"Oh! We are going to have a sleepover then-? I've always wanted to try!"

Marion's first reaction was this, and then he backtracked to run the words over once more hin his head and realized - tomorrow evening. A whole day's downtime.
While he does worry for the daughter, and you can see the elf's expression change as he thought about it- especially the ears giving him away, having perked up with the previous comment going flat abruptly.

But it is not an acute disease, not by what had been described, anyway, and there is no point of risking everyone's health and safety for the chance of... her condition worsening in this time. The logic of this is simple. there are people close to you, and far away from you, and you can never be fair. You can only do what you can with people around you first, and you work outwards if you can.

This was told to him by father, once, when he asked. The elder smiled sadly- not much of a smile, his smiles had always been more of jusg a subtle upturn in the corners of his mouth- and told Marion: You cannot save everyone. Even when others expect you to do so, you have to remember this. You cannot save everyone.

Marion mused about this, as he unpacked his luggage. Now that he had gotten Kweh, there are more things he could bring along for the sake of comfort- and he asked the crows first before setting up his little bedroll. The elf had also pulled warm mugs of honey lemon tea from the picnic basket, a part of that luggage- and served them to whoever that would have them, even if just to hold for warmth or the scent.

Hanehiko settles down atop the hill the burrow is dug into, the Celestial Manta letting out a gentle coo as Loci throws an enormous blanket over her back, her big, inky eyes slowly drifting shut as she nestles in for the night.

Rena nestles a little further into her partner’s arms, cooing softly and letting out a low purr as she gently nibbles at Nev’s feathers and curls in on herself a little, those silver eyes drifting shut as her breathing slowly evens out, relaxing further as she slips into slumber, safe in her partner’s arms…

Nev smiles down at Rena as they step into the burrow, cooing softly down at their wife and stooping a little to make it under the lip of the entrance, the motion allowing their husband to clamber up into their arms to join Rena, both her husband and bondmate trilling happily as Nev carries Bell and Rena into the rest area of the burrow. Bell wriggles free at this point, both spirits quickly working to tuck their wife into the nest before returning outside…

…where they find their children nestled up against Beak, chirping and trilling to eachother as they relax and sip at the contents of the mugs Marion had produced, the skeletal chicks delighting in the simple act of tasting the honey lemon tea as it dissolves in the unnatural darkness that cloaks their innards.

Beak gives a smile-equivalent at Marion, and then another at the various Blackfeather clan members who drift off to sleep as they do.  "... In truth, Marion, I have too.  I've never, ah... had... the sorts of friends to attempt such a thing with before... even in life.  It would seem the others have had too long a day to be up all night roasting marshmallows or... whatever it is such an even entails, though."

Roasting marshmallows?  Really?  Stars above, Beak, we're indoors.  The first friends she's ever had with whom she could have a sleepover, and she's making a fool of herself already.

She senses that Marion's sudden apprehension isn't related to that, though.  She tilts her head quizzically, pondering... oh.  Ah.  She believes she understands.

"... Rekkel's daughter isn't dying so quickly that she won't last until tomorrow," she reassures him.  "... And if she is, then it's too rapid a decline to do anything about it even if we were there."  That's... the opposite of comforting, she realizes belatedly.  "... What I mean is... the best odds of success her and for us, and everyone, involve resting and healing as needed before  we venture into potential danger.  If we get into a fight like this," she says, giving a sweeping gesture at everyone in the room, "then all we do is risk following her to early graves of our own."

... Would hers be early, though?  Or about four thousand years overdue?

Scales above, she needs rest more than she thought she did.  She doesn't feel as weary physically as the others do, but she's getting downright silly.  She needs to stop talking, stop thinking, and get her skull back on straight.

She leans her walking stick against the wall and disrobes--as in, literally removing her robe, along with the gloves, boots, and tail wrappings--revealing much more of her skeletal form.  She has an exceedingly simple sleeveless shirt and pants underneath, clearly designed for comfort and quick mobility over style.  This leaves her bony shoulders and arms, hands, feet, tail, and head exposed, her desiccated fins splaying back and forth idly to work off the feeling of having been compressed under that hood all day.  She instantly looks fifty years younger--by the measure of mortal lifespans, anyway--like a trained martial artist in her athletic prime rather than an old crone.  Returning to the cuddle pile, she emits a low pleasured-sounding vocalization, like a telepathic purr, at the feel of the warmth and contact on her bare bones.

... She should sleep.  She is warm.  Content.  Surrounded by friends.  Safe.  Loved.

She is so afraid to let this day end.

She's still not sure she won't wake up alone in her own hovel somewhere when she wakes up again, when this dream wears off.

It was as if the other could read his thoughts- or maybe she could, since she can talk in one's head. Marion does not really feel alarmed by that thought, though- it is nice to be able to communicate without actually talking sometimes, and He wondered what his mind would look like if someone else is seeing it. He felt it would be super messy.

The others had drifted off to sleep, but Marion couldn't just do that yet- not hardened from travelling or rigorous training as well as being... well, alive, the elf kept it quiet when he went about his little dinner, being able to simply pull out food from the basket without any other hassle. Call him soft all you want, but the little guy enjoys life's many little luxuries when he can afford them. Nothing too heavy, just a tomato egg rice porridge with vegetables and mushrooms boiled in beautifully in this homely goodness, and finishing up his still- warm tea to wash it down. He then temporarily excused himself to do some simple cleaning-up have a change of clothes, coming back to see the group mostly dozing off already.

Mindful of his step, Marion went about collecting the mugs and returning them into his basket, straightening things up, and finally be able to slip into his little bed roll- it was not a very standard bed roll, more like a sleep pocket where Marion is the filling- falling asleep comes easy, and he'd wake up early tomorrow like he had always did, looking forward to the day.

The chicks nestle in against Beak’s sides, chirping and trilling and purring as eyes drift shut and eye lights slowly fade to black, four little crows curling up against eachother and nestling against their Skelefriend as they drift asleep…

…Nev and Bell slip into the nest to join their wife, Bell nuzzling under Rena’s beak and cooing softly as Nev curls around them both, one massive wing mantling protectively over their bondmates as the spirits join their wife in slumber…

…Rena dreams of safety, warmth and comfort, of being surrounded by her bondmates and their children, of a crackling hearth before them and a raging blizzard outside as she curls up with her family…

…Bell dreams of noise, of the sound of his wife’s blades whistling through the air, of watching her go through her forms out in the clearing in front of their home, of silky feathers catching the light in dazzling displays…

…Nev dreams of a little, cozily furnished burrow so many miles away, filled with light and life and laughter and the play of their children…

…the children don’t dream at all, too cozy in their places nestled against Beak to experience or remember anything during their slumber…

Beak's sleep is... fitful.  While everyone else enjoys either pleasant dreams or a dreamless rest, Beak is... possibly troubled by nightmares?  Or possibly she just has too much on her mind to sleep well in the first place.  She doesn't recall any specific dreams at all, good or bad.  Instead, before she can even get that far, she spends far too long trying to unravel... everything.  At this same time last night, she was alone, just as she had been for decades.  One day.  One day later and it feels like she's living a different life entirely.  If Nev were still awake, she'd be attempting to snuggle and cling to them just as tightly as she now is with the blissfully warm and affectionate chicks... Nev would know.  Nev would know this feeling.  This feeling of all of this not seeming real yet.  Not so soon, not after such a long stay in the wilderness.  She tries to remember the things she told them when they first emerged, when they were panicking over this same topic... now that everyone else is asleep, can she play back the memories of her own words in an attempt to advise herself?

"You are real.  You are here now. I can't imagine how long you must have suffered, but you've found your family once more, and they you. You shan't be alone again."

... It seemed so much easier to say when she was saying it to them.

---

Morning comes, and Beak more than likely is still asleep even as the others rise; it took her so much longer to fall asleep that she sleeps in later to compensate.

Those who are already up when the elder skeleton finally stirs witness her groggily looking around the room, trying to take in the details--where is she?  Whose room is this?  Who's there?--before the veil of sleep lifts enough for the previous day's memories to return.

They're here.  They're all still here.  She's still here.

The mental image of weeping fills the minds of all who are awake to sense it.

Elves require generally less sleep than other races, and even when Marion doesn't do the whole hardcore eyes-open-while-asleep thing, he is still as much as an elf as any other elf. So, the lil guy rose before the sun, well rested- and he took time to stretch himself out and do play with Kweh. Being more moth-like it is more alert in this part of the day, and Marion gave it a brush-down after they are done rolling around and giving tummy rubs and an early breakfast before tidying himself too. It had became more or less a habitual routine for him when he is out in the wilderness camping under the stars- and Marion leaves Kweh to have a fly around by itself, rolling up his things and tying them up once more to be loaded up later. And then, it is time to prepare breakfast!

Usually he'd probably forage some to add a localized side to his meals, but this is breakfast for more people than himself (and it is bad to poison your friends- while he is not bad at cooking or identifying flora, there is still a valid chance of that happening) Marion is also happy to pull out food from his magic basket of plenty. Marion did not know what the others would prefer honestly, but he does note that corvids are omnivores and decide to go for something with a mix of everything in it. Breakfast casserole! A full tray of delicious golden goodness with more potato in there that is good for you and bacon and sausage and veggies and egg and cheese- all the good stuff.

He had pulled his tarp over the floor in lieu of a standard checkered picnic mat and had a stack of dishes and utensils on the side and the tray placed in the middle- and Marion had already began eating when Beak woke up, and he did a little good-morning wave with his cheeks stuffed like a hamster's, and went back to the food at hand. It could be deduced that he just really likes to eat.

…when morning comes, the Blackfeathers greet it as they usually do when lacking immediate plans for the day - that is, with distinct reluctance, the chicks nestling a little more firmly against Beak, the parents pressing close to each other with gentle purrs and soft grumbles…and then Beak starts weeping, and the murder scrambles, some instinct - mine, mine, mine sending the adults rushing out to the main chamber of the burrow, their eyes blazing with angry, caustic light as they quickly scan the chamber for threats before approaching the distressed Beak, whom their children are already pressing against in an attempt to provide some form of comfort to the elder skeleton.

And then Nev’s eyes dim back to cobalt as they let out a soft series of chirps and trills, gently plucking Beak from the swarm and holding her close to their chest, cooing softly as they provide a gentle pressure by softly squeezing their arms around her, “...hey now, ‘s okay…it’s real, this is real, I’m real, you’re real…we’re not goin’ anywhere unless you want us to…alright?”

The crows trill softly, calming as they carefully watch Beak’s reaction, though the children glance between the skeleton and their parents before chirping curiously to eachother…

Beak just has... a lot. This is something like five decades' worth of pent up suffering that she'd grown numb to and let sit as a sort of ignorable background malaise, much like when living beings with hypothermia reach a point where their bodies get too cold to shiver. She's learned to paper over this hole in her soul with the amused banter of an old crone making small talk, but this... this group has warmed her soul just enough that the metaphorical shiver reflex has just returned. The feeling of waking up this morning and everyone was still there was enough to make every day she'd faced alone for the past fifty years--every day she'd learned to get used to, wearing depression like armor against the blow--all came back to hit her newly-reawakened heart. And even now, the reaffirmations... seeing the entire family scramble to fend off any possible attacker that could have done this to her, pressing against her in comfort and support... knowing that she holds that place in her hearts, now, that they're prepared to wage love and war alike for her....

It's just... a lot to take in. It's also a lot she needs to let back out. In fact...

"... Forgive me. Please, I... I am sorry. I am so sorry. This is going to be loud."

She fixes her gaze on the farthest spot she can find from anyone, on the most isolated corner of the burrow she can find, anywhere she can look where no one else is in her field of vision, concentrates on the absolute nothing in front of her, and lets out what can best be described as a wail. Even pressed close as the corvids all are, they're spared the worst of the telepathic scream because she's intentionally aiming the Message as far away from everyone in the room as she possibly can, sending it as a targeted beam directly at some wall or ceiling instead of a general broadcast to everyone in range. Still, even with her attempts to narrow and divert it, she just has so much to vent that it's impossible not to pick up at least something from the overloaded and melted down emotional core of her psyche.

She keeps this up for a few moments before it becomes clear that she's very intentionally overexerting herself--pouring all her mana into this aimless Message and then forcing herself to pour even more when she's empty. If she burns all of her energy and ends up fatigued and having an energy crash, having to lie down for a few more hours after this, then... well, good. It's early in the morning and they don't have to move out until dusk. She has a lot to let out and nothing but time to recover.

"... There. That's... better... much better...." she broadcasts much more weakly, when she's finally spent, her body sinking into Nev's embrace and losing strength fast.

The elf looked, honestly quite shocked at such a response, ears flattening against the sound out of reflex.

Marion had initially thought the other simply needed some time to herself and get some emotions out- but he had not really expected this... much. Times like this is when you'd start to notice even if he is warm and caring and all that in his own ways, the young elf had very limited experience with- well... what tragedy really means.

It is not something one could sleep out on and smile the next morning, it is not going to be gotten over, even. Marion can read about grief all he want, about how it could stay the same and the person grow around it, how it gets smoothened over like sand in a clam, or how it is so much love stuck in you being unable to give- but those are just words, say. He thinks he can understand these concepts, but does he really?

Swallowing and putting his food down, Marion got up quickly and fetched Idun to check up on Beak following her collapse- it just seemed to be magical exhaustion as well as the emotional stress... if it was any normal person Marion would advise in taking some easy-to-digest food and rest, but well, he does not have any prior experience with... literal skeletons. Marion proceeded to describing the situation to the crows and reassuring them that it's nothing that couldn't recover with rest.

Even as the children flinch away from Beak’s outspilling of grief, Nev holds her a little tighter, gently nuzzling the woman and cradling her in their arms as they murmur, “...there ye go…feelin’ better, now that ye’ve let it out a bit?” the wraith smiles, “...get as much rest as ye need, we’ll be here when ye wake up again…” and with that the raven turns to take Beak into the nest chamber of the burrow. Once there, the wraith of ink and starlight settles back into the nest, holding the elder skeleton close and beginning to let off a low, comforting purr…

…the children glance worriedly amongst each other, only moving to get their breakfasts after their mother chirps at them to, “get some food, starvin’ yourselves won’t help her…” and even then, they cast concerned glances toward the nest room as they eat…

Bell, for his part, begins sketching shapes out into the dirt, mumbling measurements and materials to himself, already planning something out for Beak…he’ll need his forge for this…Rena’s better with leather than he is, but he’s the best with metal…actually, he thinks he has some cold iron…yeah, that could work…

It's hard to tell with a sleeping skeleton; there aren't any of the usual physical signs one relies on to determine peaceful slumber from something more alarming. A contented--or at least not obviously pained or troubled--facial expression? She has a skull. The gentle rising and falling of her chest? She doesn't breathe. A pulse? She's dead. No, for all the world, Beak sleeping it off looks like she's simply not reanimated; like there's nothing but an inert, inanimate, sun-bleached, four-thousand-year-old skeleton someone set up in the nest room.

... Oh. Magic. Of course! The children were able to see her soul... Loci determined she was a "skelefriend" by gauging the color and temperature of her inner light, and was even looking at... something, as if to take a visual reference for some later purpose. As much as Marion tries to reassure the corvids that Beak is fine, just exhausted; it may be up to them to tell him that they see a content and peaceful light where he sees only ancient bones.

And it is content and peaceful. As fitful as last night's failed attempt at sleep was, as much as she only seemed to feel worse upon waking... this was the rest she needed. Several hours pass, and it is past midday when she finally stirs again--drawing somewhat closer to dusk but still with plenty of time to spare. The time spent was more than worth it, though; now she feels rested, alert, and... well... ready. Her messaging magic is back online and she broadcasts a "smile" as she wakes.

"... I owe each and every one of you more than I'll ever be able to repay" are her first words upon rejoining the world. "I... Rena, Bell, you two have missed what you have with Nev even when you couldn't quite remember... whereas I don't think I've ever had anything like this to begin with. Certainly not since I awoke looking like this.... Forgive me. I just... I didn't want to go back. I'm so used to that life, and this one is all new and strange and a little terrifying in how much it is, how fast... I was afraid of letting go."

The sun elf did have ways of determining the magical condition of a person, but he was generally somewhat out of his depths on this one, not being able to see clearly and only getting a muffled shroud of a shape around her. Marion had not been exceptionally good with the spirit realm of things, and was definitely not as good as the seasoned necromancers... and Marion thought to himself that this is one of the things he need to pick up the slack on, going forward. Even if he may not be able to learn it in the end, he should not let it become an oversight by choice.

Leaving Beak to be tended to in the crows' nest, Marion went to keep an eye over the kids- and they had breakfast together and Marion suggested them all go outside for a little morning exercise, and prompted them by asking them to show if there are any cool moves they had learnt, since they are reputed to be fearsome deadly assassins- and overall just to share about their lifestyle in the Blackfeathers clan, as much as it is to bond and keep their minds off worrying as much as it is for Marion's own curiosity.

The chicks devour every bit of food presented to them, chirping softly to each other as they eat…then Marion asks about their training, and they share a glance before smirking up at the elf and leading him outside, Wind and Whistle grabbing their respective training weapons on the wait out; a pair of padded shortswords for Whistle and a quiver full of padded bolts for Wind.

Outside the burrow, the chicks square up, Loci and Whistle on one side and Wind and Wind on the other…the children watch each other for a moment…and then they burst into motion, with Wind slinging the enormous crossbow off his back and into his hands and firing a shot at his ruby eyed sister within moments as she darts toward him, the golden eyed chick already reloading as Whistle dodges…and then Loci snatches the padded bolt out of the air, spinning to hurl it right back at his younger brother even as Wind snaps off a second shot at Whistle, Wind smacking the returning bolt out of the air as one of Whistle’s swords snaps out to deflect the second.

A pause, a lull, a moment of stillness in the spar…

…and then the chicks are moving once again, undead and living children trading blows, bolts lancing from that enormous crossbow, those shortswords lashing out at bone and feathers, fists of bone and shadows slamming against their targets with just enough force to knock them around without causing injury…

…back in the burrow, Nev holds Beak close, cooing softly and gently nuzzling the elder skeleton as they murmur just loud enough for Beak, Bell, and Rena to hear, “...there’s nothing t’ forgive…you’ve had a hard life, of course ye’d be paranoid about losin’ what ye’ve just gained…” the wraith trills softly, cradling Beak to their chest as Bell and Rena move to nestle close, each laying a hand on one of Beak’s as Rena speaks, “...believe me, I know what it’s like t’ wake up one day with everything seemingly ruined…” the silver eyed crow glances to her bondmates before squaring her shoulders, “...one rotten deal took Nev’s Story from me an’ Bell after we’d lost them…the second left me with a ravenous beast gnawing at the wall of my mind…which would’ve been fine, if only I’d not lost myself to it at the worst possible moment,” she lets out a mournful trill, “...my husband and half our clutch, that deal wound up costing me…”

Beak returns the embrace, briefly uncertain about the logistics of corporeality--if she can hug a phantom or a wraith--but... well, Nev certainly seems to have no problems nuzzling her. "It feels like many of us here have had a hard life," Beak admits sadly. "... Perhaps not Marion, but... it seems like every other person in this newfound group have our share of sorrows. Nev, it was only yesterday that you broke down over the very fear that struck me last night: The fear that this newfound joy we both found yesterday somehow was but a trick to get our hopes up. The Ibekki place as much importance on not being forgotten as your people do... and look how that turned out for both of us."

She shakes her head, pondering how best to explain it. "A person sitting inside by a fire is comfortable. A person walking outside through a bitter cold, when out there for long enough, can develop a sort of numbness... a sort of feeling used to the chill. I think... last night, all of you warmed me just enough for me to realize how cold I actually was... how cold I've been since rising and walking this land in this state. You... you held me, kept me warm as my ability to feel the cold came back, as years' worth of unprocessed grief all just... needed to come out. Thank you. I really am better now--truly--but... I would say you don't know how much I needed that, but tragically, I think you do."

And speaking of tragedies, and everyone in this room having theirs to bear... "Rena... is that what happened to your family? I... I never asked... it seemed rude to pry on so personal a topic. I'm so sorry.."