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An hour or so after they return to camp, during a routine headcount—what? One can only be entrusted with so many children before it becomes an unconscious habit, it is not his fault—Halsin notices their leader missing. He's not the only one who has made this observation, judging by the not-so-subtle peering around from Karlach.
Their eyes catch, she's obviously picked up on his silent question, but is trying to continue listening to Shadowheart as she talks. Halsin understands her well enough—he believes tonight may be setting a new record for Shadowheart, as far as opening up goes—and encourages her back to her actual conversation with a short wave.
Late afternoon sun filters through the trees hanging overhead as he makes his way past the clearing and their group's cluster of tents, cobbled stone gives way to soft grass and he walks a little easier. The sounds from their camp fade as he makes his way deeper into the woods and instead of carrying voices, he hears the quiet whispering of water over rocks and small rodents darting into the underbrush, hears the gentle hum of insects and bird wings overhead, and it grows easier still.
When he finds the riverbank, eyes following the glittering water upstream, he spots a familiar staff peeking over the edge of one of the larger rocks, thick vines cascading to the forest floor. Halsin climbs them and makes a small racket while doing so—intentional, of course. Tav wouldn't need his staff to make an addition to the she-bear marking on his face if startled badly enough and, as much as Halsin wouldn't mind it, he knows Tav would be mortified.
Not following him earlier was a mistake, Halsin already confessed that directly, but there are still nights that he struggles for rest because of it. He didn't catch onto Tav's borderline suicidal habit of closing his eyes a split-second after casting until they were already deep in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, not until the very moment Karlach shouted for him to pay attention and brace for the blow coming on his left.
She's fond of him, and Tav shares the sentiment, so naturally, Halsin found her the moment they returned to camp and asked her when exactly it was that he'd lost his mind and why they all neglected to mention the fact.
“Ugh,” she had said emphatically. Upon realizing that he wasn't simply venting, Karlach sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she said, “He's sensitive, it's horrible. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's not another inhumane prick, and I don't think Lae'zel's right, but man… she’s not wrong when she says that stomach is gonna get him killed.”
So, that was how Halsin found out that their Chosen Slayer avoids looking at the people he burns to death. Silvanus has not yet enlightened him with the words to convey to him that the world is better off without certain people.
As he reaches out to grip the edge of the rock, a small, arcane-scarred hand appears to meet him halfway, extended in offer.
“Optimistic of you,” Halsin laughs good-naturedly, and pointedly uses the sturdiest of the vines to pull himself up onto the rock. “I don't know how well either of us would have fared, but I appreciate your sincerity.”
Tav grins as he leans back on one palm, agreeing, “It came from a good place, I promise.”
“I would not doubt you.”
Each time he thinks that the kindness has run dry, that Tav will shed his sheepskin and bare those teeth, he does things like this.
Things like staring up at Halsin as though he'd been the one to save them all, while awkwardly covering his naked chest because he'd apparently been too polite to tell Halsin to get lost on his way up the vines.
“You are bathing,” he says.
“I am bathing,” Tav affirms.
“Right when I thought I was done owing you apologies.” He can't remember the last time he blushed, let alone out of something like embarrassment, but it's also been a long time since he's misstepped so disastrously. He feels approximately five times younger, and about as small, too, even as claws dig into his palms. He is desperately wishing to disappear and has to settle for insisting, “I will leave at once.”
“What? Oh, I don't mind you being here, but I wasn't sure that you wouldn't mind. I guess I should have warned you instead of trying to help you up…”
Relaxing a bit, Halsin cracks a smile and looks back down at Tav. “I hope you'll never have the misfortune of meeting a healer that looks at bodies in such a way. It can only mean they've got a long, long road ahead of them.”
“Sorted, then?” he asks, moving to pull his hand away from his chest. “Because really, if you don't mind, it's—sore.”
Lie. And a bad one, at that. Halsin's brow furrows and he kneels down, ignoring the mumbling about his staff being in the way, and peers at his bruised side. He doesn’t even need to touch it to recognize it for what it is, and if he's being honest with himself, he knew it when it happened. It was foolish for any of them to think for a moment that he could quite literally die by Myrkul's blade, Avatar or not, and walk away unscathed.
Lingering wound, and once again, he doesn't have a clue of where to start. It's not just a bruise, it's a gash that starts at his waist and cuts across his chest, all the way up to his shoulder. The bruising is from him not being able to catch himself before hitting the edge of the platform, Shadowheart had to grab him by the ankle to stop him from falling in and meeting the same fate as Ketheric. He was foolish enough to think they got lucky, until he saw the blinding glow of her struggling to revive Tav.
He had to carry him through the portal because Karlach was running too hot and they were going to run out of time to try again if they didn't move right then. On the other side, she was shaking hard looking at the wound in the light but she pressed on, using the last of her strength to revive him again. Watching her hands split open from the force of it was enough to make him flinch, even after everything.
They were fortunate, but it didn't come without cost. Halsin can tell he's in pain just lifting his arm enough to cover himself—still waiting for an answer.
“Sorted. Forgive me.”
“Forgiven. Come sit down near the water, it's warm.” He sounds a little winded and Halsin looks over to find him trying to adjust to sit without leaning on that arm. “I'll never take the sun for granted again.”
There's a cup next to him, rocks dark from the water spilled, and he pieces together another mystery. Tav leans down to fill the cup with the bruised arm, letting the unscathed one do the work of holding himself up.
Cautiously, Halsin comments, “That seems exhausting.”
“It is.”
He pours the water out again, this time onto his hair. Most of it misses the mark and Halsin's decently sure that it's because he can't lift his arm high enough.
“Would you like help?” he tries.
As if he was waiting for the offer, Tav hands the cup to Halsin, but he shakes his head and takes the cup only to set it back down. He gets the idea when Halsin bends and puts his hands under his arms, careful not to touch the wound, supporting him as he stands. Tav's still in his underclothes, but it feels like it may be a bit too much to ask him to strip all the way.
However, the second Halsin pulls away, he takes the initiative to just do it himself. He did say that whole piece about nudity earlier, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised that he's doing it without asking. Immediately averting his eyes seems like the most appropriate thing to be doing, as difficult as it is. It doesn't take seeing him undressed to see that he's gorgeous. Halsin thinks he's gorgeous no matter what, but watching him carefully lower himself into the water, he has to question how it is that he's fortunate enough to see him in the flesh.
When Tav extends a hand out to him, he remembers that it's probably in his best interest to get rid of his own clothes and not have them soaking wet for hours. Halsin hesitates, and Tav must see it on his face because he smiles and waves his hand pointedly.
“Aren't you a healer?” he teases. “Or are you not used to the shoe being on the other foot?”
“The latter. I can't think of a predicament quite like this one.” Tav looks worried for all of a split second before Halsin sheds his clothes and shoes, leaving them high on the rocks. “Not an unwelcome one, though. It is the very least I can do for you.”
He can see water splashing as Tav's tail swishes around beneath the surface. “The very least you can do for me? What could you possibly be indebted to me for, Halsin?”
Hearing his name from Tav's mouth is enough to make his ears flick a little, a funny wildshape tic. The only solution is to continue undressing as smoothly as possible and just be honest.
“Protecting me while I retrieved Thaniel? Killing the Thorms? Ending the Shadow Curse? Leading the tieflings to safety? Using our gold to let refugees stay with their families through Wyrm's Crossing? Shall I continue, or are you satisfied with being that shade of cobalt?”
Tav crosses his arms and, yes, his face is dark with a blush and he looks rather unamused. “I believe I understand the message. But I couldn't have done the good things without you,” he says meekly.
“We make a good team, then.”
Uncrossing his arms, Tav holds his hand out for Halsin again, looking at him significantly softer. He accepts this time, only because he's putting the bulk of his weight on the rocks and only using him to keep balance. The water is fairly warm around them, nothing like the cold waters in the Shadow-Cursed lands that he watched Wyll drag Tav out of just as he came back out the other side of the portal. He had no choice but to focus on Thaniel, because all their fates rest in his hands, but Halsin won't deny his relief knowing Tav jumped in on purpose, shortsighted as it was.
Water creeps up his waist as he steps a little deeper, and he notices that the same depth swallows Tav to his chest. Something about the observation makes him warm all over.
“Did you manage to wash your hair?” Halsin asks, running his palm down the back of it gently, feeling for any knots. “Tell me whatever you'd like me to do.”
“You may want to start from scratch, if it's not too much trouble. I didn't do a great job.”
“It is no bother at all.”
He ends up folding his arms and resting his chin on them, flush against the water-smoothed rocks surrounding the riverbank while Halsin washes his hair. Detangling it takes a bit of work, but he soothes it by dragging his nails up Tav's nape and carefully guiding him deep enough to lean back enough and rinse without dunking his entire head under. He notices his breathing growing progressively more shallow, especially when Halsin brushes his hair out and his hand slips down to his shoulder for a moment.
Tav’s hair is most certainly sufficiently clean by now, but it feels natural to stay there awhile longer, to make the movements unhurried, like they’ve got all the time in the world. So, he does, he takes the selfish card to feel Tav in his hands, warm and solid and real, nothing will rid him of the memory of watching him die and he has to settle for replacing it with this. He wants more still, he doesn't want it to end just yet, as much as he's already indulged. Judging based on his noise of relief when Halsin takes the initiative to start working out the knots in his shoulders, he thinks it's safe to say that Tav's on the same page.
Gently, he moves one hand up to his neck, thumbs rolling out the tension in the muscles there. Tav stretches a little to give him more room, all the breath escaping him in a low sigh as Halsin moves up to rub around the base of his skull. An often forgotten spot, and one that Tav is almost absurdly freckled on. His mouth feels just a tad bit dry.
A light snore pulls his attention back. As much as he’d like to scold him for falling asleep in a body of water, Halsin doesn’t have that in him today, either.