Chapter 1: IT TAKES ROOT
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Owen had long grown accustomed to the repetitive nature of running the maze; the same grey walls, monotonous with the odd crack or divot or scratch, the same dull vines, often spanning the upper halves of walls or occasionally reaching over gaps in coiling stems, the same pathways, gradually worn down in his brain and the dusty floors. The odd patch of lava, parkour section or odd opening weren’t even enough to be considered unique at this point, Owen had learnt each little quirk or characteristic of every possible corner of the maze many months long past by now.
Which is why he was uncertain what to do when it changed.
It could have been missed by any who were less knowing of the labyrinth, looking no dissimilar to all other walls and pathways around it but he knew otherwise. This used to be a wall, tall and reaching far above his head, covered in a thick layer of vines. And now? There laid nothing. A new corridor standing innocently, as if it had always been there.
A change. A break to the monotony.
Owen couldn’t even pretend to not be thrilled, moving to return to the clearing with the news before a glance toward his clock paused that thought. If he returned to tell the others and gather a group, it would surely be dark by the time they managed to get back again.
His gaze returned to the opening.
Surely, he thought, it wouldn’t hurt to begin scouting ahead with the time I have now. To check for traps, his mind continued, encouraging the subtle shuffle forward, which shifted into a step, and then a jog, and Owen was traversing down the unexplored new land in consistent, self-assured strides.
The first fork was to the right, a dead end straight ahead and another Owen spotted down the left path, covered in a blanket of coiling vines. He retraced to the original passageway, continuing on ahead and turning left at a corner to find another two paths. He glanced down the right as he passed, but ultimately chose to continue left so it was easier to retrace with the dwindling daylight he had left. Again, the straight path ended abruptly, and so he headed right.
Something felt odd, deep within his gut, like a denseness of the air; attacking his sinuses, heavy in his lungs. It felt like something crawling within his veins, alive, breathing, hungry.
Owen’s gaze lifted to find the cause.
Expected monotone grey bled into blackness, dark tendrils, pulsing in teal like a heartbeat. It covered every surface, coiling against the walls like the vines he knew well, connecting above to displace sunlight, smothering the area, which laid in half shadows.
He was partially tempted to draw closer, where the passageway seemed to open into a larger room, feeling some innate curiosity to figure out what it was, why plant-like tendrils coiled as if alive, beckoning him closer.
The back of Owen’s throat began to tickle, eyes tearing up as he staggered back, doubling over into a bout of coughing which set his mind straight. A glance toward his clock was a stark reminder of the fleeting day, and Owen decided he couldn’t linger any further lest he wind up trapped within this unexplored new area where grievers could lurk around any corner.
He’d figure out what that… plant, or creature, or… whatever was, once he got back into the safety of the clearing and could relay to the others in a meeting.
The journey back was mindless, a path he knew like the back of his hand, before Owen finally slowed as he passed through the gates, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. Almost immediately, he caught the sound of Apo descending from the ladders of their house, shouting a greeting down. “Welcome back! Graecie had some soup going over the campfire if you wanted any- vegan, don’t worry.”
A smile immediately broke out on his face, greeting the tiefling in return. “What a life-saver. Magic managed to collect Puddy fine this morning?” A hummed agreement from the demon now walking alongside him with the aim of his base. “As expected, I’m starting to think he prefers her to me.”
Apo snorted, and Owen noted the calm flicking of a tail at his hind. “You’ll always be Puddy’s favourite, don’t start getting jealous.”
Joining in the laughter, a soft cough bubbled from his still-tight throat, a reminder of the day.
“Ah, if you’re not busy, could you start gathering everyone for a clearing meeting? I found something in the maze, but I’d best change before I appear before everyone and stink the place out.”
“Of course, I’ll let you get to that old man, I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it soon.”
A soft, airy farewell was shared as Owen slipped past the doorway of his home, slipping the door shut and making quick work of changing out of his dust-covered and sweaty ‘maze’ clothes into more comfortable garments for the clearing. He also ensured the quick chugging of some water, hoping to ease the tickling irritation in his throat as he left and gathered by the fire.
The sun had finally begun to set and laid just below the walls, the gates of the maze having slid securely shut for the night, and Owen had managed to finish a bowl of soup he was practically drooling over when the final stragglers of Oeca and Mohwee arrived and the whole clearing was together.
“I’ll not skip around the point, I found a new area in the maze, opened overnight I believe.” He allowed for a ‘dramatic’ pause, if only to give a chance for chattering to rise then fall again. “It may bring promise of a means to escape, but I want to gather a group to help me explore it. “
It was rather unsurprising that Apo settled a soft nod his way, alongside the more blatant offers from Mohwee and Oeca which he accepted. What was unexpected was how Guts remained back after many had departed to sleep, smiling as they offered to join if only to help keep the more boisterous of the group in check, and for the chance to stretch their legs.
Either way, Owen was eager to accept the offer- thankful for a rare chance to interact with the demon.
And so the rest of the outsiders gradually filtered away as the night grew deeper and the fire finally died, with Owen returning to his home with Puddy in tow and slipping under his covers to make the most of the time he had to rest until dawn struck and sunrays would peek back over the walls of the maze and rouse him.
Chapter 2: IT SEEPS IN THROUGH THE CRACKS
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Owen had a habit of waking early, one that had stuck since his days of guarding the maze’s entryway and never seemed to end after. This day was not unusual in that way, though he did make sure he was actively out of bed and preparing earlier, able to arrive at the still-shut gates with his backpack slung over one shoulder before the rest of the running party, with the sun yet to peek over the walls.
He allowed himself a moment of rest while waiting for the others to arrive, adjusting the straps of his chest plate and how the bag straps laid against his skin and glancing up when the distant shuffle of steps approached.
“Morning!” Apo’s voice was gleeful but soft, not daring to wake any sleeping outsiders.
He grinned and reciprocated “Good morning, have you got everything ready?”
The tiefling nodded, tail flicking, “Always ready. Rasbi’s already gone off with Ayngel to help with… whatever they were doing today, but I saw Puddy with them.” Owen nodded appreciatively.
“I have some last things to tell the group, but once we’re all here, the gates should be open and we’ll be fine to head off.” There was a moment of content silence, before Owen drew in a breath and descended into a bout of coughing, cringing when it finally died down and he could straighten back up. “You were coughing yesterday too, think you’re coming down with something?”
“Maybe, hopefully nothing that will last.”
A short while longer passed in mindless chatter between the two before Guts’ towering figure appeared from the path that snaked into the more forested area of the clearing, hooves scraping across the dirt path and sending small bursts of dust flying with each step. Their clawed hand moved to wave once they caught the gaze of the two, moving into a small jog which deposited them in front of the gates in no time.
“Hey, morning.” The greeting was returned as the oni glanced around, “Still waiting on Mohwee and Oeca, I see?”
“We have until the gates open, you’ve got everything you need?” Guts affirmed, shifting the bag in their arms and joining into the calm conversation until the deep sliding of heavy concrete signalled the opening of the gates, at which point the hurried figures of Mohwee and Oeca filed over, bright grins on their faces.
Owen stood, taking the lead in front of the now open gate. “Perfect, we’re all here. I have some more to explain on the way, but it’s a bit of a walk anyways. Let’s head out.”
Affirmations rang out and the group headed into the maze, Owen and Apo leading at the front while the others followed behind listening with occasional interjections.
“There’s something I didn’t share at the meeting because I didn’t want to cause potential panic. This new area has a sort of… organism. Whether it is plant or animal, I’m uncertain, but it may have an air-borne aspect. You’ll notice when we get nearer, but the air is thick- I brought some cloth masks to dissuade what I could, but I have no guarantee they’ll work.”
“That sounds cool!-” Oeca was swiftly interrupted by Guts, “You’re staying back from it until we’re certain it’s safe.” The younger outsider could only pout with a subtle nod.
Owen paused to root around his bag and produce one for each of the outsiders before continuing, unbothered by the sight of coiled vines on grey walls, nor lava seeping through bubbling cracks, pleased to have recalled the location correctly as they entered the section of maze.
“As Guts was saying, it’s likely best if I go ahead in any of these… well, we need a name for whatever it is, huh? But I’ll go ahead into the area with the organism since I’ve been around it already, you three can split off down the path I’ve not explored and loop back to meet me and Apo here after. Oeca, I trust you’ll be able to memorise the layout for your group?” His reservations seemed to dissipate, grinning at the assuredness of the older outsider. “You’ve got it!”
Reaching the fork in the path, Owen and Apo bid goodbye to the three and turned left, then right to where the… thing had been before, ensuring the cloth masks were fitted over their lower face when the air had grown heavier. “I can’t keep calling it the ‘thing’. Do you have any clue what this… well, thing, could be?”
It was back in sight, the blackened tendrils which twisted and coiled like a creature; the bioluminescence of teal patches pulsing like a heartbeat. The scent of overwhelming damp filled the air, filtering through the masks only slightly, causing all to feel weighed down with every breath they took. They moved closer regardless, stepping onto teal-stained concrete and then further into the passage, the floor soft underfoot where the organism squished from the weight.
Apo seemed quiet, gazing around as if, in the depths of his mind, he knew something. Something overall just out of reach, but able to be glanced over.
“Sculk.” Owen hummed, “That’s it’s name?”
“It feels familiar, I think. It would help to take something back- Soup could know something?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good call.” The human moved to rummage back in his bag, eventually coming back with a water bottle that he dumped the contents of before awkwardly squatting and staring at the sculk. “I’m sure it’s fine to touch, right? I can wash it off in some magma-water on the way back.” The tiefling turned back to him and shrugged, but motioned for him to continue.
Owen hesitated for a moment before drawing in a breath and digging his fingers into the sculk, blinking as a chunk easily broke apart from the rest and could be funneled into the bottle. He flicked off the excess and twisted the lid back on, standing with a sigh as he observed the sculk-drenched fingers, which felt dampened and had an odd teal tinge where they’d touched the organism.
“I hope this doesn’t stain.”
“Are some blue fingers going to be the death of you? Come on, let’s look at the rest of this passage before the others return.” The human chuckled, strapping the bottle to the outside of his bag and jogging ahead to catch up to Apo.
The sculk underfoot grew no more pleasant to walk on, squelching like mud but springing back un-indented when the pressure relinquished. The air was both foul and thick, like that of a humid storm mixed with a mould-drenched room. Eventually, the passage opened into a slightly larger room where vines of sculk had formed a covering from the light of the sky, tightly coiled into a faux-ceiling and allowing the room only spatterings of sunlight alongside the teal pulsing glow of the sculk.
“This is so weird.” The tiefling mused, padding toward an upward extrusion from the sculk which was a brighter teal than the rest of the tendrils. When he stepped, it pulsed with a glow and emanated a whirring click. Apo paused instinctively and it died down, turning back to call Owen over as the shifting of his feet caused it to happen again. “This is weird-” with the sound of his voice, it activated once more, “It does that whenever there’s noise, I suppose.”
The human shrugged, motioning for Apo to be quiet before stamping his foot, the patch lighting up with clacking again as predicted, adding onto the tiefling’s findings “I suppose it senses for the rest of the sculk. It seems like it could be fungi adjacent, like mycelium, stretching far and absorbing nutrients, maybe for a ‘heart’ or larger part of the organism.”
Owen wasn’t fully certain where this knowledge was coming from, though it wasn’t exactly an unusual situation for the members of the clearing. It was easy enough to move past the confusion and simply accept its assistance as he levelled a quick glance toward his clock to ensure they weren’t risking anything.
“We should start heading back to meet the others, we can corroborate back in the clearing.”
They waited back at the fork for a while until the trio jogged along and the groups joined to head back. Along the way, Oeca passed over a messy notebook page of the passages they’d managed to trace, though it was clear that they didn’t have enough time to map all of its passageways, being a larger expanse than Owen had expected.
Regardless, they’d arrived at the clearing with enough time to toss down their bags and flop into a chair before the gates let out a bone-deep click and rumbled shut. A short discussion occurred about who could finish the running but it was ultimately agreed that Owen and Apo were the only ones not busy, and that they should be fine to continue on alone for the few passageways that remained.
With that agreed, they all part ways with Apo following Owen to drop their bags off in the human's base before heading in the direction of Soup’s with the sculk bottle in Apo’s gentle clawed hand as they knocked and were funneled in.
“Did either of you get hurt? You were exploring that new maze section, how did that go?” She was quick to begin scanning the rather injury-prone runners, before startling as she noticed what Apo held. “Where did you find that? Did you touch it?” Soup seemed tempted to snatch it, yet hesitant to touch the bottle or either of the two.
“You need to get rid of it, that stuff isn’t safe at all. Wash anything that came in contact with it immediately- dispose of it far from here.”
Owen was startled by the seriousness, the horrified gaze in her eyes, sputtering as he spoke with a nod. “Yep, ok, right, we’ll put it back when we go in tomorrow and stay away-”
Her gaze sharpened. “Come to me afterwards, once you’re certain you’ve washed it all off, and not in the water we drink.”
The tiefling attempted to lighten the mood, “We know better than Oeca, don’t worry- Owen has a farm behind his base, we can use that water and boil it after.” She nodded.
“Now go before you release any more spores into my potion ingredients.” They were shooed out the door in a flurry of limbs, blinking as the door quickly slammed behind them and the sound of Soup cleaning quickly began.
Choosing not to linger and face any more wrath, they wandered back in the direction of Owen’s base, the sun beginning to set and painting it in orangey hues. “Spores, she said. So your fungus guess was right.” The bottle was dropped by their bags as they circled the house toward the farm’s water at the back to scrub their hands.
“I suppose so. The masks were a good call, but if it really was spores then I suppose they mustn't have done much overall, and with my first encounter with it I had nothing of the sort...” As he spoke, Owen found that tickling at the back of his throat returning and he arched away to cough a few times into the crook of his elbow, before finding himself descending into a whole gasping bout of splutters, tears pricking at his eyes as Apo held him from falling. When it finally passed, he could only gasp in breaths and wipe the dampness from his cheeks.
A glance back confirmed a concerned expression from the tiefling, helping Owen back around to finish washing his hands before practically dragging him inside to flop into bed.
The human made no complaints as Apo also flopped beside him, a tail coiling around his leg as the covers were moved over both their forms. Distantly, Owen had the sense to argue but was practically cut off before he spoke.
“If you’re ill, I probably will be too. I might as well stay with you to make sure you don’t spontaneously die overnight. You don’t get a choice.” A sigh escaped Owen alongside a soft cough before he let his head fully drop onto the pillow to doze off.
Chapter 3: IT BEGINS ITS HUNT
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That night of rest had been the best Owen had for weeks, if not months; yet as he awoke with sleep-blurred vision, his eyelids still felt heavy with a pressure as if he’d not rested at all. It didn’t cause him to falter though, as he untangled limbs from the slumbering Apo and began to gather supplies for a trip back into the maze.
Logically, he knew it was an utterly stupid move to return alone, especially with the fit that he’d experienced yesterday likely as a result of the sculk, but he’d far prefer that to dragging others along with him and risking them, too, falling ill. Regardless, he felt… an odd urge, a necessity, something drawing him toward it. Something he couldn’t wait to wake others for.
He needed to go now.
It was only when he’d reached the beginning of the passageway that Owen took notice of some oddities that had slipped his mind before.
His vision, for one, was just brushed off at first as just an early-morning haze. Yet as Owen flicked his gaze upward to trace along a vine, he found it harder than usual to differentiate stem from leaf. That… wasn’t normal. How could his vision have become worse overnight? A hand lifted to wipe at his eyes, but blinking afterward found no reprive. Owen could have turned back then, been smart and decided there was most certainly something wrong, that he shouldn’t be putting himself straight back into the path of danger while plagued with some sort of unknown illness that was now supposedly affecting his vision.
But was Owen a quitter? Never.
There was a dull buzzing of sorts in his mind as he reached the airspace the spores inhabited, drawing in a breath that felt like it bubbled and fizzed in his airways, distressing his throat and drawing up the beginnings of a cough which he temporarily managed to push through. The thrumming grew louder as he approached, with each new breath through his open jaw. It felt like a relief, in a way, when the skulk came into sight down the left passageway. He allowed himself to wander in, rummaging to collect the bottled specimen and dumping it out against the covered floor.
The clicking of one of the tendrils caught his attention, thrumming with a bright heartbeat. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to touch it, considering Soup didn’t recommend further than just washing it off.
He was hesitant for a moment, then walked further in, kneeling down by the tendrilled formation which blinked with light at the movement. It swayed idly for a moment before the normal movements shifted, tendrils leaning toward Owen, coiling almost as if an invitation.
Something within him urged his hand to join, moving into the reach of the tendrils, which quickly curled around his hands, twisting between fingers and glowing brighter.
It was beautiful.
Owen was enamoured by the movements of the fungus, like a sentient organism, thrumming so beautifully in his mind, glowing and twisting, muttering in clicked words, drawing him in, inviting him to join-
The thoughts were foreign yet held such warmth and comfort it was impossible to question them. Damp soaked into his clothes as more tendrils coiled out of the ground, beginning to curl around his legs, growing over the fabric of his trousers, engulfing him, something urged him to lean further into the beating bioluminescence that nurtured his muddled senses.
“-wen?“
Something nudged at the back of his mind.
“O- en?”
Padded footfall, a further break of the fog, noticing the tendrils growing tighter around him.
“Owen!-“
Owen blinked, startling against the tendrils which held strong.
“Apo?” His voice wavered, drawing in a panicked breath that caused him to descend into a flurry of coughs which did not pause when clawed hands reached around his chest and pulled him up, tearing the sculk.
The human stumbled, legs weak like a newborn fawn, he leant heavily against the tiefling as he was practically dragged back, away from the skulk, until the ground had returned to still concrete and he could collapse down, hacking up saliva with tears pricking at his eyes as he fought for breaths.
Apo’s voice felt lulling, but so, so distant. Owen could feel a comforting hand against his back, tracing comforting circles until the human could finally regain control of his lungs, gulping in air greedily and flopping down against the ground, practically in shock.
The sight on the tiefling’s face was horrifying, the fear and concern something that Owen hated to see, the shaking of their tail which Apo was failing to hide.
“Owen, are you with me?” It was almost a whisper, the words wavering and uncertain between glances back toward the sculk.
He hesitated, “I-“ the coughs returned, thankfully less severe, but still left him panting.
“Don’t talk, let’s…” The tiefling paused, drawing in a breath between sharp teeth, “Let’s get you back.”
Owen felt far too tired to argue, doing his best to assist on boneless legs as he was lugged back through the labyrinth of passageways and eventually arriving at the clearing, where there was a flurry of Apo washing off all the skulk he could while yelling at the blurred faces that had gathered to get Soup.
When his senses returned, he was already in bed.
A glance to his side revealed Apo settled on the wood of the floor a short ways away, a half-woven basket in his hands which they were steadily working on. The human’s shifting drew the tiefling’s attention, who glanced up from the object with a soft smile.
“Soup said she’d come by tomorrow morning to check on you- well, us. She wants to make sure she has working protective… gear. I have to observe you at a distance.”
Owen hummed to show he’d heard, though his vocal chords complained at the use. Silence lingered for a moment, awkward between the two.
“I was really scared for you, Owen. It was like it was drawing you in to… engulf you…”
He nodded guiltily, coughing up some phlegm before whispering “I’m sorry.”
“I know…” The basket had now been left at the tiefling’s side, hands wringing against each other. “There was some soup on the fire, I’ll get some for you. Just… stay there.”
Owen hummed again, drawing his knees up to curl into himself as the door clicked shut behind Apo.
A flicker of teal caught the corner of his vision, hands raising in front of his face.
His fingertips were stained with teal, feeling cool to the touch and blurry to his eyes, the horror of that was recognised as Owen moved to draw his arms around his midsection, dipping his head to rest on his knees.
It felt so terrifying, knowing something, but not what, was happening to his body- the reminder of the urge he felt to pursue the skulk earlier in the day made him wonder what the spores could be doing to his mind. Was he losing his senses? Going insane? Would this kill him?
Owen could only hope for morning to come faster, for Soup to check he was fine, or find something that eased whatever he was dealing with.
He just had to wait until the morning.
Just…
until…
the morning.
Chapter 4: IT BLOOMS BENEATH SKIN
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A knock on his door awoke him the following day, and Owen offered a weak hum of greeting to Soup as she entered, her hands covered with thick leather gloves and a dense wool mask over her lower face. “Good morning, Owen.“, from the raspiness in his tone, she drew forward to offer a glass of water before setting her bag on his table. “I’ll try to make this as fast as I can for both of our benefit, food will be sent over after.”
He nodded slowly, feeling distant with the buzzing in his brain and the fogginess of his vision, squinting to try and see Soup better with no success before giving up and turning his attention to gulping the water just slow enough to not choke.
The glass in his hands was set aside and Owen moved to straighten how he sat on his covers as Soup neared to check on him, lifting his arms into her gloved hands to let her examine patchy teal and dark fingertips. “How long have your fingers been like this?”
“I noticed it yesterday before I went to sleep. They’re darker now, and the stain is further down my fingers.” She hummed and pressed against the pad of one such finger, “Can you feel that?” He hummed with affirmation. “Not necrosis then, you’ll be glad to know they won’t likely fall off-“
They paused. Soup cringed as her joke fell flat against the dissociative state of Owen. She continued her work faster in awkward silence.
He did his best to meet her gaze as it lifted to his face. Her features were barely distinguishable.
“The discolouration is on your face too- under your eyes and down your cheeks, there's some on the tip of your nose.” Owen blinked, his hands lifting to touch the areas, but he merely flinched back at the chill his fingers brought to barely-warmer skin.
Soup chose not to mention it. “Your pupils are blown out, there's brighter teal along your inner iris-”, she mostly appeared to be speaking to herself, as a mental note, “-you were squinting earlier, too. Are you struggling to see?”
He shouldn’t be shocked by how observant she was, with the delicate nature of potions. “Yes. It's… My sight keeps blurring. At first it was easy to ignore, but…” Owen lifted his hand toward his face, it took around a palm-length until he could manage to trace the lines on his skin. His hand dropped back to his lap. “It keeps getting worse. I think it’ll be fully gone soon, or practically gone.”
A gloved hand settled on his arm reassuringly.
“I’m sorry.” Silence drew on for a moment, Soup was hesitating. “I don’t know what to do. I knew sculk was dangerous, but…” Her voice wavered into nothing. ‘I don't know how to cure it’ was left unspoken.
“I understand.” He replied, though drawing away from her touch.
“Is there anything else bothering you?” The buzzing in his mind had drawn into whispers- mumbled, not yet comprehensible. Something itched under the patchy colours on his skin. Owen shook his head. “Alright. Apo has been around you already, so they’ll be the one bringing you food until we sort… a solution out. He’ll be keeping a distance from you to reduce the need for all of the hassle of the protective gear.”
He nodded, feeling the emptiness of his stomach- he truly hadn’t eaten much since the passageway opened, had he? There was a mumbled interaction as the two bid ways and Soup assumedly left to collect Apo.
Owen felt so tired. The pressure was churning and growing beneath his skin- something alive, coiling around muscles and ligaments, pressing against the underside of his flesh, begging for release.
He felt an urge to let it, nails drawing toward his forearms and scratching lightly at first, but this was ineffective. Light scratches pressed deeper, nails digging in and drawing blood, and still pressing more.
A blurred state washed over his senses, only feeling the harsh heat of the gouges against his chilled fingertips, growing and growing until finally the fog dispersed.
The sight of his arms was barely comprehendible, a mess of heat and red and the scent of iron attacking his nostrils. But the pressing sensation was gone.
Budding from where the blood bubbled was a small sprout, poking from the wound and coiling further outward as it grew, far faster than any normal plant. Owen took a moment to blink, drawing in breaths to prevent hyperventilation. When he refocused again, he drew the arm toward himself so he could see more clearly. Dark, teal blossoms were growing from under his skin.
The stamen of the flower seemed to thrum with the same glowing heartbeat of the main sculk. That same heartbeat now echoed from his chest, through his own veins, yearning, urging him to return, to succumb and merge with its- his host.
Yet he found himself rooted, unable to gather the energy to move, nor to see or comprehend even as the blood clotted and dried with time. The door of his base creaked open with a familiar voice calling to him, first in friendly greeting, before quickly descending into panicked flurries.
Apo had taken longer than intended, getting roped into harvesting much of the fruit trees- some of which he gathered for Owen- before getting stopped by Soup about the human’s condition.
It was.. complicated, they found. He was relatively conscious and aware, but his symptoms were nothing but concerning. As the tiefling finally managed to arrive, pushing open the soft wood of Owen’s base door, that concern only grew.
The object of their worries sat on the edge of his bed, gazing blankly down at arms lined in deep gouges, half-dried blood framing his darkened fingertips. Apo barely spared a second to recall Soup’s warning to keep a distance before he startled forward, the food discarded to the side as they gathered the nearest cloth (a shirt of Owen’s- he’d apologise another time) and dampened it with a stray glass of water and began wiping the reddened forearms.
Though steadily, and through delicate motions, they managed to clean the cascades of crusted blood along the human’s arms, and could finally inspect what had caused it. The tiefling couldn't help but wince at the deep wounds along Owen’s forearms, knowing it was undoubtedly by his own doing.
They were uncertain what to make of the blossoms that curled out from the gashes, thrumming with allure- the air growing heavy around them, drawing him in.
Apo cursed, gasping subconsciously but descending into a bout of coughing at the action, shifting back from the human to lean against the legs of a table a short distance away. Could it be that the sculk had taken Owen as a means to further spread its spores? What would that mean, then, for themself? Having been around it so frequently prior, and now by the sculks ‘host’.
A heavy exhaustion began to settle over his senses, still drawing in that contaminated air as their movements stilled and eyes dipped shut, Apo succumbing to induced sleep, slumped against the leg of the table.
“-aisy, daisy, give me your answer, do…”, the notes lulled them back to awareness- Owen’s voice, unmistakably. Yet… there was an undertone of something else- a buzzing, clicking of a secondary voice. The sculk, his mind supplied.
“I’m half crazy-”, it was almost too easy to just stay there, half-conscious and with a body feeling so, so heavy, but something else was stirring. “-all for the love of you. It won’t be a stylish marriage… I can't afford a carriage...”
Apo noted that the bright hues of the morning had exchanged for deep blues- how long had he been asleep for? “But you’ll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two…”, the voice tapered off for a moment, then Owen resumed- though just humming this time. His voice was soft, harder to hear beneath the thrumming clicks of the host-
The tiefling blinked. Host? When had that word been supplied instead of sculk?
He soon took his leave after, while he still had the mind to do so.
The quiet of their base seemed suffocating, so they delved into the forest instead, tracing a mental path until he came upon a bustle of crude birdhouses. At Apo’s whistle, a small yellow bird poked its head from one hole, before chirping a response and fluttering over to settle in his arms as they flopped down against the bark of a tree.
There was an ache in his back from the continued position of sleep, but it was ignored in favour of the warmth of the tiny feathered body against their chest and the beak softly pecking at clawed fingers. It had been a miracle when the outsiders first discovered the avians, offering hope to the clearing, or even just a distraction from their situation.
Apo had taken especially to the canary he presently held. They found it as an injured fledgeling, and had spent countless hours alongside it while it healed and regained strength- it was a lifeline for the tiefling in difficult times. The solace he often sought to help him sleep in straining times as now.
With the bundle of yellow feathers perched in their arms, the tiefling managed to doze off to sleep.