hearing priam's voice, elijah opens the door to the medbay— and priam is quick to enter it. there is little transition. no buffer. preparation can not come for the unpredictable.

elijah moves to the table, eyes lingering on the gabite's weakened shape. he winces at the pronunciation of his profession and at the dragon's sorry state.

he's reminded of the eternal floette: continually depleted, near the edge. yet, this gabite may drift toward the opposite direction. from the edge to better health, if priam's plans have come to fruition.

"so it worked?" elijah says. "how the hell did you get him back?"

he hauls out a large planter from the back. it's filled with dirt and the earthy musk rises like spirits from beyond the grave.

"he seems to be okay." he muses— and he tacks on for suspense or a safety net of uncertainty: "for now."

priam conrad

"i wish i could tell you." elijah says, finger curled around his chin in thought.

from his pokeball, his florges bouquets outward. its melodic voice descends upon the gabite's body as it ponders over its state. blue leaves and coral flowers dangle and drift from its head like an ornate chandelier.

"aromatherapy, illusen."

the room fills with aromatics. without command, the florges raises its arms as a GRASSY TERRAIN emanates from its lithe shape. the dirt grows small saplings.

"what you did... is something i've never had the pleasure of encountering before." elijah says. "who knows? maybe the time police will come kill us all."

priam conrad

the silver light of a crescent moon consecrates the space. elijah's brow perches on the rays with skeptical shape. never had he seen such a move— but then again, much like the sea this metal home swims in, how much of the world has elijah left deliberately unexplored?

"remind me to study that sometime." elijah says as the smeargle dances. his florges sings, pleased by the moondrunk vigor. "but you?"

he points his finger at priam's forehead and pushes in.

"you need to sleep. you look dead."

priam conrad

"fine." elijah turns his back to priam. the earthy smell of geosmin tickles the nose with the imagined hint of spring rains. "stubborn kid."

the apothecary pulls out an old blanket from a nearby mahogany chiffonier. grunting, he leans over to ram his toes into the side of an even older sofa. a bed springs out, rusty metal mechanizations groaning as the cushions bounce.

"you can sleep here then." elijah starts beating the blanket with his palm. "when gabby's awake you wanna be rested. not some walking zombie."

elijah's sharp stare hovers at the gabite in rest.

priam conrad

elijah stops beating the blanket.

"sure."

his hand resumes for one or two more strikes as he watches priam move to the sofa, drawn by its somnolent gravity. an inevitable march.

"but just know i'm not gonna do this ag—" priam's already asleep.

sighing, elijah steps over to the sleeping boy. he casts his blanket over top, careful to avoid wrinkling in its thick body of fabric.

"good night." alone, he moves to a rickety old stool of wood. he squats on it, eyes shifting slowly from priam's slumbering shape to the rise and fall of gabby's chest.

priam conrad