2019-12-27 - Veil Soup for the Frigid Soul

Finch is lying on her stomach on the couch, with a towel wrapped around one foot, her shirt, boots, and socks, completely off, and just a pair of sweats on. The reason why, once Dove lets the others in, is immediately apparent. There is dried blood where it trickled from her ears, a hole THROUGH her right foot, a pair of black eyes, and her back is torn open, deep to the bone, by the claws of...something, from shoulders to hips. She looks pale from blood loss, but she's hanging in there, stubbornly.

Dove whispers to them as she stands in the living room doorway, "I'm making her some strange soup she insisted on but, if there's anything you can do, please. Ignacio Is better off but a worried mess, he's in the bathroom at the moment."

Itzhak is good at driving on snow, even has snow tires on the Tacoma (which he named Marigold). Aside from how he loses his shit at everything, he's the perfect rescue driver. When he and August arrive at Mallard House, Itzhak is looking stressed the hell out but he's maintaining.

Dove lets them in and Itzhak hugs her quick and careful, first thing. "We got it, Dove-lieb. Don't you worry about a thing." Which...when he sees Finch, he damn near eats those words. He glances sharply at August, ready to catch him if the vertigo seizes him.

August was stressed the hell out just by the people Itzhak ferried to the hospital, but the nausea's been holding steady. Once they get in the door of Mallard House it redoubles, and the second he lays eyes on Finch, his greeting for Dove dies in his throat.

He coughs, takes a half a step back, turns, and catches himself on a door frame. He can't just run outside. He might not stop running, might simply go until the snow stops him and he's out of breath. But God he really wants to.

Somewhere in the back of his mind a bone white crow with black tar dripping from its beak caws, Finch.

Finch looks up with a grimace. "I know, I know, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry Roen, I know this stuff is overwhelming. This was some sort of twisted game. Super twisted. I figured it out, I just did some really dumb shit before I landed on the right thing." By which she means she did some dumb shit to help Iggy.

Dove says quietly, a hand on August's shoulder, "I'll go check on that soup." She pauses to kiss Itzhak's cheek before she heads down the hall to the kitchen.

Itzhak immediately grabs August's shoulder, not to hold him down but to steady him. Violin music swells in the mental space between them--Itzhak singing to him via the kythe, a Vivaldi concerto, beautiful and delicate. Something to drown out the horror with beauty. "Hey, you okay? You need a minute?" he murmurs to him, low, his eyes still on Finch. "We ain't goin' nowhere."

Ignacio tried taking a hot shower and there's evidence that he may have over one it given how ruddy and flush his face is. On goes the leg brace, the ankle splint, the ace wraps. Well, it'll try to keep him warmer? Ears ringing the man that became one with winter sits stationary as he did in that field.

He glares at his leg, but it can be felt in the house; that echo- that vacant endless winter of why bother and that feeling of failure that grips the house in an emotional hold like imagery of an apple tree curling in on brown leaves and dropping fetid fruit as the bark hardens black and that part of him that sits in the field with nothing else but a flayed bird and frost. It doesn't even sting anymore there's just guilt and futility. But it's Ignacio so he doesn't realizes when his garage door is left ajar for the moment with all of his demons escaping.

His palms are damp where he holds his face. There's no sobbing, and like the great expanse there's just stillness. His hand reaches for the crutch that's against the wall; his badge of being a liability.

August shakes his head at Finch, eyes squeezed shut and leaking just a bit. "No, no...getting hurt like this isn't your damned fault." His voice is rough; he clears it, grimaces. He nods at Dove, but only when Itzhak touches his shoulder and he hears those strains of Vivaldi does he open his eyes. He lets the music ease the nausea and pain and memories. (Somewhere in the link an ugly orange eye glares at Itzhak out of a bone-colored face and hmphs imperiously; he hears heavy wings flutter away.)

<<Thanks.>> August looks askance at Itzhak, reaches up and grips his hand. Finally, he turns to the room and faces Finch, studies her there on the couch again, and this time, doesn't look away. "God, hon, what happened." He moves into the room slowly, carefully, like he's the injured one.

...until he feels that. He sucks in a breath, tries to shove back, can't. He flails, his hand finding a doorframe that his fingers dig into. It splits along one side with a resounding crack. A broad spiderwebbing of cracked plaster spreads from there. "de Santos stop," August growls, doubling over.

"Some kind of ice creature. It didn't take too kindly to my using my gifts to help Iggy during the game. I really pissed it off. It started with just hitting me in the face with snowballs. Then stabbed me through the foot with an icicle, then came in all tooth and claw like." Well that explains the various injuries.

Finch shudders as Ignacio's emotions swirl around the house like a torrent. "We have to fix his leg. Soon. I think, I think I can, with some help. You two would need to help, and maybe my father. It would be painful for him, but he'd recover in a few weeks, a month maybe, instead of this lifetime of surgeries ahead of him. That leg almost killed him today." Well more closely it almost killed her trying to keep it from killing him.

Then August is reacting in an unexpected manner and she has to hold out a hand of her own, directing her gifts to shore up what August threatens to tear down. "Whoaaaa!"

Cracks appear under August's hand. Ignacio's despair fogs the house. Itzhak grits his teeth. Triage! What can he do to stop this right the fuck now?

Go to de Santos. He hates leaving August, but if he doesn't, he's not sure he'll be able to keep him from getting worse.

His mental violin fillips to August, and he bolts down the hallway for the bathroom. "Nacio!" he calls through the door. "Nacio, Naishka, let me in, bruddah."

The knock is on the door, and just like that the link breaks as his focus goes elsewhere. He pulls his crutch to him and puts it under the right side to shift weight away from the left. he door opens and he looks up holding his breath and back to totally casual ( he's not) but t surface holds. Taking a deep breath eh asks It, hey top shelf there's a, um a heating pad. She might want to lay butter side down on that for a while. Help get blood in the extremities." He sniffs and wipes his face running his hand up though his damp hair.

August sags as Ignacio is distracted into leaving off. "We need to teach him how to stop doing that." He pulls his hand from the doorframe, sighs at the damage Finch is already fixing. "No, no, stop. I broke that, I'll damned well fix it." He sighs, runs a hand along the doorframe to finish off what Finch had started.

Itzhak is seeing to Ignacio, so all August does is give him a wordless thank you in the link. Then he resumes his movements towards Finch. "Hurt you for helping him, huh?" He sighs, settles in the end of the couch. "Guess I can't say I'm surprised. Clever assholes." He takes in a deep breath, lets it out, and hovers a hand over her head, eyes going unfocused as he checks for what to heal. "Christ," he mutters, readying himself.

Finch smirks at August's comments. "Yeah, clever assholes is right. We were cleverer, more clever, whatever, this time. But what if we weren't? What if I wasn't there for him? It might have gone very differently." She grimaces, and then Roen's senses are moving through her and he feels the pure pain and agony. Her back is the worst by far, debilitating, she won't be able to get up off that couch if it isn't fixed. There is also a chill in her, a feeling of bitter cold, like she may never be warm again. She shivers.

Itzhak wraps his long arms around Ignacio without demure. "Don't listen to 'em. They're wrong." His tone is low and fierce as he hugs him tight. "They're wrong about you."

Hypocrite. Itzhak denies everything the hungry shadows have to say about his friends, but about him? He believes every word. Still. It's the heat of his denial he pours into Ignacio now, standing between his friend and the biting, savage near-truths.

Ignacio stands there, smooshed in a hug and he just sighs, tired and cold. His voice is distant, and curious and distant, "Itz, it almost happened again. Either... she has to go through what I went through before, or I gotta do that twice? I can't... do that to her and there's nothing I could do about it. We can do this." His left hand pats the back of Itzhak's shoulder about to dismiss him but instead taking solace there that however, Itzhak gets the concept. "We can get her a heating pack cause she is really feeling like hell. Help me...help her." He looks to Itzhak and puts a hand on his stubble jaw and gives it a wiggle. The shadows haven't left him but they are back to being his own.

He works his way to the room with the others, "Inch, we're getting you the heading pad. and I grabbed you another pair of socks. Case it, ya know, it helps." Pausing he looks around curious and concerned, "The hell happen?"

"And if Dove had wheels she'd be a trolley," August murmurs, tone absent. It takes everything he has to stay put right there on that couch, as he surveys the wreckage. "I can get this bad one," he says. Of course, he highly suspects he'll then simply pass out. Or run into the kitchen and throw up, then pass out. Something like that. "But she doesn't. And you were there. His leg, well...we'll have to see about that. I'm no doctor." A pause while he considers everything wrong with her back. "So we'll need to talk to one." His eyes half-shut. "Okay. Here we go."

It's the usual slow build; things coming back together from the ground up. Unfortunately that does mean there's a bolt of pain as the severed nerves reform, like a tidal wave thundering on the shore and melting into nothing along the beach, receding and leaving behind a clean back, fresh skin a ruddy pink from being newly formed.

As soon as he's done, August gets to his feet, wavers, and moves right past Ignacio for that bathroom.

Finch grinds her teeth against the pain the healing brings, the nerves rebuilding and awakening like fire up and down her back. "T-Thanks Iggy," she manages, and when it finishes, and August rushes off to puke, she lets out a sigh of relief. "Someone check on Roen? And someone get me a shirt before I sit up and make Itzhak start blushing.

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : Hey Javier, just a heads up. Got pulled into another Dream. Got hurt pretty bad. Roen's taking care of the worst of it though. We're at the house. Don't panic, I'll be ok.

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : (a few minutes later) What? What the fuck? Which house, your gran's?

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : Yep, Gran's in Bayside.

Finch grabs her phone and sends a text out to her father, because if he finds out from someone else she got hurt, there will likely be hell to pay. She is still flat on her stomach, waiting for someone to bring her a shirt.

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : When did this happen? I'll head over as soon as I'm done my shift.

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : Like 30 minutes ago or so? I think? I dunno. I'm a bit fuzzy. It was some kind of twisted game of Theirs. Iggy and I were taken, Alexander and his girlfriend too, and Thorne and his. Couple other people I didn't recognize.

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : How is everyone doing? How's your.. Iggy?

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : He got hurt too but not so bad. I thought I was gonna lose him for a while though. He was stuck, it was freezing. Hard to explain in a text.

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : I'm glad he's all right. I'll stop by tonight, yeah? You need anything?

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : Warm stuff? A trip to Hawai'i? I feel like I'm never going to be warm again.

Itzhak sighs out sharp between his teeth. The miracle happens: Roen reforms Finch, leaving her bright and new as if she was just turned out of an injection mold. He mutters, "Thank God," and covers his hand with his eyes. This is an expression of relief, but it works to reassure Finch she won't make him blush, too. "Don't...don't worry about me, I'll..." he meanders back down the hall, where he takes up a post holding up a wall outside the bathroom.

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : Can't help you with Hawai'i, but I can bring hot chocolate and a heated blanket, if I can find where it's packed away.

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : Appreciate it. See you tonight.

Ignacio wades over weight on the good leg and the crutch. it still hurts. He still- well he looks exhausted and able to focus on any one thing he can fixate on at a time. No not...that. Not his leg. Finch. Hepauses and pushes his shoulder to the wall to let August rush on by blinking slowly, as close to casual as he can act. Carefully, he comes over and lowers himself to teh floor, funny enough where he parked himself when the nightmares flooded the house and fall s the rest of the 8" to the floor, wind out of him. So much effort. He may opt to never fucking stand again after all that. Stretching an arm across the cushion he moves Finch's hair from by her face with one finger and just... just rests his head against the side of the arm chair to blink very, very slowly. He's not resting his eyes, it's just... it's super slow motion, folks! He murmurs "No me estoy moviendo de nuevo. Yo vivo aquí ahora."

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : Don't get into anymore fucking trouble. I fucking swear.

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : You need to take that up with Them. I was just buying discount Christmas candy at the Safeway and stepped into their bullshit. 😉

(TXT to Finch) Ruiz : Don't you smiley face me, either. Just stay put and I'll see you tonight.

(TXT to Ruiz) Finch : :o 😃 🙂 :> :o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>:o 😃 🙂 :>

(TXT to August) Ruiz : You need to take away Finch's cell phone and put it in a fucking timeout. That's a thing, right? Timeout? Fuck's sake.

August regrets having breakfast, lunch, and coffee. Once he's done he sags back against the bathroom wall, sitting there trying to steady his breathing. "Someone should turn up the fucking heater," he mutters, frowns as his phone pings in his jacket pocket. He pulls it out, peers at the text from Ruiz, swipes an answer back and starts trying to get up. "How many fire places you have in this house. We should light all of them." He winces, amends it to, "All the ones that aren't a fire hazard."

(TXT to Ruiz) August : sorry too busy emptying my stomach into a toilet anyways she's your daughter come on down here and take it from her yourself. also no timeout is not a thing after 20.

(TXT to August) Ruiz : Thanks, I really needed that visual. I'm at fucking work, I'm headed out on a goddamn domestic in about thirty seconds because this rookie can't keep his shit together. And I'm not telling you to put HER in timeout, just her fucking phone. Though don't let her leave the house. Or her gringo boyfriend.

"Nine" Finch admits. "But I think only 4 of them are safe to light. One in here, one in parlor, Gran's room and my room." The rest are in closed off sections or just haven't been used in a decade or more. She takes the sweatshirt Iggy brought her and slides it on. "It's safe now Itzy."

(TXT to Ruiz) August : she's 25 puting the ohone in timeout IS putting her in time how do you not know these things. and I want. well, itzhak won't. I'm not in any shape to stop anyone from fling something they won't to do.

(TXT to Ruiz) August : sry looks like testing isn't a thing for me rn

"I said don't worry about me!" Itzhak yells back from the hallway, aggravation ratcheting his tone up. He's not really aggravated, it's just easier to be that instead of losing his shit some more again. He taps on the bathroom door. "I'm gonna ...something. For de Santos. He looks like frozen roadkill." Didn't Iggy say there was a heating pad around here? ...Maybe that was in the bathroom.

(TXT to August) Ruiz : Are you for fucking real? Fine, I'll deal with it myself when I get there. don't die.

(TXT to Ruiz) August : no promises

Ignacio really does look like a dead frozen fish. He's not on the text to get his feathers ruffled. Itzhak? He doesn't answer. His arm stays stretched on the couch, his brow knits. Shallow, slow breaths, but consistent. He tunes out the world a while and in his head just takes a step outside the garage back into the frozen cold to keep the door shut.

He cans till hear the wind howling and the ice like tiny beaks tear his skin apart; the windburn still on his skin. He can still feel his breath turning to frost in his lungs. It stings and burns like some transformation from the inside like he's the Davey Jones of the frozen wasteland. Is he sleeping again? Or here? Well he's present in teh room physically.

Only when Finch settles back in does he move. It's a sudden thing, his hand finding her fingers and stay there. They're no warmer than hers to a point he has to squeeze her hand to make sure he's actually has it. He's still not got feeling or blood back in his blanched digits.

He hopes that's FInch's hand or this is going to be fascinatingly awkward quick.

Voice rough and haggard from the effort involved in standing, August says, "Yeah." He swipes a final reply on his phone, drops it back in his pocket. He uses the vanity to steady himself, washes his face and rinses out his mouth. He stands there for a few seconds, face dripping, reaches for a towel to dry off with. His skin's a bit ashen now, and he can't seem to stop trembling despite a goddamned down filled snow jacket. Getting old sure is hell.

He comes out of the bathroom, moving slow and careful, making space for Itzhak to rummage around for said heating pad. He reaches up and grips his shoulder. "It's okay," he says, dredging up some reassurance and a warmth he can't physically feel for the link. "We'll be okay."

Granny Dove comes back in with a bowl of that odd chicken-ish soup for Finch. She sets it on the coffee table with spoon and napkin. "I should make some for Ignacio too. You look frozen, sweet boy. I'll be back with some of that." She gives Iggy a kiss on his frigid forehead. "Would you boys like anything?" she asks August and Itzhak as she passes them.

Finch digs into the soup, warily, but it's hot and she's frozen to her very core and she just NEEDS to get something hot into her body. And it helps to ease the pain in her foot. She blinks and looks down at the towel, unwrapping it, and the hole is closing up. "I'll be damned."

Itzhak pauses in rummaging to hang an arm around August and hug him, not too tight. "Yeah," he murmurs, nothing more. August looks like hell. Ignacio looks like hell. Finch, well, at least she's not slashed open...anymore? Itzhak's the only one fully operational and it makes him crazy with the need to DO SOMETHING.

He locates the heating pad and strides out. Plugging it in, he gives it to Iggy and tells him, "Don't complain. You look like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining." A more socially adept man would recognize Dove needs to do something too, and asked her for something, but Itzhak shakes his head. "Nah, 'm good." He'd learned how to make a fire while he and Bex were holed up at August's cabin, so he crouches by the fireplace to start it.

Iggy just sits there inert and teh heating bad hits him with a solid thwap. He's frozen and exhausted and windburned, but not injured. Eyes don't open but one eyebrow goes up. Sitting still a moment longer he murmurs, "Gotta plug it in, cabron. Slowly eyes crack open and he unfolds one side, then the other and sets it on the couch making the commere gesture to Finch and then point to it. lay down on that.

He almost asks Itzhak for another favor. His scarf flied off the hook on the door and slaps into him and rolls into his lap. There's a pause and he folds it in half to loop around his neck. "I can't even tell if that was me or It-Z" Dunno and don't matter. at least putting on the Gran scarf while not making him warm makes his jaw stop shivering.

August, meanwhile, is well aware Dove needs things to do (just like Itzhak), and also kind of needs things done for him. But first, he has his eyes set a sitting chair by the fire, possibly to inhabit for all of time. "Something warm," he says to Dove. "Coffee, tea, cocoa...whatever you feel like, Ms. Dove." He moves to the chair, collapses into it, sighs. "Christ. Whatever you had done to you really took it out of me." Every bone in his body is made of ice. He's not sure where the energy to get home is going to come from. "...if it's that fucking flu again Eleanor's gonna be pissed." This is less for Finch and more for the universe at large.

He shudders, makes a face, hunkers down like he's cold. There's a wool throw on this chair; he yanks it down and covers himself with it. It's a comedic sight, considering he's still in his jacket and knit cap.

Finch keeps sucking down that soup. It's not warming her up, but it is making her foot heal and feel so much better. She waves Ignacio to the heating pad. "I'm eating, you use it first." Really she'd probably feel better just dumping the hot soup over her head. She gets up, slowly, unsteadily, and starts moving chairs and pillows and cushions and blankets over by the fire Itzhak is so kindly starting up.

As she gets up, the tie in the front of her sweatpants comes undone. She reaches to re-tie it and winds up accidentally pulling it out entirely. "Really universe? This morning it was a button popping off my shirt, then my scarf unraveled."

Ignacio totally zoned out. Just needs to rest, and get warm and... tune out those voices. He went and did what he could and now he is done. So done. There's a sound to let her know she was heard and a rallied word, "Ya sure?" Yes she's sure. He's going to ask, she's going to flap her hand at him. It's a dance.

He pulls it over to himself and pushes himself forward with his arms rather than pulling himself forward with his heels to get the heating pad tucked behind him." There's a pause and a string of unpleasant things that come from him as there is a slow and uncoordinated effort to get his ass off the floor that doesn't come. "Still didn't feed the chickens. Mierda." That struggle to get up is doing nothing but draining the rest of the blood from his face. It's the small tone of disappointment that brings his futile efforts up short. "Gran's got that... stick thing. Fixed my hoodie. Talk to her."

He can still hear them. The wind. So long as he doesn't close his eyes he won't see them either. Just... stay awake. it's fine. "I can tell the heating pad is on...but I'm not heating." To no one in particular he murmurs, "I'm a hot pocket."

August watches Finch's comedy of errors ensue with morbid amusement. "That's the, ah, 'bird soup' we got?" He squints, studying her with more than just his eyes. "It's healing you. Kind of like we would, in a way." This pulls him out of his misery a bit; he sits up, tilts his head. "Like they stored the shaping in the soup."

He glances at Ignacio, grimaces. For all that Ignacio hadn't been as cut up as Finch, he still took a beating. "So, what exactly happened to you two."

Finch finally gets the pillow fort set up in front of the fireplace for them all. "Come on and get warm. I was leaving the Safeway. I scored some discount Christmas candy, and when I stepped through the door I found myself in this featureless snowscape with an arch in the middle, and footsteps leading to it. There was no plant life under that snow at all. And there were eight other people at compass points sort of in the same situation. I think Iggy said it best likening it to the Hunger Games."

She looks over at Ig to continue the story.

Ignacio goes to move and get up and just.. fails. It's winding him? The effort is seriously sapping the wind from his lungs. Swallowing he causally assures, "I'm good. Save me a spot. I'm a see if the heating pad does anything appreciable.." I'm good not I can't. There's a pause to catch his breath pausing and he murmurs something that might be uno momento but not to them. "I put on my coat and boots to head out to teh garage to feed the girls," chickens, "and the wind was whipping up the snow until it was blinding and I was frozen in place. when it started letting up? We were all standing at like points on a clock sorta. In the middle a gate and the spokes were these... footprints." His brow furrows and looks to them working on building up enough energy to go over there. "It was talking to us." that might be new news for some.

August half-stands when he sees Ignacio just...sit there, frowns at him. But Ignacio says he's good, so August lets it go. He turns his half-stand into a sit up and folds his arms, frowning. "So it was one of their constructs." He drums his fingers on his upper arms. "Was the goal to run through the footprints, then?"

"They punished me every time I used my Glimmer to help Iggy. We had to jump from footprint to footprint to get to the arch. I boosted him but first they hit me with a snowball to the face. Then an iceball, and a shard through my foot. Then some creature attacked me and tore up my back. There were things coming for us so we had to hurry. But I figured it out when some girl who made it to the center with Isabella grabbed my hand to help me to the center. The second she touched me I knew I was safe and the snow couldn't damage me anymore." Finch marvels at her healing foot, and brings some blankets over to pile onto Ignacio. "So I got people to make a human chain and add consecutive players to it and finally we reached everyone and got back to the arch. Then, well, I'll let Iggy explain the bird seed."

Ignacio pulls his hands inside his sleeves. He's not about to keep Finch worrying. More. Again. His elbows pull in and not enough of him can fit on this heating pad all at once. It's something though. Not nearly enough and he looks to the fire. Maybe he can warm that part of his face. Something better than nothing. His jaw shivers and he takes a slow deep breath like he's going to move, winces and stops letting the back of his head rest against the arm totally casually. That was a stretch, no really.

He makes a quiet note that she didn't exactly say yes. Looking to him to narrate the other half he sighs with a small flinch on his face. "It was... weird. The footprints were far apart and teh snow was about shin to knee deep and if you went off the trek?" He pauses and flaps a hand, "Shit I can show you pictures probably if you want." Already did, Ignacio. You already did.

"so it went about as well for me as you'd imagine and I tried to take the step, missed and took a knee and immediately felt like a Dementor had a death grip on my balls man. Pulled the head from the core of my body. And then I tried to get up and I was... stuck. My legs froze and then the wind was starting to... have this conversation." Taking an uneven deep breath he murmurs, "With me... I'll have to talk to Alexander. Maybe. See if it did that for him too. he was out there a bit. It got thicker, and then there was a hail of ice but..." His head tilts curious looking to August trying to understand it. "It was cold and I couldn't feel... anything but it didn't hurt me. It more was... assimilating me I guess? And told me You know you belong here. You know you won't really leave. This isn't so bad. Accept it and stay. You're only going to- Get Finch killed.

His jaw shifts and he shakes his head pausing with his lower tongue tracing his lower lip, "I think it took a piece of me. I can't explain it. Or maybe it was already there... But I had the cup of birdseed and threw it out in the snow. You two grow shit all the time. I thought plant for spring? Put life where there is nothing of a yawning, aching void."

"Nope! Undead revenant crows got it before it hit the ground and made a bone bird golem of other bony birds. Tried to grab Finch. That's how..." Her back. And shrieked what I can only assume is yo, homes, gracias. We, um... we didn't stay."

August listens to their accounts, expression drawn grim, occasionally rubbing his chest in an effort to get warm. His gaze drifts to the fire. "Using your power hurt you," he says, bites his lip. "So, They wanted to torment you without the use of your power." He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

A snort and a helpless laugh for the birdseed. Not for Ignacio thinking of that, but for how it turned out. "Well that fucking figures. Try to do some good and just get attacked even more." He heaves a tired sigh.

"God you two, I'm sorry." He sags a little, looks between the two of them. "I wish I could say this was the worst it'll get. But it's not." An apologetic smile, then he sits back and waits for whatever Dove plans to concoct for him. "Guess that soup works, though," he murmurs, eyeing Finch's foot.

"They hit her. with snow. In the snow. while pushing her down into the snow... and snowing on her. it was really really redundant amounts of 'no hope for you. Cough it up. Have more snow.'

"Some creature, like a Yeti or something, hurt my back, the birds were later. They were human sized ravens made of bone and darkness." Finch shudders, and burrows into the pile of blankets in front of the fire, the two black eyes making her look like a trash panda peeking out. "We all ran through the arch and wound up on the bridge near the Firefly, sliding down it. We almost all ended up in the water. That's when Ig sent out the calls for help and rides."

Ignacio keeps his arms tucked in and looks to either of them from where he sits not ready to admit defeat and too tired to try. It's not going to make a difference right now as cold is cold, and Finch doesn't need to simmer on that by highlighting it. That is Tomorrow Figgy + Inch's problem. Right now there's rest. They are resting. Right? The 25 year old taps his molars. "Most scared I've been in a long time, I'll give em that much. Oh! Can someone get me Alexander's phone number? I have some questions for him. Later. If it's cool."

Thinking back to what he saw on the Other Side in Gray Pond, August says, "Do not go in that water," with grim certainty. "Not unless you absolutely have to." He shudders, not just from this unnatural chill that's making his thigh bone ache like a bastard.

He looks between the two of them, rubs at his eyes. Dove's brought a nice tea and some porridge for him, both of which help (even if the cold doesn't actually piss off). He sips from the tea, has a spoon of porridge. "Something like that happened to me...must have been six months ago, now. This lamp's light was choking us, and we couldn't use our power to stop it. Only getting in the shadows made it stop." He pauses, toys with his spoon. "I guess that means we need to be on the look out for when we can't use our power."

"Definitely need to be prepared for it. They don't play fair, clearly. So we have to be ready to play dirty too." Finch's teeth start chattering and she burrows deeper into the blankets, one hand coming out for tea from her Gran and the quiet murmur of thanks.

Ignacio has been passing off being alright at his lowest for six years,. he's a professional. Use this tone, these words, find a resigned state. Don't worry others and maybe he can convince himself everything really is fine.

Gran however stops and just looks at Ignacio and brings him an afghan to cover up with. He can full most of the people all of the time but Gran and Mags none of the time.

Looking to Finch he says tired, exhausted, but with no less wonder to that spirit that will go out fighting right next to his. "Well there's nothing in the rules that takes points off for being resourceful. but also why leaning too hard on one thing can leave us under prepared in other areas." He yawns and murmurs, "Friends don't let friends skip leg day for that reason." His eyes slide shut listening and bringing a murmur which can translate to: Man, fuck leg day.

August coughs at Ignacio, laughing, but also nods in agreement. "Yeah." He has some tea, settles back and shivers. God, what a life they led. "Yeah," he repeats, eyes half closing. "Gonna finish up this then get Itzhak to take me to Eleanor's." Where he will no doubt be staying until this blows over.