Zarius breathes and opens one eye again at the knocking at the door. Was that the healer Kamille sent for? That was fast. He feels a little apprehensive as the large beast-man looms over him and takes a look at his arm. Not that he could do anything as a reaction to that feeling. The numbing potion was working very well and the rest of his body was too tired to let him move at all.

He closes his eye again as the healer works their magic. Literally. Thanks to the numbing potion, he doesn't have the nerves and muscle tissue being repaired or the skin re-growing across his limb. Even after Beist has completed their spell, his arm is still numb though now looked completely unscathed.

"Thank you." He replies tiredly to the druid.

Once he recovered more, he would have to introduce himself more formally if the healer was still around by the time he woke back up. That was a contact he should keep in his back pocket in case there is ever a time he can't go through Kamille first. 

Feeling fairly secure and just being able to hear the healer going over to Caedes to address his wound, the tiefling allows unconsciousness to take him. It's the first actually restful sleep he's had in the past few weeks since his arm had first been injured. His breathing slowly gets shallower but is even and does not rattle with liquid as it did the previous nights. 

Given enough time, he should make a full recovery thanks to Kamille's magic, the potions, and the druid's divine intervention. 

Caedes sits and waits, forcing his shoulders to relax.

His eyes follow the Witch as she walks by, leaving the room to get the door for what is presumably the druid she’d called upon. He listens, distantly, to the muffled voice of the starry-eyed woman in the next room; but he cannot ignore the look that her apprentice is giving him. Rather than gazing towards the open door, Caedes’ pale eyes drift back to Poe; her eyes are searching.

He doesn’t like it.

...

Does she know who he is?

He narrows his eyes back at her, but smiles nonetheless when she speaks; her words are flat, much like his own— and though he can be a man of games, tonight, he’s simply too tired for the vague anonymity… that, and he’s not going to risk the wrath of a witch he’s unfamiliar with.

He takes notes of her perceptive glances, regardless.

“Then I imagine I would have nothing to worry about,” he remarks, “No sane man would want to make an enemy of the Witch of the Moonglade.”

He doesn’t turn his eyes away from her until he hears the footsteps returning from the main room. Caedes’ pale gaze drifts towards the doorframe, brows furrowing when a massive beast man ducks through the doorway after Kamille. Is this… the healer that she had called for? His gaze follows Beist with an edge of skepticism as he heads straight for Zarius to examine him.

Charlotte shuffles slightly, pulling herself slowly and quietly up into his lap, before turning her head to look towards where the tiefling lays. He itches to rest a hand on her back to ease her as has become habit, but with Poe watching him so closely, he doesn’t. A vibrant green light emits from beneath the druid’s massive claws, and Caedes watches from a distance— albeit somewhat blocked by the beast man’s body— as Zarius’ arm simply… grows back.

It’s a strange, ethereal kind of visual, but it fills him with some level of relief—

until the druid completes his work, and turns to him.

To call the beast man the picture perfect “gentle giant” would be an understatement; his smile is warm, and his eyes have a friendly, sleepy quality about them; but Caedes still seems uneasy beneath his gaze. “I’m… fine, thank you.” he answers, trying to maintain some level of politeness while he declines. “They already gave me something for my leg; he was the real concern. Is he going to be fine, then? Healing magic isn’t something I’ve seen up close.”

Kamille felt an enourmous relief in the presence of Beist - she knew her friend could handle the situation from now own. It had always fascinated her how healing magic on that level could work on such a dire wound - and some part of her felt a bit of jealousy. It has always been her desire to perform such magic, but the Gods haven't been kind to her.

While Kamille seemed worried to see Zarius wounds healed completely to the end, Poe was still squinting her eyes at Caedes. It was clear why the Witch would keep her around: she was observant. When her eyes meet Caedes', there was some untold distrust there - maybe not recognition, though. She didn't know what was setting her alarm off, which was possibly worse, since she would be on her guard too around Caedes. But for the time being, she would back off.

"Indeed. You can pick any of the beds on this side. If you need anything, wake me up, because the other two are idiots."

"...What?"

Poe paid no mind to the man that had been talking to Caedes prior, Allan, and just left the room too. Apparently, she had implied Caedes was offered the Witch's hospitality as well.

Once Zarius healing was done, Kamille took a clean, very thin blanket and covered the tiefling.

"Rest as much as you need."

Only then, as Beist had already approached Caedes to offer help, Kamille turned her attention to the other man. The man wasn't familiar to her in any way, so it must be a recent friendship of Zarius, she wondered. And it was endearing to see him worry about the wellbeing of the tiefling, which only made her more curious about their story and what led to that terrible wound. If he was anything like Zarius, he would be rather reserved as well - but the sheer amount of will that took him to take Zarius all the way up her house would earn him the Witch's respect, and she wouldn't try to pry much into his story.

For now.

"Your name was... Caedes, right? Thank you for bringing him here, whenever you feel rested enough I would love to hear your story. Zarius will be fine, thanks for Beist. I hope you are well enough as well..."

Then, her eyes rested on the empty vial of the healing potion. Then they went to the wound on his leg, still not fully healed. An eyebrow raised. She smiled at the man.

She noticed it.

"Sorry for my lack of manners so far. My name is Kamille, and this is my friend, Beist. Consider yourself welcome. You can stay as long as you need to recover. I'll leave you in peace for now, but if you want to join us or need me in any way, I'll be in the kitchen."

With a gesture of the head, Allan seemed to pick on the cue and left the room as well, tailing Poe. Then, Kamille turned to Beist, already kinda guiding him off of the room to give Caedes and Zarius some time to breath. They must have been on this plight for a long time, they needed some time to just rest in silence and be left alone, she assumed.

"Would you care to have dinner with me, Beist? I'd assume we have much to talk about..."

As Caedes tried to protest against the beast man examining his leg, Beist was already bending down to look at it closely. He listened as they spoke, his hand against his fluffy chin in thought.

"Oh, he's already perfectly fine. Just tired, I'm sure. It must have been exhausting just being awake with the injury he had." he replied, unconcerned. "You said you've already been given a potion for your leg? I see it healing, but why is it so slow? Hmmmm...."

He stood up straight, closing his eyes to think, his hand still on his chin, one hand on his waist, and two crossed in front of him. If he had been given the potion before Beist got here, then his leg should have already been healed under normal circumstances. He didn't believe Kamille would offer the man a faulty potion either. There must be something going on with him. He opened one eye to peek down at Caedes.

He's very pale. Even his hair is white. His eyes have red dots in them. He has a dark cloak on. And the slow effect of the healing potion... Beist was reminded of a monster he'd read about and been told stories of. Somewhat of a rivalry with his kind, or former kind, the Werebeasts. He opened both eyes and leaned down close to Caedes before speaking.

"Hoh? You wouldn't happen to be-" Beist began in a quiet voice, but was interrupted by Kamille who started to usher him out of the room to give the patients some privacy.

"Ah, yes, of course! I'd love to stay for dinner. I suppose you want me to explain, well..." He gestured with his second pair of arms that hadn't been there the last time he'd seen Kamille and chuckled sheepishly.

Sleep comes quick to the tiefling as the potions and healing magic keep working away on undoing the damage to his body. It's a deep sleep, at least physically. In his sleep, he dreams. Those dreams are increasingly chaotic an incoherent. 

He twitches in his sleep a bit. 

In the darkest corners of his subconscious, there is a soft blue glow and quiet whispers that echo around his mind. There's something there...but it's dormant, awaiting some sort of spark in order to flare up. The whispers are in various languages, but because they all talk at once it is impossible to pick out a single voice and discern what they're saying. 

It's frustrating. It's always been frustrating. This isn't the first time he's had this dream filled with plumes of black smoke and that blue ember glowing through the darkness. A burning sensation and the taste of smoke in the back of his throat is so potent, it's hard to tell if it's just a trick of the mind or actually real. 

He takes a gasping breath.

The heat coming off the smoke and ember is intense enough to scorch the skin on his face. It's a similar feeling to the burning acid, but with far more heat. Maybe that's why this dream was happening now. Association is a thing, right?

It's sweltering. He breaks out in a sweat and the ash from the smoke sticks to his skin. There's no getting it off. It's a part of him. So is this heat, the smoke, the ember. It's always threatened to ignite, to consume in a fiery inferno. But for now it slumbers, waiting for something. 

He mutters something in infernal, but does not awaken.

The dream is unrelenting, but it does not torment him. There's an odd comfort in it. Something...encouraging. A flame that refuses to die out no matter what. A stubborn, ambitious, burning anger that will not be satiated. It's so familiar. 

He takes a stead, deep breath this time, finally settling into a more regular rhythm. 

Uneasy with the closeness, Caedes bristles. He starts to pull his leg away from the healer, using every ounce of willpower he has to make the motion look more natural than a sharp jerk. He blinks, his pale gaze sweeping away from Beist and the Witch; his throat feels dry when the druid points out that he’s simply not healing quickly— and in all honesty…

He doesn’t know why that’s happening, either.

That’s not what he was initially concerned about.

His discomfort with the large beast man leaning so close to him comes primarily from the fact that he is simply… no longer living. Opinions tend to vary on that. He can get away with pretending for the most part, but his blood has long since stopped flowing— leaving unbleeding lacerations and gashes a fairly obvious sign of his non-mortality.

… But this is new.

“I don’t really know,” he answers, allowing some genuine confusion to bleed into his voice; as he turns his gaze to Kamille, Caedes tucks his knees closer to the bed— simply hoping to be left alone, at this point. “... Right.” he answers the Witch in regards to his name.

Did he tell her his name? Did Zarius?

He doesn’t remember; and that makes him a bit uneasy.

“He had faith that you would be able to help.” he answers, gaze shifting between the Witch, and the still-pondering beast man. He takes a slow breath, “And he was right to do so; thank you for taking care of him. My apologies to put this upon you so suddenly…” he trails off, noticing the way her eyes shift.

She doesn’t say anything, however; but he knows she’s noticed.

He hates that she has.

“... but thank you for your hospitality, and for your help. Both of you.” he continues, “If you hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have made it.” — But as Beist starts to wonder aloud, he’s met with a sharp turn of the changeling’s gaze— pale eyes narrowing warningly until Kamille ushers the large beast man aside, chatting about dinner.

He blinks and turns his eyes to the floor, brows furrowing slightly.

Allan leaves next, tailing Poe; and Caedes, tense as he is, listens to the sound of their voices fade as everyone leaves— allowing him to sit in silence with the resting tiefling a few beds away.

... Gods damn it all.

He should be thankful to not be chased out the moment they realized something was off, but… his train of thought derails when a gasp echoes in the silence left behind in the absence of the Witch and her entourage. Caedes lifts his head in a jerk at the sound, turning to look over his shoulder; half on his lap, Charlotte drops her invisibility and scuttles past him to the edge of the bed.

“... Zarius?” he calls quietly; he waits for a moment, but his call is met by a mumble. Something he doesn’t understand— and then, the tiefling seems to be out yet again. His gaze lingers on the rise and fall of Zarius’ chest for a moment longer. He listens quietly, waiting until his breathing has steadied, before he hesitantly turns away.

Eventually, he might join Kamille and Beist in the kitchen; but for now, at least, Caedes chooses to linger in the silence of the Witch's infirmary.

Warmth was in every nook and cranny of the Witch's house, without it feeling oppresive or uptight. While the dormitory Zarius was resting now seemed to be the most organized of them all - mainly because there was not much there but the beds - all of the other rooms had a chaotic feel to it, with books and scrolls everywhere, quills and paper. Kamille excused herself from the room and took Beist to the kitchen, while the Black Quills took their bowls and a bottle of wine to the living room, where they started to play something on the cards by the fireplace.

It was interesting to note, however, that it wasn't to Kamille herself Caedes had said his name, but rather to Allan, the tall archer that kept Caedes company. And since they weren't spot speaking among themselves, either Kamille was actually paying a whole lot more attention to their conversation than she let on, or...

Or they had other ways of communicating. Which was fair, considering she was a mage, above and foremost.

Despite inviting them into her house and offering them her hospitality, there were a few layers of caution she would always make use of. One never knows when a wounded person can come in with second intentions...

But so far, all seemed good. Caedes and Zarius were left alone in the room, while the Quills were right at the living room, at the ready for the call from either. Kamille took Beist accross the room towards the kitchen which, if possible, looked even more chaotic. A broom was wandering on its own, sweeping the place endlessly as a wooden spoon stirred a big cauldron by itself in the middle of the room. Spices and herbs hung from the ceiling, and while for a normal person it wouldn't be anything to be concerned with, Beist would have to bend over just a little to avoid hitting them. Kamille took two bows and prepared two servings of some thick, meat stew over roasted potatoes - it was very fragrant, with a mixture of spices that worked for a very round and slightly spicy after taste. On top of those, she served two cups of tea, inviting Beist to seat before her on the small table the kitchen had.

"Thanks for coming, Beist... I hope I didn't interrupt anything. Whatever you need from my alchemy cabinet and suplies, you can make yourself at home."

Kamille pointed to the other side of the kitchen. While one side of the place was taken by a large counter full with regular kitchen stuff, the other counter to the opposite side was where her alchemy glassware rested, along with a big, ominous cabinet filled with potions.

"And if you don't mind, I do want to hear your story. It's been a while since we last met, I hope everything is okay with you. But first... I need to know, real quick: What do you think of the pale gentleman?"

She spoke in a soft tone, as if expecting Caedes to come through the door at any given moment. Regardless of what Beist's answer was going to be, she had chosen, the moment she spotted them, to trust the pale Caedes. Maybe it was a mistake, but she was often a woman to trust people's actions more than people's words, and what she saw was a wounded man going all the way up to her house to procure a healer for the tiefling. Kamille would still want to know exactly what she was dealing with, but as for the choice of trust, that has been made a long time ago. If she had had trouble trusting people into her house, quite possibly she wouldn't have the fame she held as of now.

Beist followed Kamille into the kitchen and was surprised when a bundle of herbs hit him in the face. After getting used to how high the ceilings were throughout the rest of the house, he hadn't expected to need to stoop down again. He ducked down a bit and went to join Kamille at the table, taking his bowl of stew and cup of tea with an appreciative smile.

"Hmm, yes, I'll tell you about it, but first, the pale man...." he mumbled as he thought about it. He had heard Kamille call him Caedes and his friend Zarius, he believed.

He believed he had figured out Caedes' secret earlier, but hadn't had a moment to actually confirm it. They are most likely a Vampire, judging from their pale complexion and their slow healing. In order to heal their wound, they'll need blood. He also though about how they seemed a bit uncomfortable with him. Understandable, considering Beist's size and appearance, though it made him a bit sad. They were very interesting. He wanted to ask them questions about their curse. Maybe even become friends. It wasn't often one met someone with a curse, and Beist empathized with them considering he had one too. Or used to have one. Well, maybe he still had one, just a bit different now thanks to his alchemical meddling. Most people saw someone with a curse and immediately judged them harshly thanks to it, but this man seemed very kind. He had brought Zarius all the way here, and up those cursed stairs, no doubt.

"He seems very caring, bringing his wounded friend here. I'm certainly not one to judge others for their... differences. I think he has a rare condition, but he seems like a good person to me. What do you think of him?" Beist stated, trying to select his words carefully. He didn't know what Kamille might already have deduced about him, but he didn't want to spread the man's secret if he didn't want it spread. He tried to comment mostly on his character rather than his curse.

"A beautiful couple, how caring, bringing him all the way here while wounded himself! It's love!" The little snake hissed into Beist's head as they popped out the fur around Beist's neck and pretended to fall backwards in a mock faint.

"Wha-! Hmmmm...." Beist was surprised by the sudden, unrequested input from his familiar, but couldn't outright deny their words as a joke. They had at least a little truth to them. He blushed slightly as he looked back to Kamille and waited for her to continue.

There's not much that changes with Zarius as he rests. His breathing remains even and there are no more fits of coughing or strange mumblings. The silence in the room goes uninterrupted while he continues to sleep and recover his energy from the weeks long journey it took to get to the Witch's house from the Marsh Flats. 

When he awakens, there will no doubt be conversations to be had. There was still the promise of an agreement between himself and Caedes in regards to their goals back in Darkveil. Things had come so close to falling apart without even having had the chance to get started. 

"Do not make me any promises yet...if something happens and I die along the way, you will not suffer a second betrayal and I can rest knowing I did not break your heart.”

It had been said in a joking tone, but it had become an all too real possibility in those past few days in the back of that wagon. Though how broken Caedes' heart would have been over the tiefling's passing was unclear. They had only just met, and while they seemed to get along, there was still many secrets and uncertainties between them.

Caedes didn't have to go as far as he did. There was no guarantee that Zarius would keep his word in the first place. There was no guarantee that the changeling wouldn't find it more advantageous to put an end to the tiefling's ambitions at any point in the future. There was no guarantee of anything, regardless of any intentions they had or any promises they would make.

All in all, Zarius had taken unnecessary risks. Risks that not only put his life in danger, but had also put Caedes in danger. This went beyond the ooze situation or the physical injury. The currently unconscious tiefling has essentially left the assassin at the mercy of multiple strangers, most of which the tiefling barely knew well if he knew them at all.

Zarius hadn't even caught on that there was anything odd about Caedes beyond being friends with a spider and seemingly having escaped an inescapable death. The tiefling merely assumed Caedes' pallor was natural amongst changelings and he was also too focused on trying not to keel over to even notice Caedes' wound hadn't healed on its own at all.

Needless to say, for as observant and analytical Zarius tried to be, the thought that Caedes may be a vampire never crossed his mind and would likely never cross his mind unless someone flat out told him or if he caught Caedes snacking.

“Char?” As Caedes leans back against thin pillows and leaf-thin sheets, he reaches a hand out to the prismatic spider at the edge of the infirmary’s bed. She doesn’t look from Zarius immediately, but eventually turns her head enough to look at him through four of her eyes. “He’ll be fine… let him sleep. Come.”

Charlotte blinks at him, each eye unsynchronized, then looks back to Zarius once more before turning to crawl towards him. Like any cat or lapdog might do, she creeps up onto his lap, settling down with her eight legs jutting at awkward angles. Caedes breathes a sigh, resting a hand on her abdomen while she closes her eight eyes and settles down.

He breathes a slow exhale, tilting his head back enough to rest with a slight thnk against the wall behind him. He stares absently at the ceiling above: the events of the weeks blur together in the stress and uncertainty which had come with Zarius’ condition. An assassin he may be, but his kind of work does not come with a slow wither which the tiefling was subject to: it’s a mercy-kill; swift, punctual, and oft deserving.

Caedes closes his eyes while he lingers, listening to the distant indistinguishable murmuring of voices far off in the kitchen with a persistent paranoia, until it too fades. He never falls asleep— gods know he couldn’t when he’s surrounded by so many unknowns— but he feels a buzz in the silence that drowns the rest of it out.

The paranoia, the stress, the fatigue— it all melts into a pleasant hush of shadows. A hush which although pleasant, offers no privacy; a chill, cold as ice, washes over the changeling. He feels a shiver across the surface of his skin, the constant thrum like the spin of a loom, and further beyond it eeks something else.

Something creeps beyond the wall behind him, shadowed tendrils coiling over his shoulders possessively, yet welcomingly; but that’s all he can handle from the darkness. Caedes jerks up from the bed, startling Charlotte with an unexpected bounce of motion; barely a few seconds have passed since he closed his eyes.

It’s certainly not the first time he’s felt such a thing since he woke.

It won’t be the last.

The chill lingers; the absent touch against his shoulders remains; and something whispers, unheard, with him in the silence. Caedes shudders in its aftermath while he picks Charlotte off his lap and swings his legs back over the side of the bed. Charlotte hangs loosely in his crossed arms, blinking cluelessly while he stands and tosses a glance at Zarius over his shoulder.

He turns back around, takes a slow breath, and moves from the infirmary quietly; it will be a while before the tiefling wakes up, and lingering where he is will do him no good. In the shadows of Kamille’s home, his steps are quiet— but not totally silent. His gaze drifts from the witch’s entourage lingering in the adjacent room; offering them a nod of greeting, before he hesitantly enters the kitchen where their voices gradually grow nearer.

---

He slips beneath the bundle of herbs in the doorway with a blink, gaze shifting between druid to witch with hesitance. He doesn’t like this; Zarius has left him with so many unknowns which he would typically not entertain; but presuming the tiefling is good on his word when he wakes… These are his allies? He considers them, or at least the witch, close enough to drag himself completely undefended to her doorstep.

Or, to have him do so.

His exhaustion feels bone-deep, but his paranoia and unfamiliarity with the individuals here… makes him feel he’s come off poorly. Not a great look for himself; not a good look for Zarius; and gods forbid he piss off a witch of all people.

He holds too much respect and fear for the depth of their powers to let bad blood boil.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he apologizes as he steps through the threshold; Charlotte still lingers in his arms, her face hidden sheepishly in the crook of his elbow when he leans his shoulder against the doorway. Several of her eyes peek over to stare at the beast man. “It dawned on me that my manners have been… less than ideal since bursting into your home so unexpectedly… I wanted to extend my apologies.”

He's not limping, but from his angle, the wound on his leg still hasn't fully closed; and that too, brings him a significant amount of discomfort in their presence. There's no helping it. "I don't think I've even fully introduced myself. My name is Caedes; I am..." There's a hesitation in his words that definitely could not be read into any other way, "...a friend, of Zarius'. Thank you again for your help on such a short notice."

Kamille listened intently as Beist gave his opinion on Caedes. Likely, he had the same realization than her as the healing potion didn’t have the effect it should have, but she wasn’t eager to jump to conclusions either. Judge others by their differences, right? She knew with absolute certainty that her potion was not fault, and she only knew a few things that did not benefit from that kind of effect, that way....

While she tried to fill in the blanks with speculation, she'd rather have something more concrete than that... Not to take action against him, but to know what to expect of him, and maybe know how to help him. Caedes' actions spoke for themselves, and she was not going to judge him merely by something that was out of his control. He, of course, had no way of knowing it. And she, at any capacity, needed to tread carefully from now on.

As she is still thinking over Beist's words, slowly sipping on her tea, the healer suddenly blushes, and she shoots him a puzzled look. Kamille still doesn’t have ways of speaking to animals like Beist does, since the one who she spends the most time with can speak quite well, thank you very much - so that bit of dialogue is lost on her.

"What? What happened?"

The day's tensions and stress seemed to fade for a moment, as she flashed a bright smile at Beist's snake.

"Oh my! I don’t think I've seen this one before! Hello! Can I pet him, Beist? What’s his name?"

That was the scene that Caedes would've walked in, with the Witch laying down her tea to pet the snake with an innocent smile. As Caedes walked through the living room, to the side of the fireplace on his littered perch, he would notice a pair of attentive, black beetle eyes following him all the way to the kitchen. Not only that, but the raven took flight and went into the kitchen right after Caedes, landing softly on a small perch that hanged from the ceiling, between spices and herbs. For a brief second, Kamille's eyes went back to Caedes' wound, but she quickly looked up again.

"Ah! I'm glad you decided to come! Join us at the table!"

"CAWWWW! I'm Mischief!"

Mischief swung happily on his perch, dancing up and down. The Witch stood up again, walking up to Caedes to guide him back to the table in an insistent way, shooting up an expectant, excited look as to make him feel guilty to refuse her.

"This is hardly the first, nor the last time it will happen here. You don’t need to worry about that, truly. I'm happy I was home and could help you out.... And, of course, I'm glad Beist was around to be able to handle the brunt of the damage done. Can I offer you anything? Want to eat something? I'm sure you must be tired.... Some tea? Wine? Ale?"

The warnings about the Witch's hospitality were true, and though it didn’t quite feel like the "Let us get you real nice and chubby so I can cook you", she was insistent. Not too much pressure was put on Caedes to eat of her food and drink of her tea, and she couldn’t help but draw the parallel between him and Zarius the first time they met. The tiefling was equaly hesitant on accepting her offerings, and she would chalk it up to the habits of his profession.

Which........ didn’t seem much different than Caedes', if she had to take a wild guess. Interesting...

Once he was sat down besides Beist, Kamille took her seat once again, propping up against her elbows and raising the cup of tea to her lips, watching the pale man through a faint, spiralling mist of warm herbal scents. Her eyes glinted with curiosity, not unlike that of a cat, looking up to this stranger expectantly.

What was the saying about cats and curiosity?

"I'm curious to know, Caedes.... that was quite a wound there. I would love to know the story behind it..."

Felt like the price to be paid for the assistance, as she was famed to charge: healing potions and a place to rest and recover.... for a story.

"Oh, nothing. Just a little surprised by my familiar here popping up so suddenly!" Beist replied, putting a smile back on and turning his attention away from his familiar's feigned dramatics and back to Kamille. "Yes, he's rather new! I call him Pretzels."

Beist reached up and plucked the winged snake from his neck fur, ignoring their hissed protests, and handed them to Kamille.

"I am not some little pet, I am a powerful celestial! The king of the mountain! I will be respect- oh, that does feel kind of nice..." their protests stopped as Kamille stroked their scales and they relaxed in Kamille's hands while Beist smiled innocently.

"He can be a little feisty sometimes, but he's rather adorable when he's relaxed, isn't he?"

Beist looked toward Caedes as he entered the room. He was going to join in the conversation, but his attention was arrested by the little spider in the pale man's arms. Well, the spider was small to Beist. It was actually a very large spider compared to other spiders, a fact lost on Beist as he stared at Charlotte with a warm smile on his face. Had this spider been with Caedes all along? He hadn't seen her in the other room while he had been examining Caedes' injury. Ah, of course! A prismatic spider! They can turn invisible! And this one is most certainly a little lady from the red hourglass symbol on her back. Only the females have that. Beist spent the entire time Kamille and Caedes were speaking to each other just watching the spider giddily. Once their conversation ended, he finally spoke.

"And who is this adorable little one? She's so cute! What a pretty hourglass marking. Is she a prismatic spider? I've only ever read about them, never had the chance to see one in person. Can I hold her?" Beist rambled on, asking questions about Charlotte and showering her with compliments. "And her exoskeleton is so smooth and shiny. Is it true that prismatic spiders can talk? Can you talk? Would you like some candy?" Beist asked, pulling out some little strawberry candies wrapped in paper colored to look like a strawberry from his pocket.

The conversation in the kitchen continues uninterrupted without the tiefling present as he snoozes in the other room. Not much changes with his condition even as he is left completely unsupervised (which is very tempting to the writer to exploit, but the writer will refrain for the time being).

(Instead, the writer will now indulge themselves by including an interlude of random bird lore from the far off land in an alternative reality.)

(The purple martin, Progne subis, is the largest member of the swallow family, native to the Americas. Adult male martins are easily recognizable by their glossy dark blue-black plumage while the juveniles and females tend to be dustier in color and have pale underbellies. Martins are aerial insectivores, which means their diet consists entirely of flying bugs. Open areas near standing water is their preferred habitat. They are a highly social species, gathering in colonies which helps protect them from predators and other aggressive birds that compete for nesting sites. Martins have become completely dependent on humans for providing bird condominiums during the nesting season. This started when Indigenous peoples would hollow out gourds in order to encourage the birds to nest near their crops as a natural pest control. Populations across North America have been impacted by climate change, habitat degradation, invasive species, and increased predatory pressures.)

Unease washes over him as his voice catches the attention of both the witch and the druid; he can feel the witch’s nebulous gaze shift— but before he can even think to shy away from her, something flutters past his head. With a wince, Caedes pushes himself against the wall and gazes back at the raven once it takes its perch— it bounces up and down gleefully. “Mischief…” the changeling greets, forcibly easing the tension in his shoulders as the witch strides towards him.

Her blue eyes glitter with a kind of excitement— or maybe genuineness— that makes it difficult for him to say no… and, because he’s trying to make a better impression with her than he did with the other woman in the room, he slowly eases forwards to follow her back to the table.

There’s an audible breath— a strained huff— as he pushes off the wall with his shoulder to follow her; he does his damndest to keep a limp out of his step, but to say he’s relieved to actually sit would be an understatement. “No— I’m… not terribly hungry.” he answers, his pale gaze tired as he watches Kamille’s movements— her voice is insistent in a way that isn’t necessarily forceful, but still holds a certain tone to it that makes him uneasy to deny her offer.

Perhaps it’s because she’s a powerful witch?

“I appreciate the offer, though; you’ve done plenty already. Thank you.” he chalks it off to her assistance with Zarius, hoping it’ll be enough to drop the subject at the very least.

… Although, now it’s a bit awkward sitting at the table with nothing to occupy his hands save for a massive cat-sized spider, which— he turns his attention to Beist next, hesitating when he speaks about Charlotte. His gaze flicks down to the spider, finding her staring up at Beist and pressing back into his chest apprehensively; after having been invisible for so long, she’s exhausted.

“Her name’s Charlotte,” he answers, attention drifting between the druid, and the witch who is far too interested in him for his liking. He switches back to Beist, brows furrowing slightly. “Sorry; she doesn't do well around new people, she’s…” the changeling starts to trail off, listening to Beist’s rambling about Charlotte and prismatic spiders; hell’s sake, he knows more than even he does about what Charlotte is.

Charlotte, in the meantime, seems to ease up the more Beist compliments her; she pokes her head from the crook of Caedes’ shoulder, looking up at him with four of her eight eyes. If Charlotte could blush, she most certainly would; this big guy is so nice! And he even notices how much work she puts into grooming herself! He thinks her exoskeleton is shiny?

“^Candy?” Charlotte’s voice is tiny and shy, almost childlike in the way that she speaks with half of her face hidden in Caedes’ cloak; she lifts her head fully when she hears the crinkle of candy wrappers. Caedes breathes a muted puff of a laugh, his pale eyes softening as Charlotte sheepishly stands to half of her full height and leans out a little to look at the candy. He turns his gaze to the witch, blinking to look away when she asks about his wound.

While Charlotte reaches out with a few spindly legs to accept Beist’s offer of candy, unable to resist the temptation of a sweet, Caedes sets a hand on her back and offers Kamille a sheepish smile.

“It’s not that interesting of a story; quite embarrassing, actually. A tree fell on me.” He blinks at her, brows furrowed slightly; and then, he shrugs, his smile returning. “A branch went clear through, I’m afraid; there was... something of an ooze infestation in the Marsh that we were looking into; thus...” he nods his head towards the door, referencing Zarius' injury without words. "I didn't get the worst of it, really."

Kamille could argue that an embarrassing story was exactly what she would want, but the pale man was already on edge and she didn’t want to put him off too much. The Witch did let out a soft chuckle as Charlotte got out of his arms to demonstrate the exact opposite as what Caedes was talking, going to accept Beist's candies. Beist had such a way with animals, and he seemed to love every single one of them the same way. She would be the first to admit that spiders left her a bit on edge - she would often leave herself out of the way of the giant spiders at Lantern's Light Woods for that reason - but that Charlotte... She was cute, wasn’t she?

"Seems like it is the fate of the children to contradict their parents. I could say something about Mischief being smart, but..."

Kamille glanced over to where Mischief was perched up, just in time to see him hanging upside down like a bat - or maybe he looked more like a confused chicken by the way he flapped his wings.

"Anyway... She is lovely, and you are both welcome here. I'm thankfull to you, for bringing Zarius. Had you taken a bit longer, he probably wouldn’t make it. Whatever you need for now, you can name it."

Though if her instincts were right, she thought Caedes wouldn’t even sleep tonight - that is, if he elected to stay the night, which she assumed he wouldn’t. Zarius only submitted to her antics in his first visit because he was the one who approached and arrived unprompted at her house, in the middle of the night. Paranoid lot, the both of them. Kamille knew they had their reasons and would be patient. As much as she could be, anyway....

Still, her curiosity was evident.

"A tree fell on you? You're pretty good, considering that, then. The story about oozes sound eerily familiar, though..."

Lloyd certainly had stirred the pot by sending out so many people on his quest to learn more about oozes. It would be funny if it wasn’t so tragic that so many people got so hurt while trying to handle the oozes without killing them. The Elder Ooze certainly was a nightmare.

"I'm guessing you were on Mr. Lloyd's services when this happened? Can’t think of anyone who would want to mess with oozes like that... I fell on that trap too. Luckly, there was someone with me to take the brunt of the damage, but the acidic oozes certainly looked delightful..."

She clearly didn’t share Lloyd's opinion on the oozes, despite sharing of the researcher's curiosity and entertaining the quest in favor of his friendship. Bellighul was the one that had the most to complain about it, but he, too, elected to entertain the quest. Not for Lloyd, she suspected, but for her.

She tried to clear her head of such thoughts, turning back to the present, smiling at the prismatic spider that Beist so gracefully offered candies. Kamille extended her hand to pet Pretzels once again, softly scratching his chin - she would be the last to judge people like them for loving those creatures, as she herself had a special place in her heart for them as well.

"Everyone has a blindspot. Lloyd's are clearly deadly, acidic, self replicating oozes. Each to their own, I'm definitely in no position to judge. But I'm glad everything is okay now. I will insist that you both stay the night and recover fully before taking the road again. I can provide with what you need once you're ready. You can stay too if you want, Beist. Plenty of space."

It didn’t escape her that, not only her potion didn’t work the way it was supposed to, but she also didn’t see Caedes drink or eat anything. Assumptions were being made, but she would refrain from pressing the subject when Caedes was already on edge, instead turning her eyes to Pretzels. Despite her insistance, it was probably the best option right now - probably the safest place in the forest, even compared to the village. One would have to be really determined to go out of their way to her house to pick a fight with a Witch...