Macglynn has finished dressing himself and smiles at her. " 'S been fahv hours."
Senkha simply sits there, her robe hanging loosely about her shoulders, bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. "What's supposed to happen after five hours?" she asks, smiling derpishly.
Macglynn says: ... Th' drug fades.
Senkha says: Oh. And you go back to normal.
Macglynn 's shoulders slump. His high seems to be winding down.
Macglynn says: Yeah.
Senkha, oddly enough, doesn't sound at all disappointed by this. There may even be a hint of relief in her voice. "Well," she says, standing and wrapping her arms around his waist. "I think we needed that, regardless."
Macglynn kisses her on the forehead, getting some last enjoyment of the feeling before having to rely on her to feel things. "Would y'want this again?"
Senkha pauses to consider, running her fingers along his left cheek, his lips. "Maybe," she finally answers. "But I love the man I married, dead and all. If it makes you happy, then I wouldn't mind it, but I love you just as you always are."
Macglynn smiles. "Ah could get real used t' this."
Senkha gives him a wry smile and leans in to kiss him firmly. "Yeah, I could too, I suppose. If it makes you happy."
Macglynn's smile fades, and his upper left lip twitches. He pushes away from her, his breath growing heavy. It then grows ragged, like he has to cough.
Macglynn says: ... Oh, this ain't gunna be pleasant, is it.
Senkha takes a step back, alarmed. "Oliver?" she asks quietly, her hands still reached out towards him. Her thoughts betray a sense of dread as he says this. She swallows hard.
Senkha says: I'm here. Tell me what you need.
Macglynn stumbles back, almost drunkenly, and his elbow slams into the window sill. He leans back on it for support. He finally does cough. Blood trickles from the corners of his mouth.
Senkha makes a strangled sound when she sees the blood. She hurries forward and wraps her arms around Oliver's waist, trying to support him or at least lower him to the ground gently.
Macglynn flails a hand, trying to move her away from him. He tries to stand, if she lets him. She'd feel not only overwhelming pain from him, but also overwhelming sickness, and a need to get outside -right now-.
Senkha lets him go, stepping back. "Go," she says weakly, her voice breaking.
Macglynn stumbles down the stairs and through the front door, which slams against the wall as he opens it. When he gets outside, he throws himself into the grass, his heart pounding, his arms shaking. He retches up pieces of his own insides, and begins to cough.
Senkha follows, hands shaking as much as his are, heart pounding as much as his is. She's not interested in watching this process...she simply wants him to know that he isn't alone.
Macglynn curls into a ball on the grass, blood and dark chunks of flesh coughing up. He grows pale and his cheeks sink in. His flesh opens on the left half of his face, and it bleeds profusely.
Senkha sinks to the ground, drawing her knees up to her chest and watching Oliver. She's begun to weep quietly, some part of her amazed that there are any tears left for her to cry.
Macglynn screams in agony, any consideration for somebody hearing this and approaching seemingly set aside because he is in maddening pain. His eyes sink in, shrinking and withering into nothing, and the dark flames return.
Senkha continues to watch the process, sobbing. Without meaning to, she reaches out one hand in Oliver's direction, but not really to any true end.
Macglynn's flesh turns dark with putrefaction around the splits. Areas that were previously decayed again rot, pieces falling into the grass. His red blood slowly turns into the familiar black.
Senkha 's sobs quiet significantly as the process begins to wind down. She still looks horrified, however--less at seeing her husband undead again and more at the pain he's just endured, all for five hours of elation.
Macglynn 's neck has again split open. A single beetle flutters out of the freshly opened wound. Interestingly, the dried and withered remains of his eyes and tongue remain.
Macglynn is covered in blood, bile, blight, and a whole lot of other b-words. It's pretty gross. He seems to have lost consciousness. Again.
Senkha waits a few minutes after the process ends to rise and walk over to her husband. She kneels beside him, brushing his hair out of his face, and leans down to kiss his forehead, the only part of him she can find that isn't covered in ick.
Senkha says: --you're out like a light, aren't you?
Macglynn doesn't respond to the kiss. His forehead is warm; the warmth of life having not yet left him.
Senkha laughs mirthlessly, shaking her head, having reached a point in the day where the only thing she can really do -is- laugh. She kisses Oliver's forehead again and hurries into the house. A moment later, she returns, dressed in her torn and bloody armor.
Senkha says: Let's get you inside and cleaned up. Light-willing, we'll have a quiet day tomorrow.
Macglynn is a messy lump on the ground! He needs to stay conscious for a day, geez.
Senkha, with practiced fluidity, loops Oliver's arm across her shoulders and stands, lifting his unconscious body with her. She slowly makes her way back to the house, shaking her head as she does.
Senkha quietly changes out of her geistskin armor, setting aside the pieces she'll have to mend the following day. She presses her hand against her bandages, testing their strength, and tugs on a simple grey flannel shirt to sleep in.
Macglynn 's eyes crack open, little blue flames poking through.
Macglynn says: ... Nngh.
Senkha finishes buttoning up her shirt and smiles at Oliver, trying not to let her weariness show. "Hey," she says softly, climbing in bed beside him.
Macglynn says: That really hurt, y'know that?
Senkha nods, smiling slightly. She reaches over for his right hand, brushing her thumb against the tip of his middle finger as a test. "I know. Probably shouldn't do that again."
Macglynn laughs weakly. He doesn't feel her touch on his finger. "Yuh'd not want that anymore, hm?"
Senkha's shoulders sag in disappointment as he doesn't feel her touch on his finger. She shakes her head. "No. I don't. It's not worth it, seeing you go through that."
Macglynn says: Whut if Ah jus' always had it. Ah don't feel hurt by it at all. That was th' happiest Ah--
Macglynn says: ...
Macglynn says: No. Y'gotta feel that too.
Macglynn says: ... Whut th' heck'm Ah thinkin', puttin' y'through that.
Senkha smiles sadly at Oliver. "If you always had it, that would be a miracle. You'd be alive. Don't start beating yourself up over this." But behind those words is the relief she feels that he understands how painful it was for her.
Macglynn says: Then Ah-- Ah won't do it. Not if it hurts you.
Macglynn has internal frustration. THAT WAS AWESOME.
Senkha seems ready to protest, to tell him that he should do what makes him happy and that will make her happy, but her eyes fall to his finger again. That simple thing that she can't bring back for him because putting her soul at risk doesn't make him happy. She touches a hand to her right cheek, the bite marks there, and just wearily says, "...I'm sorry. Thank you. I don't want to ask this of you, but..."
Macglynn says: No, no. It's probably dangerous anyway.
Senkha nods wearily, feeling some twinging of guilt at the back of her mind for asking this of him, but too tired to do anything but. "Just want you to be happy and safe. Safe and happy. That order."
Senkha shifts over and rests her head on his shoulder, moving his left arm to wrap around her. She starts when she sees his left finger back and looks over at his right hand.
Macglynn is far too out of it to have noticed what's been returned to him. He lets his arm be wrapped around her and pulls her close. "Maybe it ain't so bad th' second tahm."
Senkha begins to say something but thinks better of it, too tired to discuss this more. "Maybe...I love you just the way you are," she murmurs. She reaches up, not really conscious that she's doing it, and touches his missing left cheek. And smiles.
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