2020-09-21 - Compounding Issues

It's not dinner time yet, but it's getting close. Lilith has been restless and anxious all day, up and down, up and down, up and down. She cleaned out and re-organized the clothes closet in the Penthouse bedroom, going so far as to arrange the outfits and separates by color coding. She makes a separate drawer for lingerie, then hides the pieces he hasn't seen her in yet under other nightgowns in another drawer, despite the fact that he's very unlikely to go through the damn drawer and see what she's got for variety anyway, unless instructed to. Hell, he's bought her half of it, but it's the principle today, okay.

The kitchen pantry cans and boxes and dry goods get the same over-organized treatment. When she's on the terrace trying to smoke a little pot to pull the tight feeling of feeling too full out of her chest, she gets Windex and a paper towel roll to clean the railing so she doesn't get dirty leaning on it. Then she cleans the tub out needlessly before taking a bath because she thinks there's mold collecting in the jet holes, never mind there's a maid that comes on the regular to do these kinds of things.

It's not a good relaxing time once she's in, either, despite the fact that she's brought a tablet in to play an audiobook. Lilith has no clue what the person on the book recording is actually talking about, she missed the whole first part while zoning out. Exasperated, she gives up and gets out. The woman thought that having the bedroom as a peaceful space (nullified) would help her relax, since the bathroom is connected and included. Honestly, she can't totally feel the difference yet because she's either there asleep or lots of in and out, but it does make her fall asleep better and lets her stay asleep, no violent and grieving creep of broken, invasive and untrue memories plaguing her during these moments of respite.

Lilith doesn't even bother dressing once she has herself partially dried and wrapped in towel. She's still smoothing lotion on an arm while deciding to meander into Byron's office and whatever the hell he's doing in there. She's been nice enough to not subject him to annoyances while she's feeling like this and turned to self-occupying, but it's time to whine and ask what he wants for dinner.

When she gets in there, though, the computer screen has fallen asleep from dis-use over X amount of time and his desk chair is empty. After making an 'uhhh' of noise, not yet panicking (she was just in the tub), she turns around and wanders toward the main room and kitchen. After blinking a few times, she checks the terrace like a last ditch effort she knows isn't going to give her anything, but it's due diligence. Soberly, she pads back along the hallway wooden floor and peeks into the office again, eyeing the sleeping computer screen.

If it's went idle, that means he's been gone a while, so maybe he really did go out and forgot to text, even if it was just a run downstairs to talk to Frank or something. She goes to get her phone and wanders back into the hall while quickly texting and holding her breath. She's standing in a towel texting Byron right at the doorway when he's finally 'unoccupied'.

(TXT to Byron) Lilith : Please tell me you're just forgetful and went to get food while I was in the bath...

(TXT to Byron) Lilith : ... and do it fast before I break something.

Unlike Lilith, Byron wasn't as productive during his day in. He had the occasional calls he had to make as well as looking over applications and emails. On days like this, his job was easy. From time to time, Lilith might have caught sight of him in the kitchen, refilling his coffee cup while giving her a passing kiss before he returns to his desk. Then, at some point during the day, without any other calls to make, he decided to try out that game. The Battle of Babylon. Maybe he'll be able to go through one of the adventures and learn more about their killer.

That was forty minutes or so ago.

Five minutes after Lilith's text, there's a squeak of wheels of Byron's office chair, then a bit of a crash as it rolls back up against the bookcase behind his desk. Byron's body jerks in surprise on his awakening, remembering vividly his avatar's... HIS final moments in that world at the hands of the young priest. His body was burning up, his sight, going black. Now he was here, resting limply in his executive leather office chair. A thin layer of dust coats his clothing. Though he was home for the day, he still put on a dress shirt and a tie while working in the office. In fact, there's a pool of blood staining the white shirt at his shoulder. He didn't notice it before, but now he can feel the sting of the wound there.

Lilith has chunked her phone down the hall in frustration by the time Byron re-appears, freed from whatever snare had him. But she went to get it in case he texts back, it'd only been like three to five minutes, maybe she should chill the hell out. Her ability to do that today is highly compromised already, though, this is a compounding panic issue she's telling herself to stay still and just breathe through. He'll come back. He always comes back. He's not dead, he's not Disappeared, he's not out getting food, he's off at war and her fucking soldier always comes home.

Breathe.

The woman is standing between the hallway and office while breathing with her eyes closed, listening to the whole of the apartment for any noises of sounds of the man's arrival in whatever fashion. Her back is turned to lean in against the frame while one hand clutches white knuckled at the wrap and tuck knotting of her towel, she's trying to make herself rest limp instead of staying tense. Nevertheless, somewhere in the middle of doing this, she's side-chunked her phone again, this time into the office so she can hear it go off if he texts back. And thirty-two seconds after she does that, there's a much more solid noise, the hard roll of the desk chair into the bookcase.

It jolts Lilith's eyes open with surprise and hope, and finally, she's breathing the way she's supposed to be breathing naturally. Walking over to drop down into kneel at one of Byron's knees, she sits back on her heels and puts a hand out atop it, studying him with keen and worried assessing eyes, "... you're back. It's okay."

Unlike some other Dreams that Byron's been in, the only thing that he's feeling right now is the initial shock of being transported from the Dream world back to the real world. He's disoriented and he's trying to regain his bearings, but he's quick to realize that he's exactly where he was before being dragged into... whatever that was. Perhaps due to the motion of his chair drifting back, when he may have had his hand on his plugged-in mouse, or perhaps due to his being ejected from the game, the screen went off from sleep mode. Either way, the Battle of Babylon title can be seen on his laptop screen right now.

Lilith's comforting touch to his knee and her soothing voice does help to keep him calm. Then finally, he feels that sting to his arm, the bloom of crimson growing larger as it the fabric continues to absorb his blood. Was that the only injury he sustained? "Lilith... how long was I...?" That's a question that he tends to ask whenever he's Lost in a Dream. "I was pulled into that serial killer's game. The Battle of Babylon." It's right there in fancy print on his screen.

"Shit..." Undoing his tie first, before unbuttoning his stained shirt, he begins to shrug it off from him to expose the injured shoulder, giving them a decent view of the crudely drawn image of a spear that's cut into his flesh there.

Most of Lilith's dark hair has been hastily gathered up and snapped into a claw clip to keep it out of the way in the tub, but there's a few damp tendrils that escaped on her neck and shoulders and collarbone, breathing notably accelerated. Despite that telltale of nerves or comedown adrenaline from the terrible waiting games they're forced to play when things like this happen... she's pretty calm, at first by will, then by her own accord seeing that Byron is mostly okay, mentally and physically, more or less. Wetting her lips and studying the blood distractedly, the woman's eyes dart automatically to check the time on the computer screen display.

But a clock isn't what she sees now, she sees that damned game and gives it a dubious kind of expression, probably because she didn't expect he was in here nerding out on the thing. Her lashes bat a few times and her mouth opens a bit soundlessly before she starts to speak, "Your screen was already idle asleep when I came in, and it's been about five minutes since, I guess. So at least twenty-five minutes at the minimum if you keep a twenty minute screen sleep timer like I do. Definitely not an hour, though." Her fingers curl squeezing against the man's knee as her eyes swap back from studying the game's title screen.

Then she notices what he's just exposed to be showing that blossom of blood through the clothes, exhalation of the only words she can manage for a moment passing over her lips, "Oh, babe..." She doesn't like the look of it and it feels like someone has defiled him, sullied him somehow, he's just that much precious cargo of skin and bone and man to her. She doesn't like seeing injuries of his, of course, especially given the way they tend to stand out to her on other levels. But this looks like a brand and she is offended. At least the marks on their hands were just rock burns or something.

Rising up from kneel, the woman reaches to pull one of his arms around her towel-clad form, encouraging him to hold her while she stands right up between his legs while he's seated. It allows her to look straight down at the marking while having the support of his touch. And he's lending support this way too, in case what she suddenly sees about that wound comes off strange and lashes back at her, who knows these days. Distantly, in a way that says she's already started, Lilith gauges Byron's spear-marked flesh with her powers to make sure it's something she can take away when it's time.

"C'mere. Lemme look. If calling you a knight is going to get you branded, I think we need to work out a new metaphor..."

There's a sudden realization in the back of the woman's mind while she looks at the symbol in more ways than one, but she doesn't speak on it now.

"Alexander and Abitha Machinae was there." Byron lets Lilith know in the hopes that it would calm her worries. "It was like we were in a video game without the GUI. They both were scouts. Rogues, whatever they want to call themselves. And you, obviously, know what I tend to play." He then continues with this retelling, "We were on a mission, Machinae found our mission log in her pack, to kill the Quencher. Which we first learned about from the writing on Bennie's skin."

Turning his shoulder towards Lilith, swiveling in his seat, he legs her have a good look of this marking on him. Whether the others were marked, he's not sure. "I should contact Clayton at some point. See if he's got one of these as well." A pause, "And ask whether he think we should be worried." With Lilith occupying her time with his injury, his own eyes study her quietly. He was missing and she knew it. Byron knew how stressed Lilith can get every time this happens. And it's been happening a lot lately.

That look doesn't hold when she eases herself between his legs and perhaps it's then that he realizes that she's only dressed in a towel. One of his hands reaches out to press against her soft toweled covered hip on the opposite side of the scar. "It's only a nick. I'll just get this cleaned and put a bandage over it. In time, it should heal." He sure sounds optimistic about that.

"... okay." Lilith says a bit slowly to Byron after listening to him explain, head tipped downward while he shifts body to allow her better view. Her teeth want to grind while she says it, though, admittedly. They don't, but her jaw is a bit set as she looks a touch quickly and flinchingly away from the wounding to put it out of sight and mind if he wants to play it that way. This agreement may be temporary given the quiet voice and way the word comes out of her, eyes focusing on the computer screen.

Sighing gustily with the rest of the breath she probably hasn't fully exhaled in the past ten minutes or so, her head shakes some, "What exactly made this mark in the Dream? It's a spear marking, wasn't one of your mind symbols a spear?" Instead of touching on Byron now that she's standing, she just leans into his hold some and puts her hands up to unclasp and free her hair so she can keep them busy, she doesn't trust them not to shake and tremble at the moment.

Usually, Lilith doesn't ask too many details about Dreams, especially after they happen. She focuses on him first, lets whatever needs to come out... come out, then if she feels like there's something more pertinent from the skimmed details, she saves it to ask about later unless he seems to want to keep talking. This time, though, she's nagged and has to wonder aloud, not save it for later, "Do you think putting up something so powerful as a warding made you vulnerable to that kind of attention?" She pauses, then talks a little faster, hands starting to regather her hair up all over again, "It's not worth you disappearing over. We should take it down."

Rather than have her hovering around there, Byron pulls Lilith down into his lap while he's still seated there. She might not mean to do it, but the question about the symbols is one that makes him think. He's going through each of the symbols in his mind. The anchor. The rose and the eye. The antlers and the feathers. The tree. The sealed parchment letter. "I... I don't think so." There's a slow shake of his head. "I mean, I'm the one looking for answers and I can't seek out myself." A pause, "Unless we're all needed to visit the crone." Which is a possibility.

Sensing her agitation, he murmurs softly, "Lilith, just sit. Relax. I'm back." Even if he's collecting scars nowadays. If she doesn't fight against him pulling her into his lap, he'll pat at her thighs in a comforting manner while he lets her back rest against this other arm. Byron's actually a little surprised when she questions the ward he'd set up in their bedroom. "This happened without it, so I have my doubts. But if I were smart, I would've set my laptop up in the bedroom rather than keep to my office." However, when she asks to have it taken down, he has to wonder if that's even possible. "I... I've never tried doing that before." He only recently learned he had this ability. "I'm not exactly sure how that would work because once inside, I'd lose the ability to manipulate it, I think." For now, whatever pain he felt from the Dream was gone. Just the slight discomfort from the mark on his shoulder was left. "Here." Rolling his chair forward, he properly exits the game, before scooting it back some to give him space. Once that deed is done, the arm on Lilith's lap reach to slip beneath her legs in an attempt to scoop her up in her arms. He intends to carry her to the safety of their nullified room, obviously.

"Oh. An antler. Yes, okay. Where did I get... mm." Lilith's brows knit with continued bother, like something is still nagging her, which is at least a distraction out of the shakes along with the pull of her body down into the man's lap. Her hands fall out of her hair mid-gather and it spills down, her hand carelessly slinging the little clip aside onto the floor in mini-tantrum since she's working real hard on being good and calm otherwise. The anxiety is still there, of course, it always is after a disappearance, the paranoid idea and reminder about the very idea of him never coming back.. it takes a while to shake too, a stark reminder of the way things sometimes work where they live.

Her hands don't shake as one immediately takes to rake and pet through Byron's hair, the other rubbing in against the side of his neck, then his face with caressing feel of his pulse and relieved drag of palm. Her eyes are pretty sober, though, scanning every feature of his face up close while listening to him try to work the logic of even removing a nullification. Then after a tiny nod of her head, she ventures, "I suppose it's not something to just grab and rip down, put like that." Her lashes bat with surprise before she finishes the next thoughtful bout of words, though, "Can you stand in the hall and um... oh, baby, I can walk, I'm okay, are you hurting doing this?"

Lilith isn't afraid of being dropped, she's afraid of him standing up and finding something that hurts neither of them saw, she was very focused on the marking on his shoulder and might have missed what's unseen or internal. She has no clue what he faced in the Dream, really, just the premise. Her arm hooks about the back of his neck to hold on and be a little less dead weight and playful drape than she typically is with this doting power-move. While he's moving them, though, she puts her lips in against the side of his face to hold there and nuzzle with brushing tip of her nose in back and forth.

His arm doesn't hurt overly much. It more or less feels like a bruise at his shoulder. Byron is dusted with sand though and he only realizes this on standing, when the tiny grains drift down to make a mess on the floor. There's even some on the seat of his chair. "Son of a..." He could put Lilith down and strip on out of his clothing instead of track sand from one room, through the hall, and down to the bedroom. He had Lilith in his arms now and he was ready to go. This is why you have maid service.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt much." He tries to reassure her. "I may need a shower to wash away this sand." Unlike in their previous shared Dream, despite being out in some desert, he isn't sunburned on his return. Feeling her face nuzzling against his, he leans into it with his own gentle prod. It was almost dinner time, but all he wanted to do was lay back and get some rest. Waking up from Dreams are exhausting, often times in more ways than one. He has a mind to turn the entirety of the main room and kitchen into one big magic void.

Making his way out through the hall and then towards their bedroom, he can feel the silence found there. Yes, it was their bedroom. A private room, but often a mentalist will pick up some trace emotion. And if not that, they can feel the electric currents in the air. There was none of that now.

Lilith doesn't try to make Byron take down the nullification anymore, but that's mostly because she gets that it might be hard and just draw more attention like a beacon if he starts trying. Instead, when they reach the bedroom, she puffs out a little sigh over her lips and realizes he may as well make the most of the quiet space. It does nothing for the storm inside her that's been building all day, then catalyzed with fear a mere fifteen or so minutes prior, but she'll deal with that later. He's at least said enough that she understands and he's not that hurt, she just hates the branding mark.

Sighing, she puts her head against Byron's shoulder and realizes how tired he looks, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. She's been holding a lot of things in lately and most of their conversations tend to be circumstantial, not personal or light or playful or meaningful beyond what's happening to them over and over and over, it's been that way for weeks now. Lilith gives herself exactly thirty seconds to feel like everything is horrible, stupid, and unfair, then she shuts it off when her feet touch the floor. She counts down in her head and the number is timed almost perfectly with standing on her own again.

"Go on. Get in the shower and take a moment to get clean. I'll put something on and go get you a drink and we'll put some antibiotics and a bandage on your shoulder. Then you can lie down and shake the rest off."

When Lilith is in the living room and he's in the shower, she takes another thirty seconds to muffle screaming into a pillow because something has to come out at this point. Then she calmly puts the pillow down and swigs from the bottle a few times before actually pouring Byron's drink to go put bedside for him to rest by. He came back. That's all that matters right now. Twenty minutes ago, she was terrified it'd be the time he didn't come back at all.