INBOX.

[murderbaby]

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phew

[heorte]

It seems Ellis is content to watch, for a time. (A year ago, he'd stretched out on the ground while Mhavos had written reports too, fallen asleep to the methodic scratching of Mhavos' pen.) But the smearing of charcoal prompts some soft clearing of the throat, Ellis shifting as his attention sharpens.

"Mhavos," he says. "Hold, a minute."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos stares at Ellis bleakly, eyes half-lidded. "Quel?"

[heorte]

"Let me see your hands."

Uncertain how to remedy the smears around his eyes, but maybe Mhavos would make the connection once Ellis did something for the charcoal on his fingers.

[murderbaby]

This has, actually, happened before. Mhavos stares at his fingertips, smoky black, and sighs.

"It's all over my face."

[heorte]

"Just around your eyes," Ellis tells him, drawing a rag out of his pocket. There's some moment of indecision, before he puts the cloth directly into Mhavos' hand. "You're tired."

[murderbaby]

"I'm doing well," Mhavos says, gently moving the cloth over his eyes. "Yesterday, I was dying."

[heorte]

That's true, technically.

"All the more reason to rest today."

Then, lifting a hand to his own face to demonstrate: "There's some here, at the corner of your eye."

[murderbaby]

That's definitely true. Mhavos rubs at the corner of his eye until the worst of it's gone. There's still some around his face, but enough to look messy and not ridiculous. Charcoal is insidiously difficult to get rid of without water.

"I need to finish this," he offers in return, before going back to writing in his little book.

[heorte]

Maybe he does. Ellis remembers the reports, falling asleep in Nevarra while Mhavos scribbled at his side. His eyes move from Mhavos' face to his hands.

"Will you let me write it for you?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos stares blankly forward, momentarily struck by the offer, and its kindness. Ellis may be the kindest human Mhavos has ever known, and he barely knows him. He'll have to remedy that, one day. Or pay for it.

For now...

"You can't," Mhavos says, "this is... personal."

[heorte]

The answer isn't unexpected. Ellis is quiet for a moment in the face of it, considering what they have left behind them. He doesn't know exactly what Mhavos suffered, but it is clear that he has suffered.

"I understand," he says at last, though it's only in concept. Ellis has never put anything to paper. His own pain calcified a long time ago, and he'd never learned the right words for it anyway.

"I'm not sure what other relief I can offer you."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos finally looks up from his scribbling, concern pinching the corners of his face. "You don't have to," Mhavos says. "You've done more than enough. For yourself, and the rest."

[heorte]

"It's not obligation," Ellis protests, though it occurs to him that maybe the distraction he's creating is stalling Mhavos' writing enough to be counterproductive.

"I was...very lucky, through all of it. I know you were not."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos frowns. "There is an old saying... there is no luck in a viper pit. Even if you are not bitten... you're still in a pit of fucking vipers."

Mhavos very rarely swears in Trade. It just sounds wrong to his ears. And yet, this time, he thinks, it's warranted.

[heorte]

It's rare enough even in Ellis' limited acquaintance with Mhavos that it draws a smile.

"Maybe so."

But still.

"This is the wrong time to say this," Ellis says, slow around the sentiment as the smile ebbs. "But I'm glad you returned."

Perhaps something better said when they haven't just dragged themselves through an atrocity.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos takes a moment to consider that, and the echo of a smile passes over his expression. "I'd rather be here, in this current circumstance, than in Orlais."

[heorte]

It's a very clear illustration of how unfavorable conditions are in Orlais that being cut open in an elderly man's basement is the better option.

"I understand."

Even without knowing the whole of Mhavos' life, the sentiment checks out. His elbow nudges lightly at Mhavos' in unspoken affirmation, some small bit of contact to carry over affection that Ellis doesn't exactly know how to phrase.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos squints, catching something like that soulful pity he doesn't mind, precisely, except in this case. It wasn't what he was trying to elicit.

"Because the alternative," he says carefully, "was to never see my companions and acquaintances again."

'Friend' is a word he's very careful of. He considers Ellis a friend, but he's hesitant to say so, and risk rejection.

[heorte]

"A few months ago, I had considered returning to..." A trailing pause, while Ellis tries to think of a neat word to describe his duty. "Warden affairs," is what he settles on, a glossy phrase that is somewhat divorced from the reality of rooting out blight and darkspawn where they're found.

"But I came to a similar conclusion as well. If I left, I wouldn't see any of my friends here again."

His gaze is very direct.

"Fortunate I stayed, or I would have missed your return."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos' mouth twitches. Is that a sign of friendship? A confirmation?

He sets the thought aside patiently. No point in getting caught up in such things now. He's straining himself enough just staying awake.

"Then I am doubly pleased." He says, "this work... I'd not give it up for anything, nor the company."

[heorte]

"And I'm distracting you from it."

Maybe. Mhavos had called it personal, but Ellis supposes there's some aspect of it related to the mission, or some aspect of it that could be of use to them in writing up a report about this mission.

"I have a book in my pack. Would you mind if I sat up with it here, by you, until you finished?"

[murderbaby]

Mhavos waves his hand dismissively. "You're keeping me awake enough to write the bloody thing."

He gets back to reading, and proves he can speak while he writes: "What are you reading?"

[heorte]

The book is tipped towards Mhavos. The cover is so worn the name is illegible; the motion is just habit.

"Wysteria's Satinalia gift to me," he explains. "It's about floriculture."

So not the most gripping reading material, but.

"I used to have some interest in plants, when I was younger."

[murderbaby]

Mhavos' eyes drift closed, but open again immediately, a warm smile beneath them. "Their upkeep, or symbolism? I remember some fuss about the language of flowers, last I was in Riftwatch."

[heorte]

"Upkeep, so far. But there are testimonials, you might be interested in those."

The expression on Mhavos' face is encouraging, more at ease than he had been when Ellis had sat down.