Ezra + Rhys // Follow Up

[coolmonsoon]

Who: Rhys and Ezra
When: Friday morning, 12/7
Where: Makeshift Bastan infirmary place thing.
Before/After: n/a
Warnings: Discussion of organ replacement, leaking emotions, intense looks and hopeless ideals. The usual!



After rushing Ezra to the healers, Rhys did not get to see him. He was pushed back, needing to give them space, then pulled back, forcibly reminded Ezra was not the only one with injuries.

There was still work to be done. He checked on Ezra frequently, always finding him unconscious, and always unable to stay long before there was something else to attend to with two guild leaders down. Then, once, Rhys found Lera at his bedside. He was relieved someone would be there for Ezra when he woke if Rhys couldn't be. Lera had been as panicked-- more, maybe-- when she saw what was happening to Ezra. There was a quiet thought somewhere in the back of Rhys' mind, a kind of working theory that didn't have chance to voice itself before Rhys had to focus on other things.

The best Rhys could do was address the forces in their absence, direct what he had the power to direct, and get to work himself. He forgot resting until Gabe stopped him.

It wasn't until Friday morning he got the chance to check on Ezra again. Rhys was at the hospital as soon as he was able, dressed in casual berserker leathers and furs instead of armor, most of it not covering enough of his chest to hide his own bandages. If he was the Ahura, he'd stick to looking like it. Rhys entered quietly, standing at the door an extra moment after he shut it behind him and saw Ezra there, bandaged, stable, and still alive.

His shoulders dropped, losing their tension, and he smiled.


It was hard to sit still.

Unfortunately, being upright for long periods wasn't proving to be the best of ideas. It was still difficult to adjust to seeing with one eye, and the headaches came and went. He felt ridiculous- Lera had clearly had it much worse. Or had she? No, he was certain she had. Or maybe it wasn't even comparable. He didn't know.

Someone had found his glasses, thank God, somewhere in all of that rubble, unscathed. Amazing what alchemy could do, he considered. He felt even more ridiculous wearing them when the other side of his face was bandaged up, but not being able to see properly hadn't been helping with the headaches, so small blessings.

He wanted mostly to be up and moving, but the reality of the situation was, he was most comfortable sitting in a quiet room with his eyes shut. Was this what migraines were like? He didn't envy his sister Rebekah at all. How was she doing? he wondered. He hadn't talked to his family in a long time. Maybe he should check his email...

He was looking at work emails instead, the movement on his right side where he couldn't see, and thus Rhys went entirely unnoticed until the door shut behind him. He jerked his head up and made a face, blinking a little. It was almost as though his eyesight had flattened in his good eye... "Ah- hey," he said, grinning a little. The right side of his face still hurt. How are you? he signed. His voice felt like it was rattling in his head. He sat up in the bed, tunic, pants, blanket in disarray, and put the tablet aside so he could focus on Rhys.


Better than you, Rhys signed back, smile still there. He pulled the chair over and sat by Ezra's bed with his own sense of heaviness. With a closer look at Ezra's face, Rhys wasn't able to hide his waning smile or the concern in his eyes. Even with Nyx agreeing to try to find a substitute if this was at its worst, it didn't mean the pain and the injury hadn't happened.

A flare of anger born of fear rose, very suddenly, when he remembered Ezra's final heal, but it was gone as soon as Rhys recognized it. Ezra didn't look in the condition to recall it himself, and if Rhys had been the paladin, he would have done the same. Almost everything about this war came tagged with someone hypothetically doing the same. It was an odd comfort.

How are you feeling? A lot of that answer seemed as if it should have been obvious, but he'd gladly give Ezra the excuse to complain about it if he needed that. Did they get you caught up on what happened?


He laughed a little, but it was soft. Even if Rhys was mad at him, even if he felt like crap, seeing Rhys made his spirits lift a bit. I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than me until I saw Lera.

He shifted so he could look at Rhys better without craning his neck all the way around. He hadn't even thought to switch sides on the bed, which he should probably do. Not being able to see who was there right away was becoming a nuisance.

Rhys looked all right. Definitely better than him. Shoulder looked healed up, and he was up and about. That was cause for a spark of envy, but that also caused a spark of pain, and he reached up to gently prod at his face where the twitch had caused the sudden jab of pain. The cut, he'd been told, had healed fine, though there would be a deep scarring. It was all cosmetic now. Except the eye.

He hesitated as he brought his hand down. It wasn't something he could just shrug off. He'd been hurt a lot, it was true, but he'd practically let Aerveas nearly cleave his face in half. That it was only this much was lucky. Thinking of investing in laser eye surgery. He flicked his fingers nervously. It should be cheaper for only one eye, right?

It made for a poor joke. Even he didn't seem to have taken it well. Fine otherwise, he added quickly, trying to hide a wince. It wasn't like the eye was ... totally useless. Just... mostly useless.


She was more concerned about you, Rhys signed, careful to keep his expression measured. They were friends and fellow guild leaders. It was natural. And if there was anything more in that, he wasn't going to shine more of a spotlight on Lera she may not have wanted.

Rhys flinched when Ezra made his prods, half reaching to stop him before lowering his hands on letting it be. It was Ezra's face, after all. He couldn't help frowning, knowing there was pain there. Did they have Earth pain relievers here yet, he wondered.

Poor joke as it was, Rhys let himself half smile. The Khshathra and I were talking about that. There may be options in alchemy.


That comment made him sober up a little on the subject. Lera being more concerned... well, that was who she was. Where Ezra turned everything inward, Lera could at least see outside herself to others. And he'd been out awhile. He looked down, away from Rhys for a moment. He wasn't sure how he felt about these sorts of things. Should he have been stronger? Had it been just too much? Or was he just that weak?

She should have focused on herself more, he signed. If he'd said it out loud, there would have been a harsher, stricter tone. As it was, he looked vaguely uneasy and a little on the soft side. Did he want to say what kind of relationship they had? He didn't even know what it was.

He caught Rhys' frown and shrugged a little, putting his hand down in a guilty fashion, suggesting he'd been told to stop prodding a few times already. He twisted his hands together for a moment, looking surprised at the suggestion. "What?" he asked out loud, forgetting to sign. Options in alchemy? What kind of crazy potion could Harriet make up for this?


Rhys smiled a little despite knowing how strict it would have been. He tried to calm it, but it turned to a grin. Says the guys who passed out healing me.

They were all guilty of it, and there was nothing any of them could say to stop it. They could only make up for it in each other, caught in an infinite worry loop. Perhaps there were worse things.

Ezra's surprise had Rhys sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck while trying to think how the signs would look. Finally, he looked back at Ezra: A replacement eye. Like a construct.


Forget the rest of it for a moment.

"A what? In my head??"


Essentially, Rhys and Nyx had discussed the possibility of putting a a magical bit of metal inside of Ezra's skull. A robot piece. A cyborg eye.

His smile grew more sheepish, mostly because the crude realization did not make the idea seem less viable. Rhys had been in Zenderael too long. Like Cuthbert's leg, he signed. Except an eye.


For a long moment, Ezra simply stared at Rhys as though he were crazy, glancing down briefly to catch sight of the signing.

...well. All right. Cuthbert's leg was pretty awesome. But in his head?

A robot piece in his head??

"...that sounds fucking amazing," he said, his expression shifting, appropriately enough, to amazement.


Rhys stared back, trying not to smile. It was entirely possible he were crazy.

If he was, he hadn't gone mad alone.

He nodded in agreement with Ezra, grinning in that see?! kind of way.

If you're interested, we can talk to the Khshathra more about the details when you're well.


"Did you know it was my dream as a kid to become Soundwave from the Transformers?" he asked, seriously, ignoring the pain in his head. How fucking amazing would that be??

...but he didn't want to go losing body pieces just for the promise of sweet robot parts, so he let that statement stand and considered Rhys' offer.

It couldn't hurt to ask about it, he answered finally, going back to signing. How would it even work out? What awesome things could he do with it? Laser?? No, he didn't want a laser in his eye socket. What if it backfired?

He looked, at the very least, amused, as he settled in to think about that. He continued, sorry for worrying you like that. There was a lot of blood. In retrospect, a lot of it had probably been his... Not sorry for giving you the heals though.


Zenderael probably turned a lot of childhood dreams into strange realities, now that Rhys thought of it. Rhys could only grin back in response. If Ezra had to lose an eye, and if he could replace it, it was better if they could see it as a good thing. And if it wasn't something agreed on, or something Ezra could take seriously, at least they had that mental image now.

Rhys mock sighed. I know you're not sorry. When were either of them ever actually sorry? I'm glad you're okay. He let his hands drop to his lap and smiled more softly.


Being able to do superpowered jumps and kick-offs was pretty nice, yeah. Didn't quite compare to the whole cybernetic eye business, though. Or did it? No, they were different, equally amazing things.

The worry came in not quite knowing if the latter was possible yet. That, admittedly, was a little nerve-wracking. I'll talk to her about it. He grinned, but it slipped a little as he hesitated. ...it's still my eye, you know?

The shift to something softer almost caught him off guard and he looked sheepish. My hero.


Rhys was being serious! He sighed again, less fake, and looked away with some growing redness in his cheeks.

...At least he had managed to save someone. At least of those he tried to protect, he didn't have to add Ezra to the list of people who had depended on him, or who others had hoped he could protect, and hadn't failed. Rhys may have been left alive, but he wouldn't have survived it.

Let's not make a habit of this, he finally decided on signing, smiling back at Ezra.


He watched Rhys, grinning again, even if it hurt. No promises, right? Rhys not doing something stupid was just as impossible. He just... seemed to get away with it more.

That seemed to sober Ezra up a little and he looked down again, expression fading into neutrality. He rubbed his hands together, focusing on the joints of his fingers in a moment of silence and non-signing. He looked over to Rhys again. Normally his right eyebrow would be raised, but it was still hidden, kept still, under the bandages.

Have you thought of anything you'd like to do for Jordan?


Rhys grinned back. They were always stupid, and would continue to be. But if they could lay off war-starting stupid, that might be nice.

His mood shifted with a flinch once he realized the name Ezra was signing out. Stunned, Rhys tried to stay carefully neutral as the thoughts drifted back in. Rhys' own reaction in the tree, the emails he had gotten from Lindsey and Duncan. And the memorial-- that was today.

Anything we do would be for us. It's too late for her. He hesitated to look to Ezra as he signed it. The dead were gone and out of reach except to the clerics, and the hunters had refused it. Perhaps it simply wasn't possible in this case.

What would Jordan have even wanted? Rhys didn't know. So close, and yet so much he didn't know. Now he never would.


Point taken. He paused a moment, sorting out what he wanted to say.

What would you do for you, then? he asked, looking back up to Rhys seriously. He was mad about the hunters refusing resurrection, he was mad about how they'd kept it to themselves, how they hadn't chosen a new Mano- but hunters were a strange sort that way, and his anger had faded in the past few days while he kept to the bed.

But there was no judgement, no expectation. If Rhys didn't want to do anything, he didn't have to do anything. That reaction alone told him that there might be something, though, and he didn't know if anyone else would ever ask.


Rhys hadn't expected that anyone would. There was guilt pressing in from all sides now. Guilt there was nothing he could do to protect her when there was no one else as close. She let go of people. Was it just Rhys, then? He should have done something...

But she didn't let him in, and the fact he couldn't defend her when she wasn't around to defend herself left him hollowed.

And guilt because he knew who it had been, because they had acknowledge the possibility, and in his passiveness another had died. Crestfallen as he was, staring at his own lap, Rhys' eyes flickered, suddenly darkened and hard.

I know who did it. I want to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Not to Duncan, nor to Gunnar and his guardian.


Ezra stared at him at that signing, disbelieving, feeling a chill go up his spine. "You do?" he asked quietly aloud, again forgetting to sign, not realizing that Rhys wouldn't have seen it anyway without looking at him. "Who?"

Who, why- all of those questions that had been running around in his head since it'd happened. He wasn't even sure if he felt insulted that he hadn't found out yet- some things, he realized, he didn't really want to know, along with everything else he had to deal with.

Which just made him feel worse, knowing that Rhys didn't go through anything less.


Rhys hadn't had the time to debate if he should tell the others. When the thought arrived with Ezra, he felt immediately he should. No more secrets. Yet now Rhys gave pause. This was a sad and personal story. Jordan had been trying to kill Alex since early on. Rhys had never known how to feel about it. He voiced an objection, but could not stop her.

Was this how she wanted to be remembered? More honestly, was it how he wanted her remembered? Rhys was willing to tell Ezra, but not as a guild leader. As a friend. Whether or not the information was necessary could be debated later.

Former character. Mage. He could see the reservation in Ezra and paused. The cold neutrality in Rhys' face finally softened with a shred of warmth again. How much of the story do you want?


Former character. Mage. Irena? She didn't seem the type, but who knew? He tried to think of anyone else, but names weren't coming to him. He didn't know many mages.

Rhys' face told him a lot, more than he wanted to know, but he was careful not to let it show this time. It was Rhys dealing with Jordan's death, not the Ahura dealing with the Mano's, and it was Ezra that wanted to share the burden, even if he didn't want it, not the Spenta. They would be replaced- that wasn't a new concept. Even if they could keep holding on to it without succession, without murder, time would take it from them eventually. No, it wasn't as a guild leader that he wanted to deal with this. He didn't feel much like a guild leader in what equated to his pajamas anyway.

As much as you know or figure. All of it.


Rhys nodded to Ezra. Jordan made Alex, he began, starting with what he knew Ezra already had. When Alex woke, she tried to kill him. Never worked.

There was a long pause, both to collect his thoughts and to let the information sink in. Rhys kept even, trying to keep his judgments and guesses out of it. There was too much Jordan didn't say, and too much Rhys didn't know. Alex had a companion, Reilanin. He spelled that one out, letter by letter.

Jordan found Alex here. Killed him.

Reilanin killed Jordan.


At the mention of Alexander's name, he stiffened a little, but remained otherwise neutral, watching Rhys intently while he sorted himself out. He wasn't surprised to hear about Jordan's attempts- she had been a strange kind of straightforward, so the idea that she would just go for it and try to kill off Alexander didn't surprise him.

Reilanin. Rhys had mentioned that name before, he thought. The mage? The mage he'd just mentioned, that had killed Jordan? His mind was working ahead, but he was missing why she was involved. Until Rhys told him why.

Jordan had managed to kill Alexander.

He stared, dumbfounded, while he took his own time to sort that out. "She... so she left to deal with that... and..."

Stupid. Fucking stupid! He reached up to put his hand over his mouth before he could say anything else. She'd gone and gotten herself killed, basically. Right before the final battle. Against a molavvas. Without telling anyone. Without any backup, without any understanding among her fellow guild leaders, among her friends. Before a goddamn battle!

...she'd gone and gotten herself killed. But Alex was dead. All that was left was his companion, that mage.

He didn't know what to say about that, what to do about it. If she'd been a companion... a revenge kill?

"What are you gonna do about it?" he asked, staring at the blanket over his legs before he looked up again to Rhys, his expression carefully set into stillness.


It wasn't until Ezra worded it that way that the reality of it began to sink into Rhys. Jordan had left to confront it, but knowingly? It did not make sense to think otherwise, but a part of Rhys wouldn't accept that. He didn't want to believe she wouldn't have at least left someone some information. Knowing the importance of the battle, she would have told someone had she been so aware.

Wouldn't she?

Rhys went still, thoughtful. The more he kept thinking about it, the harder his thoughts were to hold onto. Questions and feelings muddled them. Find out if she's still a threat. And put an end to it if she was. It went unsigned, but Rhys' eyes were grim enough.


Whatever the two of them had gone through after fleeing the Undertow, Ezra realized, had deeply affected how Rhys thought of her. And maybe that was just the reality of it- maybe Jordan had been a different person with Rhys. Without being drunk.

He couldn't think of what to say. He knew more about what the mage might be capable of after all of this. It sounded like there might still be some reason to distrust her. Or some reason to trust her in spite of this. He looked aside and nodded a little, jaw clenched, swallowing.

"Just let me know when you go. Right?" he asked, looking back, almost pleadingly. "Tell me before you go."


Jordan, Rhys had yet to fully realize, was a far different person for Rhys than she had been for everyone else. In his mind, she was there at the start. It didn't matter that they couldn't do anything at first. That someone was on his side and believed with him that something was wrong, and that someone might-- and did-- accept he had become the Ahura had meant he wasn't alone.

There were others that stood with him now. Life was such a different thing, but it still left a hole and so many questions. Jordan had her own approaches, and Rhys had his. He tried to respect hers, but if he had argued more, if he had been more firm, would this have been prevented?

It was one of many thoughts cycling through his mind, but there was only one actually actionable thing he could do about it: confront Reilanin. Make sure he didn't get news like this again about Duncan or Theresa, or about Gunnar, who may try to interfere.

Rhys took Ezra's hand in his for a brief squeeze and nodded. I won't be a repeat of what happened.


He knew the look on Rhys' face, he recognized it, had felt it twist his own features before. But it was different, because this was not something he could help Rhys with. He had no stake in this, like Rhys had.

But he wanted to chance that it seemed they were always so deprived of. The chance to be involved. The chance to help. Ezra stared at him so hard he didn't see Rhys going to take his hand, and when he took it, held it back tightly in response.

No secrets for shit like that, he signed back when his hand was his own again, his expression still serious.


Rhys cared for Jordan, but he could no longer defend her secrecy. He walked his own thin edge with Ezra, forced to keep some secrets, and defying that and telling him regardless. It was Rhys' belief that they needed to share what they had. Anyone malicious who wanted to know would find their own means regardless. Secrecy would not protect them as well as unity could.

If only they could say he had been wrong.

No secrets. Not for this. Not for anything that came close. Rhys nodded to Ezra, firm, determined.

But I want to talk to her first.

She may attack Rhys regardless, but Alexander was dead. The plan to kill guild leaders has been his, though players had affected them both. He couldn't know until he confronted her.


There would be disagreements, there would be moments of one trying to talk the other out of something, but there would be trust. Ezra was sure of it. He trusted Rhys, he trusted his judgement. And if it wasn't good, if it did lead him into harm, Ezra knew that Rhys would have done in wholeheartedly. And he knew Rhys would do the same for him.

Do what you have to.

There was no other question about it. Concern, yes, always. But that was natural, that wasn't something he could, or would, hide. Ezra would back him up as best he could. But he could only do that if Rhys would allow it.

He sighed a bit and sat back against the headboard, as he'd been doing earlier, shifting to sit properly in the bed again. So much to think about... a new eye, Jordan's murder, and not to mention all of the long-standing business of righting Bastan and the rest of Everea. So many mixed feelings came with it all.

I dunno about you, but I've got a lot to think about. Feel free to stick around, but I think I'm gonna go quiet for a bit.


Rhys didn't know what to expect. His emotions were in the way, conflicted, not quite angry, but approaching this heat of frustration. Almost friends. Almost allies. It wasn't like Siegmund and Evelyn, but the mistake held parallels. He had to see her. He had to ask and had to know.

He watched Ezra's signs and nodded, more weakly this time. There was more to think about than Rhys had space in his mind for, but he wasn't the one who had a broken city to worry about once he got out of bed.

There's a lot to do, he signed, then paused. Let me know if I can ever bring you back anything.


He smiled weakly. Morphine would be pretty sweet, but I'm told they ran out of that pretty early on.

He was tempted to go to sleep- not because he was tired, but as a way to pass the time, and hopefully be better when he woke up. But he had too much to do to consider something like that just yet.

"I'm good," he said out loud, trying to sound reassuring. Not good, but... able. It'd have to do. "I'll tell you if I think of anything. Promise."


Rhys nodded again. I'll check on you later.

He smiled, a little forced, and clasped Ezra's hand less in reassurance and more in comradeship this time. With effort, Rhys pulled himself back to his feet. Just focus on getting well.

In the meantime, Rhys would take care of that wall. And anything else that might crop up.