[PP-F01] Adrift in Dreams

[Alinta 0]

The two landed in a messy heap, with Alinta sprawled on top of Scar. Her weapon safely put away, the binds of her string no longer digging into his flesh, but his health had still trickled down, almost a quarter gone - her own, not much better. She groaned as she picked herself up. Her arm still hurts. “H-Help!” Her cries frantic, echoed loud and shrill above the hustle and bustle of the city center. “P-Please…someone!?” The few players that had seen her shuffled away. “Hello Don’t just-” Her head whipped back and forth, desperate, erratic. Wanting to gain someones attention. But no one seemed to care, it was as though this was a common occurrence. A headache was forming, and it was painful to bear, thoughts twisting and turning and churning - why? Why didn’t anyone care that someone was hurt?

A groan and movement beneath her diverted her attention. “S-Scar?” Alintas hands trembled as they danced over his face. His eyes were still glazed, unfocused. “Oh Scar…what happened to you?” A huff of effort as she tried to pull him into her lap, arms under his, her head landing into the top of his, inhaling deeply the scent of his shampoo. Of Lavender. 

“Miss? You two good?”

Finally…Finally someone had stopped. A tall burly man wearing green metal heavy armour and sporting a bowl cut, an obnoxiously purple colour. He seemed friendly enough but the cadence and tone of his voice, somehow…seemed to annoy her. “I…I don’t know - what happened but he’s struggling and…and…and…”

“Lets see…” He kneeled down and took a single glance at Scar. “Residual paralysis from a fight. I’d get him to an inn so he can sleep it off.” With a quick heft he had managed to pick up Scar. “C’mon. I’ll take you to one.”

“T-Thank you!” Alinta stammered, still shaken by everything that happened. She quickly followed behind the taller man. “I - I’m not sure what happened, there was this forest- and this girl, and then this PKer with a mask and-”

“A PKer?” The concern is evident in the strangers tone. He glanced over an overly broad shoulder at Alinta. “You aren’t involved in any trouble are you?”

Alinta caught the falter in his step, if she had said yes, he’d not help… She quickly shook her head. “No. No. Just someone who…wanted to you know…” She was terrible at lying. “Take our loot, and - I mean he did because…you know…I uhm…life…is…uhm…” She started to stammer, her lie unravelling.

Thankfully the man didn’t seem to catch on, thinking her reaction was naught more than fear. “Alright. I hear ya. Thats typical on the higher floors. Lets just get this boy to a bed.”

The man lead Alinta to an inn, and was even kind enough to pay for the room. He set Scar down in the bed, and lingered in the doorway.

“Names Piros, by the way. So is he your-”

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.” Alinta already knew where this was headed, she heard it a thousand times before, and would hear it a thousand times in the future. “I appreciate your help. If you want me to pay you back I-”

A laugh as he waved her off dismissively. “No need Miss.” He gave her a wink and a thumbs up. “That’s what heroes are for! I will leave you be! Piros the third! Out!”

The door shut with a soft click and Alinta fell to her knees, then to her hands. Trembling. She had been trying her best to hold it together, but now… now… Her tears bubbled up with heaving hiccups. The woman began to cry, heavily. Drenching her face, her lips, the floor. Her body shook.

I hurt him…
    I hurt him…
          I just wanted to protect him and I hurt him.

“S…Scar…” She sobbed with a hiccup that devolved into coughs. That was terrifying. An actual Pker…and they had been so close to her… so wild and untamed and angry.

He let them go…but why?

WC: 667

[Scar 0]

The world had become a flickering blue of color and sound.

He couldn't distinguish what was real anymore.

Light and shadow rippled across his vision, like sunbeams warping beneath the water. Somewhere in that haze, he remembered hearing her, Alinta's voice, cutting through the chaos. Initially, the voice was faint, frantic, and calling for help. Then it became close, trembling as she called his name.

His impulse was to respond to her. To let her know that he was okay. The paralysis from the «Yellow Flower» crawled through his limbs, dulling every sensation, every attempt to move or speak. The world turned sideways. Sounds and sights merged to create one long, indistinct hum.

Her voice calling his name cutting through the noise of the world, that cannot be a coincidence, right? Different this time. Softer. Lower. Almost as if she were whispering directly into his ear, a single word threaded through his fading consciousness:

"Tolbana."

The syllables echoed in his mind, gentle but absolute.

Everything was devoured by a flash of blue light.

When the light receded, he was no longer in the forest.

Golden plains stretched endlessly in every direction, alive with a soft shimmering wind. The blades of grass brushed against his hands, cool and damp with dew. The atmosphere was pure, and the sky.. the sky was incredibly vast, dotted with serene islands hovering gently as if they were the pieces of a different world.

Jack blinked slowly, confusion dulling his thoughts. His body felt lighter here, almost whole again. The paralysis which had gripped him was no longer there. For a moment, he thought maybe it had all been some fever dream, that the fight, the blood, the terror, none of it had been real.

And then he saw her.

Alinta sat by a pond not far away, her reflection rippling across the mirrored surface. The water shimmered beneath her, catching motes of light like scattered gems. She was quiet, still in a way that didn't belong to her usual energy. There was no spark, no quip ready to be thrown, no mischief behind her eyes. Just.. calm.

"Scar?"

He heard her voice again, soft and fragile.

His heart stumbled, the sound of it grounding him, reassuring him.

He smiled faintly, trying to rise, but his limbs felt like water.

Before he could speak, the light changed. The horizon fractured like shattered glass. The pond bent and twisted into darkness. The golden fields dimmed to black. The gentle wind turned cold and damp, carrying the faint scent of wet soil and iron.

And then the forest returned.

Branches rose up around him, clawing toward the sky. Mist crept along the ground, coiling around his legs. Somewhere ahead, he saw three figures: two standing, one kneeling.

Alice's burgundy hair gleamed faintly beneath fractured moonlight. Tybalt's silhouette towered beside her, his mask gleaming pale white in the gloom. Between them, bound, trembling, was Alinta.

His pulse spiked.

He tried to move, to reach for anything, but his arms wouldn't obey. He would only watch as Tybalt leaned down, one gloved hand gripping Alinta's chin. Her head lifted, but the motion was jerky, unnatural, and when her lips moved, the words that came out weren't hers.

"Miş̸̡̧̨̹̹͚̞̤̫̳͓̣͖̆̔͌͋̎̎̆̋̚͜ş̶͈̼͇̮͙̍́͌? You̶͕̳͙̳̮̩͚̐͆̈̄̅̆̀͑̚͜͝͝ ̵͛͌͐͜two̷̜͇͖̤̪̺̹͓̥̞͕̖͊̈́̚͘ ̴̨̙͕̯͋̒̉̅͑̑̕goo̴̧̢͙̱͖̱̰͎̮͖̳̥͐̏͌̓d̷̨̢͈̞̮͍̗̫̻͍̮̟̬̗͊̇̉̂̚?"

The voice that reached him wasn't Tybalt's. It was wrong, overlapping, distorted, part echo, part mockery.

In his mind, the hallucination twisted the present into something sinister. What was, in truth, a man's concerned question in the real world, came to him as Tybalt's sneer, his taunting, condescending tone ringing out in his head.

Jack's breath hitched. He tried to move, to fight, to do anything, but his body disobeyed. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

"C'mo̴̝̪̰̩͚̱͆̍͐̿̑̕n̷̨̞̦̘̼̘̰̗̆͗̑͌̉̕̕,̷̘̥̗͙͂̀̊̋͝ ̷̨̟͍͙̻͉́̅̌̂͆͗͂̾̔͋͌̅̔̚͜ĺ̴̨̞͍̌̉͂͑̄͊̀̈́̋̋͝͠ ̴̳͖̅̋͐̓̉̂͐͑͆̓̂͒̚͘͠tak̴̼̻̱̥̍͊e̸̬̔́̍̇̓̓̆̓͊ ̷̧̨̜̙͍̩̬̭͔̗̞̖͆͘yoű̶̱̮̻͉͕̠̥͙̤̂̓̍ ̶̘̞͍̯̞͖̭͔̩̦͎̞̝̫͑̂͋̑tơ̸̦͉͇̘̜͕͍̹͎͔̬̭̖̮̓̆͋̆́̈́͘ ̵͔͔̲͔̦̩̻̘̪̳̹̰͎͊̿̂̍̈́̌̍̓̾͗͘̕onẻ̵̦̖̜̯͍̮̮̈́́̈́͊͝"

That voice again. Mocking, hollow. Tybalt's laughter rolled across the treetops as the world around Jack began to tilt.

The ground dropped away beneath him.

He was weightless, pulled upward into the sky as the forest receded below, the trees melting into shadow. His stomach twisted. The world bent, blurred, then burst into light.

He hit something soft, cool and formless, like a cloud.

Then silence.

A whisper of a name drifted through the haze, "Piros", and he blinked, eyes darting through the fog, searching for its source.

Nothing. Only the faint sound of someone crying.

"Alinta..?"

The word escaped before he realized he'd said it. His throat burned. His mind was clearing, slowly, the hallucination thinning around the edges.

The fog gave way to the muted glow of lamplight. Wooden beams replaced the endless void. The smell of grass gave way to dust, old wood, and faint traces of a citrusy vanilla, her shampoo.

He was lying in bed.

An inn room.

Reality, at last.

The paralysis still held most of his body hostage, but his mind, that was his again. The shift between dream and waking was like surfacing from deep water, his thoughts heavy and disoriented. 

He turned his head slightly, enough to see her. 

Alinta knelt beside the bed, her hair cascading down her shoulders, the streaks of red catching faint light. Her hands rested on the floor, trembling slightly. She wasn't speaking now, just breathing in short, unsteady bursts, her body shaking with silent sobs.

He couldn't hear her thoughts, but he could feel them, the weight in the room, the invisible pulse of guilt and fear pressing down between them.

Jack's heart twisted.

He tried to move his fingers. They responded sluggishly, twitching once, then again. Enough to make him believe he could reach her if he just kept trying. 

Slowly, painfully, his arm lifted. The effort felt monumental, like pushing through solid rock.

"Alinta.."

Her name cracked through the stillness, quiet, but real. His voice scraped against his throat, barely audible, but it was enough.

Her heard jerked slightly, a small, startled motion, but he didn't press further. He didn't have the strength yet.

He just kept his hand outstretched, suspended weakly in the space between them. His fingers curled faintly, reaching for her warmth, her solidity, for something to anchor him to this moment and not the nightmare he'd just escaped.

The room's silence felt sacred, fragile. He could hear the faint creak of the wooden floorboards, the distant noise of players outside, the crackle of a lantern wick burning low. But all of it faded behind the sound of her uneven breathing.

That sound, the proof she was here, alive, with him, was enough.

He let out a shaky breath. His vision blurred at the edges again, exhaustion creeping in like fog at dawn.

He wanted to tell her she didn’t do anything wrong. That none of it was her fault. That he was still here, because of her, not in spite of her.

But the words tangled before they could leave his lips. His body wouldn’t obey.

So he did the only thing he could, he kept his hand stretched toward her, fingers trembling, the smallest smile ghosting across his lips.

And as the light flickered against the wall and the room dimmed into quiet, Jack allowed himself to drift, not into unconsciousness this time, but into a fragile kind of peace.

Because even through the pain, the paralysis, and the remnants of the hallucination, he knew the truth: she was safe. They both were.

* * *

WC: 1218

[Alinta 0]

Her head shot up hearing his feeble voice, the faint vibrato was all it took to have Alinta straight to his side. Shaking hands clasped tight over his outstretched one as she shuffled forward toward the bed on her knees. “Oh Scar…” She whispered, a deep shuddered whisper, a release she so sorely needed. The woman didn’t realize just how much this would affect her. “I’m so sorry..” A whisper as she pressed her head into his shoulder, leaning over him in the bed.

“You told me you’d leave scars on my heart but I let them all over you… I wanted to show you what I bought but…n-not like this.”

Alinta lifted her head, with the passing time, so too did his health heal - but his arms still twitched, and there was still sweat beaded across his head. “H-Hang on…” Alinta stood, she would do her best to look after him. With a final kiss to his hand she would gently place it over his chest before turning toward the adjoined bathroom.

To the sink she went, wetting a hand towel with cool water and wringing out as much water as she could. Then She turned back to Scar, kneeling before him. She dabbed away at his sweat, careful gentle, almost flinching at the mere touch of her hand to his skin. Terrified she’d hurt him again. Finally Alinta finished by folding it and placing it over his forehead. “Here…this should help…” She said softly.

A gentle hand lightly brushed against the scar on his face. She wanted to know what happened back there. Why he was lying on the floor, why he still couldn’t move. Piros said it was nothing more than paralysis, but Alinta didn’t believe that.

The scary white haired man, and the other with a mask over his face….

Alinta wasn’t sure what was more terrifying, the absolute insanity of a girl she mistook for Ceres, the screaming rhyming masked man…or the deadly look in the eyes of the one dressed all in white.

A soft exhale. None.

None of that was as scary as seeing someone she adored lifeless on the ground.
He could have died…

What would she have done…if he did?

[Scar 0]

The cool weight of the towel on his forehead brought a brief, fragile peace. The pounding in his head dulled to a rhythm he could almost ignore, and for a moment, he could pretend he was fine, that the world wasn't still flickering around him like a dying flame. His vision blurred and steadied in uneven intervals, Alinta's silhouette bending and reforming through the haze. He could hear her movements, careful and deliberate, the quiet drag of fabric, the faint tremor in her breath. She was trying so hard to keep herself together.

And that hurt more than anything else.

Jack tried to lift his arm, but his muscles refused to listen, responding only with faint tremors and a sting that raced up his nerves like fire under his skin. It wasn't just pain, it was failure, drawn out and merciless. He'd promised to protect her, to be the shield between her and whatever this twisted world threw at them. Yet here she was, wiping sweat from his face, whispering apologies like she'd done something wrong.

He wanted to tell her she hadn't. That none of this was her fault. That he'd let himself fall, and she was the only reason he was still breathing. But the words tangled in his throat, smothered by the remnants of the hallucination still gnawing at the edges of his mind. Even now, behind his eyelids, he could still see the flashes of it, white silhouettes, empty eyes, and the echo of his own voice repeating things he couldn't remember saying.

It was hard to separate what was real anymore. But Alinta was real. Her warmth, her trembling touch, her soft exhale as she placed the towel, those were things no illusion could fake.

He swallowed, forcing his voice through the dry tightness in his throat. "Alinta.."

Her name left his lips like a plea and a prayer all at once. The sound drew his focus back to her, anchoring him. He blinked against the blur until her outline came into view again. "I don't think I ever told you my real name," he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint, tired smile.

The towel slipped off his forehead, sliding down to rest beside his face. "It's Jack," he said quietly, voice rough but laced with a fragile humor. "Feels like we should be past calling each other by usernames, don't you think?"

He let out a shaky breath, hoping the small spark of warmth in his words might reach her, hoping she'd hear what he couldn't say: that she hadn't failed him. That he was still here because of her.

* * *

WC: 440

[Alinta 0]

Alinta watched as he tried to lift his arm, fingers twitching and failing. “Don’t try to move too much yet.” A whispered plea as she began to run her perfectly manicured fingers through his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, soothing and slow motions.

"Alinta.."

He swallowed, his voice sounding dry, raspy.

“I’m here. I-O-Oh! Uh…H-Hang on….”

Alinta opened her inventory, and pulled out a small thermos of green tea; it wasn’t much, a dingy brown looking thing, and the lid, a cup - a faded red. “This was…” She looked down at it, fingers dancing across its warm surface. She had been planning a picnic for him. A simple and cute date idea, a gesture to show she cared- and despite how they first met…that she enjoyed the more simple things. Without the honeyed words fuelled by the vibrations of a night club, or alcohol, or jealous fits. None of that, just a checkered picnic blanket, sandwiches, and Scar.

Now….

Could she even ask for that?

“This is…” More resolution in her voice now. “Green tea.” Alinta poured him a cup with shaky hands. Then, she shifted, climbing onto the bed next to him. Carefully propping him  up against a pillow, then picking up his hands and curling them around the dingy plastic cup. “Here… drink this slowly…”  Alinta swallowed, all this caution…didnt help the guilt she felt.

It's Jack,"
 

Alinta stilled. Jack? Wasn’t that what the other woman and the crazy man had been calling him? They knew his name? “I…I see.” She swallowed again. Tasting bile, no matter how much she swallowed, how much she tried to roll her tongue around her mouth to rid it of the taste, it was still bitter.

“Raven…” She said quietly. “I had my name changed to Raven. Here…”

Alinta guided his arms up to his lips, waiting for him to take a sip of the tea. “It’s not chocolate, or cookies and cream…it might be a little bitter….but I hope it helps you, Jack.”

WC: 335

[Scar 0]

The pillow was comforting under the back of his head but the pain in his neck from the effort of moving was still there. Alinta, no, Raven, was careful, almost painfully so, as she adjusted him into place. He could feel her trembling when her fingers brushed against his arm, steadying him just enough for the cup to meet his hands. The faint clink of plastic against his fingers echoed too loudly in the quiet room. Her hands were shaking, not from weakness, but something heavier, like guilt threading through every movement.

For a moment, the world seemed to exhale. The chaos, the fight, the paralysis, all of it slipped into the background. Here, in this small dimly lit inn room, there was only her. The way she guided his hands to the cup, her voice low and careful as she said, "Here... drink this slowly..."

The warmth seeped through his palms, steadying him. The first sip was faintly bitter but soothing, grounding. It wasn't sweetness he tasted, it was clarity.

His vision wavered again, flickering between the now and something else. He was standing in a field beneath a vast sky, the sun breaking through scattered clouds. A breeze swept through the grasslands, and the air carried the same faint scent of citrus and warmth. He was finishing a quiet, ordinary day, walking home without a care. Then he saw her, waiting on the path ahead, smiling softly, her hair catching the light.

"Raven..." she said. The word echoed like a secret carried by the wind.

He smiled faintly, the name rolling from his tongue with unfamiliar ease. "Raven.."

The vision folded inward, dissolving back into the quiet inn room. He blinked once, twice, the golden light of the plains replaced by the dim glow of a lantern. She was still beside him, still real.

Raven helped guide the cup back toward his lips, her fingers brushing his lightly. He drank again, slower this time, savoring the warmth that settled deep into his chest.

"I like it," he whispered, his tone weak but certain. "It's.. real."

And for the first time since everything had gone wrong, Jack felt something close to peace.

* * *

WC: 363

[Alinta 0]

Alinta gave a small exhale. Relieved he was able to drink. “That’s it…” she reached out to run a hand through his head. “Nice and slow. Y-you’ve been through a lot.” Alinta didn’t know what he had been through.

Or why those strange people knew his name.

Why they were screaming, stark raving mad… and why he had invited her to that clearing in the first place. Did he get tricked? Scar was so level headed and cautious, he didn’t seem like the type of person who would be easily swayed.

Once Scar had emptied his cup Alinta carefully took it, leaning over to the side table and placing it there, then - she pulled out another item from her inventory. Katsu sandwich…another item she had been planning to have at their picnic, she tore a piece off and placed it into his mouth, watching him chew then swallow.

“I didn’t make these, Oscar did though - so they should be good.” Another swipe of her inventory and Alinta had a small plastic red plate, placing it and the sandwich both on his lap. Every action, cautious, careful. 

Alinta felt like this was the last night she’d get to spend with him. Like it was a goodbye. The way he said her name, it hurt. It hurt because it felt so natural falling from his lips, amd it caused a flutter in her heart and a well of emotion in her chest. How long had it been since anyone called her that name? Alinta allowed herself the guilty pleasure of a small smile. “Jack.” She’d say in return, leaning forward to press her lips to his forehead.

“You should rest.”

And she should leave.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair to have the reason he was hurt to lay in a bed next to him.

“And I should go.”

WC: 307

[Scar 0]

Jack blinked slowly as Alinta tore a small piece of bread and pressed it gently on his lips. The smell hit him first, warm, savory, familiar. Katsu.. His mind tripped over the word, reaching for a memory that refused to form. He hadn't tasted one in what felt like forever, but the flavor, the crisp batter, the tang of sauce, filled the silence like sunlight through fog.

"It's like we're sort of on a picnic together," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The words escaped him before he realized how fragile they sounded. The room was too still, too gentle for the world they'd just escaped from. For a moment, though, he allowed himself to believe it: the two of them sitting together, quiet, the faint clink of a plate beside them, and her voice soft enough to drown out everything else.

Alinta didn't answer right away. She only moved carefully, setting a small red plate on his lap. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, hesitant, cautious, and he could feel her tremor, the restraint in her every motion. The faint trace of her scent lingered near him: bergamot, citrus, and vanilla. It anchored him, pulling him out of the blur of paralysis and fading hallucinations.

"Oscar made these, huh?" Jack asked quietly, his smile softening. "He's an amazing cook."

Alinta didn't meet his eyes, but the curve of her mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

He tried to reach for her hand, to return the comfort she'd given so freely, but his arm moved only an inch before freezing midair. The effort sent a shiver through him. He sighed, the sound barely audible. Still, he smiled faintly, because she was here, because he was alive, because somehow that was enough.

But then she said it.

"And I should go."

The words slipped through the quiet like a blade drawn from its sheath.

"Don't go!" His voice cracked as he forced his arm forward. His body finally responded, the paralysis giving way just enough for him to move, just enough to reach out toward her. The red plate tilted, the sandwich sliding from his lap and falling to the floor before fading away in a shower of faint blue pixels.

He barely noticed. His vision swam, the room flickering between light and shadow, but he could make out her silhouette, the faint outline of her hair, the curve of her shoulders as she hesitated near the doorway. He reached for her again, his hand trembling.

"I almost lost you.." he whispered, his voice rough, words pulling from somewhere deep in his chest. "I thought-" He swallowed hard, forcing the rest out. "I thought you were gone."

His blurred gaze locked onto her, and though the edges of her form shimmered in and out of focus, he could still make out her eyes, wide, uncertain, full of guilt she didn't deserve.

He didn't know how much of what he'd seen was real, how much of the forest, of Alice, of that masked man, but this, here, felt solid. The heat of the room. The faint, citrus-sweet scent clinging to the air. The way she looked back at him when he said her name.

He wanted to tell her not to blame herself, that none of it was her fault, but his strength was fading again, his voice slipping away. His arm lowered slowly back to the blanket, and his breathing steadied into something softer.

Still, his words lingered between them, quiet but sure: "I almost lost you.." And for a moment, even through exhaustion, he prayed she'd stay.

* * *

WC: 607

[Alinta 0]

“You almost lost me?” Alinta shook her head. “You… You were the one being hurt. Hurt by my weapon. Jack.” She snapped. Alinta stood at the door.

“I…” Alinta turned away from him. Drawing a long deep breath. It was clear that he was still struggling, barely able to lift his arms. She contemplated leaving then and there, but that would be selfish. Instead Alinta padded quietly across the floor, back toward Scar, barely letting their eyes meet. Too afraid that if they did, she would crumble. Instead, Alinta focused on pushing the bedside table closer, within his reach. Another cup of green tea was poured, and the rest of the sandwiches, and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries were placed on the bedside table, it was crowded, but it looked like a feast.

A picnic…it really does seem that way…

A small smile found itself to her lips. “Maybe…” She didn’t sound like she believed her own words. “When you recover… we can make this a real picnic. Outside. In the sun, under a tree by a lake even.” That sounded nice. Real. Alinta finally turned to Scar, seeing the feeble look on his face the woman couldn’t help but lean over and offer him a kiss on each of his eyes. Tender. Soft.

 “Please. Just eat. Drink. Rest. I’m going to go find an antidote for you…”

A final kiss, this time upon his trembling lips. A promise that she would return before Alinta stood, heart breaking as he feebly begged her to stay. Closing the door behind, and leaving Scar alone in the room.

Adrift in his thoughts.

WC 271

[Scar 0]

The door closed with a muted click that echoed far too loudly. The sound reverberated in Jack's skull like a gunshot, fading into silence that pressed down on him until even breathing felt like it took effort.

Her scent lingered, a hint of citrus and vanilla, carried faintly by the air she left behind. It was the only proof she had been real, that she hadn't simply been another vision conjured by fever or regret.

He wanted to move, to chase after her, to say something that might undo the hollow weight she'd carried in her voice. But his body wouldn't obey. The poison still clung to his veins like cold iron, keeping him tethered to the bed, to this fragile space between consciousness and dream.

The tea still steamed faintly beside him. The sight of it, of the carefully arranged food, the way she’d set everything within reach, twisted something deep in his chest. She always did that. Even when she was angry, even when her voice shook with guilt, she still thought of him first.

His fingers brushed over the cup's handle but stopped halfway. He couldn't tell if it was exhaustion or fear holding him back, fear that if he blinked too long, she'd vanish from his memory entirely.

The scent faded slower than he expected. It lingered long enough for the ache in his chest to turn sharp, a reminder that every time she walked away, it felt like he lost her all over again.

Jack sank back against the pillow, eyes tracing the faint outline of where she had stood moments ago. The room still carried her warmth, but it was already cooling, like a dying ember refusing to burn out.

He thought of the word she had whispered earlier, Tolbana, and it pulsed in his mind like a heartbeat. There was something in it he couldn’t quite name: a memory, a warning, or perhaps a promise.

His breathing steadied, just barely.

"I almost lost you," he murmured again, though this time there was no one to hear it. The words hung in the dim light like ghosts.

And as sleep finally began to drag him under, all he could think of was the sound of her footsteps fading into silence.

* * *

WC: 376

[Alinta 0]

Antidote acquired an hour ago. Turns out a store next door had one, apparently it wasn’t one of the most potent ones; but it would do its job. Alinta rolled it around in her hands, standing before the door to Scars room. No, she supposed it was to Jacks room. How long had she been standing there? How long had she sat in that dark alleyway and cried?

Alinta wasn’t good with this sort of thing. Terrible at it really. She didn’t like facing the reality of things, it's why she spent so much time at home, so much time playing video games. Its why she didn’t reach out to many people, and that the only ones she had ever really interacted with for any length of time within Aincrad were Oscar, and Scar. Alinta with all her confidence and bravado was nothing more than a farce.

A deep breath as she pushed the door open to his room, it was dark, and smelt a little musty. The evening sun trickled through a crack in the drawn curtains. The cup of tea and sandwiches left untouched on the bedside table.

The man appeared to be sleeping, every so often he’d twitch. Alinta soundlessly made her way to the foot of the bed. She shouldnt…. This wouldn’t be fair to him. He was asleep. She crawled up onto it and shifted so she comfortably lay next to him, still propped up with pillows. He was so warm, the scent of lavender, and of dirt. Fingers gently brushed his hair out of his face. Her heart ached.

His lips were parted, and a thought struck Alinta, she opened up the antidote and downed it, wincing at how very bitter it was. Then, she leaned over him, offering a kiss, carefully tilting his head up with the coax of her finger so he could safely drink the liquid that’d aid in his recovery.

WC:320

[Scar 0]

Warmth. That's what reached him first. It pooled faintly against his lips, bitter, foreign, yet familiar somehow, followed by the ghost of a touch that pulled him from the dark.

Jack stirred. His breath hitched as his lashes fluttered open, vision still hazy and trembling around the edges. The faintest light slipped through the curtains, breaking across the outline of someone close, her.

For a moment, he didn't move. He just listened. To the quiet rhythm of their breaths mingling, the subtle rustle of fabric when she shifted slightly. It felt unreal, like the world had stilled just for them.

"..Alinta?" His voice came out rough, barely a whisper, but it was enough. He could see her now, close enough to feel her warmth seep into him, close enough that the familiar scent of bergamot and citrus brushed through the air. He blinked, trying to steady his focus. "You came back.."

There was no accusation in his tone. Only disbelief. Gratitude. Relief so sharp it almost hurt. 

He reached for her hand, slow and unsteady. His body protested, muscles taut with pain, but he managed to graze her fingertips before his strength faltered again. "I thought.. you'd left," he murmured, his words breaking apart at the edges.

For a heartbeat, his gaze searched hers, looking for something to anchor to. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe the simple reassurance that this wasn’t another flicker of fever. 

The bitter taste on his tongue finally registered. He swallowed hard, wincing faintly. "That wasn't tea," he managed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips before he coughed. "You always have a strange way of helping people.."

Silence settled again, but softer now, no longer suffocating.

Jack shifted slightly, turning his head toward her, exhaustion still heavy on his face. "You shouldn't have come back," he said quietly, though the words carried no conviction. His thumb brushed the edge of her wrist, trembling but deliberate. "If I hurt you again.."

He trailed off, the rest lost in the rasp of his breathing.

The space between them felt impossibly fragile. One wrong word, and it could break. But for now, neither spoke. 

He let his eyes close, not in sleep, just to listen to the sound of her beside him. For the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel like the silence was trying to swallow him whole.

* * *

WC: 392

[Alinta 0]

His breath hitched, and Alinta felt the flutter of his lashes against her skin. She pulled away, softly - carefully and replaced her lips with a thumb, wiping remnants of the antidote away from his mouth. Would it work? Could he move again? He seemed to be able to talk more now at the very least. If he wanted her to leave, she would - at least Alinta was able to taste him one last time, even if it were tainted by the bitterness of antidote. “You’re okay…” She whispered, and Alinta wasn’t sure who she was trying to tell that to. “You’re okay…” repeating the mantra as she pressed her forehead against his. Hoping Scar was safe. She allowed herself to linger there, soaking up his warmth. Body still pressed close against his.

“Yeh, it’s me.” He called for her, still weak. Surprised she had come back, and that stung. She forced out a laugh, slowly placing that false bravado mask back on. The confident Veneer of ‘Alinta’  “Of course I did.” A tilt of her head and the quirk of a practised smile. “I promised I would.”

You always have a strange way of helping people.."

Alinta forced a laugh, help. He thought. She was doing the bare minimum to be a decent human being. Light dimmed outside their quiet little world inside that room - the sun had set, and in its place lights flickered on inside, perhaps a timer, Alinta wasn’t sure, didn’t care to know. “I told you… I wanted to bring you an antidote. After all…” A gentle caress of her thumb beneath his eye. “You’re like this because of me.” A swallow, and an admission that was hard to admit. She pressed her head into the top of his. “I’m sorry.”

"You shouldn't have come back,"

A cold chill set in at those words, Alinta flinched then shifted to move away from him. He was right…she shouldn’t have. This was her fault. All the apologies and kisses in the world wouldn’t make up for-

"If I hurt you again.."

“You??” Alinta said exasperated as Scar weakly tugged on her wrist, pulling her back down next to him. “Y-You? Scar…Jack… You didn’t hurt me. What the- how- why do you….”

Alinta didn’t know how to articulate her words, and it seemed the man was struggling to stay conscious. His eyes fluttered, then closed. Alinta placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the trembling rise and fall of his chest. “Just…what happened to you?” A question barely above a whisper. She didn’t think the static effect on her weapon would cause this much trouble. It seemed he was struggling to even parse the difference between reality and dreams.

Maybe…he was just exhausted.

Alinta shifted, her arm underneath his shoulders as he turned into her, allowing him to  wrap his arms around her. She’d give him these moments of comfort. He needed them.

WC: 485

[Scar 0]

Her heartbeat was the first thing he noticed, steady, fragile, real. It grounded him, even as the room swayed in a haze of light and shadow. His body trembled when she lifted him, warmth spilling from her into his bones, quieting the restless ache that had refused to leave.

Jack's breathing steadied against her shoulder, his hand weakly fisting into the fabric of her sleeve. The name she'd used, Scar, Jack, it all blurred together now. He wasn't sure which one of them was real. Maybe both were. Maybe neither.

"Raven.." he murmured, the syllables breaking softly, more breath than sound. "Don't.. don't say sorry."

He wanted to open his eyes, to meet hers again, but they felt impossibly heavy. His mind kept slipping, between her warmth now and fleeting fragments that didn’t belong here: a faint hum of city noise, the cold flicker of fluorescent lights, a name whispered through static.

He forced a faint, breathless laugh. "If anyone should apologize.." He coughed, wincing before managing to finish, "..it's me. You shouldn't have had to fix me up."

A silence followed, not uncomfortable, but weighted. His head rested against her collarbone. The scent of bergamot and citrus lingered faintly in the air; something that reminded him of sunlight through an open window. Something safe.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered finally, voice barely audible. "Back there. When everything went dark, I kept hearing your voice.. calling out." His hand twitched again, reaching for her cheek, but it only brushed air before falling limp.

He smiled faintly despite himself. "I think.. I dreamed you were somewhere else. Somewhere bright. Laughing." His eyes half-opened now, unfocused, the ghost of a grin on his lips. "You should laugh more.. it sounds real."

The quiet stretched between them again. He shifted slightly, pulling her closer with the last of his strength, his voice dissolving into a whisper. "Stay.. just a little longer."

His breathing slowed, the tension leaving his body as sleep finally began to drag him under again, this time, peaceful.

"Please don't go," he murmured one last time, and for once, there was no pain in his voice, only trust.

* * *

WC: 360

[Alinta 0]

The man curled up against her, and the warmth from the sun was long gone and replaced with the chill of night. Alinta wondered if she should have cozied up under the covers with Scar. That…would have been nice, but the two hadn’t quite gotten to that point in their relationship yet. The woman wasn’t even sure if they were still supposed to be together. She wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, silent. She thought he had fallen asleep, and had gone to carefully move, but it was then that he spoke, voice muffled as it broke the wavering silence between them.

"Raven..Don’t…don't say sorry."

Her fingers trawled through his hair as he coughed, trying to talk. To apologize. “Shhh…shhh…Shouldn’t, but would. It’s the least I could do, Jack.” All Alinta could do was continue to console him. He felt so broken and small. The woman had to start to wonder what the hell happened in that forest, that clearing before she had turned up. What caused him to break so utterly and completely like this. “That’s…what partners do, right?” She asked. “Still, Partners?” The question hung heavy in the air and remained unanswered as he started to mumble again.

Fevered whispers about things going dark - and how he had lost her, then a dreamy smile, as his eyes began to haze - staring at the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling. He was… dreaming of her? “The forest? Jack…you’re not making any sense. Were you asleep? But..you messaged me?” Alinta didn’t get a straight answer. Instead he told her she should laugh more.

“I don’t much feel like it right now…” Not spoken from bitterness but concern. “Y-You should go to sleep.” A hand brushed over his eyes, coaxing him to close them. “I won’t go.” That seemed to be enough to get him to finally fall asleep. Alinta wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but it wasn’t till the light of the moon had shifted halfway cross dusty floorboards did she move. Carefully slipping out from underneath him.

Alinta made sure he was tucked in tight, fluffed his pillows and kissed his forehead. “Just what happened to you, Jack?” She whispered softly, standing over his sleeping form. “I hope your dreams are kind to you.” Another kiss as she moved away.

There really wasn’t much in the room, so Alinta headed to the adjouned bathroom, and grabbed two towels from there, one she set out on the floor, by the bed, the other she wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it’d have to do.

Alinta would keep an eye on Scar, every so often her eyes would close and she’d drift off for a few minutes, before forcing herself awake again. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, slumped over. Head against the bed.

But she did.

Exhausted, worried.

And not sure if she’d even wake to a boyfriend, or a stranger.

WC: 491