Chapter 24: Gallows Humor

"From bad to worse."​

As your eyes slowly drift open, the light of a Goddess is absent from them. Drawing into yourself— expecting a wave of pain in your shoulder— your eyes bolt open in alarm. There's no pain at all. Though your robes are slick with blood, they aren't out of place. Lying on the mossy floor of the library, you can barely see the water runoff and greenery on the ceiling above.

Ray, Celegwen, and Ofelia are leaning over you intently. You begin to crawl backwards reflexively. Ofelia practically jumps out of her skin. "Hey— hey! Richard! What the fuck—"

"Father, please." A hand is put to your shoulder. Celegwen seems determined to keep you down. "You were wounded—"

"I feel fine." Gently shrugging Celegwen's off attempts to keep you still, you sound as surprised as you feel.

"He's prolly in shock." The blonde sighs heavily. Ray whoofs politely at her. "Was ramblin' like crazy before he passed out. This isn't good—"

"I wasn't rambling." With a deep frown, you try pressing firmly on your shoulder. It feels like the wound was never there.

"I'm glad you're alright, Father. I know you were not rambling." Celegwen's strange and knowing look commands your attention. You avert your eyes. "I was— am more concerned about what you were doing. Are you alright?"

There's little doubt in your mind that Celegwen was able to hear every utterance and moan that Mercy elicited from you. You're hardly uncomfortable that she heard. Rather than have any shame over being blessed by the Goddess, thinking back to it has you positively beaming. "I'm alright. Better than I've felt in a very long time. Mercy worked through me. She didn't just help you all to realize my identity— my shoulder seems to be completely healed." Pure, genuine joy decorates the smile across your face as you say to yourself, "the Gods are Merciful."

Both women are completely stunned at the sight of such a foreign expression on you. The sorceress remains pensive— perhaps given the greater context.

Ofelia, on the other hand, is positively elated. She seems to take your word immediately that your shoulder has healed and nudges you gently with a smile of her own. You don't shy away.

Getting to see the look on your face a bit more clearly, the rogue gets the hint. Her smile turns into a leer. "Oh. Oooohhhh! You guys weren't going to tell me anythin' before? Suppose I'm not gonna' hear any of it now? Unbelievable. Y'know, it's 'bout time a lady took care of you— HEY—!" Celegwen firmly punches Ofelia in her arm. The smaller woman makes a show of punching her back, wasting no time before turning back to you. She's still grinning. "I think I might actually like this one, Richard. Don't let Gwen bother ya' none. She hears everythin'. Of course, I wouldn't have minded—"

With a deceptively level voice, the elf makes a fist at her friend. "Please attempt to have a little class, Ofelia."

"Comin' from you, what a load'a crock— OKAY! Okay!" She puts up her hands to deflect another punch. "Happy for ya', Richard. Really. Maybe we can get more where that came from for you. You probably need it."

A slight nod is made while feeling the site of an absent injury. You can't disagree, and don't particularly care to. Mercy has never healed you so rapidly, or in such an intense way. By all rights, this wound should have taken weeks to fully recover.

"What luck, though. It looked like I wasn't gonna get in close to that monster before he did a number on ya'. Didn't mean to take so long, but I didn't want to hurt ya' or nothin'. Not that that's much help, but we really tore into 'em. Was pretty weird, if I'm gonna be honest."

Celegwen explains, "it seemed to maintain its illusion up to and long after its death. I did not dissipate its body to conserve my strength. I suggest you do not look, Father."

"I've seen far worse—"

"I cannot stop you if you wish to— but we should continue with our expedition. If you say we have as little time as we do to leave this place, it would be unwise to linger."

"It's seriously a miracle nothin's come this way so far." Ofelia chimes in, "Ray's been real good bout keepin' his nose out— but every time he seems to start, nothin' makes its way over here. Somethin' might be up."

Your smile fades a great deal as you get a hold on yourself. "It could have been the effect that demon placed on me. It seemed to be able to will my form into... another space. I don't quite know how to describe it. It defied— it defied categorization. I think we can safely assume that the demons in the area were avoiding it as well."

A dark look passes over Ofelia's face. She gives you a smile you do not like at all. "What if we use it?"

You look at her as if she's insane. "What do you mean?"

She glances over to a dark smear in the corner of the library. As taken as you were with Mercy, you hadn't noticed it during the fight and pale at the unmistakable remnants of the corpse. You couldn't have been unconscious for more than half hour, as every streak of blood surrounding the body is still moist. It seems that your friends showed no restraint in tearing the creature to pieces. Its head is severed at the neck, laying face-down a fair distance away. The sight of your scruffy brown hair is the best indication of the monster's fixed form— though it's so matted with blood, you almost can't make out the shade.

A shiver climbs up your spine. Ofelia repeats, "what if we use it?"

Your fellow scholar seems to catch on. "A bluff?"

"A diversion. We could use the help, if we're gonna be hikin' all day. I'm sure every bastard in this place could hear us rippin' him to shreds. This place was crawlin' before. A few of their friends probably came this way by now, too."

Finally getting to your feet, you give Ofelia a nod of approval. The halfling springs over to the remnants of the demon. Celegwen is right on her heels, muttering to herself and obviously finding the situation distasteful. Thanks to your occupation, you're completely used to carnage, and can find the entire situation darkly amusing.

After gathering your things and calling Ray to your side, you gather some water from the opposite side of the library, and rejoin your companions in a matter of moments. Ray is sorely in need of attention and sticks to you like glue. You kneel down for a moment, scratch his ears, and murmur some reassurance while watching your friends.

Ofelia dons her working gloves, and shoos you away. "Get some food, dammit. This won't take more than a moment."

She's given a quick nod, and Ray is given a pat on his head to follow you. You were raised by farmers, and have had to travel through the wilderness many times. You can at least recognize a few greens. It's quick work to fill your pack.

Jogging back over to the women, you're darkly curious as to what they've managed to collect. Blood drips from a small bundle of cloth that Ofelia's bundled the demon's head in. Its face remains obscured from your view, but you can see crimson seeping from its eyes, severed neck, and gashes along its face.

The sorceress— despite being responsible for the many lacerations on the demon's body— seems terribly unamused as she picks up one of its stick-like arms. She keeps it held far from her body— likely to keep the black, blood-soaked fabric of its shredded robes from getting on her skin. It seems they've gathered all that hasn't been torn completely to shreds.

Ray doesn't do so much as growl while they pick up the corpse. He knows when his target is no longer a threat.

Both you and Celegwen seem suspicious of the plan's effectiveness, but you try to reassure her. "Younger, weaker demons are hardly sane, Celegwen. Many are far from intelligent. Most of them— most of them can scarcely tell humans apart, let alone any of their kind that they don't directly serve."

She nods, seeming to take heart from your words.

Ofelia merely fusses with the severed head. She settles on saying, "good to know. I was just goin' to chuck it at the first demon that gave us trouble, but maybe we can do more...?"

Thanks to a lifetime of battle and bloodshed, you're too jaded to be bothered by the sight. Your expression lifts into a grim smirk as you walk over to Ofelia to get a better look at the head.

"Richard?"

You risk a little gallows humor. "Funny. I thought I couldn't be any worse off."

Celegwen seems mildly amused.

Ofelia snorts and tries to stifle a smile— but as she teases you back, she can't stop herself from laughing. "Could you imagine? Having a couple of women tearing you to pieces and wrapping your head—!" A small piece of rubble sails through the air, as Celegwen chucks a rock straight at the rogue. It's a fine distraction from how deeply you blush. "Yer aim's shit, Gwen! Lucky for you, Richard, we got places to be— ahaha!" The halfling dodges another rock.

Celegwen sighs heavily and walks over to you both. You avert your eyes, extremely embarrassed to even glance at either woman. Staff in one hand, severed arm in the other, the elf looks exhausted— but still offers you a smile, and a welcome distraction. "I do have better things to do than to always carry you around, Father."

"Allow me," you murmur. Beet-red, you put up your mace to to take the duplicate of your own arm away. It's disturbingly light, and there's no heat from the within the cloth draping it. The weight of the herbs and plant life you gathered is a fine reminder that there's been time to resupply. Assuming that where you're headed you'll need all the protection you can get, you keep your shield in the other hand and try to reassure yourself.

I won't permit myself to get in such bad shape again. I owe it to Flesh— and I suppose to Ofelia.

Celegwen doesn't protest, but mutters something under her breath in a language you don't understand. You safely assume she's cursing the halfling in her own tongue, and wanted to save you further embarrassment.

Motioning towards a door opposite of the corridor you all entered from, you lower your voice further. "Ofelia, will you please lead as you did before? I know the way— but I trust your eyes, and the ruins ahead will be swarming with demons by now." The halfling nods, sobering up immediately. "Celegwen, I know you're tired, but we'll need to keep up the pace."

"I'll be fine—" She straightens up. "—but I would greatly prefer to avoid casting any spells until I can rest again. I cannot silence our steps or voices—"

Ray growls. His fur stands on end as his attention focuses on something beyond your sight or hearing.

The elf whips her head around with fear in her eyes. Her hair and ears bobs from the sudden motion. "We've stayed here for far too long."

Ofelia grabs you by the arm. "Move!"