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"Emmrich" he heard it over the ringing deep in his ears. He blinked rapidly, trying to regain some of his vision. It was still over exposed to the light and he was barely able to make out the figure in front of him. They hadn't had enough time to react before the blast had gone off.
"Emmrich" a little clearer now. Where was it coming from? He couldn't decide. Everything seemed to have switched places. The sounds were coming from everywhere and nowhere. There were a few screams, a lot of yelling, and a roaring sound.
"Emmrich!" It was Rook. Veryl. Her voice. He blinked a few more times and suddenly his eyes were able to take in information again. It was her form that encompassed his field of vision, the looming figure he couldn't make out. There was a touch on his cheek, a firm pat as Rook tried to get him to some level of clarity. As the emotions on her face registered, the alarm bells finally started to overtake the ringing.
"Rook! You'll need to move them!" Another voice called and Rook looked over her shoulder, panicked but all business.
"I'll do what I can!" She called back. Turning back to Emmrich, she resumed touching his face and hair. "I need you to move, alright?"
He felt himself barely nod before Rook was giving him a grim look and moving to pull his arm up and over her shoulders. Then he was being hoisted, and he tried very hard to get the rest of his body to do anything. It felt heavy and dragged along behind them as they moved. Rook was stronger than she looked, but any time he could get his legs under himself to help propel them forward, made their task that much easier.
"Rana!" Rook called out from beside him, her voice strained under hauling his weight. Another body came along his other side and helped Veryl the last few steps to a wall. She helped Emmrich lower himself there and took him by the shoulders. He could see her face, contorting as she analyzed something, but the world was fuzzy around the edges and getting fuzzier.
"Oh no you don't." There was a grip on his face and his head, which had gotten heavy and lulled a bit. It was now being held up. Rook gave him a small shake and patted his cheek none too gently. "You need to stay awake, do you hear me? Rana, keep an eye on him, don't let him drift off. I'll be back as soon as I can. Neve still needs help."
Emmrich watched as Rook's blurry figure became more distant and eventually disappeared around the corner of a building. She was right, he needed to stay awake. But everything was so heavy, it was a losing battle against the weight of his eyelids.
"Emmrich, right?" The Templar was in front of him now, kneeling and peering at him. "Why don't you tell me what happened?" He needed to focus. What was it that had brought them there? Right.
"Neve… received a strange letter." He struggled through the syllables, trying to make sense of them in his mouth. "Asked to meet in a warehouse. Thought it was a trap. R-Rook worried about spirits, asked me to come." Emmrich coughed and it made his lungs ache. He was starting to become aware of new pinpoints of pain across his body.
The memories were also becoming clearer. Neve had led them to the meeting spot and the contact that spent more time looking around nervously than talking about the contents of the letter. But the meeting went smoothly otherwise, and Neve did secure some information about the Venatori that would no doubt prove useful.
"Why did it blow up?" Emmrich asked Rana, trying to grasp on to the slippery concept of time and circumstance, how it brought them both to this point.
"I'm not sure," Rana's face was concerned as though she too was trying to figure that out. "But it didn't work, right?" She tried to give him a reassuring smile that didn't quite translate, pat him on the leg, and rose. She moved out of his line of sight just as Neve and Rook returned, another person suspended between them.
"Just lay him there." Rana instructed them. Emmrich didn't turn his head as he heard shuffling and moving. Everything was starting to feel heavy again.
"… and he's practically moribund, I don't know that there's much we can even do." He heard Rook's voice coming closer as his consciousness started to drift again, the darkness around the edges of his vision becoming more saturated.
"He's what?" The voice sounded like Neve's this time.
"Way past half-dead," came the clarification. "You should try what you can but— no, no, shit, Emmrich." He thought it might be Rook's cool fingers that pried at his eyelids as they fluttered uselessly. He heard her command to stay awake, the plea in her voice but couldn't heed her request. He had done his best for as long as he could.
He felt warm. Cozy even. Was he home? Oh, but his head ached, perhaps that's why the curtains were drawn and everything was quiet. Though, he thought he felt something in the back of his mind trying to break through. Ah, he had that lecture that he needed to prepare for. And that dinner that Edmund had planned, was he going? He would need to send his apologies if this headache was to keep him away. How long had he been abed? Where was his time piece?
Emmrich rifled around with his eyes closed, reaching to where the sideboard should be. When his hand hit nothing but air, he rolled to the other side and reached that way. He was met with a solid surface that resisted his inertia and caused him to withdraw his hand as pain zipped through his knuckles.
Rolling onto his back, he rubbed his hand across his face, trying to ease away the sleep. He felt stiff all over, as though he had trained hard or combated something recently. As he dropped his hands to his sides in the bed, he came in contact with yet another unfamiliar object. This time it wasn't hard.
It was a deep breath in through his nose and a sudden need to take in his surroundings that him sitting up quickly in the bed. He was in bed, but it wasn't his. In fact, it wasn't even his apartment. The furniture was rudimentary at best, and the fabrics were simple. There was a closet and a chair by the door. But it still remained entirely unfamiliar.
It was dark in the room, but the curtains weren't drawn. A diffused shaft of moonlight filtered through a passing cloud, illuminating the space. Emmrich vaguely registered the glass on the table next to the bed. It must have been the thing he had impacted a moment ago. But it wasn't what caught and held his attention.
It was this girl. The one in the chair but bowed over the bed, sleeping soundly. The other object he had encountered. He peered at her, trying to understand her existence as it correlated with his. Her features were light, from her hair to her fingertips. Her face was smooth and relaxed, almost elegant. There was an innocence in the way her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks, twitching as she dreamed. The cloud outside passed and the moon lent her it's glow, it made it seem as though a spirit had taken up sentry next to him.
It was all very odd.
He tried to think past the ache in his skull that insisted on being foremost. He really couldn't remember what had led him there. There wasn't anything he could pull from that would trigger it. If he hadn't been within his weekly routine, what was the circumstance that put him here? It was useless. No answers came. All he could do was sit there in the quiet, listening to himself, and the girl, breathe.
She was lovely. He chastised himself a little bit mentally. A gentleman shouldn't stare…if she was human. If she was a spirit however…
He would blame it on the curiosity that broke through the pain in his head. Finally, it was something else to focus on. It had him leaning forward to get a better look. The moon shone brightly, contouring against her face, the plumpness of her cheeks, the plush of her lips. Dark eyebrows broke up the continuously pale features. Her hair shifted in reflection, turning gray and then white.
He could have retreated when she started to stir, undoubtedly disturbed by how close she felt his presence. To his surprise she didn't startle when she opened her eyes, holding his gaze with a mismatched set of her own. If he hadn't already been holding his breath while studying her, it would have left his lungs anyway. What spirit had eyes like these? A light lavender that was unnerving and flat black that swallowed the pupil? He tried to recall everything he had ever learned. All of it. That made his head swim.
The lovely face before him contorted, eyebrows drawing down, "Emmrich?" Those plush lips gave way to a concerned tone.
His hand went to his head and he finally sat back against the head board of the bed. He tunneled his fingers through and messaged at his scalp.
"Oh, goodness, don't do that." The spirit was reaching up to gently pull his hand away as she spoke. "You'll bother your stitches."
Stitches? Ah, so that was why he couldn't recall anything. Head trauma also explained that inexplicable pain behind his ears. Still, the knowledge did nothing to knock the memories loose. He looked at her again, trying to remember anything. He came away with nothing but surmised that he must know her. After all why would he feel so calm in her presence.
A spirit of peace perhaps?
"You still seem a little spacey." She frowned, the corners of her mouth pulled down and her forehead puckered. She was too expressive to be anything but human. But then, they had been known to evolve. The spirit, he had decided, moved and Emmrich heard water pouring into the glass he had knocked against earlier. When she offered it to him, he took it, but captured her hand with his free one. She didn't resist, but she did look at it and then to him, as though she didn't understand. She felt real. Had he ever tried to touch a spirit? He made it a rule to give them plenty of space and respect, but he couldn't imagine they felt like this.
"Did I call for you?" His voice was thick against his vocal chords, requiring effort to give it volume. He drank the water greedily as he waited for her answer. The confusion on her face seemed to worsen, the frown lines deepening and spreading.
"Call for—?" The spirit repeated.
"I can do that, you know?" He wasn't trying to boast, though it was a skill he was rather proud of. But it wouldn't do to brag to a spirit, they had no need for human foibles.
"Oh." The spirit, still captured in his hold, pulled the chair closer and sat back down. She contemplated him with those eyes and it felt like she was trying to see through to the center of him."No, I, uh— I've been here all this time." Her face relaxed a bit, hinting at a smile. He thought that it must be lovely too.
After he drained the glass, she poured more and he finished that. He felt better than when he had first awoken, but the ache still remained. He had stopped trying to recall anything, and settled into the not knowing. He was sure he wouldn't remember this when he awoke anyhow. If this was supposed to be real, he couldn't think of any reason he wouldn't remember a creature such as her. Thus, he had settled on the theory that it must, in fact, be a dream and that was a theory he could live with. Some people subscribed to the school of thought that dreams had meanings, he wondered what this one meant. Maybe something would stick with his subconscious and he could write about this when he woke up.
"… and he's practically moribund, I don't know that there's much we can even do."
"He's what?"
"Way past half-dead."
The voices seeped through unbidden as he sat that there in his thoughts. It was jarring. Chilling. The realization of what was happening had his pulse quickening and his heart leaping to his throat. The spirit looked at him wide eyed when his grip tightened and he yanked a little, pulling her closer so he could see her face better. She would know.
"Tell me true…" Emmrich searched her eyes, switching back and forth between them in haste. His mouth opened but the horrific words would not leave him, it opened a shut a few more times, completely out of his control.
The spirit searched him too, first in bewilderment and then when it solidified, assurance.
"Anything," She promised. Her hand, the one he wasn't holding like a literal lifeline, came up to smooth back his hair, carefully avoiding where the stitches tugged at his scalp. Her nails scrapped lightly. Absently, it felt divine and did something to his heart, but did nothing to calm the clenching in his stomach.
"Have you come to take me away?" He was still unable to outright say it, the words sat like bile on the back of his tongue. His saliva became thick and bitter as he tried to swallow it back. Again, emotions flitted across her face as he watched, mere centimeters away. In his angst, he had traded holding her hand for cupping her face. He held it still as he studied everything that change and shifted. He was determined that even the most micro expression would not escape his notice. He felt crazed.
The assurance changed from a little bit of panic of her own, and then anger? Whatever it was that flitted through didn't stay long, but her hands came up to shackle against his wrists. She allowed him to stay where he was, but the warning was clear. She must have found what she was looking for in the information she hadn't shared with him, or perhaps it was something in his eyes that finally gave her insight to his deeply seated issue.
"Emmrich." It was a peace, the way she said his name. The grip on his wrists became a soothing circle, where her thumbs started running circuits along the hollows beneath his. There was earnestness and confidence now. "You're alive."
All of the air exited his lungs. His anger became liquid before he could stop it. All of the adrenaline that had all of his muscles seizing, released his posture and sent him slumping into her. His head collided with her shoulder. He didn't care that it could have knocked her back, she held fast, having climbed into the bed with him at some point. Thinking of nothing but the relief that drenched every nerve in his body, he wrapped his long arms about the slender torso in front of him, and wept.
It was a long shuddering affair with blubbering and snotty sniffing. There was nothing in him that would stop the torrent of emotion, not shame nor awareness of the way it made him sound. He wasn't dead, and that was enough.
"I know this must be so scary for you, but I promise everything is okay." He heard the reverberation of her voice through her chest even as he hiccuped. Her fingers ran new tracks through his hair, and this time, he relished the shiver it sent down his spine. Her hands ran along has back, and only then did he realize how bare he was. Somehow he knew it wasn't proper but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was just a dream after all.
On a sigh, he lifted his head again to consider the spirit in front of him. What a curious thing to conjure. What must he have been through to seek out such a beautiful comfort? The pads of her thumbs wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks as he studied her. She was quiet but watched him closely. Perhaps she was as curious about him as he was her.
Or more likely, she was looking for signs of another emotional upheaval.
She was ethereal, bathed in the moonlight. It looked like it lit her from within. With a desire to capture that, he brought his hands up and snuck them into the silkiness of her hair, still fascinated by the way it shifted in color. He ran his fingers through it slowly, careful not to form any knots, relishing in the way it fell so effortlessly. When she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, he felt that deep seated melancholia that plagued him so.
Would that this could be real.
How many times had he repeated that particular wish? With how many lovers? If he wasn't dead or dying, had he finally gone so entirely mad and this apparition had been his mind's way of coping?
"Maybe it's time for you to get some more rest." The spirit suggested. Her eyes were open and watching him again. She seemed wary though a smile gently tilted her lips. He felt his own mouth frown deeper and more obviously.
"Everything is alright, I promise." She started to untangle his fingers from her hair. Eventually she had both of his hands clasped in hers and was easing herself away and off the bed. He started clamoring inwardly for the moment to stop. This was his dream and it would be over too soon.
"You'll be gone." He felt the whisper more than he heard it.
"Hmm?" The spirit had moved to the cupboard in the room, retrieving something and turning around to reveal a large blanket. "What was that?"
She threw the blanket up as she unfolded it at the foot of the bed, spreading it out over him. Perhaps the night had grown cooler and he hadn't noticed. Did she notice the temperature change? Could spirits do such a thing? He should know that. Forming coherent thoughts was becoming difficult, each one sounding less believable that the last. Before long, that ache had grown from behind his ears to behind his eyes and becoming the focus of all of his energy again.
"You'll feel better after you get more rest, I can promise that too." There was a little laughter that carried with her words as she smoothed the blanket out and regained her seat next to him on the bed. "Will you be able to sleep? Or will you need help?" She was leaving again and taking her warmth with her. He knew it impertinent, but he grabbed her wrist anyway, willing her to sit back down. She couldn't leave, he didn't want her to go. His consciousness was fading and he knew didn't have much time left with her. The heaviness had started in his toes had rapidly worked it's way through his nervous system and a familiar darkness was starting to ebb in the corners of his vision.
"Alright, I get the message." She said, the laughter more apparent this time. "I'll stay right here. But you'll have to share."
It had to be a dream. In no current reality did he have the right to lay next to someone in this manner. She didn't even make him move to accommodate her. Instead she extended herself along side him where he lay in the center of the bed. It was a mere sliver that she occupied on the small mattress. He too, slid down further under the blankets. Reluctant to let her leave his sight for too long, lest she drift away, he rolled over onto his side. This was apparently an ill-advised action based on both her protest and a shooting pain in his hip.
His skull started pounding, and he couldn't hear anything that she said over the pulsing though he saw her lips moving. The darkness was less of a creep and more of a flood now. Repeated touch of cool fingers along his face and hair helped welcome the oblivion he hurtled towards. Slowly his breathing became more even and the heaviness finally lay it's claim. The ache was there to stay.
The pain was nothing if it meant that the view between his intermittent slow blinking, was the spirit that kept him company.