bakerstreet | Always come back

Always come back

ALWAYS COME BACK

They may be a rambler, a gambler, always on the run, a wanted criminal, someone with a higher calling, or just not the type to spend time with you (which may be fine by you), yet somehow, they'll always find their way back to your door. And they'll, again and again, find themselves wanting you, for support, for healing, for feeling alive, for venting frustration and anger, for anything and everything at all.

You'll welcome them with open arms...and an open bed, because you want them, too.

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Reply: to others.
Thread: with them.

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Of course, he should have waited. But there is a part of Illario that is forever rushing into things without necessarily thinking them through, and that is the case now. Truthfully, he did need the distraction, but he didn't mean to panic Grier into rushing, either.

"My apologies, bello." He says, and he does mean it, turning his head slightly so that Grier can press the wet cloth where it's needed- sucking in a sharp breath as the chill hits his skin. He makes himself breath through that first shock of cold, closing his eyes just while he gets himself under control. He hates being cold. Hates hates hates-

Murderer!

"Mierda!" His eyes fly open again, heart skipping a beat and he swallows. He can almost feel the worry radiating from Grier now and he touches his hand, trying to ground both of them. "I'm alright. I'm alright. Just wasn't expecting the potion to feel so intense. That's all."

A moment more, the voice back to an undercurrent, hardly there at all.

"We had basil in the kitchen garden. Amongst a lot of herbs ypu really don't want to eat. Part of our training was picking them for salad. And then eating it."

Of course Grier had an understanding of poisonous plants to avoid as a child as most children in the country would -- if there are not chores or games to play they are inevitably going to be finding free things to eat; it just made sense to teach them what they should avoid. But it was nothing like that Illario describes.

It is also enough to distract him from asking about what Emmrich brought up right away, because this is more important.

He has maintained, gently, that he sees parental things in the figure of Illario's and Lucanis' grandmother. But there is also no excusing much of what the two have described of their childhoods, in small doses. To make clear there are more gruesome tales under the surface.

When he was younger it is the kind of thing that would have made her an immediate enemy. And he does defend her a lot less, if his actions can even be called that. Perhaps now he is just much more aware of how parental figures can do very evil things and still somehow love, in their own warped ways. And that the children they harm can have very complicated feelings about them as a result.

Given what Emmrich told him and the shift in this subject, it does give him a worrying pause.

Lucanis would have said if a letter from home had come through with bad news.

A question sits on his lips for a moment, then he lets it go. "That is terrible."

"It's certainly one of the reasons I don't enjoy salad. I'm always wondering- is this lamb's lettuce or blightweed?"

Illario hasn't meant it to be something that Grier concerned himself with over-much. Their childhood isn't necessarily a happy one and nothing can fix the damage done, but they still have lives to live and relationships to repair. Especially he and Lucanis. Illario can't bare to deal with Caterina even now.

The cold compress is doing it's job, easing the swelling of the bruise as Illario's body goes through the accelerated healing brought about by the potion. Not just the nasty bruise the compress covers, but a few of the smaller ones, a couple of the scrapes and knocks elsewhere on his frame.

Instead of saying any more he just leans a little closer, pressing himself up against Grier and cclosing his eyes to breathe him in.

"Have you been to see Neve and Emmrich? Did they... how do they think I did?" He sounds like a Fledgling, he knows. Waiting for a report from his Masters and hoping it will be a good one. Emmrich is a professor, his assessment probably sounds exactly like a school report but Neve... he doesn't know her well enough to understand what is biting scarcasm and what is truth.

Grier settles on the side of the cot to get his arms around him, now that he's less concerned he will exacerbate something.

"I promise salads tend to remain optional at meals here, if they are present at all." Something to inspire quiet confidence and just a touch of levity.

Though now that he considers it, Lucanis never made them either. Everyone wanted something cooked when they settled down at the table.

At the question, he raises an eyebrow to himself, smiling against Illario's hair.

"Neve had nothing sideways to say, and Emmrich could see you take your role very serious and praised your adaptability." ...About that. He strokes his back. "Illario, I have a question. Emmrich said you were being bothered by a spirit or two down in the Necropolis. Does he mean you saw a few or were you hearing them?"

"There are much better vegetables and Lucanis knows it." Illario agrees in a soft mutter, keeping his face turned into Grier and not worried if his voice is somewhat muffled. Grier will be able to understand what he's saying, or at least the gist of it. But he appreciates that Grier isn't taking too serious a tone with him.

He missed him, just the sense of him around the same space, the gentle brush of fingers when Illario passes him a mug, the shape of him bent to his research. They weren't apart for long, but it seemed like it. Strange, considering when he was with the Wardens they were apart weeks at a time. Now? Even three days seems too long, and it's worn Illario down more than he'd realised.

"I was expecting a terrible review from Neve. I'm almost ashamed she didn't tell you on the second day I didn't retouch my eyeliner." He did, although between the lack of sleep, the fights with rogue undead, it had smudged before midday. Not that it was possible to tell when it was midday so deep underground.

He takes a slow inhale, the scent of Grier's floral soaps and the parchment that seems to cling to him helping make him feel like he really is home. Even if the reminder of the haunting is a little distressing.

"Both. I saw them until Emmrich banished him. And after that, I only heard him. Hear him. I'm sure it'll pass."

"Him." Not a question, but he is noting there is enough of a specific presence in mind. Someone he was either familiar with before, or at least that he could single out now.

Grier is working with more limited knowledge with regard to spirits in this world than someone like Emmrich would have, but he still feels mostly like his feet are on the ground.

"If he says they are banished, I trust that they are," he says carefully. "But it would make sense that it is staying with you. Was it someone you knew?"

There's a low groan, almost petulant. He's used to a debriefing of course, but with Caterina it woukd be the second they got back to Treviso, injured or not. With Evka and Antoine, they'd wait till the worst injuries were tended first. He supposes that is very much what Grier is doing, tending them so he can make sure Illario is alright, but getting the details he needs at the same time.

Which is very smart, but all Illario wants to do is hold him for the momwnt, not invite the voice back by talking about it. Unfortunately, Grier is asking questions.

"I didn't know him. I had a dossier on him. A mark, some Nevaran lordling that upset an Antivan merchant prince."

Murderer
Murderer
Murder-

"It wasn't even a remarkable job."

There's a thread of concern that stays in his tone for every question. What Emmrich suspects? Possibly important, but it feels like it should be addressed after the problem at hand. He remains close, allowing his hand to continue moving in soothing circles along his spine.

"At face value, that would make sense," he murmurs, "but I imagine there is a solution for both sides of that."

Grier sits back a little, continuing to tend but now it is more about comfort, cleaning up. Little things that feel better now that the danger is passing.

"Emmrich might have a better idea, but as it appears, a spirit is expending energy to focus that anger at the knife rather than the one that wielded it. My first suggestion would be to tell him the name of who hired you."

Illario doesn't hesitate to cuddle up to Grier when his ministrations turn from medical to gently comforting, letting out a soft sigh as he settles. It's good to be back. He knows there will be more missions and longer ones too, with other members of the team, but if coming home is like this? Being close to Grier and talking together, quiet and safe? That's fine with him.

"That might be a problem, bello. I don't know." He isn't too concerned about that, it's hard to be worried when someone is stroking down your back. "It was a long time ago. But Crows love paperwork, the contract will be in storage. Lucanis could get the Archivists to look."

But they can reach out to Lucanis later. He's probably far more concerned with Neve at the moment and Illario doesn't blame him for that.

"I do not know if it violates any rules the Crows have, when it comes to releasing the identity of a customer to the mark after the job is done, but I imagine it doesn't come up that often."

He will ask around later, perhaps get a missive out to Teia and Viago. And speak to Emmrich. He would be the best to suggest whether such a thing would even help.

"I am guessing this is the first time something has happened for you, I mean." Given his very unfortunate family history, there would have been a much bigger issue, much sooner.

"We tend not to spend very much time worrying about our marks after we kill them." Illario replies, "The whole idea of the undead, spirits... its a little unsettling. I know the exist of course, but having anything to do with them? Not something I think many of us welcome. As you can imagine."

He lets his own hand moving, resting on the front of Grier's shirt, fingernails gently racking up and down the fabric, feeling warmth of the other man's skin just below the layers of fabric.

"Being haunted? Never before this, no." He pauses then, because he appreciates how stupid this will sound but he trusts Grier not to laugh at him. "I used to- when I was a child, not recently- I used to want my mother to come find me. Talk to me."

Something sad and distant there, because he knows there was a period of years, decades, that he had been a child wanting something very similar, and through his mistakes he damned his own son to the same kind of loneliness. "That's very normal," Grier offers, kissing his temple. "That's...well, that is grief."

But more a sign that if this were not a recent thing, Illario would have noticed something that much sooner. Surely. Having Emmrich explain the loss of his parents and his hesitance to contact them in the after stops him from pursuing that further.

"Professor Volkarin had some suspicions," he says finally. "He wanted me to have a talk with you before pursuing it further, get another mage's perspective. Spirits -- the kind that do not leave physical bodies after a death. Those, can speak to anyone with no trouble and can answer anyone if they so choose. Provided the way is clear. It is very rare for any mage to be able to speak fully to the dead. Our resident Necromancer is one of very few."

"I was told it was stupid." Caterina hadn't tolerated weakness, and wanting the comfort of a dead parent was stupid; seeking comfort where none could be given was a waste of time and energy. "Grief doesn't make you strong. It doesn't help you survive. We weren't allowed the time for that."

Not where Caterina could see. Privately, Illario and Lucanis had made sense of the loss as best as they could, just as Caterina probably had done behind locked doors.

"Suspicions about what?" Illario says, frowning as he shifts and looks at Grier, not understanding. "It was just a spirit who recognised its killer. Surely that happens? If you're fall enough to walk into its tomb." He doesn't understand, he's not talking to the spirit, is he? It's just talking to him.

Although he's not tried to talk back, just shove the whole thing away.

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