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After dinner, Orym finds Ashton in their room, turning something small and shiny over in their hands. The necklace, Orym realizes, upon closer inspection. The one Fearne took off one of Laudna’s dolls in the shadowy in-between version of Whitestone.
It’s late in the evening now; they’d all eaten and cleaned up in the castle after…everything. Even Imogen, who had refused to leave Laudna’s side since the ritual. Worry winds its way through Orym. It’s hard to say how Laudna is, considering she’d fallen asleep almost immediately after her eyes flickered open. Ashton had carried her back to the castle, and Fresh Cut Grass had taken food for Imogen up to the room the two of them now share.
The need for rest is nothing to be concerned about, according to Lady de Rolo. She had assured them, with a knowing expression and a glance toward where Lord de Rolo had stormed off when they’d told him what they’d managed, that coming back to life like that is…an ordeal, but Laudna would be back to normal, at least physically, in a few days.
Orym understands the feeling. He’s drained from the fight with Delilah. He doubts they’ve seen the end of her hold on Laudna, based on the stories he’s heard about her. He suspects Lord de Rolo fears the same. But he doesn’t have the heart to voice those fears to the rest of the group tonight. Let them celebrate today’s win.
He should lie down. But he’s too keyed up to rest. He wishes Keyleth hadn’t needed to leave so soon. There’s so much he wants to report to her. And the familiar face had been comforting; a small taste of home.
So he’s making the rounds, checking in with everyone. Fearne had been pacing the halls with Mister. Orym hopes she hasn’t stolen anything, but he knows that’s wishful thinking, so he hopes she hasn’t stolen anything important.
Chetney was whittling away in his own room; Orym asked to see what he was working on, but he just cradled it protectively in his hands and snapped something about not rushing master craftsmanship.
Fresh Cut Grass was in the library, answering the questions of several curious young half-elves (and one Orym-sized tiefling). Orym had considered intervening, uncomfortable with the idea of FCG being treated like a machine that could be taken apart and reverse-engineered, but his friend seemed at ease with their young admirers. Orym supposes the de Rolo family is as good a place as any to begin looking for the answers Grass is seeking about their creation.
Orym skirts Imogen and Laudna’s room, unable to bring himself to peer inside. There’s an ugly twist of emotions in his chest when he thinks about Laudna waking up to Imgoen at her side, when he considers the hopeful vigil Imogen holds, knowing Laudna won’t be asleep forever.
He hates the jealousy that burns inside him, but he can’t stamp it out.
On top of that is the guilt he feels for being here, on his feet; fine, more or less. Every time he closes his eyes he sees the hell Laudna was trapped in for days. Because Fearne chose him . He can’t help but think she chose wrong.
His in-between had been a peaceful place. Would it have been so bad if they’d brought Laudna back that day, and left Orym under that beautiful tree with Will for a little longer?
Would he have come back, if he’d had more than a few seconds with Will? Would it have been so easy to let him go again?
He shakes those thoughts away, focusing on the scene in front of him.
“You got plans for that?” He asks, nodding towards the necklace in Ashton’s hands.
They glance up at him. “Not really. I was gonna ask Laudna about it, when she wakes up.” They shrug. “Thought it might be important. Fearne’s got the dolls.”
Orym nods. “I think she gave them to Imogen, to put in bed with her.”
Ashton hums their approval. They set the necklace on the bed beside them, rubbing at their temples. “That spell give you a fucking headache?”
“Little bit.” There’s a strange ache to all of Orym’s muscles. The wounds from the fight didn’t carry over to his physical form when he woke up, but his whole body is sore and tired.
Ashton sighs. “Guess messing with this shit has consequences.” They gesture at the swirling light emanating from their head.
Orym feels a flash of guilt for not considering sooner that Pike’s spell might affect Ashton differently than the rest of them. He knows it's not exactly the same as Imogen and Grass poking around in their head, but he realizes that Ashton must have been afraid of it going badly, like the last time the two of them had explored his memories. He’d never hesitated, though.
Orym thinks about how adamant Ashton has been about not leaving Laudna (or anyone) behind. Or course they hadn’t hesitated.
“Are you alright?” He asks, coming to perch on the bed with Ashton, studying the light flickering in their skull for abnormalities. It’s sparking as wildly as ever. Orym can’t tell what that might mean.
“Fine.” Ashton says, waving him off. “How’s Laudna?”
Orym grimaces. “Still sleeping, I assume. Imogen is with her. I didn’t…I was going to check on them, but I didn’t want to bother them.” The lie isn’t that convincing, Orym knows. He’s never been good at that.
Ashton glances up at him, raising an eyebrow, clearly catching the false note in his tone. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s up?”
Orym sighs. “That was supposed to be evasive, not enticing.”
Ashton shrugs. “Your bad lying intrigued me.”
Orym hesitates. He doesn’t know how to explain this without sounding like he’s upset that Laudna is back. He doesn’t even know if he can bring himself to say it out loud, to let the jealousy out of its tight-knit cage in case it uses that freedom to hurt someone. He takes a deep breath. “It’s…I’ve just…I’ve had so many dreams about being in Imogen’s shoes. Didn’t know if I could handle watching it happen for someone else.” His voice cracks. “I know that sounds awful, I don’t begrudge either of them this, I’m so glad we didn’t lose Laudna. I feel…terrible for even feeling this way, especially when the only reason Laudna was trapped in that hell for so long is because of me—”
“Woah, hey, I call bullshit.” Ashton interrupts, putting a hand on Orym’s shoulder.
Orym huffs. “If Fearne hadn’t chosen me over her—”
“Then we might have got that Delilah bitch back and Laudna would have been gone forever, and we would have lost both of you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t. But neither do you, so there’s no fucking point in dwelling on it.” Ashton insists. “Isn’t that what we were trying to tell Imogen, back there?” They shake their head. “Just as bad as fucking Grass. Quit throwing yourself on the fucking sword before I lose my shit, okay? Besides, Fearne chose you. You didn’t make that call. It’s our fucking fault, not yours.”
Orym deflates. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. His eyes fall on the necklace, lying on the bed beside Ashton. “You were good with her, in there.”
Ashton shrugs, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t call Orym on the subject change. Orym is grateful for their willingness to let go of things. “Imogen? Yeah, well, I dunno. She’s been in my head a couple times now. Maybe that’s something.”
So dismissive. Orym shakes his head. “No. I mean, you were good with her, too, but I actually meant Laudna.”
They hum. “I like kids. Kids are no bullshit. They’re real fucking honest.” Their eyes go distant for a second. “All kids really want is to be treated like people. S’not hard.”
Orym raises an eyebrow. “It seemed like more than that.”
Ashton looks down at Orym, expression guarded. They open their mouth, and Orym thinks they’re about to argue with him, or brush off his praise. But they stop, take a deep breath, and hold Orym’s eyes. “I’ve been there.”
Orym nods. He would have guessed as much. He waits, giving Ashton space to say more, if he wants to.
He does, evidently. “I know those weren't her real parents, and maybe they actually cared about her, I don’t fucking know. But they sent her to that dinner.” His voice is hard, his words coming fast, like he’s been turning these thoughts over in his mind as the necklace spun in his hands. “They had to fucking know. That Delilah bitch was creepy. But they didn’t give a shit. All they cared about was the power or status or whatever-the-fuck they thought they could get by sending her off.” He rubs at his temples. “Fuck. I know I’m projecting my shit onto her situation, but I can’t stop thinking about that… flash I got, when Imogen did…whatever she fucking did. Of my parents, and some creepy-ass ritual, and the whole fucking village dying for it.” They breathe shakily. “Except me.” They stare directly into Orym’s eyes, face set with rage. “I have no fucking idea what they were messing with, and I don’t think they did either, but they didn’t care how much their choices would fuck me up.” He shakes his head. “Who the hell does that shit to a fucking kid ?”
Orym waits until he’s sure Ashton is done, the two of them just staring at each other. Finally, he feels like he can speak. “Neither one of you deserved to be treated like a pawn.”
Ashton huffs. “No one deserves anything.”
Orym nods, expecting that. “I think that’s something you say to keep from feeling pissed all the time about this. The world’s not fair in a lot of ways, sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get mad when it’s not fair to you.” He gives Ashton a pointed look. “You get plenty mad for the rest of our sakes.”
Ashton studies Orym, and then shakes their head. “You’re too fucking good at that, you know?”
“At what?”
Ashton meets his eyes. “Seeing through me.”
Orym smiles. “It’s only because I like looking.” It’s hard to say, with Ashton’s skin, but Orym thinks he might see a flush in their cheeks at that. They look away. He decides to return the favor they’d given him a few moments ago and change the subject. “You think whatever your parents did is the reason you’re like this now?” He asks.
Ashton shrugs, still not looking at Orym. “It makes the most sense. You said the Hishari were messing with elemental shit. And I think…I think that’s where I come from.” They sigh, lifting a hand and bending their fingers, examining their own body like they’ve never seen it before. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate this shit. It’s definitely got its perks. But I don’t like not knowing where it came from.” They drop their hand in their lap. “In my experience every good thing comes with consequences, and usually the consequences suck a whole fucking lot.”
Orym smiles sadly. “That’s not always the case, y’know.”
Ashton glances up, some emotion flickering in their eyes. “Maybe you can prove me wrong.”
Orym holds their gaze. “I’d like that.”
The moment blossoms between them, something warm shifting in Orym’s chest when Ashton doesn’t look away. Good. This is good. Orym’s glad he’s here to feel it, despite the guilt, the jealousy, the grief.
You’re not done.
For the first time since he woke up in Bassuras, Orym agrees.