Week 0, Friday Post-Invesitgation - Sandalphon

[fragileprophet]

[Ion's, uh, a little off balance right now. As soon as Fane, Varian, and Rebecca are done with him, he stumbles his way out in search of his partner. His whole body throbs in a dull ache, but his heart is in a much worse state. Stay close, he'd said. Not that this was his fault, but he feels terrible for the worry he may have caused nonetheless. His breath comes out in puffs as he finds the angel.]

Here I am! I'm so sorry!

[And he doesn't have his walking staff, so don't mind him as he immediately loses balance and collapses against the nearest piece of furniture, his knees buckling underneath him.]

Comments

[melancoffeea]

[When he comes to his senses, alone and confused, he finds himself only a little disappointed. Of course the child wouldn't stay. Who would seek an obsolete spare for protection?

He wanders, however, for a number of reasons. Besides the sense of foreboding, he can't rule out that Ion might be lost.

Upon Ion's appearance, Sandalphon turns on his heels. His steps bear no urgency, but he doesn't hesitate to approach his partner either. Something is wrong.]

What happened?

[fragileprophet]

I'm not sure.

[Taking a deep breath, Ion regains his balance, standing on shaking legs, his head spinning lightly.]

I was found unconscious under a table in the dining hall. Somehow, I'd gotten there while we were asleep, but I don't have any memory or having been moved.

[melancoffeea]

[Sandalphon lifts an arm to hover around Ion's side, should he need the support. His brow furrows.]

Someone moved you without our noticing . . .

[Incompetent as ever, he thinks.]

How are you feeling?

[fragileprophet]

I'm alright...

[But would he really ever say anything else?]

I just have a bit of a headache, that's all. You asked me to stay close, so I came as soon as I could.

[melancoffeea]

[His gaze drifts in thought before it refocuses on that sincere face. The one in the wrong is him, the wretch who'll doubt everyone.]

I thought you'd left.

[fragileprophet]

Ah...what? No, of course not. I wouldn't leave you.

[One of his hands comes out and falls on Sandalphon's arm. He could use some support, but it's also support he's seeking to give.]

I'd like it if nothing like this happens again, so I can be sure not to worry you.

[melancoffeea]

Why does that matter to you? . . . Ah. Never mind. I know.

[Compassion and a level head. Ion is a being of kindness. Sandalphon has done nothing to earn that compassion; it's only that Ion is so willing to give.

His arm feels numb.]

Your headache. Do you want to rest?

[fragileprophet]

[His face falls, just a little, at the dismissal of the question, but Ion pulls his face back up again.]

I'll be okay. Thank you for thinking of me...

[A part of him wants to say that he should stick around for any questions anyone wants to ask him, even though he knows he won't have any answers. But...it would be really inconvenient if he fell down because of how sore and exhausted he feels, wouldn't it?]

I don't want to cause anyone any trouble. If it's alright with you, maybe resting would be for the best. I'm really sorry about this.

[melancoffeea]

[Nodding, Sandalphon turns his arm to offer his palm. It's fine if Ion doesn't take the hand, but since he's in lack of the walking staff . . . ]

The one who should be sorry is me. I failed to keep an eye on you.

[He'd say that he won't let it happen again, except that would surely be a lie.]

We'll go back to the room. Unless you have somewhere else you'd rather be?

[fragileprophet]

No...I don't think anyone would have been able to do anything about it in the same situation.

[And without a trace of shyness, he takes Sandalphon's hand. His pace won't be terribly fast, but hopefully neither of them will be bothered.]

There's nowhere at all I'd rather be. You'll stay with me for awhile, won't you?

[melancoffeea]

[The last time he took someone's hand, he betrayed that person's trust. He has no such intention this time around as he leads Ion back to their shared room at a pace that should be merciful for his partner.

Despite all of his doubts, it feels—nice, to be of help. That he's able to offer something that's beneficial for someone else, even if it happens to be a minor task like this. Even if it won't last.]

I won't leave unless you tell me to.

[fragileprophet]

That makes me feel much safer already, thank you very much!

[With his pale hand squeezed inside of his partner's, Ion's happy to walk in comfortable silence for the rest of the way to their dorm room. Although he's put on his steadiest face since he ran into Sandalphon, he definitely sits heavily onto the bed when they arrive.

He's silent for another moment as he gets comfortable, but a thought comes to mind before much longer.]

Did you have a chance to speak with her? The lady who was killed, Gi-gan?

[melancoffeea]

[He trusts too easily, thinks Sandalphon.

While Ion situates himself on the bed itself, Sandalphon leans on one of its pillars. He thinks back to the old woman with her calm countenance and frank responses—now gone, killed so easily like the rest of them eventually will be.]

We spoke on a couple occasions. Did you?

[fragileprophet]

[He's absolutely not wrong in that assessment.]

Only once, unfortunately. I shared with her a story from home. It would have been nice to have gotten the chance to get to know her better.

[melancoffeea]

[It must have been that time with the dragon. But to dwell on what would or could have been won't help either of them.]

What story was that?

[fragileprophet]

Oh...it was about Yulia, the founder of the Order of Lorelei, who was both hated and revered for her ability to see into the future.

[As he leans back against the headboard, Ion folds his hands over his stomach.]

[melancoffeea]

[Is that the Order to which Ion belongs? Sandalphon recalls the foreign terminology he's heard over their interactions. He's starting to get a vague understanding of the pieces.]

Lorelei . . . Is that your God?

[fragileprophet]

Yes. Technically speaking, Lorelei is the aggregate sentience of the seventh fonon.

[He pauses, recalling hie conversation with Fane, and how absolutely known to others these terms are, so he rephrases.]

That is, the spirit of sound. But because of the role fonons play in composing our world, he's worshiped as a God. And Yulia, who was able to speak with him and for him with her prophecies, was worshiped in turn as a living Goddess.

[melancoffeea]

[A living goddess? He'll never understand the logic of humans.]

Your role didn't sound so different from hers.

[He wonders, was Ion hated and revered too? Strange. Those who lead and guide should be loved, revered, and wanted by all. The ones who don't understand this are are foolish—and petty.]