushed to his head. at least his breathing stays hoarse but even in great draws at his friend's behest. he's not so far gone that his ear for wise advice has failed him.

jonas is deposited onto legs that won't respond, mirroring sasuke's kneel with an immediate lurch.

he vomits watery bile, one swell of sickness from his vertigo that he spits at when he's through.) Got any water? (avoids the wet grass with a deep lean back and an exaggerated twist that actually does its job getting him through the tent flaps, not unlike a drunk trying to methodically strip and drag themselves onto their mattress.

layers of clothing get yanked at after he's steamrolled a path through his friend's belongings, jacket and shirt discarded before he drops down onto the bedroll.)

[eyeforaneye]

[ Fatigue is actually impacting him in a way he hadn't expected, well aware of his new limits but seemingly not as aware as he should've been. Once Jonas's weight is off of him he needs a moment to stabilize his own breathing, chin lifting with a deep inhale before he's hearing that ragged question. The vomit is barely even acknowledged and certainly not judged, instead turning his attention back to Jonas himself with a quick nod. ]

Yeah. Here, Jonas. [ His bag is just within the tent itself, canteen quickly freed and held out– but Jonas is already lying down, clearly not ready to sit back up.

It's up to Sasuke to crawl into the tent after him, offering him as much space as he can in the confined area, before he's urging him to at least lift his head. ] Here, drink slowly.

[coherer]

(sasuke helps him drink, hand cold on the back of a feverish neck. guzzling the water leaves him little time to talk let alone breathe, only separating from the canteen when it's empty and dropped away from. that's the last of his energy gone, expended on something that should help the pounding inside his skull.)

... my hands hurt so bad. (reiterating, his memory shoddy. has he said that before?

whatever. it still stands.

sasuke's given a sidelong look, the strain on his eyes leading him to turn onto his side. another presence in the tent makes him feel better, no matter how crowded.)

The leyline– the Cwyld. I could feel it. It's evil magic, Sasuke...

[eyeforaneye]

[ While before he'd encouraged Jonas to speak, now he contemplates telling him to save his energy. There's no reason he can't rest now, safe with other healers nearby.

Still, even with his own limited capabilities, when the other teen reiterates his pains Sasuke is again reaching for that bag. Not for sustenance this time, but for a small jar whose cap he quickly unscrews. He sets it down before his finger dips inside, the thick sap he'd gathered days before clinging to it before he's reaching for Jonas's hands. He's careful to keep his touch light when he spreads it over his skin, dipping back for more as needed. ]

Do you believe that it infected you?

[coherer]

(water joins the sweat beading on his neck, wiping it when it becomes a nuisance. when it's time to lie still, soak medicine into his skin, jonas cushions his head on whatever constitutes a pillow in this tent. a mass of material cobbled together into something comfier than hard ground.

swipes of sticky sap and the soft pressure of fingers that warms it makes his eyelids heavy.)

No... my hands– they'd be black, like bruises. (it didn't get him, having felt faint and dropped before the effects set in.) Are you staying, or going back to help the others?

(selfishly, he'd ask him to linger by his side. that's not a practical approach, however. his answer's far more mature than it was the night they first arrived.)

I'll be okay if you need to leave.

[eyeforaneye]

[ His eyes focus on those hands as his thumb massages sap into skin, checking for that discoloration Jonas denies. Nothing severe, nothing – hopefully – to worry about in the long-term. ]

Doing anything halfway will be like not doing it at all. [ Then, realizing he should speak a little less vaguely when Jonas is ill: ] I'm going to make sure you have the help you need, either from me or someone else. I can still fight... so if I can find a healer for you I'll be going back.

Otherwise I'll stay.

[coherer]

(any gentle pressure is lost on jonas when he begins to numb to the elbow, throbbing that felt like a hammering on his radius and ulna a dull ache. the sap is either working or he's losing his sense of touch to exhaustion. watching is mesmerizing though, calming him, lengthening his breaths.

nods his understanding.)

Okay. Then can you... hang onto my necklace? It's– my mom's ring's on it. (shifts a bit to try to hook it, getting it to an ear before abandoning the chore. pushes himself up onto an elbow instead, bowing his head to sasuke.) I can tell I'm gonna' toss and turn. Don't want to break the chain.

[eyeforaneye]

[ His mother's.

Sasuke stares at the necklace for a moment too long, a hesitation that would no doubt be far more apparent were Jonas at full strength to notice it. Finally he's reaching forward after wiping off his hand dismissively, fingers carefully curling around the chain in order to lift it slowly over his head and draw it close. The ring's examined for a moment, only willing to tuck it away along with that chain when he's confident the metal won't scratch. ]

Of course. I'll have it back to you when you wake up, Jonas. [ That trust... it's more than sobering. ] Is there anything else you need?