2020-08-14 - Slowly

The first sign something is up when Eleanor comes home is the lack of lights on in the cabin. Only the one downstairs living room light is on, and August almost always turns on several more by the time it's fully dark, especially in the rain. The second is how the animals, despite being fed and put away by Erica (the girl down the road), are restless. The ducks are muttering, a goat gives an occasional baaaah, the pigs are making their little squeaks of concern. None of them are happy.

Just inside the door is the first sign of trouble: stains of blood and something sootlike on the floor, trailing into the bathroom, and August's tablet abandoned on the floor in front of the couch.

Eleanor's aging Honda pulls in front of the cabin to the parking area. She frowns sharply at the lack of lights. Maybe he took a nap, however, so that's not a panic moment. The uneasy animals? That could be almost anything, most likely a bear or other large animal in the forest nearby. Both together? That has her hackles up. She heads for the door and opens it, flipping on more lights as she goes. And...that is blood.

"AJ!?" she calls, the panic rising as she rushes to follow the trail, a can of mace from her purse in hand in case it isn't her fiance bleeding in the cabin but someone or something else.

There's a noise from the bathroom when Eleanor calls out. August is, indeed, the only thing in the cabin, and he's curled up on the tiles, though slowly now starting to move. His UW sweats are shredded by long claw marks that have left bloody lines running over the length of him, and through the gaping holes in his sweats she can see expanses of patchy, webbed bruising.

"Ellie," August murmurs. His voice is hoarse, his face is a mess from crying and blood and more of that odd, black, soot-like stuff. A lot of the bleeding has stopped on its own, so the cuts probably don't need stitching. Cleaning, though, that's going to be a must.

The mace is dropped to the floor as Eleanor drops down to get on his level and look him over, her own Spirit Sense sweeping into him to sense what damage is most dangerous at the moment. She is like calm water, warm and flowing, seeping into his veins to try and heal him. "What happened? Was it Them!?" she asks, voice catching in her throat that they would dare to do this now, so close to their wedding. The healing begins to hasten the mending of his wounds.

"I shouldn't have left you home alone. I should have known in your state they'd take advantage," she mutters, mad at herself. She gets a washcloth and wets it to begin wiping away the blood and soot to find the actual wounds to bandage.

August sighs as Eleanor's healing soaks into him, the bruises drawing down to yellowish blue, the cuts closing to look more like they were given by a small, angry animal. He chokes back a sob. "Yeah. It...yeah." He shudders under her hands. "Not your fault. I did a bit of, a few things. Guess I should've expected it." He swallows, watching her clean him. "They put us in...these cells. And we had to get out. I--Thorne and the Russian girl, Kip." His throat closes, he shuts his eyes. "I left them," he whispers.

Eleanor is a gentle touch with the wash cloth, rinsing it frequently to make sure his skin is clean, working him out of his shredded clothing with great care and patience. "You left the Dream, August. You know how it works, the only way out is through. Byron is a smart guy, he'll get out. I'm not sure I know Kip other than in passing, but I have faith she'll be all right too. We can text Byron and check? And if not we can storm the castle so to speak?" she offers.

"There were windows, I could've--tried--" August makes a frustrated sound, wipes at his eyes. "I was so mad at them. For trying to take away..." He coughs, laughs bitter and borderline hysterical. "I wanted to have our wedding. Our parties." He turns his face away. "God, I'm such a selfish prick."

He's drawn out of the moment of self pity by Eleanor's suggestion. Oh...yeah. Smartphones are a thing. He can text them. "Right," he whispers. "I...yeah. Once I'm strong enough."

"And do you really think something as obvious as windows would have been the way to help them?" Eleanor says quietly. "You know how they operate, AJ. They dangle the carrot in front of you, then make that be the impossible thing you can't get to." She kisses his brow gently, wiping it with the cloth. "You're not selfish. You are so far from selfish. You've earned the right to want those things. We both have."

August frowns, trying to figure out a way to argue his way to convincing Eleanor he's bad news. His logic had seemed so flawless earlier when he was having his ugly cry. Now, he can't remember a single point of it.

He gives up with a sharp exhale, smiles when she kisses him. "I was being selfish in there. Letting myself get...mad. Breaking shit instead of trying to hold back, not give them what they want. And God, Ellie, it felt so good." Another tremor shakes him. "They were--they wanted me to do it."

"I'm sure they did. I'm just not sure they were ready for just what that entailed. They provoked you, and you retaliated so hard they dumped you back out here?" Ellie asks, to clarify. "I think maybe you put the fear of angry botany in them." She runs her fingers through his hair to soothe him. "They manipulate us in a million ways, AJ, you can't second guess everything you do because that is actually what they want. To sow doubt, to kill hope."

August grunts, even manages a soft, tired laugh. "This is why I'm marrying you. You're right a lot." His sigh is less forlorn this time. "I think they were just done with me. Got what They needed." Saying that seems to trigger a realization in him; he starts to try to get up. "They--at the end. They said something. About feeding and...rising." He runs a hand over his face. "We need to talk to Alexander. Thorne says he's seen this place." He might be thinking 'right now' but he's still pale and shaky, so actually standing will no doubt dissuade him of this.

"Pretty sure you're not going anywhere tonight, love. Here, text him, figure it out that way. Tomorrow we'll work out the mechanics of it, ok? I need to talk to Alexander and Ignacio myself, work on putting together that secret group of information compilers and passers." Eleanor steadies him and leads him out to the couch. Stairs don't look like they're in the playbook at the moment. "Let me get you some clean pajamas."

August slips out of his ruined sweats, having them in a pile in the floor. He moves slow and stiff, like the old man everyone likes to call him, though thanks to Eleanor's healing it's not as painful for him to do it.

He eyes the trail he left on the floor as Ellie guides him to the futon, makes a face. "I'll get that cleaned up in a minute." He sits heavily, naked and aching, and thanks to Ellie, clean. He catches her hand before she can move away, kisses it. He doesn't seem to want to let go. "I'm sorry I... You shouldn't have to come home to this."

"In sickness and in health, August. You've done the same for me. We're a team." Eleanor squeezes his hand. "Don't worry about the mess. I've cleaned the bathrooms in the coffee shop, I can definitely handle this," she notes with a chuckle. "I'll be right back." She heads up the stairs to get him some fresh stuff to sleep in.

August watches Eleanor go, sits naked on the futon, tense and wary. They're not likely to grab him again. Right?

He takes his mind off the uncertain nature of that question's answer by picking up the book package sitting on the coffee table. He'd meant to open it earlier, accept...

No.

He sets what interrupted him aside for now. He'll have to think about it some, process it, at some point. But that doesn't have to be right now. Now is for bandaging the hurt and letting Eleanor help him back on his feet. So he opens the package, carefully pulling the cardboard strip, then unwrapping the proof inside. He smiles at the cover; another woodblock print, this time of a windswept, Pacific Northwest coastline. Forests of the Washington Coast it reads. He flips it open, scans the dedication and smiles. Then he sets it on the futon next to him, and waits for Eleanor to come back.

Eleanor returns with fresh pajamas and the secondary first aid kit she's taken to keeping in the nightstand on her side of the bed, because of the rate at which they get yanked into Dreams while they're trying to get some sleep. She sets the clothes on the coffee table beside the kit and opens the latter to begin pulling out various antibiotics and bandages. She begins to patch up the remaining cuts with the same care and concentration she shows making a hot beverage. Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth as she focuses on getting the bandages aligned just right. "Maybe we should skip town for a little bit before the wedding," she suggests. Just to make sure they make it to their nuptials without having really odd injuries peppering their photo album.

"That's not a bad idea," August admits. "We could go down to Mt. St. Helens. It's nice this time of year." He winces now and then when a cut complains, but otherwise holds still, smiling at the sight of her 'concentration face'. He loves that face. If he wasn't covered in scratches and bruises and didn't have an aching shoulder it would get her kissed at a minimum.

He flicks his eyes at the book, attempting to make her notice it. "Got a little something in the mail."

"Oh, what's that?" Eleanor asks, putting a final bandage on a cut before casting her eyes towards the opened book. "Oh nice, is it your proof?" She reaches to pick it up and admire the woodcut on the cover.

"Yeah," August says, voice low. "You can give me my first review, if you want." He watches her a minute, tense, almost vibrating in place. "You should," he clears his throat, "read the dedication." He gets to pulling on his light linen PJs, moving with an excessive amount of care.

Oh, he's not acting suspiciously at all. Eleanor slants her gaze his way, a brow arching as she ponders what he's up to. Then she turns to the dedication page to peruse it. After watching him get dressed, totally to make sure he's ok, totally not any other reason. Nope.

It's a short dedication, just two lines of text:

For Eleanor, who braved one forest to guide me out of another.

and if I sing you are my voice,

"I was going to give it to you back in July, but then," but then, everything. Then, Bachelor's Day, and then, numerous injuries and harrowing Dreams and deciding hell with it! They were getting married.

August toys with the edge of his nightshirt. "I figured I could still do the dedication, though."

Eleanor's eyes get all glassy and watery, it is clearly dusty in here! She sniffles once and wipes her arm across her face. "It's perfect," she whispers. "Thank you." She leans in to kiss him ever so gently, so as not to aggravate any of his injuries.

August smiles at the sniffles, reaches out with a stiff arm to gently wipe away from of the tears. He returns the kiss, light and sweet, and Christ he wishes he could do more right now. A lot more.

A flicker of that same anger trembles inside him, and he steps on it. No. He's not letting them do that to him, to this.

He rests his forehead against hers. "There should be some leftover chili we can have for dinner," he says. "I know I was gonna cook, but." But that's so not happening now, and he doesn't want her to cook and clean up blood.