A Friend Indeed [Torin]

[Finn]

Kilvin's Forge, Kalzasi
71st of Frost, Year 121 AS

Finn was not expecting Arry's old friend to come to him asking for help, but he was rather glad he had. He wanted to fit into Arry's life perfectly, though he was now aware of more of the complications that had Arry feeling some kind of way about Finn's friend Torin. No matter; he would tell Arry what had happened, who had asked for his help, and it ought to be fine in the end. If not, there were discussions they needed to have.

"Torin?" he asked quietly as he stepped into the man's bedroom.

Apparently, he wasn't the first person who had come to help, which didn't hurt his feelings. Their friendship was relatively new, and while sincere, it hadn't quite grown to any profound depths. Still, he liked Torin, thought him a good man and a good friend, and so he was only too happy to help.

He had his new old lute slung over his back. It had cleaned up rather well, though it was certainly scarred by long years of hard use. All the same, it sang for him and he was glad that his hand was finally feeling more like it used to, albeit quicker to grow weary. Everyone said he was too into his head about it, that his skill hadn't suffered for the injury, but he didn't know. He just wanted to be the best he could be and the setback had been difficult.

Torin's lover was going to rest, which Finn thought was for the best. He had looked particularly haggard, but Finn had assured him that this wasn't his fault, that Arry was doing just fine and there was just an element of the unexpected and unknown when it came to things magical. The man knew about his Mesmer, but he didn't know if he knew about his Traversion. From what he gathered, he gathered secrets. Finn would rather keep some to himself.

[Torin Kilvin]

The exiled wandering continued, now frantic where once it had been endless. There was a door somewhere, he could find it, he must. But it wasn't made of door, as others were, it was made of...

The Smith couldn't remember.

A song walked into the room where form slept, far from function. The song melodied closer, vibrating the air in soft waves that couldn't break apart the shadows but did push them closer to the edges.

The idea of The Smith worked its way into the song, singing of him and to him at once. He tried to reach for it, but it was too warm now. The warmth weighed on him, like a wine press weighs on grapes, wringing the richness from him through his skin.

The Minstral pulled a tree from his chest. A tree all strung with notes, each waiting with bated breath for his touch to ring their secrets free. They sang, rising to join the song that was The Minstral's presence; leaping into each other and embracing as old friends who are a breath away from becoming new lovers.

The Smith felt his form settle from the tense wring of the heat, though it did not dissipate, the song blew its breeze and let him forget for a time. He still leaked, but it didn't bother him so much.

The library had been left ages ago, an eon of entrapping escape, he barely could recall it. Now he was inside a mountain, the rock had turned to water below, boiling merrily as a carrion bird cackles over a corpse. The heat was dangerous, but each time he managed to climb away from one spout or rivulet another appeared. There was a path out still, but it was narrow and The Smith was so tired now.

[Finn]

Torin didn't respond, but then he didn't really expect him to. Finn was no mage despite his second Rune. He had no physic either, unless a soothing song could help.

There was water on the side table, cold tea, and cold broth as well. If any of it could go down Torin's throat when he had a moment of lucidity, that was a goal. He did look thin, but he hadn't seemed to have much of an appetite since he had helped Finn and only been attacked by Arry for it. The guilt weighed heavily upon Finn, though he didn't know what to do about it since Torin would accept no help with that.

He unslung his lute and sat down in the chair with a sigh. As he tuned the thing, he tries to listen to Torin's symphony. It was strange; parts of it were here, similar to anyone dreaming, but parts of it were absent, as if parts of Torin were absent. He couldn't claim to understand a Rune he didn't own, nor the process of initiation. His own had been entirely different. Whatever he was dreaming, it seemed as though he were desperately seeking something. Finn didn't know what.

Deft fingers plucked a quitely cheerful, relaxed introduction before settling into strummed chords as his voice came in.

"I never thought about it before
Just close your eyes and ignore
The dark that troubles you most
Don't let it be here
And if you see it again
Hold your breath and pretend
That you're already dead
You'll never be alone
I will always hold your hand, I'll never let you fall
'Cause nothing, nothing else matters at all
If you're scared, just think of me, 'cause you know I'd never let you be
Anywhere but with me

"Forget the story you heard
Why are you worried about the dirt?
I don't think that you'll mind
When it's your time
'Cause I will be there with you
And we'll figure out what to do
So that you don't get bored
You'll never be alone
I will always hold your hand, I'll never let you fall
'Cause nothing, nothing else matters at all
If you're scared, just think of me, 'cause you know I'd never let you be
Anywhere but with me

"So try to sleep with a smile
Promise I'll wait a while
To make sure that you've moved on
You won't be lost
I will always hold your hand, I'll never let you fall
'Cause nothing, nothing else matters at all
If you're scared, just think of me, 'cause you know I'd never let you be
Anywhere but with me."

► Show Spoiler

[Torin Kilvin]

The realization The Library had offered him had gotten The Smith away from oncoming Night and led him into the Day, but now it was hot. Even under the earth, it was too warm, too hot. The Smith was burning, though it almost felt like it came from inside as much as the boiling rock below.

The cool breeze of sound began to pick up, became a whole song, washing the sweat from his face. Could he follow it? Peering around, trying not to let the ash, blown by the wind, get into his eyes, he leaned into the source of the music and saw an opening. It was small, but not so small as false hope.

"I'm coming..." Murmured out from lips as pale as the white skin beside them, far too pale for as much as the form had been sweating, soaking the blankets wrapped so carefully around it.

As The Minstral continued to play, The Smith started to climb towards the tiny spot of white light among all the red.

"Don't stop... I'm trying." The form barely moved as it spoke, its voice seeming to have settled inside again, for the time being. The books had scared it into flight, but the mountain didn't seem as frightening to it, for all it terrified The Smith.

So long as the music blew across him, cool and sweet as Spring, The Smith felt stronger. The form stopped leaking its water and reached toward actual rest. The light from the little hole in the mountain shone onto his face and color began to blossom on the white of his skin.

[Finn]

Finn might have missed the murmured words if he hadn't been paying attention to Torin's symphony as he played his song. And when he spoke again, the minstrel could hear the music coming back, coming back into focus. Wherever Torin wandered, he was returning. His young friend wanted more music so he was going to get another song. He didn't stop, but let his fingers find the path of least resistence from one key to the next, one song to the next.

"Forgive me for I did not know
'Cause I was just a boy and you were so much more
Than any God could ever plan, more than a woman or a man
And now I understand how much I took from you:
That when everything starts breaking down
You take the pieces off the ground
And show this wicked town
Something beautiful and new.

"You think that Luck has left you there
But maybe there's nothing up in the sky but air
And there's no mystical design, no cosmic lover preassigned
There's nothing you can find that can not be found
'Cause with all the changes you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you
Alone again in some new wicked little town.

"So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town—"

His voice cut out as Torin seemed to be stirring, but his hands continued to shape the song calling him out of the darkness or wherever it was his threshold sickness had taken him.

"C'mon, Torin," he said, voice throbbing with a mesmerizing enthusiasm and encouragement. "Come and sing with me like you used to."

Then he sang on open vowels, somehow even more emotionally vulnerable than with words. Finn had written some harmonies for this, and he told himself he would teach them to Torin if the man pulled through. He had to pull through; from what Zef had told him, Semblance was one of the easiest of Runes, which was why many people made it their foundational Rune. When he had told Zef that his friend was practically comatose, his mentor had seemed shaken, as if that were possibly the sign of a great gift. Finn hoped that was all it was, that Torin would just come back stronger and wiser. He hated when bad things happened to good people.

► Show Spoiler

[Torin Kilvin]

The way was tight, and sharp, but, finally, the song led The Smith out of the cavern. The exis space was so small he had to crawl, in the end, forcing his way through like the struggle to be born. When he was free, the entrance closed after him with a snap, pleased to be rid of the irritation of him.

Laying on his back, he panted briefly before looking around. This space was a meadow, quiet, but in the natural way of such things, not deadly so. The grass was soft, and The Smith was so tired. Somehow, he knew he could rest here for a time. He would wake to it, eventually, but if he let himself drift back to the form for a little while, he would wake without losing himself.

Torin's eyes fluttered and opened slow. His head ached, his throat ached, and his mind felt fogged, but Finn was there.

"Finn." His voice sounded like Torin again, but also hoarse from lack of swallowing. As much as a part of him desperately wanted to join the song, for the moment, he could not.

"I'm..." He coughed over his own dry throat. "Water?"

When he was given a drink he took it all, almost as if inhaling it, without coughing again, and when he finished he said,

"Thank you, for coming for me. I needed you."

After another pause and a slow glance toward the door he said,

"Aurin is sleeping." It was sort of a question, but significantly more an observation. He could see, through the walls, through the house. The ghost was there, quiet, as if holding her breath to see if Torin would join her. Aurin was there, fitful but tired enough to sleep anyway, in the room that was empty of all but a bed. Finn was there, beautiful as ever, or more.

Torin reached out and brushed at the bright aura that danced in the space a foot around his friend with a shaky hand.

"Mmm," He said, the resonance coming back to him some, "Pretty. Like Aurin but like you." The sentence didn't make sense out of context, but Torin was trying his best. Shifting, he grimaced. His body was sore and other types of uncomfortable. Not particularly ashamed of the need, though a little of the weakness that required he ask for help he looked up at the musician.

"I need to piss. I don't think I can walk out. There is a pot under the bed. Can you help me?" In truth, he wasn't sure if he could stand, but he would try. He wanted a bath, and a hot meal, and a gallon more water, but one thing at a time seemed wise. Part of his mind, maybe his soul, was still slumbering in that place that was Other. It could be felt and even in this lucid moment he knew that, at any moment that part of him might wake, and, when it did, his body would sleep.

[Finn]

When Torin woke up, Finn immediately set his lute aside and jumped to his feet, hovering like an attentive nursemaid. His face split into a broad grin to see improvement of any sort. He helped with the water, and was going to ask about the tea or the soup, but he didn't want to overwhelm the man. Of course, he nodded to what Torin observed through the walls, then colored a bit. He had been warned and he had an idea of what Semblance entailed thanks to Zef's instruction.

"I don't know what you see, but I'm glad it's pleasing. Nothing embarrassing, I hope."

At the request, he nodded quickly. He would have attempted to help with anything the man might ask if it eased him back into the land of the living. Arry was a jealous lover, but if Finn proved to be the one who was able to draw Torin back from his soul's wandering, then his lover ought not to hate Finn for no good reason.

"Of course." He threw back the covers. It wasn't like he hadn't seen Torin naked before. Of course, he hadn't seen that bandage on his inner thigh; that must be where the new Rune was. He didn't understand why it needed a bandage, but he was too polite to ask in the moment.

Crouching down, he pulled out the chamber pot, and then was up to help Torin. The man was still strong, but he didn't have any fat on him anymore; it looked unhealthy, but he could deal with that once he was recovered. He smelled a bit of sweat, perhaps from the stresses of whatever was happening, but he hadn't been abed long enough to well and truly stink. Even if he had been, it wouldn't have fazed Finn who remembered helping when home had been a sickroom in his youth.

"C'mon, then," he said, sliding a strong arm under Torin's. "Let's get you empty and then see if you can't take some soup. If I can say I got you to drink, piss, and eat, I'll win the pool."

He laughed. There was no pool of money, but everyone would be relieved and Finn would believe that maybe he was destined to rebuild the Leh'anafel.

"Lean on me. If you fall, I've got you. I'm strong enough to get you back into bed if you lose it."

[Torin Kilvin]

"Pool?" Torin murmured, curious but also still mostly confused. He did not wait for the answer, only let his strong friend help him into a sitting position. His muscles felt like the time Aurin had taken him rock climbing, combined with all the times his fox had forced him to run back to the city after an outing. Worse, even. He felt like he might shake off the tree of reality and blow away in the wind if he didn't hold on.

Finn's care, gentle without drawing attention to any of the ungraceful reality of Torin's current situation, was a gift. How he might be repaid was something to think about another time, but it began to cement the idea in the blond's mind of the relationship between them. They had been friends for almost a year, and there had been inklings of a closer version of friendship that Torin didn't know how to articulate. But here Finn was, helping him in ways even a lover might balk at if the bond between them wasn't strong.

Leaning into his friend's touch a little more than weakness demanded didn't make Torin feel ashamed. Comfort was Aurin was okay. Comfort from Finn was okay. He wasn't taking anything from them. He could reach for what he needed without hurting anyone.

Together they slowly maneuvered Torin's still larger body to mostly standing. From there he was able to relieve himself, though the shaking of his hands also required a level of assistance that some would have considered invasive. The smith was just grateful. When it was done, his water having come out of him a color dark enough to cause genuine worry, he half-sat half-fell back onto the bed.

The level of weakness in his own limbs was shocking. He had been sick before, but not for several years, and weakness was something he was simply not used to at any time anymore.

"How..." His mind tried to wrap itself back around the familiar concepts that had been replaced by alien ones, "How long?"

[Finn]

Finn dismissed the bad joke with a smile and patiently did what he could to help Torin take care of the necessaries without making him feel uncomfortable. Torin was a generous person, and Finn's father had given him the idea that the smith might have at some point been a resident of their same village, which made him akin to family, or at least that was how it settled into the minstrel's mind. Bodies broke sometimes and there was no shame in that; the problem was usually indignity enough without heaping any sort of judgment or added discomfort to it.

Once Torin was seated once more, Finn attended him, thinking he would have time to clean up once he drifted into slumber—preferably slumber rather than his strange waking dreams.

"Ah, two days? Your man said you got your Rune on the 69th, anyway. It's the 71st today. Your patron was here yesterday, he said. You must be right about her. I've never heard of a noble patron attending someone at their sickbed."

He put a hand on Torin's shoulder and held up a cup of water. He would aid him in getting as much liquid nutrition into him as possible.

"He said you got agitated and that was what led to your turn for the worse," he continued, slowly, carefully. "I was thinking I could keep you calm. If that's all right. Not like mind control or anything... just making it easier to stay relaxed." He knew he could manage that in the short-term, but he didn't know if it would have a lasting effect, though Arry's meddling seemed to have caused a lasting melancholy, or at least triggered it. Minds were delicate, intricate things.

[Torin Kilvin]

The sort of care Finn gave him reminded Torin of something, but it was old and kept slipping away. If he didn't stay concentrated on the moment his mind tried to slide back into that other place, where a piece of him rested in a meadow after a long time without rest at all.

Blinking as the question was answered and he briefly couldn't remember what he asked he forced his mind to stay focused on his friend.

"Thank you." He tried to sound as much as he felt it, but his throat was still raw-feeling.

The notion that Kala had been there was somehow not a revelation. Torin had known she'd been there, asked for her help, even been granted it, though his waking mind contained no memories of the events he knew had taken place.

"Kala is good." He replied, "I'm lucky."

The phrases were quiet, without any real emphasis, just statements of fact. Once he was settled again he didn't even lift his hand to try and hold the offered water, only opened his mouth and let Finn pour it into him. He drank it all, though more slowly than he'd wanted to as it started to hit his very empty stomach. Reaching out till one hand closed, almost absently, around Finn's forearm he said,

"You calm me." The urge to sort of lean forward until he was resting against his friend slipped into his mind, but he was heavy, and would not be able to sit back up, so he only made a little motion with his head as though pretending to lean on Finn.

"You can..." Unable to think of a way to say what he meant because he didn't know how Mesmer worked, really, he just made a generalized gesture with his free hand, "You can. I trust you. But, don't bring Arvalyn. The Smith would kill him. I'm sorry."

The way that he said 'The Smith' sounded different than the rest of his tired words. Someone less trained to listen might not have caught it, but there was a resonance that went beyond Torin's voice alone.

Struggling his body around, Torin got back into a laying position. He'd only been awake a little while but still, he was so tired. When Finn offered him warm broth he drank as much as he could manage, but soon he was drifting again, murmuring his way back towards the meadow.