#fayesavin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ashnadir · 5 years ago

Text

[ Miguel is forced to deal with Xolotl and the god’s claim on his golden child’s ascendance. Iann does his fraternal duties. Ciara, Ephram, and Faye kick ass and take names.]

Warnings: blood, gore, throwing up, violence

@bumblingbrujo, @thatwhichbindsus, @ephrampettaline, @faye-savin

At the edge of the Old Growth Forest, Iann turned to look at Ciara. "I think it's best if I just go meet him alone," Iann said, looking Ciara in the eyes and trying to gauge her thoughts on this....her thoughts and her feelings, he supposed. "You gotta meet Pettaline and make sure that...ah...Miguel doesn't know you two are behind me." It suddenly felt strange now, calling him 'Miguel'. He couldn't help but think about Faye's theory, and that theory didn't make him afraid, it made him angry. "Faye promised she'll be on watch as well..." Iann gave a crooked smile. "I'm glad so many people want to help him. Whatever happens, we're gonna help him." That was the aim, as far as Iann was concerned. After glancing up at the solstice moon, Iann turned and headed down the path that led deeper into the old forest. At least he had a flashlight. He heard a bark behind him from Molly, and the dog came loping up to trot beside him. "Good dog," Iann told her, patting her hard silky head.

There were already spells on Iann. Light weight ones that would remain hidden unless someone was looking deep. She'd smeared crushed cat eyes on his eyelids so he could tolerate sudden blinding lights, taken his blood into her veins for her easy access, and had enchanted him with a general protection spell. He had a copper coin in his pocket, but it still didn't feel like enough. She wanted to send him armed to the teeth, but that wasn't feasible. "We will. I love you." Faye too, which was good. "We are. Wait." Ciara tugged off her glove and revealed a drop of blood. She curled her hand around the back of his neck and pressed a kiss for his lips. "For luck, and so I can pass a spell through to you, just in case." Ciara watched him leave with dread as he walked into the forest. Her magic trailed behind him as he walked. After a short whine, a bundle of fur chased after him. "Molly!" Ciara called, but Molly was already up with Iann. Biting her lip, Ciara turned to wait for Ephram.

"Is that ... should she be going with him?" Ephram came up next to Ciara, pretty sure that he wouldn't be catching her unawares, and gestured after Molly. "I mean, I know she's a hunnerd percent looking out for Miguel, but if there /is/ something going on untoward and it ends up the dogfather hurts Molly, it'll..." Ephram stopped, pressing his lips together tightly for a moment, thinking of Asker dying in his arms, due entirely to the fucking demon. "Well. It ain't gonna help any, is what I mean, if Molly gets hurt. In making sure Miguel's okay."

Faye made sure she was where Iann had asked her to be at the time the others would be in the forest. She had a small satchel over her shoulder, filled with things that might be useful. Her eyelids and forehead were smeared with streaks of palm ash mixed with the blood of a raven. Her wrists and chest held sigils of protection drawn in the same substance. Protection from anything that might try to harm her. Or worse. The moon was overhead when she sat down on a fallen log to wait, and the air held a sense of... something. Anticipation maybe? Like the whole forest was holding its breath. Faye could only hope that when it released that breath, everyone that had walked into the forest tonight walked out.

As Iann walked, he felt like the air was charged around him. This wasn't the first time he'd experienced this sort of static electric tingle around him. It wasn't like before a lightning storm or a hurricane, it was magic, pure and mingling with the natural world. Or maybe just emanating from the natural world around him. He'd felt it at witch bacchanals, coven ritualistic spells, near ley hotspots and forbidden haunts. This time though, it felt painfully personal, intimate in a deeply uncomfortable way. He wasn't spying or witnessing, he was walking into it. With amber dust on his eyes and a copper coin that he flipped rhythmically between his fingers. With his hand on the head of a witch's familiar, not his own. With a witch's kiss on his lips, his skin stained with her blood, heart warmed by her love. He was protected, but what he was going towards...well, he'd never felt so open and vulnerable in his life. "This isn't supposed to happen to me," Iann told Molly, who looked up at him, tongue lolling. "This isn't my life. It's not my life," he muttered again, as he reached the end of the path.

At the end of the path was Miguel. Or at least what looked like Miguel. But at the sight of him, all golden dimples and sunny smiles, Molly crouched, legs ready, and started to growl. Behind him was a trickle of a stream, the sound was so small but filled the air until Xolo opened what would soon be /his/ mouth. "Hello Iann."

Ciara turned to Ephram with a wry smile. "Hey. I don't know. It's like she knows, and has done all day. The magic that makes her a familiar connects her to Miguel. Iann thinks she might help reach him. If not, she's protected as much as he is." Not enough. She wondered if he was thinking about Asker in that moment, but decided not to ask. "But we'll stay close." She tilted her head to gesture for him to walk with her into the woods, a healthy distance from Iann. "I have some spells for you too, if you like." Her voice was low, dropping lower the deeper they went. Unlike Iann they didn't want a flashlight hiding their location. She pulled two jars from her coat pocket and offered them to Ephram. "Where in earth are they going," Ciara murmured, as she began to feel... Something.

Taking the proffered jars, Ephram turned them around in his big hands, sucking in a breath as they got closer. "Nowhere good," he muttered, tucking one of the jars into the crook of his elbow to wave a hand near his ears, around his head, grimacing at some phantom sound. "What do I do with these? Drink em? Carry em? If they're meant for suiting up against bad magic, reckon I best use em sooner rather than later."

It was a cone-shaped space surrounded by pine trees, with a stream trailing behind Miguel that came down from the mountains. Under the moonlight, it looked metallic...but not silvery. More golden, despite how blue and grey and brown everything else around them was. Everything looked and felt cold save for Molly's furry head, and that bright sunny smile on Miguel's face. "You stay here, girl," Iann told Molly, glad she listened and stayed put (although still wary) as he kept walking into the open space, which somehow felt more claustrophobic than walking down the forested dark path. He came to a stop a couple metres away from Miguel and switched off his flashlight. It was better to get this out, now that it was happening and Iann knew he couldn't deny it any longer. Not for Miguel's sake anyway. Ciara's words, and Faye's words floated in Iann's mind, and he finally put it in words himself. "Hello, papa."

"Smear the left on your eyelids, drink the right." Ciara replied. "The left prevents you being stunned by a sudden bright light. The right is a more general protection. I haven't dealt with gods before, so I went broad."

If anything, Miguel's cheerful round face filled out more as his smile got wider, grin toothy and almost tight, as if smiley-Miguel himself wasn't used to grinning this hard, this forcefully. "So you finally get it," Xolo spoke using Miguel's tongue, and the language Xolo used wasn't English or Spanish. It hurt Iann's ears, and the human visibly winced. "Miguel would be so thrilled. Or disappointed. I can't quite tell because he's not being particularly communicative right now."

Frowning, Iann took a step closer. "What did you do to him?"

Ephram followed Ciara's instructions, stopping for a moment to fix her with a flat look when she stated baldly what they were up against. "Jesus," he muttered, rubbing at his eyelids and then dropping that jar in order to quaff the contents of the other one. "So it's at that point already, huh?" He dropped the second jar too, tucking the side of his coat back for a moment so Ciara could see the shoulder holster he was wearing. "Ever since them messed-up pocket dimensions I been using bullets made of my magic against supernatural threats. Don't rightly know if they'll be any good against a deity but I reckoned any little advantage might help."

From her place on the outskirts, Faye pressed a hand to her temple. There was... some kind of... ringing. It didn’t hurt, just set her nerves on edge. It reminded her of something that tickled at the edge of her memory, and before she realized it, she had reached inside her bag for a slim, silver bound pendant with a glass casement. It looked like a small lacrimosa, but instead of tears, it contained six blood-red pomegranate seeds, stacked one on top of the other. She slipped it over her neck, hoping it might help quell the ringing.

"I hope not. But I'm preparing for the worst." Ciara replied. He knew just what that could be like. She glanced across, catching sight of the holster in the moonlight. "Clever." She started a little sideways , to get out of line of sight. Pulling out her phone, she messaged Faye an invitation to share location. "I don't like what I feel out here. How close do you think we can get?"

"With Cardero doing the hard job of getting up close and personal despite the fact that he's the only human among us and therefore without witch capabilities and this ... Sholo? Zolo?" Ephram shrugged apologetically at his Anglo mangling of Xolo's name. "I doubt their deity-dad is gonna give Iann much credit at all for being prepared. Just gonna enjoy fuckin' with him. So I'd say we got a fair decent chance of being able to sneak up, so long as it doesn't sense us." He scrubbed the heel of his hand against his hip, the Cinquefoil beneath his jeans. "This thing's keeping Anaxis contained pretty good ... and I don't think the demon wants to get involved anyhow. It don't much care for, uh, mixing pantheons."

"That might be a mistake Xolo would make, but not one Miguel would," Ciara replied softly, but with the faintest smile at the idea that anyone would underestimate Iann and his connections. “If I were Miguel, or were using Miguel, I’d expect me. I’d expect Faye. If there’s any surprise here, it’s you, and your magic forged bullets.” Ciara crept a little closer, trying to get side on to the figures, standing in their open space. She could just about see Miguel now, or the short silhouette of him in the dark. There were no more pretences. This was no party, no brotherly reunion. There was magic thick as steam in the air and the faint ringing in her ears. The only question now was which specific flavour of bad this was. She looked back to Ephram and his hand on his hip. “Probably for the best. I don’t think that’s the kind of fire power we need.”

Faye pulled out her phone as it buzzed, seeing the message from Ciara. She accepted the invite, standing as their locations were made known to each other. The air had grown heavier in the time since Faye arrived. It felt oily. Oppressive. Malleable yet draining. Like the peak of summer back home but without the heat. Faye didn't like it one bit. So she moved forwards into the treeline, silencing her steps with a spell.

Ephram grunted a little, flicking his fingers to fill his palm with glimmering green-silver bullets. "Listen," he said, "Iann Cardero's the only reason I'm standing here talking to you and not somewhere carving people into pieces with the demon in charge. He's the only reason my husband wasn't destroyed by a ruthless vampire from his past. And yet I /still/ underestimate the guy." He scrubbed his hand against his chest, the eldritch bullets disappearing back into his body. "You three are here to believe in how much Miguel's capable of and how caring and great he's gonna be even with Xolo hitching a ride. Me?" Ephram looked over at Ciara. "I'm a fail-safe."

Xolo shrugged, as if what he did to Miguel was the least interesting part of this shindig. He mirrored Iann and took a step forward. "I've been hopping from grotesque, decaying, human body to human body for centuries. Darling Miguel is providing me a home."

Faye felt the others before she saw them. She was further back and more behind the clearing, not close enough to see Miguel or Iann, but close enough able to pick out two other familiar figures walking close together in the distance. The feeling of their respective magics was immediately recognizable, even through the miasma of wrongness that permeated the forest like a cloud of poisonous fumes.

Faye raised a hand in greeting, but didn't speak as the quiet murmur of voices trickled through the darkness. A poppet with a bit of Miguel's hair (plucked from her carpet) wound around a golden coin sewn into it's belly; a soul stone; and a blackened glass vial containing one single flickering tendril of Fiendfyre were the main weapons Faye had in her arsenal. Overkill? Probably. Last resorts? Definitely. But if their use was called for (though Faye would follow the others' lead before doing anything that could cause more harm than good) and it helped save her friend's lives, then the cost was worth it.

A smile spread across Ciara's face as she focused her attention on the shimmering green. She could see in those little bullets the control and skill Ephram had now, and at the same time the tales he told of Iann's achievements made her heart flutter. Then it squeezed tight and Ciara looked away, up to the trio of silhouettes. Idly, she rubbed at where Iann's blood sat in her arm, her lips pursed. "That you are. Among other reasons." She took a deep breath. "I'm really glad you came." She knew, deep down, that it was a decision she could and would make in the moment. Perhaps it was selfish not to have to want to make it alone, but it wasn't just that first choice that ate at her. Ciara could follow the dots, understand why Xolo had chosen Miguel first, for his power. That didn't make Miguel the only option. Ciara swallowed, catching sight and feel of Faye's magic not too far away.

"So what do you want?" Iann asked, eyes squinted. He knew Ciara was out there, Pettaline as well, and Faye. If they were watching, that was good - so long as this Xoloitzcuintli thing didn't know they were there. Miguel's eyes stayed focused on him, ignoring everything including Molly as Iann continued to talk. "Because I doubt Miguel agreed to this. I can't see him wanting you to take his body over just like that, I'm sure he didn't give you permission, you fucking --"

"First I want you to shut up." Xolo cut Iann off with an eyeroll. Mortals and their autonomy and this modern belief in things like 'consent' and 'permission'. "I'll answer all your questions - I already know them, and my eldest son's curiousity deserves that much, I suppose. First off: no, you weren't the first." Xolo clasped MIguel's hands behind his back, and swung his shoulders, an almost cute, Miguel-esque movement that made Iann uncomfortable to watch. But he didn't break eye contact, searching those big brown eyes for any glimpse of Miguel within.

Xolo continued: "Every attempt I made failed, so I tried a new route, something that might appeal to my people in this modern day and age....a virgin birth," Xolo waved his hands. "That was you, little one. Teenaged unwed virgin human...she was perfect. Malinalli, your mother, our Guadalupe. Unfortunately, you were no Jesus Christ." Miguel's tongue clucked in disappointment. "Then there was Juan Carlos. I borrowed time and saw his future, and thought a human who shapshifted into a wolf would work better - but then you had to come along, invade Juan Carlos' life and bungle it all." Miguel's finger stabbed at Iann, frowning like a father chastising his child. "You took the wolf and crippled him. I needed something perfect, not mutilated."

Iann's eyes widened. It was true - he'd gotten Lilo shot with silver, over 18 years ago in Mexico. It was his fault that Lilo's leg had to be amputated all those years ago. And apparently in some fucked up way, by ruining the man, he'd ruined this creature's plans. "Jesus..." Iann murmured, and Miguel's laugh in response was derisive.

"No Jesus. Just magic. A powerful witch with high ambitions, and a child who I knew could never be hers. How hard it must've been, when Lupita learned that she had no little girl. She had my son. This..." Xolo looked down at Miguel's form, spreading his arms out. "After all those years, I've finally found what I was looking for. And you, as my son, will help me achieve it." Miguel reached up, and held Iann's chin. How did Miguel even get so close to him? Iann didn't know, but he also found he couldn't step back. "Do you know what you must do, son?"

"I...must serve you," Iann whispered, still staring into Miguel's dark eyes.

Ephram felt Faye's magic in the distance with a little ripple down his spine; it was strange and yet comforting, in a weird way, to know that they could still sense each other's powers even after everything that had put them on diverging paths. Witch magic was /meant/ to be a communal thing, Ephram remembered with a slight pang of wistfulness. Working with two other witches (and for once, being able to contribute on a meaningful scale) felt /good/. All things considered. He tipped two fingers to his forehead in response to Faye's raised hand, and looked back at Ciara to find her ... /smiling/, of all things. Which made Ephram automatically smile back, though it was on the rueful side. "I'm glad I came too. And that you asked me. You know you can count on me to do whatever needs to get done, Ciara." Iann, after all, had always set himself in that position when it came to Ephram -- to /Anaxis/. Ephram wouldn't want it to come down on Freddie to have to kill him if the demon ever took over entirely, and he was pretty sure Cardero felt the same. Which meant it was understood between them that Iann could be counted on for that particular fucking responsibility. So how could Ephram do anything less, in return?

"I do know." Ciara replied with a soft smile. It faded as she looked back to the open space, watching the two of them talk. Her heart grew louder and louder in her ears as she watched Miguel's silhouette walk every closer to Iann's. Some tiny voice in the back of her mind chimed in: that wasn't how Miguel walked. It was the right height and size and shape for Miguel, but the movement was too planned and co-ordinated, to silk smooth and unnatural in its regularity. The silhouette reached out, and grabbed Iann's face. Ciara swallowed, casting her eyes up through the cathedral pillars of the forest trees and to the moonlit sky above them. She'd promised this, to let Iann try first, to see where this led. They didn't know better than to do anything else until they knew more of what Xolo wanted. A sacrifice, in all likelihood, Ciara thought now, under this powerful moon and driven by the blood of the men who stood by the field. Iann couldn't bleed out on her watch, not immediately, and they were close enough to prevent whatever happened after 'not immediately'. It just wasn't enough. One way or another, that monstrous being had both the people she loved most in its claws. She just didn't yet understand how badly.

Faye felt the oddly comforting sensation trickle across her skin as well, from the soles of her feet up to the nape of her neck. She hadn’t been sure what would happen when they all met in the forest, her and Ephram especially, but she was glad he was there. Glad they both were

"That's better," Xolo purred. He pulled an obsidian blade from Miguel's satchel and his other hand caressed down Iann's cheek to his hand. Xolo pulled the hand forward and cut a small divot in the fleshy part of his palm. Just enough to get a little blood flowing. Xolo was not a blood witch. Sure, the blood was important. But what was even more important was what the blood symbolized. Their connection as father and son, the tonalli, the hidden magic of the soul that bubbled up when people bled. Even Iann, even humans.

“He’s bleeding,” Ciara whispered, swallowing hard. “Not much; symbolic.” She looked to the ground, and quietly crept to the next tree. The Earth would provide, and right now she needed cover.

"Symbolic?" Ephram hissed back, his hackles risen almost instantly. "Symbolic of /what/? Ain't much symbolism needed when you're a goddamn deity, is there?" He reached for his revolver, the faint green glow indicating that he'd loaded it and was very much ready to start shooting. "I'm following your lead, Ciara, but you best not wait too long. If what I'm feeling is any indication of how powerful that thing is, we might not have too much time to make any sort of difference."

Faye could see Iann and Miguel’s forms now as she crept as close behind as she dared. The thing that looked like Miguel had Iann by the face. Fayes heart sped up, and she reached for the poppet in her bag, but didn’t speak the words to activate the spell that would (hopefully... considering what was inhabiting him) attach Miguel’s physical form to that of the doll. Not yet. Not with it so close to Iann.

Soon enough, Faye had made her way close enough to the other two witches to hear what they were saying. She stayed a bit behind and to the side, watching, her eyes both on Ciara - following her lead as Ephram was - and the two other forms in the clearing.

Xolo licked the blade, with a hint of a smirk. The change it made was quick and definite - almost like a pulse had come from the contact, a pulse that bent reality as it flew. Miguel's sweet brown eyes were gone, replaced by hard metallic gold. His blood sizzled in his veins, as it too was replaced by gold ichor. But that wasn't the only thing that sizzled. The back of his neck itched and burned and Xolo cursed. "Medding bitch." He dropped the blade and rubbed the back of his neck. Santa Muerte, who somehow had stayed more relevant than Xolo, was using her connection to Miguel to anchor him in place. The process slowed because of her, but it still drained Iann of his life essence. There was just more time now. Most likely until sunrise. Santa Muerte was of the night and the darkness, while Xolo was all sunshine and bluster. Once the dawn came she wouldn't be able to fight him anymore.

"No, I don't --" Iann said, but the moment the obsidian blade touched his palm - and Iann frowned in horror at the blade, for a moment wondering if it was that same blade that Miguel had won, all those months ago in that witch arena - his blood erupted from the split skin. It seemed like nothing, only a scrape. It wasn't a stab or a slice against any important vein. But Iann couldn't jerk his hand away. Instead, he felt himself losing energy, as if he'd been drugged. He closed his eyes and swayed, and crashed to his knees, hand still clutched by Xolo's strong grip.

Ciara gasped, feeling it through the bond she’d built with Iann not long ago. Something was tugging at Iann. Nearby, deer trotted by unawares. The Earth would provide. Ciara reached deep into the ley, and deep into Iann all at once. Her voice, a whisper, echoed around her as she breathed her first spell into her life. “Blood of my lover, aid me. Break the binding.” As soon as the spell took hold - or tried to - Ciara groaned and grit her teeth, trying to pull the life right back into Iann. “Distract Xolo,” she grit out,

Faye took a step forwards as Iann fell to his knees, cursing under her breath. The air buzzed and scraped against her skin, and she gripped the poppet tighter as she felt Ciara pull on the magic that ran beneath the earth.

This sacrifice wasn't what Iann was expecting. He'd expected something brash, rough, violent. Blood everywhere, horror and gore. Instead, he realized as the life drained from him - gobbled up by the golden-eyed monster above him - he was going out with a sigh, not a bang. It was gentle, almost anti-climactic, this death of his. It was soft and melting, and like being drowned in molten gold. Not even a chance to fight.

“Fuck.” Distract a god? Well... alright. Faye looked across at Ephram, giving him a small nod to let him know she would go along with whatever plan Ciara had formed. For now, it meant taking the attention from Iann. She whispered the words in the Olde Tongue that would activate the spell on the poppet. Old magic... voudon... simple yet powerful. She stepped slowly out into the clearing, holding the doll by the neck. “You know... it’s not nice to take things that don’t belong to you.” She kept her distance, but stayed close enough that Xolo would have to notice her. “It might piss somebody off.”

As Iann waned, Xolo waxed under the moonlight. Santa Muerte could only tether Miguel for so long, and all Xolo would have to do was bide his time until the sunrise. What was a few hours, to centuries of waiting and searching? Xolo didn't mind the wait. His bright white teeth gnashed, as if he was crushing Iann's gristle and bones between his teeth, consuming the human's spirit. It was power - the fool human couldn't ever realize how much power - and Xolo dined on it like he was sucking marrow straight from the bones. But then Xolo felt it. A stirring around him - it was Miguel's witch ability that sensed it on behalf of the witch, and Xolo purred in gratitude as his son's instincts betrayed both Miguel and Iann's fates.

"Ahh, the friends," Xolo said, looking around, although he couldn't yet see them. Instead, the godlike creature used Miguel's magic, sending it out like tendrils to seek out the witches. At Faye's voice, he turned to look at her. "Memories and fate tied up in this one...and feelings..." Xolo said, licking his lips, tasting Miguel's feelings for Faye, and tasting her power. He still held on to Iann's hand, but his other hand wove a glyph in the air, fast and adept. "This will take five seconds to finish," he told Faye conversationally. "So bring your arsenal, let me see what you've got, Faye Savin."

Ciara strained, and around her, things died. Hibernating squirrels, winter birds, and the deer that had trodden too close to her. She murmured her spell over and over, trying to chip the bond between Iann’s bled blood and the life that was fading through it. It was a chant, a prayer. She did not dare blink feeling Iann slipping away with every moment she lost. Of course, there was another way to win this fight. Xolo needed Iann’s life, and there were two ways to deny it. “Clot,” Ciara breathed, hoping to seal the wound and slow the life drain like that as well.

Ciara had slipped into her magic, and Ephram instinctively backed off a little -- the life forces winking out around them were like slivers under his fingernails, in his own earth witch sensibilities -- but he didn't reveal himself just yet. If this Xolo was as formidable a deity as it seemed, then it probably already knew Ephram was among the other, more powerful witches; there was no point splitting its attention from Faye and Ciara, both of whom were actually close with Miguel. Instead, he left Ciara where she was and made his way around, behind Miguel. Staying hidden still, because from the stricken look on Iann's face? He just might be a liability at this point.

Faye could feel Ciaras magic as it leached through the ground. It reminded her of the necromancy she’d housed for the longest time, but also felt completely different. But that was mostly a side thought. Her main focus was Xolo. “A girl doesn’t cast an’ tell,” Faye tutted, slashing her hand in a twisting motion in case Xolos sigil was meant for her. She squeezed her fingers around the poppets neck, hoping it would do something to at least make Xolo squirm. “Though it must be better than whatever you’ve got. Since you seem to need a human form to do anything more than spout bullshit.”

Xolo choked as Faye squeezed the poppet's neck. He managed a 'Fuck' that sounded dual - both Miguel's and Iann's voices as one, as bruises manifested around Miguel's neck, hidden in the moonshadow. Hastily, Xolo released the glyph into the air, and it found its channel through Faye's magic, usurping it as dye would colour a stream of water back to the source. The glyph manifested by accentuating Faye's own magic, not compressing it. The voices started as whispers first, then turned into as loud as screams, all echoing within Faye's mind - her senses quickly filled up not just with her own memories, but the memories of the entire town, overlapping over themselves one after the next like a broken dam, crashing unabated into her stream of consciousness.

Panting, trying to regain his breath, Xolo's big brown eyes skirted around the forest, knowing Faye wasn't the only one out there. When Iann only had a thread of life left in him, that was when Xolo felt Ciara next. Her blood, it seemed, clotting Iann's palm - or his blood, but made hers to control. Just as Santa Muerte held on to Miguel, it seemed this blood magic - the magic of blood and love, in fact - tied Iann to the witch. He was weakened - from Faye's attack, from Ciara stopping Iann's energy, from Santa Muerte. But it only made Xolo angry, enraged. Xolo growled and pushed back, bending and twisting Ciara's magic with his own sheer strength and power. "You think you can control them, just because you love them? Your love is pathetic compared to the force of my love, witch! The power of my blood runs through them! And you are a mere interloper in their destiny, you're nothing more." Like a whip, he shot Miguel's magic - now weaponized and bolstered by the god's manipulation of Iann's life essence - towards Ciara, to not just break her tether but shatter it. He used Iann's blood against her, as it flowed within her, not just to shatter the bond, but force the blood she took from Iann to betray her within.

For one brief moment, Faye’s magic took hold. Instead of fabric and thread, She felt Miguels warm skin beneath her fingers. Felt his blood pulsing through his veins. And then... in a rush of magic that felt like nothing less than a violation... Faye was screaming. Molten power split her head open, and every memory, every voice, every ripple of thought both conscious and otherwise that had ever passed through her mind or been touched by her magic... crashed against her with a force strong enough to put her on her back. She screamed and pressed her hands over her ears. Blood ran from beneath them, and from her nose. Her magic pushed back.... slowly, but not before she was coughing up something viscous and dark into the dirt. When Xolo turned his attention elsewhere, Faye got some relief, and her screams died out. She lay in a trembling heap for a long, long moment, before she was able to push up on her hands.

Ephram scrambled over to Faye when he saw her go down; unaware of what exactly caused it, but instinctively needing to get to her. When Xolo focused its attack on Ciara, Ephram hauled Faye up from the ground and pushed his forehead against her face in an instinctive, animal method of using his healing magic (never all that refined to begin with), his own unprecedented mix of witch & fairy power blowing like a gust of cold air through Faye's consciousness. "Are you okay?!" he asked, anxiously, checking her over for wounds as he glanced across the clearing towards where Ciara was being targeted.

It worked. Ciara slumped forward against the scraping tree bark as Iann’s life flow cut off, and remained in him a little longer. Her relief lasted seconds before she felt her own magic begin to twist, like iron bending in an inferno. His voice, growling and doubled, echoed over to her, but Ciara was in no mood for conversation. Faye began to scream, renting through the night sky, but Ciara couldn’t reach her. Yet. The blood in her arm began to burn, and Ciara screamed on her own and Miguel’s magic twisted inside her. Iann’s blood thickened in her arm as the cells began to double, over and over, losing their specialisation, losing their inherent Ianness. Growing and clogging her blood, stealing it’s power and her vitality. Becoming a disease inside her - the double edge of Miguel’s magic. If her blood faltered, her magic did too. Keeling over, Ciara threw up blood, forcing Iann out of her, and breaking her grip on him. Better that than letting those leukemic cells devour her. There was no way Hawthorne hadn’t felt that. Her phone buzzed, but she’d already spoken to the memory witch today. She had asked them for just one thing.

Ciara groaned, sitting upright and catching Ephram’s look. He was with Faye, his magic raw and powerful. They didn’t need her help healing, the just needed a moment longer. She stood, and walked to Xolo. “Funny for a god of the sun to hide in the night,” she replied drolly, her voice harsh from losing Iann’s blood. Deep, deep, deep in the Earth lay the desert leaves ley, occupied by three local witches. Miguel needed his magic to survive. Ciara couldn’t heal so easy if her own body was turned against her. She’d asked just one thing of Hawthorne: that they followed her lead for whatever happened. Ciara outranked them, after all. She didn’t outrank Miguel, but then he didn’t outrank her either. He was a Seeker, to the left of the system. So when Ciara reached deep into the ley now, it wasn’t to pull magic into her. It was to pull the ley out of Miguel.

"Get away. You cannot," Xolo gasped. Hurting Faye had taken a lot out of Miguel; harming Ciara even more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something long and white scurry towards Faye, but he ignored it for now. Because Ciara was there, stepping towards him with determination in her face and Xolo felt he knew her intentions. He dropped Iann's hand, and the man fell like deadweight. Xolo chewed, and swallowed and grinned - tired, but triumphant and well-fed. "He's already dead. You're too late. And you can't do what you intend to do alone." Xolo felt confident that Faye was out for the count; and besides, Faye and the male witch weren't part of the Desert Leaves ley. Ciara couldn't possibly do this alone, and Faye and the male witch couldn't possibly help her.

Faye knew something terrible was about to happen. But to who... she couldn't say. She tried to focus, tried to see what was going on around her as the air split and crawled with magic. But then she was being pulled bodily to her feet and doused in a rush of cold effervescence that had her gasping for air as the ichor was suddenly gone from her mind. Pushed away by Ephram's magic. A magic she would recognize anywhere, despite how it had changed and grown since they'd last been together. She clutched at his arms to help herself stay upright, one hand rising to press against his cheek as she nodded that she was alright. "You?"

The two Southern witches weren't part of Desert Leaves, it was true, but even if they didn't access that ley line they could feel it. And they could feel what it was Ciara was doing with it, when it came to Miguel. Ephram stared at Faye with his eyes gone wide, too much whites showing around the dark blue as he clutched at her.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, but Faye," Ephram rumbled urgently, "she's gonna pull out his ley. You -- d'you remember when we had the gold ley line we shared and you pulled it out of me on accident? If Ciara does that she could -- it might -" He trod in place on the ground, the need to forestall the mounting sense of something terrible about to happen making him jitter like he was having electricity pulsed through him. "Anaxis was what kept me alive when that happened, but Anaxis couldn't do it for long. Xolo ain't a demon, it's a /god/. It could take Miguel over wholesale."

When he said he was alright, she turned her focus on what he had to say. The nervous energy moving through him made the air around him tremble as well. "Jesus..." Faye said, that one word letting him know that she remembered that day. Vividly. And she remembered the aftermath. Her own expression mirrored Ephram's. Because he was right. The demon was what kept Ephram alive. If Ciara took the ley from Miguel... he would be human. And if this thing was truly a god...

"He'll die," Faye said to Ephram as her eyes moved to where Ciara was already facing off with Xolo. Christ, the power that flowed from the two of them...

Frantically, Faye dug in her bag with one hand, pulling out a black moleskin pouch. She looked up at Ephram, her expression wide and pained as she held up the little bundle, trusting that Ephram would know a soul stone when he saw one. "But a body without a soul is just flesh and bone. No place for a god." It was only a suggestion made in the heat of the moment, but with Ciara gearing up to cut the proverbial head off the hydra... their window was growing thinner by the minute.

Ephram stared at the pouch in Faye's hand. He did recognize it (ironically from his lessons with Ciara once he'd begun instruction with her) but wasn't what he'd call well-versed in how they worked, apart from sucking up souls.

Still. He'd always worked best when he got thrown in the deep end.

Ephram pressed his lips together and nodded, shoring up the tides of magic swirling through him. "Tell me what you need me to do."

Ciara felt in herself the steel smooth cold she’d last felt when she’d had her hand wrapped around Lucinda’s beating heart. She stepped closer, felt the ley tightened in her blood, sweat trickling down her face. Her gaze didn’t move as Iann dropped to the dirt. The magic thrummed so thick in the air she could barely hear her own pulse over it. It wasn’t ambition that Miguel had inherited after all. It was the talking. ”You’re wrong.” On what, she offered no clue, reached deeper into the ley that Miguel had once introduced her to. Ciara grit her teeth, walking closer. What were Ephram and Faye even doing back there?

"Do not take the stone out of the bag before you're ready to use it." Faye let out a shuddering breath as she lay the satchel in his palm. "It'll start to suck up the closest untethered soul the moment you dump it in your hand. IT's cold right now, but it'll get hot as the soul is pulled inside."

Faye looked at the others, at her friends. People she cared about. Loved.

"Kill the body, take the soul." Faye made a motion that mimicked pressing the stone to her chest. "No soul, no god. Right? Then we just... put it all back together again..." She looked at Ephram, her expression grim. "If I can touch him, I can do the first bit... or vice-versa."

"Gotcha." Ephram gripped one big hand around the bag, about to put in a proper appearance once she ... /killed the body/, Jesus -- but he paused for a second and wrapped Faye up in his arms, giving her a fervent hug first. "Good luck," he mumbled.

Then Ephram unholstered his gun and shot three rounds in quick succession at Miguel. Not to kill -- he doubted even enchanted bullets would do that -- but to give Faye her opening.

Fuck. FuckfuckfuckkFUCK. Okay. Okay she could do this. She could. She'd done it before. But this was- this was Miguel. Miguel who was probably watching all of this from inside his head. So Faye gripped Ephram tight, nails digging into his back hard enough to leave a mark as he hugged her. "You too." If this didn't work...

But Ephram didn't waste time, and neither did Faye. She was moving the moment he'd unholstered his weapon and fired the first shot. She nearly stumbled in the churned up leaves and the slick mud beneath, but quickly righted herself. Cringing in the wake of the raw power that rumbled from Miguel's form, Faye threw up the most powerful shield she could currently conjure between herself and Xolo, hoping that he would be too arrogant - and too focused on Ciara- to expect the direct attack that she and Ephram were unleashing. She moved at an angle, and when she was close enough she went for him, palm up as if she intended to lift him off his feet, and not just wrap her hand around his throat. If she connected, and wasn't pulled into Xolo's consciousness instead of Miguel's - something she was counting on not happening, simply because she wasn’t nearly powerful enough to penetrate the mind of a god... and also because it would probably kill her if she did- then all it would take was the span of a moment to use Miguel's memories against him. For there to be thunder without sound, and for the corporeal body of her friend to fall (temporarily.... gods above she hoped) dead at their feet, his soul ripe for the taking.

Xolo was almost impressed by the lengths Faye was willing to go for Miguel. Almost. "That would be a lovely plan, darling. If only Miguel was around to see it." He insinuated the death of his son, the complete takeover of his soul, unable to be ripped from a body it no longer inhabited.

Except that wasn't quite true. And hearing his father say it, and watching his brother fall so slow and soft, it rattled something inside Miguel. Maybe the glyph was helping too. It was enough to wake up, and the surprise of the wake up call was enough to grab control from Xolo for a moment.

The sheer force of Xolo's growing power inside Miguel was enough to make the soft male witch's stomach turn. And in a spit moment, the kind of emergency thinking he was used to at the hospital kicked in, and he decided that for once borking because of too much magic wasn't a bad thing.

The body, being tugged between Xolo and Miguel, fell to its knees as it vomit mostly golden bile, but also the blood Xolo had used to catalyze the change. The gold started to fade from his veins, and the glyph started to hum as it gained power from the weakening Xolo.

The magic bullets, which hadn't seemed to have an effect before, suddenly opened up a couple holes in Miguel's shoulders. Blood and ichor dripped out at a snail's pace. It was as if his body didnt know if it was allowed to heal from this or not.

Ciara's concentration shattered as bullets fired past her, laced with glowing green. The ley dropped from her grip as she tried to understand what the others were doing, other than straight up trying to murder Miguel. Which, she understood, but if there was another way... Ciara groaned as it failed, and prepared to distract the god so that it wouldn't unleash literal hell on her friends, when Xolo faltered. When Miguel faltered. The body collapsed to his knees, throwing up gold as Ciara had once thrown up demonic effluvium, and she felt Iann strengthen. Not much, but a touch. "Thank you," Ciara breathed, and darted to Miguel, throwing her arms around his shoulders to grab the now bleeding wounds Ephram had made. His blood was hers once more. With a weak shove, she rolled Iann just a little further out of reach. "Miguel, Miguel, come on. Get it out of you!" Ciara wouldn't be able to cling on long, she doubted this slip was permanent, but it gave her a chance to pull on the ley more fiercely, possibly with Miguel's blessing. No ley, no ritual, after all. She looked up to Faye and Ephram, her gaze steel as she yelled "The ritual needs the moon. When's dawn?"

Faye didn't make it. She barely got halfway before Xolo was onto her and she was back on her knees in the mud. She didn't know how she got there, or what he had done, only that she was. But when her vision righted itself, Xolo was on his knees too. Ciara was screaming at him... no... she was screaming at Miguel. Had her hands on him. And on his blood.

Christ, this might be the only chance they had. For what, Faye didn't know. But whatever it was, the window was closing. She could feel it.

Pushing to her feet, Faye looked to the horizon as she stumbled towards Iann's limp form. The trees were so thick and dark it was hard to see much else. Time felt immaterial; she had no idea how long they'd actually been in the forest. "I don't know... maybe less than an hour?" She looked to Ephram, standing nearby, hoping he could sense something she couldn't. In the meantime, she grabbed Iann by the wrists and made to drag him further away from Xolo. Before whatever hold Miguel and Ciara had was lost.

Ephram nodded. "Sounds right to me."

Iann was only barely gaining consciousness, after his soul was literally thrown up by Xolo, like something unpalatable. He didn't realize what was happening around him, and only felt himself moving but not much more. He wanted to sleep, even though his mind - a loud screaming voicei n the back of his mind, anyway - was yelling at him that sleep was the absolute worst thing to do right now.

Faye gave Ephram a nod and pulled Iann as far away as she dared before dropping to her knees and pulling his head into her lap. He was fluttering back into consciousness, but it seemed to be touch and go. He couldn't fall asleep. Not now. Faye kept an eye on the others as she pressed a hand to Iann's forehead and let her magic find it's way into his mind. It would hopefully give him a jolt, the mental equivalent of snapping an ammonia capsule under someone's nose, if she could get through the layers of ichor that Xolo had left behind.

WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP! RIGHT NOW! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!

It felt like a mother. Not Iann’s mother specifically, but just 'a mother'. That idealized idea of what 'mother' was - caring, nurturing, protective, strong, defensive - all of it. That was what Faye's magic felt like, as her palm pressed against his forehead. He blinked weakly, feeling like he was trying to wake up from sleep paralysis. Everything was sluggish and numb and refused to obey his mind. "Five more minutes, Ma..." he slurred.

Miguel clung to Ciara. Their magic mingled. The itchy feeling of her inside his blood was there. But it didn't hurt. It didn't burn. He clung to her and it felt safe and it didn't burn. "It's hard," he whimpered, sounding just as pathetic as he felt. Oh he hurt, but at least it wasn't Ciara causing it.

"I know," Ciara murmured, shifting so that she was holding Miguel's back against her chest, her chin resting on the crook of her neck. Any moment, Xolo would be back, and she'd have hells to pay. "We're all here for you. Let us help you." Miguel slipped in her blood slick grip and Ciara cursed, grabbing his clothes tight as she pulled him back into her arms. Under an hour was a horifically long time to keep this up. Ephram kept the gun poised, ready to shoot if needed, with whatever tricks Faye had given him, but she desperately didn't want him to have to use it. She hissed in pain at the strain on the ley, as it squeezed inside her. Faye was busy. Her eyes fixed on Ephram, torn between her need for something now and the need for his failsafe when failure became inevitable. Torn between taking yet another risk and asking something from him she wasn't yet sure he was ready for. Something far from anything she had taught him, but then, she wasn't sure she needed to have. "Ephram!" Holding Miguel with one arm, she strained to pull her bag off her shoulder, and flung it in his direction. "Black book, page twenty three. Fortification spell." Anything he needed would be in that bag, except for his own skill.

Ephram ducked to catch the bag in his arms, further snatching the grimoire out of the air when it tumbled from the bag before it could hit the ground. "Right," he said, trying not to let his trepidation show as he scrabbled through the pages. He and Ciara had done work with her spellbooks before, of course, that had been part of his training, but it had been far from one of Ephram's strengths. This was different, though. This was Big Magic, in a tradition he had absolutely no understanding of, and so he clutched at Ciara's book gratefully and dug out the corresponding green glass bottle that went along with it.

"Oh, shit," Ephram muttered as he stared at the incantation in some language he didn't understand -- didn't even recognize -- but he'd just have to hope that intent counted more than specifics in this case. Gathering his green-silver magic in thick strands, Ephram braided them into ropes and wrapped them around the green glass bottle, through the pages of the book, through the capillaries of his tongue as he pronounced the words of the spell as best he could. Sweat started to tremble along his brow, down his nose and back, and when he reached the end of the incantation, the bottle in his hand cracked, loudly; murky green liquid shot out in an arc, smelling of vinegar and unripe pepper, seeming to freeze in the air.

Ephram became belatedly aware that the glass had sliced up the side of his thumb and halfway up his forearm -- not a deep cut, but one that bled freely, and he flung the two broken halves of bottle into the air to swirl together with the lash of blood, the parabola of vinegar, and his magic, before sending it weaving over to Ciara. With the blood patched in, she would be able to take hold, use it however she needed along with the fortification energy.

Faye didn't know what her magic felt like to Iann, only that he would recognize it. She'd been in his head, touched his mind with her power and used it on or around him countless times. They were old friends, and Faye counted on that to help him see. To help him hear her voice, and come towards it. She felt his awareness reaching up through the sludge coating his mind towards the buoy Faye pushed towards him. It wasn't much, and Faye felt resistance every step of the way, but when he spoke she nearly sobbed with relief. "Hey... there you are..." Faye said, voice shaking a bit as she slipped a hand to cup the side of Iann's neck, to try and latch on to his consciousness from a second point. "Though you were gonna sleep all night... stay with me, okay? Just a bit longer. Then you can rest all you want..."

The scene between Ciara and Miguel was hard to watch. Horrific and heartrending and bloody. Faye waited for the moment when Xolo would surge back into Miguel's form... and who knew what would happen then. But then Ciara was flinging her satchel through the air towards Ephram. He caught it, and Faye watched, whispering encouragments to Iann to stay awake as Ephram started to weave magic into the air, calling it forth with words she didn't know. It took Faye's breath, and when the bottle he'd been holding split apart, she gasped, covering Iann in case any of it when flying.

But it didn't, and the air sang with the smell of copper and spice and something bitterly effervescent. Faye looked up as the air hummed with power, and whatever Ephram had called to life was thrown back towards Ciara. "Jesus..."

Foggy and uncomprehending, Faye's voice and the grip she had - whether it was physical or magical, Iann couldn't tell - was a beacon for Iann. He followed her in full trust and without any hesitation, although he couldn't yet remember why he had to wake up. He only knew there was a sort of urgency to his gaining consciousness, to moving, to waking, as if from the dead.

As if from the dead. Shuddering, Iann opened his eyes and looked up at Faye. "I'm alive?" he asked her, then suddenly jolted, legs kicking against the wet leafy ground. "Is Miguel--??!!"

“Hey hey... easy! Miguel’s... he’s-“ Faye kept an arm around Iann , not holding him down but steadying him. “Ciara and Ephram have him... for now...”

She didn't say whether Miguel was alive or dead, just that he was with the other two witches. Which simultaneously drove Iann a bit crazy, but another part of his mind could understand why Faye said it like that. She was only being careful, sorting her priorities. It was surreal to have Faye's - to have anyone's - priority be his welfare. He wasn't supposed to get in situations like this, dammit. He wasn't supposed to be any integral part of...anything important. Iann laughed, blood burbling up his throat and flecking on his lips, but he didn't notice. Iann kept chortling, bitter and angry at himself, at this night, and especially at that monstrosity that called itself a god. A fucking father. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Lemme up, lemme up," he said thickly, painfully extending his hand for Faye to take, so she could haul him to his feet. "I gotta look after him."

As Iann got more of his essence back, Miguel felt stronger. And stronger. Until he was heaving again. This time blood came up, blood and the remnants of the ichor. The golden molten metal squirmed and wiggled until there was enough of it on the ground to take the shape of a regular (not giant) xolo dog.

Faye heard the wetness of Ianns cough, smelled the copper sting of blood, but had to trust that it would sort itself out, or be sorted after this was all done. It couldn’t be helped, just like Iann couldn’t help that this... thing... was apparently his father. But you couldn’t always choose your family, after all. Or your Fate. Faye held Iann until he seemed ready to get to his feet, and then hauled him up with both hands. She steadied him with a hand to his chest, making him look at her for a brief moment to check he was all there, before they turned to Miguel, who was in the process of heaving up his insides. “Careful...” Faye said, keeping a hand on his arm and watching the retched up gold move and form into something else.

Looping an arm around Faye's shoulders, Iann obstinately staggered towards the three witches. He took in the scene: Miguel was half-sitting up, Ciara and Ephram were both beside him, both teeming with magic. Magic and blood. Magic and blood and gold..."What --" Iann crouched down, using Faye to balance himself. He reached for the xolo dog icon, then retracted and stared at it hard. Iann spat in his hand - a hocked-up gob of blood, saliva and mucus - and then he snatched the golden figure up, closing it tightly in his fist. "Miguel. Are you okay?" He looked at Ciara. "Is he okay."

"Thank you." The moments waiting for the spell to take hold were nerve-wrecking, as Ciara caught every trip in his phrase, wondering if he'd land on the right end of the incredibly fuzzy line of magical specificity, that varied from one vowel to the next. The glass shattered, and Ciara flinched, pulling Miguel even closer, against her as the fortitude spell took hold, and took Ephram's blood with it. The tremors of her muscles stilled and the darkness prickling into her conscience faded, and Ciara renewed her hold and magic encompassing Miguel, raw and hard. She held him steady as he purged more of the toxic gold, and in turn began bleeding more profusely. Ciara curled her magic around the wounds, which she didn't heal but stemmed the bleeding of. As the gold ichor took on a life of its own Ciara grimaced, squirming in the dirt and tried to pull Miguel away from it. Iann approached, and Ciara swallowed the sheer hope that came with the sight of that. They weren't clear of the woods yet - for all they knew, that golden dog was a distraction. "I-" Ciara began, looking down at Miguel, then back up at Iann. "I don't think you should be holding that." Miguel was the only one who knew the answer to Iann's question. The moon wasn’t so bright anymore, either.

"I think I should," Iann replied, without malice or hesitation. He knew he should, he had to. He was the eldest surviving son, this was his responsibility. Sure, he was only a human and surrounded by powerful witches, but it felt right that a human could hold this 'god' in his hand. Everyone was gathered around Miguel now, and Iann looked at his brother. "I'm so sorry, Miguel. I should've known, I should've--" But Iann's heartfelt speech was cut off when he was half-bowled over (bumping against Faye) as Molly bounded towards Miguel, whining and licking anxiously at her dad.

Miguel wrapped an arm around his familiar and clung to her too. She was safe and soft and warm and she didn't hate him. Without the gold in him, as he pulled away from Ciara, he started to bleed more. It was as if the bullet wounds had decided that they didn't want to heal after all. He didn't think anything of it, until the ache wouldn't go away. And the blood kept coming. He put one hand over his shoulder and his eyebrows drew together. "Why can't I heal?" Self healing had been as natural as breathing to him for so long, it was the only magic of his that had been unscathed by his transition. And now it was... gone, just as much as his father's influence. He grabbed hold of the ley, his magic wasn't gone, he was still a witch, down to his bones. But healing magic was no longer part of that.

Ciara pressed her lips together but nodded at Iann's reply, trying to look him over but unable to see his features in any great detail in the dark. It wasn't until Molly burst through the group that Ciara sagged with relief. Molly knew better than anyone whether it was Miguel in there or not, and she greeted Miguel with more enthusiasm than Ciara had seen in the dog in the last few months. She leant back to catch her breath but felt his bloody wounds beginning to bleed more profusely, without his normall infusion of magic to stem them. Immediately, Ciara poured her magic back into him, stitching as the blood vessels around the space. "I don't know..." His magic swirled within him, strong as ever, but it no longer migrated to his wounds, like it couldn't even tell he was hurt. "Ephram, can you deal with the bullets?"

Above them, the sky was beginning to lighten, but the day after the solstice came with the longest dawn possible. The air had a bite to it that cut even through their layers. Ciara’s body felt so drained it could use days to rest. But they had Miguel. The deity was out of him. Perhaps not gone, nor defeated, nor solved, but out of Miguel. Everything else was secondary. "Miguel, do you think you'll be able to walk out of here? Or should we carry you?"

"I can sure try." Ephram crouched down and lightly touched Miguel's bullet wounds, not sure how the other witch would react given their past interactions and Anaxis affecting Miguel. But the doctor didn't seen to have any untoward response, so Ephram muttered, "Hold on now, doc," and carefully pushed his fingertips against the holes. Slotting each fingertip into each roughly round wound and pouring out a concentration of green-silver magic into them, witch magic and fairy dust both, using the green to ootch out the bullet casings and reabsorb itself and leaning heavily on the dust part to encourage healing in their wake.

Miguel winced but didn't move as Ephram used his magic to get the bullets out. It felt... absolutely wild, the mix of witch and fae magic in his touch. It reminded Miguel of stars and pop rocks, a fizz and a sparkle wiggling into him and healing him - so different from his own oozing healing magic. Miguel could no longer feel the caged demon in Ephram's touch, but maybe now wasn't the time to bring that up. "Thanks, Sheriff," he said with a pained smile. Once the wounds were closed he clasped Ephram's hand and used the tall man to pull himself up. "I can walk, I might need someone to lean on." His mind was surprisingly silent, so much had happened, his inner voice couldn't keep up. Maybe he would feel better after a long sleep and a hot meal.

"Well now," Ephram murmured, "I'm right here and most likely the only one who ain't got injured, so you go on ahead and lean on me." He latched his arm around Miguel, the other man's weight not presenting him much of a challenge to support. "You remember much? Bout what all's been going on?" Ephram asked, because he couldn't help himself. Maybe Miguel did, maybe he didn't; maybe Xolo hadn't done anything horrible using his son's body, maybe Miguel wouldn't want to talk about it. But Ephram had to ask.

Faye steadied Iann as he was jostled my Molly, watching as Miguel oozed blood even as he seemed to come back to rights. God there was so much blood. The air was thick with it. And with the essence of the different magics that had all been cast that night. Ciara and Ephram saw to Miguel, who seemed to be coming around, so Faye kept a hand on Iann so he didn’t fall down. It seemed to be over, and the sun was blessedly rising.

Iann was too out of sorts to be much actual help, but he didn't feel particularly frustrated by his current inability. Ephram had healed Miguel beautifully, much to Iann's relief. And Ciara was right at Miguel's side, watching, observant, checking, alert. And Molly was right there, twisting and curling around Miguel's legs. Blood was everywhere, and this part of the forest remained silent, air still buzzing. "We should go," he said, still leaning against Faye. "You doing okay, Faye?"

Ciara scrabbled to her feet, wiping the mud and blood off her hands onto herjeans as best she could as she watched Miguel lean on Ephram. "Good. Thank you." Ciara murmured, before taking a step forward to Iann, running a finger over the chest of his coat, just to feel that strong heartbeat. "Let's go then." She bent over to pick up the flashlight Iann had dropped, and shone it back down the path, and began leading them down it, as she maintained a constant, low level connection of magic flow between her and Miguel. The walk back somehow felt so much longer than the walk here, and Ciara shone the light at every passing noise, unable to switch off the high tension wired state she was in. This had all felt much too easy, despite not being easy at all.

Being surrounded by witches and his brother and his familiar was the most comforting things Miguel could thing of. Even if he was sore all over and his head throbbed... Faye and Iann were leaning on each other and Miguel was leaning on Ephram, whose woodsy and fae magic were warm against his skin. And Ciara was leading them all, her magic doubling back to touch his. He could almost fall asleep like this, nestled between people who cared about him.

Miguel leaned a little more on Ephram. "Nothing. It was a blank... like I was asleep but then I could hear what he was saying sometimes and... I dont know." He wanted to protect Iann.

“I’m fine,” Faye told Iann, giving his arm a squeeze as she took in all the others. All alive. A bit worse for wear, but upright and breathing. “Let’s go home.”

#miguel #ciara #ephrampettaline #fayesavin

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