Scully's voice is soft from the doorway, so quiet Tavros might not have even heard him approach. He hasn't been looking too hot, lately; sagging loose skin and sunken eyes, working his jaw back and forth like a grinding hinge as he feels one bony hand along the wall.
List of things you wouldn't wanna see standing over your bed at 3PM on Alternia: he looks like a daywalker at this point.
Tavros perks up immediately, pushing back from his desk and looking over him with gentle concern.
"Hey Scully, Uhh, What do you need?" He asks, biting his lip.
He'd really been trying, feeding him and cleaning him, giving him games to play or tasks to complete. Any time he wasn't out getting food or occasionally visiting with people he spent watching over or caring for Scully. He still had hope, that he would get better. He had to get better.... Right?
"Uhm.... Do you want something else to eat before bed? Or.... Are you tired?"
Scully has been following him like a shadow, quieter and quieter as the cycles went on, glued to Tavros's side whenever he wasn't working. He stands now, half-hunched over and gaunt, peeking out from under his overgrown hair and clinging to the doorframe.
(He's been having a lot of trouble getting around. Bumping into more things, having to feel along the wall as the ambient buzz of his psionics becomes less and less. Voidrot is a bitch.)
"food, ii thiink. ii'm experiienciing 2ome abdomiinal tor2iion."
He stands without hesitation, smiling soft even if he can't see it, it carry's into his tone. "Alright, Uh, I have some more of that grain and broth soup I can heat up for you. That should be pretty gentle" he humms.
He crosses over to him to take him to his computer chair, still warm from where he'd been sitting, and helping him into it. "It'll just be a minute."
He fishes a half full container of soup from his mini fridge and pops it in the microwave, grabbing a spoon and making sure it's clean.
"You went and sat with the bees earlier? They were happy to see you..." They were also worried, but so was he. They were all worried about Scully, but it'd be okay...
He takes out the container, checking it's not too hot to hold, or eat, before handing it over to him, taking his hands and guiding them around it before placing the spoon in.
"Thank-you."
Scully follows--he doesn't even swing his arms when he walks, which is ... weird, maybe--and hovers at his elbow, staring blankly off to the side rather than straight ahead. His brow knits, momentarily, but he turns his attention to the soup as soon as his hands are nestled around it.
It's ... probably hard to watch, sometimes. His hands shake so much now that most of the soup doesn't even make it out of the bowl, and what does make it to his mouth stays there for a moment with the stilted, shuddering motion of his adam's-apple (he called it his rumblesphere, weird biology) as he struggled to swallow.
Most of it goes down half-chewed. Thankfully, it's Soup™️. He can't manage more than soup these days; poor guy bit into a slice of an apple, the other day, and a crumbled chunk of one of his teeth came with it.
He manages about a half a cup, though, sagging slightly with his head resting on Tavros's shoulder for balance.
"ha2 DK contacted you?"
Tav tries a little to steady his hand without being too invasive about it, a warm, steady palm resting over his as he kneels next to his computer chair.
The soft mush of broth soaked rice doesn't need any real chewing, and Tav watches him eat quietly. He reaches up once to brush some of his hair back from his face, it's getting so long, but he doesn't seem to care to cut it, but at least he was keeping it clean for him....
He takes the container when he stops eating, setting it on the desk and putting an arm around him as he rests his head on his shoulder.
"Uhm.... Not yet.... You want to get in bed?"
"ye2 plea2e," he murmurs. He never seems to mind Tav's hands--sometimes when they're on his face he even leans into it, a twitch at a time--but this time he halts, his knees stuttering. That uncut hair hangs in his face as he slouches forward a little, with a shaking inhale.
"Tavro2,” he says, his shoulders hunching forward slightly as he tucks a hand over the seam of his own lips, "ii'm about two rumiinate."
He pauses as he's helping him up, almost anticipating it and changing direction once he confirms.
"Oop, Okay, Hold on." He mumbles, gently lifting him, (he's so light) and taking him just around the corner into the ablution block, steadying him over a basin.
"We're here." He confirms quietly, quickly pulling all his hair back and away from his face, gently rubbing his back with his other hand.
Scully is barely draped over the lip of the sink when he loses the contents of his gastric-sack. It's sparse, and it's thin, and this is probably the third or forth time there's been blood in it. His knees shake a little--Tavros's hands on him are just about the only reason he's upright, pitiful as he may be.
He nods, gasping, and feels until he finds the faucet to wash out his mouth. It's routine, now.
"2orry," he says, like he says every time.
"S'okay." He mumbles back, grabbing the glass by the basin to fill with cold water "Wanna try drinking a tiny bit before you lay down?" He asks, hand still slowly stroking his back as he stands behind him.
Mischief, the worm off the string peeks in the ablution block, sniffing Scully's ankle with a soft whine.
He nods, and when Mischief comes snuffling in, he nudges it gently with his foot in greeting. He likes Mischief a lot--more than once, Scully has been found curled up in it like a feather boa, sound asleep.
"thank-you," Scully murmurs, out of the sudden silence. His bony hand dangles around Mischief's snout, letting the baby Snuffle About with his fingers, "ii'm 2orry ii wa2n't your friiend."
The long blue beast fondly licks at his fingers with a golden tongue before pressing it's muzzle against his palm.
Tav smiles a little at the interaction before pausing when Scully appologieses.
"Oh.... Uhm.. It's okay Scully. It is not like everyone is always going to be friends with everyone...." He reasons as he stoops to gently pick Scully up, cradling him in his arms as he carrys him to the bed. "And, We are maybe kind of friends now.... Right?" He adds tentatively as Mischief follows.
He lays him down on the soft blanket he tucks him in with every night, waiting for Mischief to jump up on the bed and nestle under his head and around his neck, fluffy and warm, like an extra pillow.
Scully is silent, carefully feeling along it's muzzle, cradling it as he stares into space.
"ii treated you pretty poorly, though. you diidn't de2erve iit."
Tavros scoops him up, and he curls himself a little smaller. He's always fucking freezing now. It makes sense--he lost a lot of weight very quickly, and the heat leeches from him as easily as if he were standing outside in winter. We love a heat-sink king.
"ii don't thiink ii can be your friiend," he admits, with a whisper of something that might even be regret--just a smidgen, barely-there, "iit'2 not wiithiin my current functiional parameter2. ii would have, though."
Mischief nuzzles up, and Scully hesitates for a moment as he struggles to lift his head, so Mischief can nestle in with him. He buries his face in it's fur, and a little of the tension looses from his jaw. Better. Safe.
"Oh...... Well, That's okay.... You're still my friend, I think...." He humms as he tucks the blankets warm around him, making sure he's in a comfortable position before stepping away for a moment.
The two fluff bugs crawl over the blankets to curl up against him, and are soon joined by a pufftapod and a nugget, all gathering around to help keep him warm. Even Tink flutters down to nestle by his neck, licking his ear a couple times before settling down.
Tavros opens a shaded window to let some of the warm, morning air in, smiling as a few pairs of bees buzz into the room. "Uhm, Anyway, If you think you would have, Then that still sort of counts."
He comes back around to the other side of the bed, carefully crawling over to lay down beside him, pillow propping up his head a bit as he lowers himself face down, reaching out to let the warm weight of his arm rest over Scully.
One by one, everything Warm in the room curls up around him. Maybe they know, maybe they don't. Maybe they just know he's cold and he shouldn't be. The fluffbugs settle around his feet, the pufftapod at the small of his back. He tilts his head for Tink without thinking, a little more tension melting off of his face.
He thinks he might miss his lusus, sometimes. He doesn't know if it's a biological function or a sentimental one.
He shakily lifts one rail-thin arm from the nest of covers for the bees to alight on, eyes fluttering a little as Tavros settles in.
It may have been harder to notice before, but Scully is so ... fragile. Smaller than ever now that his skin clings to him like paper. He was 4'11 to begin with, and under Tav's arm he probably feels like a ragdoll, chilly and gangle-edged.
Scully nestles up to his arm with a sound that might have been exertion, might have been a weak little trill. The bees bumble over his wrist, between his fingers as he curls himself up small against Tav's side.
His eyes crack open, and he tilts his head suddenly, towards the blank ceiling as if staring at something.
They know something, in the way beasts do. Tavros should probably know too, but.... they're just worried. He's worried too. He shifts closer to help share his own warmth, arm curling around him to pull him in when he strains, returning a quiet trill.
They all settle in, safe and warm and still, a half a dozen beating hearts, breathing slow. Scully looking up so suddenly rouses Tavros from drifting off. His eyes flutter open as he peeks over at him, humming a curious noise, soft and sleepy.
"Hmmm.... Scully?"
"Hm?"
His head twitches towards Tavros, but his eyes stay glued to the ceiling, silent. One of his hands scritches idly atop the worm-on-string's head. He sags with exhaustion, but his eyes remain open, fixed above them even in his drowsiness.
"You okay....?" He mumbles. He can't turn his head to see what he's looking at, but he shifts his arm slightly, his hand resting over his on top of Mischief's head.
"yeah."
Scully nods against his arm, nestling a little closer. His voice rests at a murmur. Peaceful, unhurried as he dozes.
"ii wa2 ju2t watchiing the 2tar2."
Tav smiles sleepily, gently squeezing his hand as he settles back down. He assumes he means the fairylights hung around the ceiling, forgetting for the moment that he's blind.
"Hope they're pretty...." He sighs, nuzzling back into his pillow to drift off to the sound of buzzing bees and ambient city noise playing on his palmhusk.
He always liked the city noise better.
Scully curls in on himself, nuzzles against Tavros--safe, and warm, and more cared-for than he has been since before Dart disappeared--and Sleeps.
(When the cool light of the moon washes in, and the room starts the take on a little chill, and the animals start to whine, Tavros can find him. Still curled up so, so small, so cold he must have been lying there for hours, eyes still half-lidded open, staring up at the Stars.)
It's the soft, sad mooing of his lusus that wakes him first, then the slight chill that rouses him. His hand still rests over cold, stuff fingers, and he pushes himself up as he starts to realize just how cold they are.
He stares down at him, slowly tuning into the beasts' emotions, Mischief squirmed out from under him to lay on his unmoving chest, Tink nosing sadly at his ear with mournful lows. He doesn't have to check, he knows through them, but still he gently squeezes his hand, murmurs "Scully?" before his breathing starts to catch and hiccup, before tears start streaming down his cheeks.
His face scrunches up, eyes squeezing tight as he starts to cry, shaking with open sobs as he leans over him, one hand holding his tight as the other gently brushes over his hair. The falling tears burst instantly into bright red flowers with black and white centers, greenery stretching from under them to slowly weave a carpet of tiny blue flowers beneath them.
He doesn't know how long he cries, but it's long enough that by the time he opens his sore eyes, his entire room has been carpeted in flowers of grief, coating the floor and climbing up the walls, tangling through his bookcase and out the window, and encircling Scully's still body in a bower of red and blue and black and white...
He... has to get out of here. He needs to get away, from this, from anything, everything. He shakily let's go of his hand, climbing off of the bed and stumbling a little to catch himself on his desk. He can't just leave him here though, can he?
He fumbles on the surface for his palmhusk, brushing away forget me nots and pushing at the screen with leaden fingers and bleary eyes. Ringleader was Scully's other caretaker. He could take care of this, because Tavros, just
Couldn't.
A brief message, and he shoves the device into his pocket, more out of habit than anything, Before stumbling his way out of the room. He stretches his wings out in the cool moonlight and flys away from it all without a second thought.
gho2ty: iive enjoyed beiing your friiend. thank2 for beiing miine iin return.
When you received this message, you were surprised, but not. You had believed that the goodbye message had already happened. Many weeks ago, in fact. This tone was plenty familiar. To hear from him again was a small surprise.
Until you heard from him yet again, but this time more final than the rest.
A murmur amidst the yells and cries of the other voices. Quiet, tired, content.
ii wa2 ju2t watchiing the 2tar2.
You hear plenty of voices that are familiar, especially given the amount of friends of yours that are immortal and just oh so happy to make use of this fact with their frequent dying habits.
It actually was relieving to hear Scully in what would be his last moments. The fact that you didn’t hear anything in those weeks prior gave you unease. A lack of clarity to his state, if he actually passed or if he was simply not around.
Ember sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning. He wakes often and weeps, silent and still in both bodies so as not to wake anyone. His grief is too large for him to share; it could not fit through his mouth or his mind. They are narrowed by it.
As twilight draws near, what he has named the sleep vortex begins. Ember is too soul-wearied to fight it much, even if succumbing feels, emotionally, like drowning, terror and exhaustion and a numb resignation. Everything feels a little like that, the grief drawing them under.
It lifts, finally, in the morning, after they ought to be at work. Ember stands, changes into black, summons his reflection, sends it in. He cannot neglect his work, cannot stagnate - it would be wrong to - but he also cannot tolerate pretending everything is normal today.
He returns to the bed, and he reaches out through time and space, opens portals. One to the bee he crocheted for Scully. He never got it; another way in which they failed him. Ember pulls through the beenary book and clicks weak apologies, trying and failing to smell some of the musk left behind - but it’s too late.
At noon, Ember sits bolt upright, and calls his rabbi. They mustn’t stagnate, if only because Scully wouldn’t have wanted them to. Ember apologizes, of course, for interrupting preparations for Yom Kippur, but he needs to hold a shivva.
Then, over a mug of tea, with Kallipides nearby, they gaze out over the marsh, waving golden in the afternoon breeze, and they think. Death had told them he would be happy now. Good. Ember doesn’t think he’s been happy, truly happy, for a long, long time.
hes hunched over a bit wearing a really dark blue shirt and red nail polish on his right hand (probably blue on his left but you cant see it) and super bright yellow skinny jeans
he looks kinda pouty and it looks like he just recently got a haircut, super well styled
and his shoes arent the ones he usually has theyre more like hightop vans style, the right is black w white sole and toe and the left is the opposite, and he has his legs crossed in a way where his left ankle is resting on his right knee
