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[attr="class","star2"]Despite the casualness of Fern’s words at Mt. Pyre, Marza really did look bad. It was a cause for concern that Fern wasn’t accustomed to feeling where the other was involved– she was always so sturdy compared to him. Brutal and reckless at times, yes, but to have ultimately fared better than her? That did little to quell the concern that had settled into his system as he flew Kuru back to Sootopolis.[break][break]



Touching down in his back garden, Fern left Kuru there with the promise of a sizable treat later. (Even if he guessed that the corviknight was still awfully full on staraptor.) “Marza?” he called as he unlocked his back door and slipped inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light. He doesn’t need Cecilia to drift over to him for him to see where his friend wavers on her feet. “You’re good, you’re fine,” he says, voice high as he finds his way over to her. “Kuru’s not gonna eat y–”[break][break]



He was barely able to keep the taller woman from squashing him, let alone falling to the floor altogether. Hands perched on her shoulders, Fern had to awkwardly shuffle her down to the floor without dropping her. This called for extra hands because sadly Fern was not strong enough to lift her with his noodle arms.[break][break]



Summoning this trevenant, Poplar was better suited for the task and though the large tree pokemon might have knocked somethings over on the way to the spare room, she was at least laid out on the bed for the time being to rest.[break][break]



Fern wrung his hands together as he stared down at her. By that point he was painfully aware of his own injuries, though again, they weren’t nearly as extensive. He wasn’t all that sure what she’d suffered in the time between his packing her stab wound and his return to find her completely out of it. But he also didn’t want her to come out of her slumber and reactively throttle him as he tried to tend her in her sleep because she didn’t know where she was or who she was with.[break][break]



So for the time being, he pulled an extra quilt up over her, and waited for her to come to. Which…was a fair bit of time. Dizzy, and absolutely concussed from the knee to the face he’d taken, he puttered around. Put a kettle on and began to cook some sort of haphazard stew that his da always used to make when he was sick as a kid. At some point, he showered off and splinted his broken nose, which she’d re-set back on the mountain. Even then, he still looked and felt worse for wear.[break][break]



And Marza had yet to wake up– something that made him grow more and more nervous.


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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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For a long time, she slept like the dead. It wasn't easy, being put into such a blatant state of vulnerability. It was even harder knowing that her life was put in the hands of fern delaney and that she was probably going to die. Marza didn't relent control of her destiny easily, not anymore. Not after her father died and the freedom of that moment made her realize all of the years she'd lost to that bastard. That wasn't to say her life would be different had he not interfered so heavily in it.
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Rocket was her path, the only path. Maybe, however, it would have been better had it been her own decision. Now, all of this shit was simply natural for her. There was no alternative and she didn't have the skills necessary to change. That was fine by her, yet once again hse felt like she'd been torn from a place of autonomy into dependency and that didn't sit right with her.
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Of course, the old bastard was there waiting to grill her for her incompetency. And she couldn't wake up soon enough to escape it. "I am aware." She finally spat after a litany of insults, ones she'd already told herself. "I am aware that I failed, I died... big fucking whoop." Maybe she still would die. She shouldn't have ended up this way. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe she'd grown soft or lazy or complacent. Maybe she should have been more willing to kill or leave her partner to his fate or seek out the mountaintop with more willingness. Yet the only thing she could feel was bone-deep exhaustion. Living like that wasn't good enough, was it? Not anymore.
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The exhaustion followed her as she moved. "I've died before, this is nothing new." She probably would continue doing so, only barely making it through. Maybe the next time would be for good unless she got better. She wasn't afraid of dying, but like this. Weak and debilitated as she was. It was fucking unacceptable.
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The pain and exhaustion followed her as she opened her eyes. Her head snapped back against the pillow with a sharp breath. A bedroom. Everything came back in aching waves. "Shiiit." She groaned, head feeling like it was free-rolling around in her skull. "The fuck... where... god damn it."

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[attr="class","star2"]All the while she was unconscious, Fern paced their house anxiously. From end to end, even though they felt dead on their own feet and their legs thrummed with low burn from running around the mount. Their head dizzy, their ribs sore. But they knew sleeping was bad for a concussion as well, and they didn’t know the extent of it. So instead of sleeping, they uneasily fixed themself a cup of earl gray tea, and settled on the couch.[break][break]

Beginning to process what they had just seen was a practically a no-go, it was like Fern’s mind began to short-circuit the moment it broached the fights. The firing of the primal point. What he’d seen from the sky, and how he’d lost Ceci only for her to come back. That cold, sinking dread and malice and envy that coiled through him as he watched shadows dart across the sky. [break][break]

Where were they now? Could Fern track them down? Should they be found?[break][break]

Their mind walled up with thick, indiscernible dark and they could think of it no more without a throbbing ache to blot it all out again. So they did the next best thing—turned on some cheesy romcom flick, and dunked their tea bag idly as Marza lingered in the next room. It felt too calm and mundane an activity while their friend might be dying one room over, but Fern didn’t know how else to help. If she didn’t wake, though. Then they would call someone. Get her proper attention even if she clobbered him later for it.[break][break]

He could take a few more knocks for the sake of her well-being. The movie itself was mostly tuned out. Fern only stared blankly at the screen, worry gnawing at their stomach as Ceci stretched out across the couch, tail flopped over his lap. He’d patched her up as well, though the return to her corporeal form had somehow fixed her up beyond mortal wounding. Another thing he couldn’t begin to sort out.[break][break]

The TV volume was low enough to hear Marza’s agitated waking, and Fern scrambled up, teetering dangerously as a dizzy spell smacked him. “You’re awake!” he breathed with a heavy sigh once he reached the doorway, “thought I was going to have to find a necromancer to revive you just so I could kill you myself.”[break][break]

He leaned on the doorframe (because he needed to,) and folded his arms. Despite the way it made his nose ache terribly, Fern smiled. “Don’t scare me like that. If you’re done for, I’m easy pickings.”
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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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It was probably borderline miraculous that she was still alive, but maybe she wasn't alive. Maybe this was just some fucked up post-death limbo. If that were the case, finding herself in Fern's house was the last place she wished to be right then. Despite that, she didn't feel dead. Certainly, she had enough experience in that. It was still cold, but her body shivered in response. At the same time, she was equally cooking alive. Pain was less difficult for her to deal with than the sensation of helplessness she found herself in.
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Forcing herself to sit up, she felt her body sag like a limp noodle. Every inch burned and ached and shivered, a mess of reactions that made her sick to her stomach. She noticed Fern in a slow, belated way. "Oh..." She muttered, forcing her brain to operate more than simple one-syllable words. "You look like shit." She laughed, which was an awful decision because that felt like a kick to the ribs.
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Fern didn't look like shit per say, but still terrible for him. Considering the prim and perfect little bastard, she hadn't seen him like this before. Wounds on Marza was a frequent sight, though maybe not to a deathly extent. Even then, seeing Fern rough around the edges felt like a personal failure. It was stupid, but still a feeling she had regardless. She wasn't his keeper, even if he looked like he would blow away under a heavy breeze on most days.
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Again, she laughed and cringed under the pain. "Shit — don't make me laugh. You couldn't kill me even in this state." The last point was merely a matter of fact, thus didn't provoke a laugh. "Oh hush, I was out for what? An hour? Big deal."

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[attr="class","star2"]A hand lifted to his chest, “Cutting me straight to the heart within mere seconds of wakefulness..” He did look worse for wear, though. He couldn’t even deny it. A shower and splint on his nose couldn’t fully dispel the fog in his head or hide the bloom of bruises under his eyes. He didn’t care about any of that right now, though.[break][break]

“I hate that you’re right about that,” he sighed, a limp smile crossing his features. “How do you feel?” jayden cross’s gothita should’ve helped some with that heal pulse, but there was no way there wasn’t still lingering ache and general grossness.[break][break]

When she shrugged off his concern, Fern’s eyes widened and took on a pitiful, dewy quality. “Marza, you were out for over a full day…” His lips turned down in a small, pouting frown as he finally moved forward to where she had sat up. The itch was there to throw his arms around her dramatically, but he sat down beside her instead, on the other side of the bed. Favoring the idea of not being throttled for aggressive affection.[break][break]

It didn’t stop him from reaching out and squishing her face in his hands as he continued to rattle on. “Jayden came by to check in and he even patched you some, and you still didn’t wake up, I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do if you decided to move into your Sleeping Beauty era.”[break][break]

With a forlorn sigh, he relinquished his hold before he could get smacked for it. “I was really worried.” He wasn’t about to start sobbing about it or anything, but there was definitely still a pitiful puppydog look to him. “I haven’t gone anywhere, I couldn’t.”[break][break]

Especially not with the guilt that continued to churn in his gut over splitting up with her twice on the Mount. It felt like his fault that she’d been hurt as badly as she had.

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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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"Good, means I haven't dulled at all." Even awake as she was, sleep clung to her with a heavy fist. Exhaustion tugged relentlessly at her frame, even the act of sitting up felt like fighting the full weight of gravity. It made her waver, and gut twist up with nausea. It was evidence enough that she had barely survived. She was lucky. It was simple as that, really. Despite everything, his attempt at hurt made her chuckle. The rumble of the sound felt like a bludgeoning blow against her ribs.
[break][break]
"Fuck," She grumbled, arm looping around her waist. "Like nine rounds with a legendary, how do you think I feel?" Not that she was about to complain extensively to the slippery buizel.
[break][break]
Marza paused at that, "A day?" It felt like no more than mere minutes, yet the weight of her own dreams felt heavy. That explained it. Spending hours trapped with a ghost, that was enough to ruin anyone's beauty sleep. Fern was looking at her with a glint of expressions she wasn't equipped or comfortable with handling. Had they really worried that much about her? She couldn't recall a single time anyone had done that. Then again, he was probably more concerned that he'd get in trouble letting her die or something.
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Wait a minute— Her hand snapped out, grabbing him by the collar, "You brought Cross over here, you little —!? I swear I could throttle you. Ah!" She retracted stiffly, feeling every muscle in her body clench up from the pain that the motion wracked out of her. It was worse enough, without bringing jayden cross into this. She scoffed, "Of course, you didn't leave. Had everything you needed here while I was out. Couldn't go two seconds without flirting, probably made him feel bad. Weeping over me like a baby, you sly dog."
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It was the closest thing to teasing, without seeming too endearing about it. "Quit your blubbering — I'm kickin'. Have some goddamn faith." She grumbled as she attempted to stand, "You got food? I'm starvin'."



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[attr="class","star2"] Of course she’d see the lingering pain as a decent thing. Fern hated it, himself. He was achy and sore and his nose felt terrible. But he was a major wimp in comparison. He watched her process the knowledge, nodding solemnly, “Yeah, I couldn’t sle—“[break][break]

He squeaked, literally so, as she yanked his shirt. It was promptly followed by a wince as his aches resonated with the pull. “I didn’t bring him here, Marza,” he huffed back, a flicker of irritation flaring in his eyes that she would think so little of him.[break][break]

It faded, though, when she retreated—obviously still in a degree of pain. “I didn’t show up at the center for treatment because I stayed here waiting for you to wake up. He came because of that. It wasn’t like I was out here looking for an immediate bootycall. Fuck.” Okay, maybe he wasn’t quite done feeling frustrated.[break][break]

Maybe she was only teasing, but he huffed and sulked, arms folding. “I wouldn’t do that. Plus he stitched up your stab wound.” After that, they’d let her be. Mostly just sitting because Fern had been too tired to do much but lean against jayden cross and explain everything that had happened. It had kept him distracted from returning to his fretting.[break][break]

Fern sighed, then, doing his best to let it go and take the prod for what it was. A prod. And maybe a vague show of affection. “Yeah, I made special stew yesterday. Since, well, I figured you’d be up by now.” He offered a hand if she chose to take it.


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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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Maybe she had over-reacted, but all she could feel was the overwhelming dread of being seen as something other than an immovable object. Instead, just a pathetic dying woman, bleeding out in a bed. The last place she’d wish to die. Of course, not everyone processed things with such a serrated edge, so it wasn’t like she could fault Fern. Even if she wanted to pop his head off like a child’s doll.
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Fern responded with a degree of frustration she wasn’t entirely familiar with from the other. Fern was soft, emotional. Usually, he was all charm. He had no teeth. It would have been in her father’s opinion that he was the type to be abandoned in the woods, left to freeze in the cold. At one time, Marza believed that, but now… well things felt complicated. “I didn’t ask you to do that.” She replied gruffly, not really sure what he wanted from her. The word immediate nearly made her laugh though, which hurt in the ribs.
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The effort was a waste of energy, at best. She could feel what seemed like years of exhaustion pulling at her bones. Pain blossomed in every square-inch of skin, needle-like with the frequency of cuts that adorned her. Already she was out of breath, fisting at the blankets as she grit her teeth on a curse. “Get up, you useless cow.”
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Another attempt, but then she fell seated back onto the bed with an aggravated grumble. ”Shit.” Finally, she looked at the offered hand with an eye roll before taking it, it was just the leverage she needed to force herself upward. By then, it was easier, but also harder not to go crashing down. ”Where’s Kuru?”
[break][break]


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From what he could tell at the time, jayden cross hadn’t seemed to think any less of Marza for being unconscious and injured. It was difficult to read him at times, yes, but disapproval hadn’t been something he’d ever sensed from the admin. Not that telling Marza as much would do anything to reassure her. Not if she was wrapped up in how she thought it would be perceived, because weakness was how she would perceive it as.[break][break]

So he did his best to soothe the offended sting he felt. It didn’t fully work, but he couldn’t properly stay cross with her, either. He huffed, arms still folded as he looked away petulantly. “It didn’t need asking. It was a given.” What was so complicated about that? Whether she considered him the same or not, she was a friend to him. A partner in crime. He could’ve easily made himself scarce and left her behind to rot on the mount. A younger Fern, who’d only ever looked out for himself and his own hide probably would’ve done that.[break][break]

But he’d come to appreciate the benefit of their working together. He cared, eugh. How sentimental was that? She thought he was a weakling, and to an extent, that was true. Emotional and clingy, also true– but until recently, he’d never really held attachments. He was all show. Smoke and mirrors, nothing solid or longstanding.[break][break]

Simply put: she should consider herself special.[break][break]

Still, rather than continue to coddle her, he watched in silence as she berated herself to rise, eyes narrowed. “You’re welcome.” Dryly spoke when she finally took his offered hand. “He’s in my garden, terrorizing my polteageist.” She’d be able to see as much quite clearly from the wide window in his kitchen that looked out over the back garden as he moved to a container on the counter to prise it open. “I made soup. Special soup, if you will.” Though it wasn't really actually all that special. Just something his da had called it when he was a sick kid refusing to eat.

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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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For as unaffected as she made herself to be, little thing scraped at her nerves. Of course, this wasn't entirely her fault. She'd been made to criticize herself on a micro-level at every second of every day if she wasn't strong enough. That was likely never going to change and, at times, she almost envied Fern's easy nature.
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She peered out the window to spy the raven pokemon hopping around the yard, attempting in vain to nip at the polteageist with the edge of his beak. He was a playful buzzard, even if Marza didn't exactly encourage that playfulness. Oftentimes, she'd wonder if it was fair to keep him, but considering the bird willingly ate other pokemon, she suspected her brutality wasn't that actual problem. They both had their issues.
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Of course, she'd managed to piss off Fern, which was a state of mind she should be comfortable with. She thrived in ill-tempers, but with Fern it felt like kicking a concerned puppy about. Not a lot of fun, that. Even then, she didn't apologize. She didn't thank him. Unlike him, there was nothing natural about working together for her. She was a solitary old bat and that wasn't about to change just because he had sulky feelings. Still, she figured it couldn't hurt not to punch him harder where she knew it'd hurt the most. She'd certainly never allow anyone else to do it. The little bastard got under her skin like a thorn. Yet she hadn't removed him, not yet at least.
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"Special soup, huh? I'll be the judge of that."


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In all honesty, he didn’t really expect an apology or thanks. The fact that she was now accepting his help and taking his offered food was enough. Or at least, Fern told himself it would be enough. The assumptions about his intention in bringing Jayden there still stung, as did her callus treatment. But that was Marza, and it would do him well to remind himself that. His typical resilience had thinned out; he was worn down and worn through. He’d lost Cecilia and found her again. He’d almost lost Marza in the process too.[break][break]

It was a lot of fear and grief and relief to cycle through in a matter of a day and a half.[break][break]

So he could accept it, but it didn’t mean he was going to pretend, either. He was void of his normal antics. The dramatic flourish and the coy grins. The teases and jabs. He’d brushed up against too many negativities. And that wasn’t even including the strange, ominous presences he’d sensed in the rift openings. Those had cast their own pallor over him, and he couldn’t even begin to make sense of it.[break][break]

“Sit then,” he told her with a sigh, eyes flitting to the dining table in a cozy little nook. He’d separated everything he’d made into neat containers while she’d been asleep. The need to keep his hands busy had been too great for the stretch of time that Jayden hadn’t been there to still the clang and clatter of his exhausted nerves.[break][break]

As he pulled one from the fridge and moved to heat it in the microwave, Ceci drifted from her bed tucked beside the heater. Her clear body thinned between tangible and solid, as she was too lazy to go around objects in her way. Citrine eyes blinked at Marza before she drifted away toward Fern with a reptilian coo. “Oh yes, Cecilia came back to life, by the way.”

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Marza Volchitsa // m: post-paaa // haha…

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