Routine was a comforting thing; when it flowed as it was supposed to; and it was utter torment the moment it was cast into chaos.
The initial disruption started when Seviere stopped responding to the messages sent to his tomestone. It only got worse when attempts to reach his linkpearl were met with similar silence and he fully noticed that he could not locate Sevi’s tomestone on the tracking map. Any thoughts to follow the next task of his routine were forgotten. Louvel should have been preparing dinner yet instead he found himself searching the streets of Gridania for his husband.
He started at the amphitheater, asking familiar faces still lingering around if they had seen Seviere. Where was he last spotted, where had he been going? He got only scraps of information, most people much too absorbed in their own work to have been keeping tabs on the monochromatic songbird. From there he traced the routes he knew Sevi followed through the streets, the market stalls he knew the siren had a habit of stopping at.
Bells passed and the city yielded nothing but disappointment. The gates beyond were no different, the guards standing post providing him little more than dismissive statements and underhanded insults. Louvel knew better than to expect anything more from the Greens, so it was the forest itself he turned to. Once more the wolf followed the pathways he knew his songbird traveled, traced the steps they had walked together dozens of times, each new step taken leaving him feeling hollow with Seviere’s absence.
Little was found along the initial trails and roads of the Shroud. The wood wailers were of little help, but the same as the merchants and other people traveling the road. Again and again he came up empty handed in his efforts to find even a hint of where Seviere had gone. Another bell passed and his frantic search finally came to a halt once Seviere’s lute was spotted. This discovery did nothing to comfort the wolf. Truly, it had much of the opposite effect.
Louvel’s search resumed with more haste, with a higher roar of anxiety. He traveled to familiar places, followed familiar paths. He checked their dwellings, the places he knew Seviere liked to visit. He checked the White Hall with no one there having seen or heard anything from the missing siren. Further and further he went, covering all the ground he could, tearing through his memory to try to recall each and every little place he had ever seen Seviere go. Every and every nook and cranny of the Shroud a person might be hiding in.
All concept of routine was eroding away. He had nearly missed his evening check-ins with Spider and Inwa; typically pleasant conversations warped into exchanges that were tense and brief. All he could give was an apology and his love before he resumed his search with renewed distress. Night passed without sleep, without a word from his missing partner. Louvel’s hunt had been endless, everything else all but forgotten. With the morning bells settling in, he should have been taking care of other things. He should be checking in on Edarien for their usual conversation with a morning workout. A bath and then breakfast should have followed. Louvel failed to accomplish any of those things. All concept of routine was gone.
More messages were sent to the bard’s tomestone. More attempts were made to get some kind of answer from his linkpeal. All Louvel received was more silence. He’d made his way to his home in Dravania, intent on checking the place one more time just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything while also making sure the lute he had been clinging to like a life line was stored somewhere safe before he went out searching again. It was on his way towards the door to leave that his tomestone finally chimed, that he finally got some kind of answer.
It was an answer that caused his blood to run cold and his breath to lock up in his throat. Stunned, panicked, strung out and tired, Louvel could do little more than stare at the screen for a long stretch of minutes. The duskwight dropped onto one of the stools at the counter, the tomestone clattering to the countertop a second later. How did he process this? How did he sort this out? He could feel his insides twist and tangle; could feel his heart ache as everything inside of him howled in desperation. What was he supposed to do, just wait? He doubted he could manage that. For a moment he took a few seconds to breathe, and to try to think.
Multiple times his tomestone found its way back into his hand, eyes once more reading that message; studying the image with it with renewed dread and mounting fury. Messages were typed, deleted, typed again. Don’t do anything stupid. He read it again, grit his teeth with the effort to swallow it down. He needed to think, to approach this carefully. He could not risk causing Sevi more harm with some reckless, enraged action.
The tomestone was thrown, sent across the room to collide hard with the wall near the table. He’d be grateful for how durable the device was later, but for the moment he only seethed more over the fact it didn’t break. The rest of the kitchen proved much less durable.
Counters, shelves, any flat surface was swiped clean of anything not nailed down, objects flying in all directions in a cacophony of destruction. Jars shattered, utensils clattered across the brick floor, a liquor bottle smashed against one of the cabinets. Nothing was left unscathed. If it could break then it would be broken, shards and fragments left scattered across the floor, the entry of the home left in ruin. None of it compared to how torn up the wolf felt, doubled over onto the floor like just another broken object among the mess.
Louvel screamed, howled until his throat felt raw, until his lungs ached, until he tasted blood and the fringes of his vision dimmed. Another scream came only a breath after the last, and another. Again and again, each a little shorter than the last, each a little more distraught, a little more wavering until he was reduced to breathless sobs.
Another bell passed before he managed to collect himself enough to get up, to find his tomestone again, and to finally piece together a message.
Sevi needs to take medication at the eighth bell every evening with a meal. He should have a couple doses in his bag if you have that.
A pause followed as he tried to maintain some semblance of calm. Seviere’s well-being was all that mattered here.
With a woeful curse Louvel set the device down on the table, left it there while he waited for a response. He knew it may well be days before he heard anything. He would see the kitchen put back in order in the meantime, the task doing little to put his mind at ease.
Mentions: @thedarknesssings - Sevi, Spider, Edarien. @daylightrays - Inwa
