Spirits of the Earth

His mind knew no peace of that day. The memories played in every idle moment of his waking hours. The sheer pain of loss and of betrayal was haphazardly patched over his heavy heart. Aren had never truly healed and he wasn't sure if he ever would. The weight of guilt and regret had always clung to him despite how he had worked so hard to maintain a normal life. Years of it had carved faint lines on his face despite his relative youth.

The innkeeper's business was still relatively lively, but a lot of the charm from the past was gone. The stage of Three Oaks went largely unused besides the occasional musician. Most had seemed content with moving on ages ago, but Aren still clung to his memories and the deep desire to reverse his own rashness that had driven away his remaining beloved. He'd always assumed that the lack of return meant he'd truly found somewhere else to call home. He could only hope that there was happiness and peace for his dearest friend wherever he was.

Admittedly, Aren felt quite pathetic in the ways he hoped for forgiveness daily. He always kept watch for that familiar face, always kept his room free on the off chance he would return home to them. It had been so long that he wondered if he'd merely picked up and moved elsewhere nearby and had just never sought contact. Regardless, his heart ached and no amount of daily work around the tavern seemed to distract him from it.

Truthfully he felt awful for even thinking the place was anything less than spectacular to that very day. His family still lived very comfortably and they had more than enough to get by so long as the doors remained open.

The busier nights were good for that distraction he craved, at least. That night there was a bit of light background music in the form of a violinist that sat at the edge of the stage. The young man always drew a bit of a crowd but it was never anything like his childhood memories of their bustling halls. Still, he got people talking and talking people always meant good coin in their pockets once the day was done.

Aren leaned on his arms against the bar in a lull between conversation and allowed himself to stare out at the violinist. His gaze went through him, though, as he tried to picture the way it used to look when she'd taken the stage with the whole room turned towards her.

Time was such a strange thing. It was both fast and slow in moving all at once. Ocarern's days as a tortured slave could not have passed any slower and yet the journey back to a place he had once called home seemed to take even less time despite the many hundreds of miles that separated him from the now distant sea.

When he had left, he had had no intention of returning and yet when he had been able to at last flee the only thought in his mind was of this home. The elf now stood in a dark alley across from a building he knew the appearance of by heart. So much of the blues and purples of his life had come from passing his days and nights under that roof where laughter and mischief reigned.

His heart skipped several beats, seizing painfully in his chest as he fought with himself to enter or not. Ocarern had left cursed and hated with one friend buried in the cold, unforgiving earth and the other casting him out for his own part in that death. It would be a punishment to enter and remember it all again. Yet, he could not stop himself as he suddenly found himself at the wooden door with his hand already in motion to push it open.

The sounds and smells that greeted him nearly overwhelmed him enough to knock him off his feet. Ocarern was grateful for the heavy cloak and scarf that hid his telltale features. Out of habit his eyes alighted upon the stage but he was soon met with paralyzing disappointment. The colors swirling about the figure there were all wrong. They were not her colors for she was long gone.

His head bowed as he shuffled forward and to the side, fighting the polar urges to flee and to stay. It was a torture like no other. Everything was wrong and yet enough remained the same to hurt as if no time had passed at all since the blue and purple. He was mostly not far off though and the elf did not relish running into him again for another painful rejection. There was only so much self-flagellation he could endure before even he broke.

Resolved to leave once more, Ocarern turned to flee only to run straight into one of the servers, causing her tray of pitchers and drinks to topple with them both to the ground with a loud crash that could be heard above the straining notes of the violin. His hood fell back with the fall and in an attempt to assist the woman, one of the tavern's patrons stepped upon his scarf, causing it to pull away from about his neck as he dragged himself to his feet as well.

The jarring crash that sounded out in the main room certainly got quite a lot of attention. The musician even faltered, the man's eyes shifting to watch the pair on the floor as he tried to determine if he should stop and help or if they were fine enough from his perch.

Aren himself hadn't noticed the sound itself much. The disturbance was obvious enough to snap him out of his distracted daydreaming, but it was the violinist's eyes that told him where the commotion was coming from. Grabbing a measly dish rag to conquer the unknown mess, Aren hurried around the bar and waded his way between tables to reach the pair who were being quickly surrounded by other patrons. He cast an apologetic smile at the server once he'd finally squeezed his way through, giving her a quick once over to be sure there were no visible injuries as a regular helped her to her feet.

He didn't recognize Ocarern at first, hardly even looking to the man he assumed was one of his normal patrons as he clapped a gentle hand to his shoulder. "You all right there?" he asked kindly, uncertain of who had caused what as he looked to the floor to assess the mess the girl had knelt to.

She was restacking the tray with its missing mugs and pitchers, but he just as quickly slipped his hand away to shoo her and finish it himself to hand it back to her and send her on her way. He wiped what he could off the floor, but it was clear a simple rag would not do. "Grab a few more would you?" he called after her, rising once more with the scarf in his outstretched hand. "Sorry, friend, let me get you a drink for the trouble. On the... You." Aren had finally turned his full attention to the elf. The face he saw was one he'd feared and mourned for years he would never see again.

All at once he felt an overwhelming twist of joy and sorrow in the pit of his stomach. He feared such a visit was not a return but a final goodbye and he wanted to stave it off for as long as possible.

He wrapped the smaller man in a tight bear hug, fully bracing himself to stand fast against the struggle he assumed would happen for seizing him in such a way. "Where have you been?" he all but begged at his ear as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, uncaring for the looks they were getting from those who did not know of their past. He knew their last parting had been sour but Aren hoped he could convey to him just how sorely he had been missed. "How long are you here for?" Aren asked warily, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer to that particular question. Privately, though, he hoped the elf might tell him that he'd decided to come home.

Ocarern froze under the gentle touch. Physical contact had always been something he had rejected as it only seemed to make the colors that swirled about him so much more violently vibrant and exhausting. Under normal circumstances, the elf would have recoiled and screamed or even retreated but the assault of clean soap and aged wood upon his senses held him firmly in place. It was a scent he could never forget for it was unique and special and forever ingrained his mind the way sandalwood and oil always made him think of her.

His shock kept him there too long though. He was speaking to him and then that sharp inhalation of recognition. Ocarern attempted to flee, he really did but the other man was faster. The elf found himself trapped against a brick wall with bands of steel holding him flush against or so it seemed within the human's embrace. His body was too weak to escape though and all his efforts earned him was more pain as old wounds reopened. The monster had been exceptionally cruel and even his elfish healing ability had not yet served him well enough to heal entirely.

Words washed over his madly twitching ears and yet he was deaf to them. Ocarern felt as if he was drowning in all of the emotions. A tiny whimper proceeded the heart-wrenching wail that sounded from his lips. Tears raced down his cheeks as the elf finally collapsed fully against his old friend, sobbing his heart out as he awaited blows and hate-filled words for surely that was all he deserved after returning from banishment.

The lack of words or reaction beyond the small struggle he felt within him was a bit frustrating, but Aren vowed to stay patient with him. There must have been a reason for such a sudden return and he would wait as long as he needed to hear it.

The anguished cry he heard was startling for him. Why would he be so upset? He saw no reason for it beyond the extended contact but he didn't think his friend would be that touchy about it. "Ocarern," he whispered mournfully, hugging him close and closing his eyes briefly to think. "Come here, let's talk. Come with me," he commanded gently, turning slightly to lead him away from the crowd and back towards the tavern's store room. He kept an arm around him at all times, wary of the elf bolting for the way that he'd struggled before.

When no hurt came, the elf opened his eyes in wonder and shock, fearful of what his punishment would be. The words spoken to him though seemed to spell it out to him and he nodded his head slowly and lowly. Ocarern trudged forward. There was no struggling; he did not believe he could escape his fate if he wanted to. So he walked as if he were a man headed towards his own hangman's noose with head bowed, feet shuffling forward and shoulders slumped under the weight of the world. Surely that must have been what was on his old friend's mind. Arensaenger just did not want things to be public. It would be bad for business after all if he was seen screaming at and hurting a perceived client. No, it was better this way to do it behind the privacy of closed doors that obscured vision and muffled sound. He worked at swallowing the frog in his throat, eyes trained on the worn toes of his boots for to look at the man would be to bring him to loud, grating sobs once more instead of the soft, sniffles he had managed to force himself into calming to.

It was difficult to not notice the way Ocarern carried himself. The elf seemed positively depressed, despite their reunion. It had Aren worried that he hadn't wanted to be noticed in the tavern at all, that perhaps he felt awkward to even be near him, a heartbreaking thought for him personally after such a long separation.

Without a word he led him away to the quiet of the storeroom until the voices were muffled by both distance and the structure of the solid wall between them and the main hall. "Hopefully this is better, less people...less talking." Aren smiled for him and slipped his arm away slowly, not truly wanting to part from him but worried that the elf might lash out at him for being touched any more. He gave him a quick, gentle squeeze to his hand before breaking the contact, a replacement for the smothering hug he wanted to bury him in.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he apologized gently, unsure why the elf had screamed. In Aren's mind their fighting was long past by now, and he did not realize how fresh it all still was to his friend. "It's just been so long. I was beginning to think I might never see you again," he admitted with a sad and slightly shy smile. "Are you here for dinner? A drink? ...the music?" he tried to guess, assuming from his reaction that the elf had not returned to see him.

Ocarern gave a one-armed shrug to all the questions. His eyes remained lowered and his shoulders tense in anticipation of his punishment for returning. Yet, his former friend remained insistent on sticking to the nonsense pleasantries instead of getting to the point. He wondered if it was supposed to make him more worried. It certainly was working.

"Just do it already," he finally cried out, flinching at the sound of his own voice. "Yell at me, strike me, toss me out! I hurt enough without the waiting. Please just punish and end it."

His indifference and lack of any answer was troubling to him. Perhaps he'd come to give bad news or a more final goodbye as he'd feared. The abrupt yell startled him, the taller man flinching as well.

Aren's expression fell for what he heard and he wanted to cry just from knowing that Ocarern expected him to do any part of that let alone all of it. "What's hurting you?" he asked quietly, his brows narrowed with worry as he gave him a brief once-over again. There was nothing he could see plainly but he was certain clothing could hide a lot. "I-I don't want to end anything," he tried to assure him, hanging his head in defeat as he knew quite well the way he'd lashed out when he had seen him last, so long ago. "No, I won't do that. I'm sorry for what I did before. Truly I am. I want to apologize to you. Properly. I want to make up for what I did if you'll let me, I don't want you to leave again.

"I've missed you so much, Ocarern," he admitted, fighting to try and be strong and composed in front of him and not cry as he desperately wanted to even as his voice cracked slightly to his deep embarrassment. "Why would you want me to do that?"

"It's what bad elves deserve," he replied weakly, his voice sounding so frail and childlike. His shoulders shook with his efforts to keep his tears from returning to unending sobs again. "Bad bad bad," he murmured over and over to himself. "I shouldn't be here. Wasn't supposed to come back. Brings black to the blue. No good. Didn't mean to. Just happened."

Ocarern shook his head side to side repeatedly causing his hair and ears to whip back and forth across his face. He wanted to run. He wanted to flee. He knew he did not belong here and yet he stayed. Arensaenger's hate was better than Ocaren's own loneliness and he had been so lonely and lost since he had left. Being back though brought so much more pain than he had expected. Everything was the same and yet nothing was. He was different now and perhaps that was what made it so difficult to keep away from the place where he did not belong. He was drawn to an old life where there was beauty and music and magic instead of wretchedness and screaming and lies.

Aren couldn't help how he teared up for hearing how Ocarern was verbally punishing himself. He had stopped caring about his anger a very long time ago and it hurt to see someone so dear to him still be so deeply upset. "Not bad," he said stubbornly. "You're not a bad elf. You should have come back. I'm happy you came back," he told him firmly, reaching out to hug him again in a much more gentle manner than the public one where he had been fearful of him running away.

"Did you not miss me at all?" he wondered, though he immediately regretted asking once the words were out. He didn't want to know if he hadn't been missed. It seemed pathetic to Aren that he was so invested if the elf did not care whether he lived or died. He deserved hatred from him. He didn't deserve to be missed with the way that he'd treated him before.

Ocarern whimpered at being embraced. Pain both real and imagined flared along his back and sides from past abuse. He found himself leaning into the embrace just to escape some of the pain but also to be closer to someone he felt he should not love so much.

"Every day," he declared strongly, meaning it with every fiber of his being. There was not a day that went by since he had left where he had not thought of his two friends. He had prayed, he had pleaded, he had cried for them both in the dark as fear, pain, and loneliness swallowed him whole. Their voices had always guided or ridiculed him. His guilt was always their disappointment. Ocarern hated what he had become especially as he believed that she had been with him and knew what he had done. That was most likely his second greatest shame of all. "S'why I had to see. Shouldn't have come," he cried shaking his head against the other man's shoulder. "Wasn't supposed to. Wasn't allowed to but had to you see. Needed my...my," his throat choked up and closed not letting him finish his sentence.

Aren was conflicted between elation and sorrow to hear what Ocarern had to say to him. It made no sense to him that he missed him every day and yet had not returned for so long. "Not allowed? Of course you're allowed, Ocarern. You are always welcome here. This is your home," Aren reminded him stubbornly. He ran a gentle hand along the smaller man's shoulders in an effort to soothe his crying and relaxed his grip on him for the way that he'd leaned against him.

"Will you at least stay the night?" Aren asked, unable to hide the hope from his voice. "I can get your room set up with fresh bedding. It wouldn't take any time at all, but..." His brow creased with concern for his dear friend, the innkeeper simply ignorant to the suffering he had endured since he had left him. "I'd love for you to stay for a little while if you can. At least so we can catch up again," he explained, dreading the very idea of losing him again but knowing he would get nowhere if he didn't allow him any options.

"You want me to stay? Why? You hate me. You wanted me to leave. This wasn't my home anymore. I don't understand. I'm sorry I came and caused a mess. I'm sorry I made all the blue turn black. I didn't mean to. I shouldn't have come. I just couldn't help it. I don't understand how you could want me here when I'm so horrible." Ocarern hissed the last as Arensaenger's touch stung and his own shoulders stiffened. "I'm just a pathetic and worthless slave," he whimpered, repeating words that had been heavily reinforced during his stay along the coast. "Why do you want me here, Aren?"

"No, no, no. Not horrible, Ocarern. Not at all," he insisted, his heart breaking to hear the way he continued to berate himself. A few words had caught his attention more than the rest, though, sending a feeling of absolute despair tearing through his heart and down through his stomach. "What? A slave? ...Oca. Is that where you were all this time?" Aren dreaded to know the answer, as important as it was to know the truth.

Trying to gather himself and blink back tears he pulled away slightly to hold him at arm's length so he could look him in the eye. "I want you here because this is your home as much as it is mine. I was so very wrong to turn you out like I did. I was angry and grieving, but I should have treated you better, it was no excuse. I'm the disgrace because I let the wrong emotions lead me." Aren hung his head slightly, his cheeks flushing with deep embarrassment and regret over his behavior.

Not knowing what else to do to convince him, Aren loosened his arms around the elf and lowered himself to kneel in front of him and hug him around his legs instead. "I'm the pathetic one," he insisted, pressing his head to the elf's thighs as he failed to fight back tears from finally flowing. "I pushed you away. I never should have done that to you and I'm so sorry, Oca.

"Please. Stay," he begged, his voice shaking as he tried to hold himself together. He was certain he would break if Ocarern left him then. "I love you, and I'm so lost when you aren't here."

Ocarern cursed himself for Arensaenger's questions regarding what had happened since last they met but that was soon forgotten as he physically and mentally froze in the face of his friend kneeling before him and clinging to his legs. The wetness of the human's tears upon him broke his heart and him out of his reverie though. The elf slid to the ground in a puddle while his hands moved to cup the other man's face. He felt wretched for being the cause of such sorrow and tears. He was undeserving of them and yet his friend now wept and begged for him in such ways that flared guilt and regret so thickly in Ocarern's stomach he feared he would be physically ill.

"I deserved it," he whispered against Arensaenger's brow. "But I will stay because you ask it of me. I'll stay."

Aren felt horrid and pitiful for showing such weakness to Ocarern. Once the elf had joined him on the floor he removed his arms from their lock around his legs and instead moved them to hold his arms. Flustered for the sudden intimacy and compassion, the human bowed his head to hide both his shock and embarrassment. "Nobody deserves that," he muttered stubbornly, disgusted with himself. He was calming a bit, though, to hear that he had agreed to stay.

"Thank you, friend. At least until...things are normal again?" It was said with hope more than anything, the man struggling to quiet his sniffling as he wiped at his eyes even while tears streamed freely.

The elf placed a chaste kiss, barely more than a brush of lips against skin, to his friend's forehead while his own thumbs whipped away the tears that continued to flow down the other man's face. "Such colors," he murmured, watching the mix of emotions swirling about Arensaenger as they bled into each other. "Don't like them. Prefer the happy ones." So saying, Ocarern leaned more into his old friend, allowing his own arms to slide forward to embrace him tightly in an extremely uncharacteristic need for physical contact and comfort.

"I'm sorry, Oca." He shook his head gently, stubbornly taking a few shaky breaths to try and calm his breathing and, in turn, calm the storm of emotions in his heart. "I shouldn't be blubbering when I am happy. Such a mess," he sighed, lifting his arms to fully embrace his friend. It felt so good to be held by someone so familiar to him, though he worried the elf might panic at any moment for the rare contact. "Shall we move somewhere other than the floor, you think? My knees are killing me," he chuckled, leaning into Ocarern slightly. He dared a quick nuzzle and kiss to his shoulder before turning his head slightly to try looking him in the eye.

Ocarern shivered at the extra affection, still feeling he did not deserve it. Given the opportunity to retreat, he did, flowing easily to his feet and holding out a hand to help the other, taller man up as well. "I have kept you long enough. Your parents will not be happy to know I have kept you from work. You always were a lazy one," he attempted to tease, though the joke came out a bit flat as he did not feel the mirth intended.

Just as quickly as the hug had started it seemed to be over just as fast, too fast for his liking. The teasing had him smiling in memory as he rose to his feet but the innkeeper knew he had a slight upper hand at possibly getting his way this time. "That was true, and I'm sure they might still be disappointed, but I run this place now so I have no one to scold me for skipping time at tending bar."

Aren did his best to keep contact with the elf, so fearful that he would run and leave him for good as he tried to hold onto his offered hand. "I promise I can take care of the rest later. It isn't every day I get to see you," he reminded him, the fact tugging painfully at his heart.

"Oh," he replied quietly, not knowing what else to say. It was strange that time had passed without him in a way, that his once carefree friend now ran the family business instead of tried to escape working for it. Ocarern wondered with regret what had led to such a change. He would have liked to have seen it. That thought was quickly squashed though as he did not feel he deserved such things. Arensaenger was once a friend but Ocarern no longer had that right to call him such after everything that had transpired.

"They're well? Your parents?" the elf asked, grasping at things to say even as he opened his hand to let the other man go only to find Arensaenger was not letting go. His hand twitched slightly before closing loosely again. There was no use trying to shake him off. He had already found out the painful way that this particular human was stubborn and would stick to you like tar if he felt like it.

Aren was not willing to give up on the quiet elf. He knew him to be quite expressive when he wanted to be and he was certain that man was still there somewhere. "My parents? Yes, they're quite well. Just a little old and too tired to run this place when I'm right here. They deserved a rest and I needed to stay here so it just...worked out. They would love to see you again, I think, if you're feeling up to a visit," he added.

Feeling he could keep ahold of him well enough Aren stepped away cautiously, taking it slow to try and lead Ocarern back out of the storage room where they would be met with a number of stares from whispering patrons. "Come with me?" he asked gently, signaling to the stairs with a nod of his head.

"I doubt that," the elf muttered as he was dragged back out into the main room. There Ocarern immediately froze under the heat of so many stares. His gaze dropped back down to his toes as his cheeks flamed and his ears drooped. He cursed his foolishness in not replacing his hood. Reflexively his hand clenched tightly down on Arensaenger's. "Everyone's staring," he whispered in a pleading voice to the other man as if to beg to be magicked away from the place of his shame and embarrassment.

Aren looked back at Ocarern with sympathy, the tavern owner's eyes growing stern upon the rude patrons as he glared at them over the elf's shoulder. "Don't worry, just follow me," he whispered to him, leading him away and up the stairs to the quieter rooms above the main hall. "Let's just sit down and talk, alright?" he urged him, leading his friend straight down to his personal quarters.

"And you can stay here until your room gets cleaned up. There's no reason for you to sleep with all the dust bunnies." Aren was purposefully firm about the offer, fully intending on keeping the elf in his sight and getting him to accept the Pexsa home as his own home once again.

Ocarern followed easily, once more feeling like a puppet on a grand master's strong as he was led about by the hand to another man's room. He was lost to his more recent memories making him unable to revel in the happiness of the old days as he normally would have. It was Arensaenger's chatter though that brought him back sharply to the present. The elf shook his head tightly. "It doesn't need cleaning. It shouldn't even still exist. Why didn't you let someone else use it? What good is an empty room with no income or labor?"

"Doesn't need cleaning," Aren scoffed, shaking his head as he opened the door and led him in with a gentle squeeze to his hand. "It's yours. It always has been. I insisted it should be kept for you and... Well, once I assumed responsibility here that was easy enough to enforce," he explained, moving to sit down with his dear friend. "So I will have it cleaned. You have a place to call your own here, I was never going to take that away. It's always been yours, Ocarern. Being yours is reason enough to not repurpose it."

"It's not mine, Aren," he sighed shaking his head again. "It never was. And I can't pay for it even if I wanted to. I don't-," Ocarern fumbled for words as he made indistinct motions with his hands if he could explain physically instead of verbally. "I'm not Ocarern anymore," he tried instead as if that would explain everything for him instead of being as vague and unclear as it was. "I don't have any money, Aren. I can't do that to you...steal. I just can't." He bowed his head in shame.

"Not Ocarern? What could you possibly mean by that?" he scoffed gently, shaking his head as he plopped down to sit. "I'm not asking you to pay for it at all, I want you to take it back. You're not stealing when something is being offered to you for free," he explained gently.

"Why are you so against it? Were you...planning on going somewhere else?" he guessed sadly.

The elf shrugged, not knowing what to say. "Not Ocarern anymore," he repeated softly. "No plans, no plans. Didn't plan on coming here. But I'm here." He sighed and shook his head sadly. "Why are you doing all this, Aren? Why when I was so awful, when I left, when I almost didn't," Ocarern choked on his words before being able to mumble out the rest, "make it back."

"I told you already," he reminded him, his cheeks flushed as he avoided eye contact, embarrassed that he'd gotten so emotional in front of him after not seeing him for so long. He should have stayed composed, he shouldn't have burdened him that way. "I'm glad you're here, but if you'd rather not be here...I don't think I can force you to stay forever. I just ask that you try for a while, see how you like being here again?"

"I said I'd stay," he responded indignantly. "A thief but not a liar. That much hasn't changed. Just don't feel bad elves should have special privileges," he added more quietly with heavily drooping ears. "Don't like taking advantage of you. Never should have before. I understand that now. I am sorry. I was cruel and greedy, Aren. I'm so sorry."

"Oh hush, you're not taking advantage of me," Aren grumbled. "Give me more credit than that, please. Do you think I'm incapable of...offering you any kindness anymore? Is that it? Do you think it's fake? No... I want to repair the damage I did," he explained, unable to hide the hurt from his face. "And whatever you say you will not convince me you're a 'bad elf' either."

Ocarern looked at the other man with a completely pained and haunted expression. "I worry about the damage I have done. It was I who committed the wrongs here by being so terrible." He sniffled softly, surprised at how quick to tears he was again. "I-," he hung his head in shame. "I have been bad in the past both before I left and after. I don't know how to fix it...I didn't even think you'd care if I did..."

"You did nothing worse than what I did in casting you out," Aren pointed out, not seeing the elf's wrongs as all that bad anyway. "Of course I forgive you for all of that, it was so long ago." The human smiled sadly, praying his friend would stop blaming himself for all that happened between them. "None of it is worth hanging onto. I didn't ever want to lose you, I'm sorry things got so heated. That's entirely my fault and I wish I could take it back."

Aren reached cautiously towards the elf's face, pausing with his thumb hovering at his cheek as he stared at him, silently asking for permission to touch an area as sensitive as his face.

The elf tilted his head away from the man's touch but only so that he could propel himself back into the human's arms. His own latched onto Arensaenger's shoulders, clinging to him fiercely as Ocarern buried his face into his friend's neck, breathing in his scent and finding some comfort in his warmth. The elf soaked in the warmth, having forgotten what it was like after being surrounded by such cold, hatred and cruelty while serving as a slave. "Miss my Aren," he declared firmly if a bit weakly. "Don't wanna give him back up."

Aren was shocked at the voluntary affection, as he saw it. He froze, allowing Ocarern a moment to realize what he'd done and correct it if he was uncomfortable, but he was happy when he did not and hugged him warmly in return with a hand rubbing at his shoulders. "Give me up? Well you certainly don't have to," he chuckled, bringing his hand up to cautiously touch the back of his friend's head to cradle him against himself. "I missed you, too, Oca," he reminded him, uncertain how receptive he might be even if he was being so openly affectionate. "But you're here now, don't you think that's a good thing?" he wondered.

Ocarern clung so tightly to Arensaenger's tunic that his knuckles were white and his hands were numb with the tension. "I don't know," he bemoaned. "I just don't know anything anymore. Want it to be. But wants and wishies aren't good."

The elf pulled back, looking as pained as he felt. The man in front of him would have only a moment of peace though before the smaller male was suddenly throwing himself once more against him. Ocarern's lips crashed against the other's as he took what he so desperately craved. He needed this, needed care and comfort and above all else, love. Arensaenger had always been in his thoughts during all his suffering at the monster's hands and to now have the human so close it burned worse than any fire and cut more deeply than any of the blood mage's knives. Once a thief, always a thief and Ocarern was going to steal what he wanted even if it killed him. He just could not resist now after having believed he would never return or see his heart's desire ever again.

Aren had let his hand fall away easily enough as the elf had pulled away, not wishing to make him feel trapped or uncomfortable if it had been the cause of it. His words saddened the man, though. It was clear enough to him that there was something on his mind but he had no idea what with the way he'd been denying all attempts at drawing it out and hinting at how badly he felt about what had happened between them in the past.

That was all he had time to reflect upon, though, before he found himself wide-eyed with shock as the elf's lips met his own. Perhaps his confession had not been so poorly received after all, or at least he could hope so.

Aren grew flustered quite quickly once he realized it had not been a mistake, that Ocarern was not tearing away from him after a mere moment. He grew a bit panicked, never having thought such a moment would come to pass between them after all their time apart. He knew, too, though, that it was exactly what his heart was yearning for.

The man relaxed after a moment more, allowing himself to indulge in the sweetness of the lips that touched his own as a happy and quite relieved sigh escaped him. Never in all his life had he felt such jolting flips in his belly nor such a sudden weight and excitement in his pounding heart. It was a feeling he was certain he would always keep close in memory, but he mourned the thought of its end.

Aren did all he could to prolong their kiss, but he had a hunch the elf would be pulling away to hide and pretend it never happened at any moment. Even so, he pleaded with him silently, his lips hungry against him as he fought the urge of the tears of haunted happiness that threatened to spill.

When at last Ocarern broke the kiss for air, he remained very still. His arms remained wrapped around the other man and he stood with his forehead resting against him. Without looking at the man he had just been kissing he shivered at the thought of what he had just done. "Still a bad elf," he muttered before coming to a decision as his eyes lifted to meet rust-colored orbs.

"Don't care anymore," he declared against those lips moments before he was once more kissing them. The kiss was still hungry and demanding but the elf allowed himself to slow it enough to enjoy it now that it seemed he would not be rejected and sent off. Ocarern could not dare to allow himself to dwell on what he was doing for fear that it would send him scampering back off in the darkness far away from the warmth and light that was the man in his arms. For now though he could enjoy his dark pleasure that had his heart crashing into his ribs and his hands scrambling to to hold, to grasp, to cling, to touch, to feel everything all at once. He had missed this man and he was not about to give him up so easily now that he had this chance of a lifetime.

Aren was tingly with glee, his breath coming is short gasps as he studied the elf with worry. He hated how hard he was on himself and for a moment he wondered if he was regretting what he'd done. He held his breath as their eyes met, the human searching them desperately for answers for his unspoken questions as he held him close. He stroked his thumb along his shoulder blade, as much to calm himself as to silently reassure him that he'd wanted what had happened in case he was having regrets.

"Oca," he murmured gently, though thankfully that conversation was not needed as they were together again just as quickly as before. He didn't hesitate to pull him close, his hands grappling to hold him even as the elf pressed against him willingly. Aren wanted more, so much more, but he was hesitant around the man he'd known to be so skittish in the past.

A hand toyed with the hem of Ocarern's shirt, dangerously flirting with the desire to touch his hand to bare flesh. Instead he kept it there idly, leaving the decision to the elf to instead focus his attention on kissing him as properly as he knew. Lips and cheeks grew red with his efforts as he swiped the tip of his tongue along his lips greedily. When he needed breath he moved easily enough to feather kisses across his cheek and jaw, even planting a few at his throat as he whispered nearly silent apologies between them. "I've missed you so much," he groaned, nuzzling gently against soft flesh, feeling entirely unworthy of his affections.

The elf shivered at the other man's touch. He felt as if he was burning and freezing all in the same moment, seared and scorched by a kiss then chilled in its wake. From deep in his throat came a keening sound as he swayed this way and that to suffer more of Arensaenger's sweet torture. His hands continued to grapple for purchase as if he were on the edge of a precipice and about to fall at any second. Eventually though they managed to tug the human's shirt up and his small hands came to rest on heated flesh. Ocarern moaned loudly as he allowed himself to slide his hands greedily over Arensaenger's chest and stomach before pressing himself closer with his arms behind the other man, keeping them pinned together.

He felt flustered with all the attention and yet he still desired more and more. It as if there was a want deep within him that he had no words or colors to describe. All he knew was that he needed whatever it was even if it killed him. In his friend's arms he found himself searching hungrily for it without understanding or caution. Ocarern's heart beat a rapid tattoo against his ribcage as it fought to dance with the heart so close and yet so far from itself.

"Missed you tooie," he finally wept as he too pressed open-mouthed kisses to whatever skin of Arensaenger's he could find.

Where he had hesitation the usually timid elf was the one becoming bold. Aren felt gooseflesh rising wherever he felt the prickling shocks of Ocarern's hands upon him, the reaction rising stubbornly despite his burning flesh. The sounds at his ear sent shivers down his spine and truly he wondered how he'd ever gone on without him.

Aren let him take what he needed and held him just as fiercely against him. The touch of bare hands helped him work up the courage to venture into his own curiosities. Human hands easily slipped beneath clothing to map out what he dared touch of the elf's body, keeping his hands tame and gentle.  The desperation was something unusual for him, he'd never known his friend to ever need him so badly or be so affectionate, something that gave him a small hope in his heart that he didn't dare voice aloud.

He smiled sadly, knowing full well that he'd disappointed him in the past and let him down by ever allowing their separation to happen. It was painful yet entirely elating how much the elf seemed to crave his affections, though. That he could not deny, he couldn't say he didn't want him just as badly.


Aren nuzzled at the smaller man's throat with a pleased sigh, planting a few more kisses there and to his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He was quiet for a long while, just trying to prolong such a moment of happiness. "I'll be here for you now," he whispered his promise before lifting his head and looking about the room. He knew it could potentially be risky but he thought his friend might appreciate a more comfortable spot. "Let's go lay down," he suggested gently, squeezing him close before moving slowly to try and coax him into following so they might lounge on the bed instead.

Ocarern was completely wrapped up and forever lost in the moment. No thoughts and no colors distracted him as he kept his eyes closed and just allowed himself to feel with every fiber of his being. However, Arensaenger's attempt to move away caused him to whine pitifully and cling ever tighter for fear that the man would leave him and take away all the "it" that the elf craved for he still did not have a name for whatever "it" was.

"Don't leave, no leave!" he cried, moving his arms up to wrap tightly around the other man's neck. Ocarern buried his face in Arensaenger's chest before dragging himself up to wrap his leg's around the human's waist. "I want to stay," the elf whispered much quieter, "please?"

"No, no, not leaving," he rushed to reassure him, though it was far too late for his throat as the elf clung to him in a vice grip, causing him to sway and bend a bit before catching himself enough to stand properly with the elf clinging to him so desperately.

"You're staying," he huffed, reaching up to cradle him against his body and pet his hair and the along the back of one ear with a gentle hand. "And I'm staying. Just relocating, relax," he urged him, moving very slowly so he could know where he was going at all times.

Aren stepped around furniture carefully and sat down on the edge of the bed only a few steps away. "Is this okay?" he asked gently, concerned for his comfort and happiness in such a delicate moment. "Not too new?"

The elf could care less where they were going or at what speed. He remained glued to Arensaenger with his face buried under the other man's chin. When they stilled once more with the younger man seated, Ocarern allowed his arms to loosen their grip enough so that he was no longer crushing his friend.

"Down," he demanded, nudging at the human's shoulder when questioned about their location. "Tired and want to stay," the elf continued, repeating himself slightly as he tried to drive a point home to Arensaenger. While it was true that he wished to stay that moment. More and more Ocarern was considering staying permanently. Arensaenger had been correct when he had called the tavern Ocarern's home. It certainly felt like it and the elf had deeply missed that. He would not give it up again so easily now that he had tasted some of his heart's desire.

Aren obeyed easily enough, slowly leaning back to lie down flat instead as Ocarern seemed to desire of him. He tried not to get too excited at the continued repetition of him wanting to stay, reminding himself that he was probably very worn out from his journey and perhaps a touch delirious because of it. "You're welcome to stay," he reminded him gently, running a hand along the elf's arm idly. "As long as you wish."

He desperately hoped the affection would not end now that he'd broken the moment, but he feared that it would so he kept that small connection between them. Aren craved more of what they'd been denied for so long. Even if it was only the gift of sharing one night at his side he would have accepted it gratefully. "Get some rest if you're tired," he urged him, hoping the elf might be content enough to let him at least hold him still.

Once they were reclined, Ocarern immediately took to burrowing himself in flush against Aresaenger's chest. He was not about to let the other man move even an inch away from him. His legs which had been wrapped around the man shifted to straddle on either side of the human's hips while his arms remained around his neck. The elf tucked his head into the crook of his friend's where he continued to place light kisses, although they lacked much of his earlier fervor.

"No sleep," he stated firmly. "Don't want you leaving," he added, curling his body around the larger one beneath his own as best as he could. "No leave." Ocarern nuzzled against his neck, inhaling Aresaenger's scent before exhaling it in a pleased sigh. "My Aren," he mumbled happily against the warm skin underneath his lips.

Though Ocarern was indeed quite small Aren felt the weight of his determination. Never in his life had he ever been pinned in such a way, but with the elf it was quite comfortable to have his body blanketed.

Aren smiled at the irony, nodding against him and rubbing a gentle hand along his back in silent reassurance. "I won't leave, I promise. You should rest if you're tired. I assume...it's been a long journey, right?" he guessed, though a shiver ran through him to hear the elf speak his name. The human was certain he'd meant it all between that and the little kisses he'd been peppering. He turned his head a bit to press a soft kiss to the top of his head in silent thanks.

"Very far," he hummed in a detached manner. Ocarern did not wish to focus on the hateful red eyes and mournful songs of his recent past, especially not when he was currently experiencing a reality that he thought would only exist in his dreams. As far as the elf knew it still was just only a dream and soon he would awaken to the awful living nightmare as a slave of a sadistic blood mage.

Hoping to forget it all again though, he raised himself up enough to hover his face over the other man's. Ocarern stared into those eyes so different than the vermilion ones that had often chilled him to the bone. He was hesitant then. Despite their earlier kissing he wondered just how much Aresaneger would tolerate and put up with before finally kicking the elf out of his bed or even completely out of his life again. He stared worriedly between lips and eyes, wanting so very much to kiss the human again but then also ruled by his fear of rejection. It had not come yet but that did not mean it would not eventually.

He stared up at the face that had appeared above him with openly curious eyes. Aren was oblivious to the thoughts and memories that plagued the elf, completely ignorant to the pain and suffering he'd endured during the time of their separation.

"I thank the gods you found your way back," he told him honestly, though he was quickly flushed and plenty distracted himself once he realized where exactly the elf was staring. Aren gasped softly, uncertain what was causing the older man's hesitation from continuing his affectionate ways.

"Is something the matter?" he guessed, clueless as to what could have happened to change his behavior so drastically. Aren himself longed to kiss him properly and, preferably, not be separated from him again.

He was quiet and and patient, trying to gauge the elf's receptiveness. The last thing he wanted was a panicked Ocarern tossing him out of his own home so that he might find peace in isolation as he knew he was likely to do. "I really missed you," he reminded him again, smiling encouragingly as he carefully leaned up some, propping himself up by the elbows so that he might plant a quick kiss to Oca's lips.

"I knew the way," he grumbled, slightly offended at the thought that he would not be able to return to the place where his heart constabtly pined to be. He was stopped from complaining more though with the incoming closeness if the lips he desperately desired to kiss. Impatient now thst Aresabeger was making a move to return to where they left off, the elf leaned forward as well and turned a simple peck into something more. The kiss was slow and sweet instead of fast and all-consuming. He took his time with it and travels his fingers in the younger man's soft hair, allowing his full weight, light though it was, rest against his friend. "Missed my Aren tooie."

Aren could almost puff with pride when he felt Ocarern reacting in a positive way, going so far as to willingly return his affections. So it was not a mistake, Aren thought hopefully.

He hummed lightly against his lips, quite eager himself to continue what they'd brought to bed. Somehow it was even more intimate that way, though the innkeeper did not understand the whys and hows of it. His lips remained hungry but gentle, refusing to part from the elf just yet and silently asking him to stay as his heart swelled. He was rather proud, too, that Ocarern continued to take ownership of him.

Aren allowed one hand to roam, a content sigh escaping him as he let fingertips trace lightly along the elf's side and back. He was so terribly curious what he felt like, desperately needing to touch him however he might permit. Ever so slowly he moved his hand up and up, pleased that the elf's shirt rode along with it to expose more and more flesh to the open air.

Ocarern shuddered under Arensaenger's touch, although not for the same reasons that the other man would believe. It was not pleasure but pain he felt as his touch though it was no fault of the younger man's. There was no way for him to know how brutally the elf had been injured, how deeply he had been scarred both physically and mentally. It was not something Ocarern wished to share though, especially not right then so he did his best to bite his tongue against any noises of pain that threatened to escape him. Nearly all of the elf's willpower was being spent on trying not to cry or draw attention to himself and his kissing suffered for it. When cool air touched his bareback though, he immediately moved to adjust that, pulling his shirt down while pressing his front closer to the man beneath him. "Cold," he supplied, burrowing closer.

Oblivious to the elf's pain Aren frowned sadly for hearing he'd caused him even a small discomfort. With it, he stayed his hand and simply hugged him close before removing his hand from his back entirely. "I'm sorry," he apologized softly, kissing the other man's forehead briefly as he blushed a bit for being caught doing what he'd been doing. "I've just always been so curious about you," Aren explained, though he was content to just hold him close and allow the elf to leech warmth from him. It was probably better that way, he reasoned with himself. Oca didn't need to be punished with harassment simply for returning home.

"Curious?" the elf repeated, his ears immediately standing on attention in surprise. "Why curious? Curious about whatie? Explain," commanded, jabbing the other man firmly, but gently in the shoulder. He sat up some to look Arensanger in the face while hearing his reply as he was now curious himself. Ocarern did not understand what about himself even deserved such interest let alone someone's curiosity.

"Oh..." Aren hadn't expected him to want a full explanation of his feelings, the pressure to produce an answer a little flustering as he studied the elf's curious eyes and and the receptive shift of his ears. "About how you feel," he told him slowly. "About how your body feels. But that can wait. A long time. Forever, if you need," he fumbled, though he truly wished he would not be made to wait so long.

Ocarern tilted his head further to the side, staring at Arensaenger with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "Why curious? Why wait now? Are elves different than humans?" he chirped with some of his famous innocence. The elf's gaze immediately dropped to the man's chest below him as he sat up more fully to view it skeptically. He placed his small hands over the human's pectorals and rubbed over them, testing to see if there were any differences between Arensaenger's and his own.

"Well, you see... Because..." Aren didn't manage to get the words out, though, a sharp hiss escaping him instead as he flinched for the sudden, unexpected touch of the small hands upon him. He tilted his head to watch, gulping nervously as he struggled to remain still and let him explore. It certainly wasn't like him to be that curious and he wasn't about to put a stop to it.

"It wasn't so much a difference of elves and humans. More that... Well... You are unique? Everyone has their small differences and I was curious to know yours," he admitted. "But some other time, perhaps." Aren leaned up a bit more to steal a quick kiss. It seemed there were already so many obstacles to something as simple as a bit of intimacy, though he knew Ocarern's intentions had been good.

"Unique?" the elf repeated with a raised brow. He ignored Arensaenger's plea for a kiss as he focused on touching and massaging the other man's chest slowly and firmly. "Not much different than anyone else. Not as strong as Aren, or tall, or..." he trailed off as he scooted backwards down the other man so that he could run his hands across the man's torso and up under his shirt. "Not unique at all."

Aren couldn't help but pout a bit when he was evaded but he could hardly complain so long as Ocarern remained upon him. "How wrong you are," the human chuckled, keeping a careful eye on where the elf was wandering beneath clothing.

He could not hide how he was being affected as he watched him with such a look of pained longing in his eyes. "Are you at least...enjoying that?" he wondered, hoping the elf was not pushing his own boundaries for his benefit.

Ocarern shoved the other man's tunic up, baring his chest to his own curious gaze. If Arensaenger wished to call someone unique then it was himself that the word applied to and not the tattered elf atop him. Said elf scooted himself backwards even further before leaning forward to rest his head upon the younger man's stomach, his arms wrapping securely about his waist. In response, he offered the human one curt nod of his head along with a muffled affirmative sound.

The elf did not remain still and in his place long as he allowed his fingers to trace the planes of the other man's abdomen. His touch feather-light and systematically exploratory as not a single patch of skin was left untouched. Further and further down the small fingers glided until they reached the waist of Arensaenger's trousers where they hesitated slightly, picking at the band in curiosity but making no move to go any further.

Taking his cues he remained as still and quiet as possible for him, though his mind ached to fidget and squirm under such intense and thorough scrutiny. A hand moved down to rest upon the elf's shoulder in a pitiful attempt at keeping him from slipping away, though he knew he would allow him to do whatever he wished. Ocarern was no prisoner, very far from it.

The light attention at the waist of his trousers had the human grunting lightly and sucking in his stomach away from the feather-light touch that sparked a slightly ticklish sensation in his belly. Pleading eyes turned to look down at the curious elf, silently willing him to end his torture before it began.

Aren would not ask him to go further than that line, clear as it was to him. He ran his hand across the back of his shoulder to a bicep and gave a gentle pull and squeeze to try and coax him back up and away from his exploring. He would take cuddles and kissing over mentally scarring his dear friend, as he feared, any day.

Ever in-tune with the emotions around him, Ocarern snapped his eyes up to meet Arensaenger's tugging began. He did not understand the colors he saw swirling about his old friend, as their combination was unlike any other he had seen before. They caused him to tilt his head to the side and his ears to wiggle about in curiosity. "No want, no likey?" he asked apprehensively, fearing that he had hurt or even disgusted his friend with his intentions. Perhaps the kissing was only meant to be kissing and his friend's attempts to humor him but the human wanted nothing else from him. The elf sighed sadly, his ears and features drooping with depression. "Bad elf," he whispered under his breath.

"No, no. Not a bad elf," he sighed sadly, not liking the obvious disappointment in his friend. "I'm...scared," Aren admitted.

"Well, scared of scaring you," he explained further, unsure how to express that he didn't want to be the subject of innocent exploration of the male form when he harbored such feelings in his heart for him. He certainly didn't want to be responsible for what happened if Ocarern chose to continue.

"You should rest, I'm sure it's been a long day," he tried, hoping to direct his attention elsewhere. "Worried about you, you seem so sad."

Ocarern looked at his friend critically for a moment before sighing miserably and gently flopping back down onto Arensaenger. His head rested on the other man's chest as he once more resumed curling himself around the younger man like a small blanket. "Long day," he agreed, burying his face deeply in the comforting scent of the human's balled up tunic. "Not worth worrying," the elf added grumpily, not liking such attentions upon himself. Some things never did change.

"Definitely worth worrying." Aren smiled a bit to himself, happy to have the elf remaining however he wanted to stay with him. He cautiously raised his arms to hug him loosely, taking up the careful petting of his hair again.

"You should rest," he whispered, feeling a bit guilty that he wasn't planning on doing so himself.

The little elf melted at the soothing touch, sighing unconsciously in pleasure and relief. He felt incredibly drained and vulnerable in that moment as if someone had beaten the living daylights out of him before forcing him to run a marathon followed by another beating. In a way that was not so far from the truth though. Ocarern had scarcely dared rest for long once he had fled from the monster with a twisted aura.

"What about tomorrow?" he asked softly, terrified of what would come when the moment ended and reality crashed in on them both once more. He still feared being cast out again despite or perhaps even in spite of the moment that was happening between them. Ocarern had been fed lies and half-truths a plenty and was wary of even the purest of truths now that he had been burned so many times.

"Tomorrow?" Why was tomorrow so important? Did they really need plans? "Tomorrow I...can have my sister run the place a bit. Can spend as much time together as you'd like." Aren nodded, more for his own assurance than anything. That was the correct answer, wasn't it? Surely if he was asking he cared to know if Aren would be free.

"We could...catch up, yeah? Get reacquainted with each other." Well, more than they already were with the smaller man serving as a living blanket for him.

Ocarern sighed and shook his head. The answer that he had received was not the one he had been looking for. "But after that? What happens when you're done with that? Done with me?" he whispered the last part into Arensaenger's tunic, afraid for the answer as much as he was to ask the question. He did not feel safe not knowing when he would be cast out again. He was always cast aside. Even the man whom he was so tightly curled about had sent him away and yet the elf had still come crawling back to him, a glutton for such punishments.

Aren frowned, not missing the elf's whispered words. He raised a hand to tenderly run through his hair, a troubled look on his own face as he pondered how to address such a delicate topic. He was beginning to feel like he really hadn't been clear at all in explaining his own feelings.

"I won't be done with you," he answered simply, tone a little stubborn yet also still hurting because he understood how he'd probably made his friend terrified of him in the past. "I want you to stay. Please."

The elf hummed in answer although he far from agreed. Everyone else had cast him out, including but not limited to his friend beside him. Arensaenger would do so again too. Ocarern was positive it would be the case as it had already happened before and it had to happen again. That was just the way of things.

Trying to ignore such thoughts though, Ocarern reached for the covers to keep them both warm before burrowing underneath them. "Night night, Aren," he whispered wearily, finally allowing himself to succumb to sleep. There as no use worrying for tomorrow when he already believed in the outcome. He might as well asleep while he could before all the cruelty of reality caught up with him again.

While he wasn't surprised at a lack of any real acknowledgement from the small elf it was still quite unsettling. He'd been away so long and Aren had so many unanswered questions. He thought it would be good for them to also discuss their past for a proper apology from himself if nothing more, whether he might accept it or not.

The conversation seemed over, though, if Ocarern was going to close the door with sleep. He didn't really want to complain. He had gotten him into his bed after all their wasted years even if it wasn't exactly the way he'd imagined. It was a start, he tried to remember.

Even the elf curled atop him wasn't enough to lull him to sleep, though. In fact, it left Aren more troubled than he normally would have been and fearful that closing his eyes would leave him with an empty bed come morning. Close to dawn, though, his exhaustion finally overcame him and he drifted away into a light sleep.

Ocarern slept fitfully but deeply through the night. He did not wake once and was completely unaware of the worries and concerns of the man whom he was using as a massive body pillow. When the dawn came the elf found himself beginning to stir against his will. He had always been an early riser and with his recent escape he was even more on edge upon waking. But the warmth and softness of where he had managed to tuck himself into for the night was far too tempting for him to want to leave.

Slowly he peaked an eye upon, shocked to find himself laying upon Arensaenger before he was able to remember the previous night's events. He tensed for several moments as if expecting the man beanth him to suddenly awake and violently cast him from the bed. When nothing happened though, he relaxed enough to try and wake up more slowly.

Eventually he decided he should get himself up before his friend did wake up and decide he really did not want Ocarern on top of him. The elf found that extracting himself was more difficult than he had imagined as every single one of Arensaenger's breaths gave the elf pause, ever fearful that he would wake the sleeping human with his unsuccessful wiggling.

Even in sleep Aren's arms formed a firm cage around Ocarern. Every little shift and sound of the morning had the younger man furrowing his brow in sleep and grumbling grumpily for stillness and silence. Whenever the elf settled he froze and the cycle began anew.

Finally comfortable, he attempted to roll over onto his side. In the process his hold on the elf was loosened considerably and eventually one hand fell away entirely to just rest against his hip. Aren mumbled happily instead for that, fond nonsense spilling from his smiling lips as he nuzzled against Ocarern.

The elf breathed a deep sigh of relief when Arensaenger rolled away allowing him to slide off the human to lay beside him. For several moments he lay still and content to just observe his sleeping companion in silence. He was desperate to savour what could possibly be the last sweet moments he spent with the other man before the weight of the past came crashing down upon them again.

Such painful memories did cause Ocarern to wince slightly before gathering enough courage in his small body to place a chaste kiss to the sleeping man's brow. The elf's heart pines for this man and yet already Ocarern found himself rolling away fr him to sit on the edge of the bed. His back felt like fire once more after having been still so long and then forced to awaken and move. He struggled to convince himself to get up and get moving when the pain was begging him to lay back down and sleep instead. Curiosity won out though as he lifted the front of his shirt to view some of his wounds along his ribs that headed towards his back.

Despite the kiss a faint frown took up residence on Aren's face, his features a bit animated even within sleep to feel the loss of his companion. He murmured quietly, hands reaching for a body that was no longer close enough to him. He grasped at the air instead, a quiet grumble of frustration rumbling within him before giving up.

The soft sounds of rustling fabric and the growing light of morning seeping in through the window were enough to finally rouse him, though. For a few moments he was quiet, warm eyes blinking slowly into focus as he stared across to the edge of the bed where Ocarern was perched. He studied him, privately in awe of the smaller man as a slow smile reached his lips at the sight of just him after going so long without.

He wanted to greet him and thank him for staying, but it was too peaceful and there was no reason to disturb him just yet. Instead he studied the smaller man, smiling appreciatively as his eyes roamed over him. They settled quite quickly on the flashes of skin before him, but something seemed off and Aren's lips twisted into a scowl once he realized what he'd seen.

"Oca?" he called softly, snapping his eyes up to stare at the back of the elf's head instead, brow furrowed with deep concern for the markings upon his dear friend.

In a single instant like an arrow to the heart, the peaceful and tranquil moment was destroyed by Arensaenger's waking. Ocarern flinched violently at the sound of his name. His hands immediately dropped the hem of his tunic as he all but launched himself from his perch. The elf spun himself around so that his back was to the wall and his arms were crossed protectively in front of his middle. He dared not speak as he feared that opening his mouth would only result in the straining of his beating heart to be heard. Instead his bobbed his head slightly in an attempt at a friendly greeting. He hoped that his friend would not notice his distress but if he had seen the size of his own panicked eyes he would know just how impossible to miss it was.

He hissed softly, feeling guilty for startling Ocarern so obviously. Without thinking he reached a hand out towards him, but the distance between them was too much to actually make any contact so he was soon withdrawing and curling it against his side instead.

His eyes flitted along what he could see of the elf in the dim light of morning, features slowly twisting to further concern at the way he so obviously shielded himself. It made him feel he wasn't meant to see what he'd seen, but he couldn't ignore or forget the abnormal, twisted markings along the smaller man's flesh.

"I'm sorry," he finally spoke, voice thick with sadness as he tried to keep calm and tell himself that Ocarern wasn't really afraid of him. Aren lifted his eyes to meet his own. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Ocarern smoothed out the front of his tunic nervously, tugging and pulling at the hem to ensure it was down and stayed down. "You didn't scare me, Aren," he whispered nervously. He felt guilty for seeing the other man reach from him then recoil as if he was poison. It was the truth in his mind but he had hoped it could be avoided, that he wouldn't have tainted. Hesitantly the elf moved closer to the edge of the bed and sat down again slowly. "Sleep well?" he asked, kneading his hands in his lap while wishing that he could reach out to Arensaenger without causing him to run from him like he probably should.

Aren furrowed his brow in concern, puzzled as to why the elf would say he hadn't scared him when he'd reacted so violently to being "caught" doing whatever it was he'd been doing. To his question, though, he nodded even though he was still distracted trying to work out what all of that had been.

"Yeah, it was good," he answered casually, too anxious about frightening him to mention it had actually been the best sleep he'd gotten in years.

Deciding it would do him no good to be anything but direct with Ocarern, Aren slowly scooted closer to where the elf had perched himself. Reaching out he gently settled a hand to his knee and carefully stroked his fingers against his thigh, unsure how he would ever earn his trust again. His features softened slightly but still retained a hint of the concern choking his heart. "Thank you," he spoke softly, staring at him to try to meet his eyes. "For staying. And not leaving."

The elf nodded distractedly at Arensaenger's answer. His eyes were more focused though on the human's movements that brought him closer to his own being. Ocarern shivered at the gentle touch, doing his best to not flinch away even as the muscles in his thigh tensed as hard as stone in response. He swallowed thickly, his ears in constant movement as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"Do I leave now? It is day now. I can go. I won't fuss," he murmured sullenly, with a glance to the rays of sunlight that bled warmly into the room.

It was easy to feel how tense he was, to see how anxiously he twitched. It hurt his heart to see, to know he wasn't the calming presence he so desperately wished to be. At Ocarern's words, though, it was all he could do not to tear up.

"...What?" he choked out, his hand tightening involuntarily against the elf's leg. "No... No, Oca. I don't want- Please don't leave."

Aren bit at his lip nervously, unsure how he could convince him. It seemed obvious enough his confessions and pleading had had no effect on him so far. What could he possibly say to change his mind now?

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Oca. You- You're free to leave whenever you like, or come and go if you'd prefer, but... I'm not kicking you out, not sending you away," he tried to explain, smiling sadly and dropping his eyes away from him in shame. He knew he had no right to ask him to stay.

"I would be very happy if you can bring yourself to stick around more. Or...maybe come back home," he offered, rubbing gently at his knee but not knowing how he might possibly soothe the sensitive elf.

Ocarern hissed softly at the tightening around his thigh. The feeling reminded him too much of another man's hand caging him in place to be a canvas to a bloody brush. His breathing was ragged as he struggled to remain still and in place. "Home?" he questioned, wide-eyed and breathless as if the word was foreign and unheard of to him.

The elf placed his hand atop of Arensaenger's to cease his movements which he found distracting but not to remove it. "Home?" he repeated, his voice cracking like an adolescent's. "I...," Ocarern trailed off feeling gutted. He certainly desired to return but he did not know how to say such things. The other man's words that he could stay still felt tentative as if the elf was standing on the edge of a knife.

"Why?"

It hurt to see him so bothered, so exposed and sensitive. Aren stilled his hand immediately when he felt Ocarern's upon him, looking up at his face to study the odd mix of emotions there that he couldn't quite put words to. Why did the concept of home seem so unusual? Had he never considered the inn home? Or the town for that matter?

Aren swallowed nervously, humming quietly in acknowledgement of his question. "Because... Because I thought this was your home," he offered, blushing some and trying to stay calm. No matter what the elf's choices now Aren would never be able to forget how much time they'd spent together in the inn, how he used to take for granted how close his dear friend was.

"And we missed you. I missed you," he added quietly, the blush darkening his skin considerably as he contended with his thoughts before whispering, "I'd...really like it if you could be part of the family again."

The elf drooped as if he was nothing more than a spineless plant wilting in a cruel and barren desert wasteland. His ears nearly doubled in half over themselves with his sadness as his chin rested on his chest and his shoulders slumped weakly forward. It was true that once the town and inn had been a home to him but he had not considered for even a second after his banishment that it would ever be his home once more. Ocarern still had yet to come to terms with the fact that his friend really and truly did wish for his continued and hopefully permenant stay now that he had returned.

"Family?" He croaked brokenly, unable to believe his ears. "I was family?" He asked again. "I...can be...family?" The elf could not believe it to be true. After all the suffering he had caused, after all the suffering he had endured, it could not be possible that Arensaenger would not only want him back but wish him to be family on top of it. Once long ago they had been friends filled with laughter and song but when the music does what then had become of them? Their hearts had scattered like ash in the wind and in Ocarern's eyes it seemed impossible for them to be recollected and made whole once again. It simply was not done.

"You were," Aren insisted, swallowing painfully against the lump rising in his throat. It hurt so much to see him that way. He hadn't realized his offer would make him sad. Truthfully he had no idea why it had made him sad but he knew he wanted, and needed, to fix it.

"And still are. To us. And...me." Aren sat up slowly, not wanting to startle Oca with any sudden movements. It upset him to see the elf as he was: so sad, so broken.

"If you want to be. There's always a place for you here," he insisted, carefully raising his hands to set on Oca's shoulders but too afraid of startling him to go in for a proper hug.

"I was wrong and stupid and stubborn before. I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No you weren't," Ocarern choked out before collapsing forward against Arensaneger's chest. He clung fiercely then to his friend as hot tears spilled out against his cheeks. "You were right. I was the wrong elf. So stupid. Always so stupid. Had family and I hurts them. Didn't deserve you. Still don't deserve family. It's all my fault!" He wheezed, shaking with the force of his putter of sobs. "Aren's too kind to liars and thieves and murderers. Don't deserve. Don't belong," he cried shaking his head from side to side even as he clung with so firmly that he would have to be forcibly removed from the human with a great deal of effort and strength. The elf was a selfish creature though. He know he should not remain and yet he could not bear to let go, not then and not ever after.

Aren held his breath, his own tears threatening to spill to see and hear the smaller man so upset over all of it. He tried to stay strong and just listen, his arms hugging him close and not willing to let go either.

Everything seemed so wrong, though, hearing Ocarern blame himself over and over. It hurt.

"You belong here," Aren insisted firmly, shaking his head and tightening his hold on him. He wasn't sure how he was going to convince him, but it was his mission to do so. "You're part of our family, Oca. My family," he told him stubbornly, afraid that anything less would cause the elf to flee even though Aren was being entirely sincere.

"The past is the past," he whispered, hoping he could get him to look past all of it. "I did bad things, but I want to be different now."

The petite elf whimpered in pain at being held so close yet did nothing to recoil from the embrace he so desperately needed. "You didn't do anything wrong. Not bad," Ocarern insisted weakly. "Don't change," he continued to plead fearfully.  "No change. No change. No change."

He clung fiercely to Arensaenger as if afraid he would suddenly be cast aside or wake up from a dream to discover he was once more returned to his living nightmare. It would not be the first time after all. "Don't want to wake up," the elf whispered against the human's chest as he gripped the other man close enough to possibly begin to hurt. "Need my Aren."

The elf confused him and he truly didn't understand why he wouldn't want him to change. Things could only get better, right?

"I'm here," Aren murmured, not understanding why his friend would ever think he was talking to him in some dream. "You're awake now. You're here. With me." Even though the smaller man held him with a crushing ferocity Aren didn't let go. He couldn't, or rather wouldn't have even wanted to despite the slight sting of his surprising strength to keep clinging to him as he was.

"It's alright," he whispered, shushing him gently and rubbing his hands along his back just hoping it might be enough to start calming him down. "You're here. I've got you."

Slowly, Ocarern's grip relaxed and his heavy sobs gentled in a few sniffles. He felt safe in Arensaenger's arms, a feeling he had not experienced since he had let the tavern he had learned to call home. It was his dear friend's soothing heartbeat and warmth though that made him realize that he was indeed awake and where he so desperately had dreamed and prayed to be since the moment he had ended up in that cruel monstrosity's clutches.

The elf burrowed his head snugly against the younger man's chest as he curled up more comfortably in his lap. He did not know how long it would be before even this simple pleasure would be rejected but he was going to try and enjoy it as long as he was permitted to.

However, the calmer he became, the more Ocarern began to realize something else. His back and torso felt not only sorer than it had when he had awoken but also rather sticky and wet. The more he focused on it the more he began to notice the fiery pain his dulled senses had been ignoring in his emotional state. The elf moaned softly as hs struggled to adjust himself, praying that Arensaenger had not yet noticed and would be content to simply hold him for the moment.

It was difficult for him to watch but the innkeeper remained calm out of necessity. If he was not strong for Ocarern in such a vulnerable state who would be? He certainly didn't want it to be anyone else. Aren wanted to be the one the elf could come to with such troubles and distress, to serve as his sanctuary if that was even possible after the way he'd pushed him away in times past.

As he calmed, so did Aren. His grip relaxed slightly but he still held him close, lowering one arm to hook around his waist as he sat back more comfortably with him supported on his lap. The other remained to stroke gently along the smaller man's shoulders.

For a moment he thought he felt the wetness of tears, though why it was on his back confused him. Aren's brow furrowed and he tilted his head to stare at the small elf with narrowed eyes of concern as his stressed mind slowly put the pieces together. "Oca... You have something here," he murmured gently, stopping his stroking to lay his palm flat against him. The dampness upon his shirt wasn't chill as he would expect from tears, though, and was actually alarmingly warm to the touch.

"What did you get into?" he tsked playfully, pulling his hand away to rub his fingers together, trying to figure out what the elf might have been doing while he was asleep. It took him a couple moments for the weight of the reality to sink in. Hand stained a pinkish red already and a thin film of the stuff sticking to him Aren froze to just stare in disbelief before looking to Ocarern, silent and wide-eyed for whatever excuse or explanation he might offer. All the while he kept an arm firmly clutched to his waist try and deter him from running.

The elf's brow furrowed in confusion as Arensaneger questioned and teased him. His own confusion rapidly turned to shock and frozen terror as he came to understand the concern and horror reflected in his friend's face. The other man's arm tightened around him but a second too soon for Ocarern to make his escape though he tried to all the same.

His efforts caused him to whine quietly in pain even as he struggled to back away from Arebsaenger and simultaneously hide his back from sight. "Didn't get into nothing. Nothing there!" He hurriedly insisted as if such words could take back the sight of his blood staining his friend's hand red could be so easily forgotten. "I have to uh use the uh toilet!" He fumbled to say before crying out the last word in a stroke of "brilliance" to get the human to release him.

Numb in disbelief and wondering if he was dreaming Aren could do nothing else but fiercely cling to the elf, suddenly terrified of losing him again if he so much as let him get up.

"Oca," he pleaded softly, hurt that he seemed to be trying to evade him and the uncomfortable truth that Aren already knew.

"You're hurt," he stated firmly, unwilling to accept anything else as an excuse. "We should dress your wounds properly."

"I'm fine!" the elf squealed still trying to wiggle his way out of Arensaenger's grasp. He even attempted to huddle himself inward and back out from the bottom of his friend's embrace in a last ditch effort to escape. "It's just a scratch," Ocarern admitted, hoping that would be enough to dissuade the other man from pursuing it further. "I'm fine. It's fine. Just leave it." Unable to keep up his struggles though, the elf could do nothing more than pant in exhaustion as he slumped further into the human's lap. "No touchy," he weakly declared, wincing as the fire in his back made a sudden reappearance now that he was still and not frantically flailing.

Aren narrowed his eyes at the admission of there being a “scratch”, even if that was all that it was.

He held fast against the small elf’s struggling, though it tore at his heart to hear his exhausted plea to be released.

“Let me see it,” he insisted quietly, choosing to ignore the elf’s demand for the moment as he reached for the hem of his shirt. “I won’t touch, but… Even a scratch could get infected if we don’t clean it and treat it.” Aren sighed heavily, somehow feeling like his voice carried no weight with his warning.

Ocarern was too worn out to fight him. He simply sulked there, fighting to catch his breath and bear the pain lacing through his veins. It took all of his effort not to cry from it all but it was not the first time he had felt such fire. He had learned well at the monster's side how to be the perfect little doll. "Don't want you to see," he whined, hoping that would be enough to keep Arensaenger from seeing how pathetic the elf truly was.

The logical part of him was concerned, confused as to why he wouldn't want him to even see an injury. They were such old friends in his mind, was it really so disturbing for him to show concern?

It made Aren's heart sink a little just thinking about the elf being unable to find it in himself to trust him to care for him. With something so "small" Aren imagined, too, knowing the elf to be quite the enthusiastic dramatic.

Gently lifting the fabric away, though, Aren almost dropped it again immediately in shock.

Streaks of red marred the elf's skin, even on what little he could see of him along his sides. Blood seemed to still weep from his wounds and Aren winced and grit his teeth against the sight of it.

He was disgusted and confused, his mind working hard but unable to work out how such injuries could have happened to him, to his poor Oca.

"Let me see," he repeated harshly, wincing at the angry growl he was unable to keep from his voice. Pulling the elf's shirt free entirely Aren was quick to stand and hoist him up along with him. Glowering in his concern he nudged insistently at Ocarern, trying to get him to turn so he could view him fully.

The elf whined and became sudden dead weight in Arensaneger's arms when the other man attempted to move him. "No look! No see!" he pleaded now without his tunic to hide his shame from view. Ocarern wriggled limply to try and pull away from the human but knew there was not much else he could do to avoid the disgust he expected to see come rolling off his friend in sickly yellow-green waves.

His back was a haphazard conglomeration of bloody hack marks from his former master using him like a fresh canvas to his iron paintbrush. From neck to buttocks he was slashed and scarred on nearly every expanse of pale flesh until all that remained was red upon sticky red. The iron of the blade had ensured that his healing would be slow to non-existent so that even severe wounds such as his own had next to no hope of healing properly. Some had even become infected from his inability to care for them properly while others still were deep enough to showcase hints of stark white bone.

"Please," he whispered pathetically, hoping that it would be enough to keep his friend from casting him aside at the sight of his greatest mark of disgrace.

It was not disgust that hit Aren, but a deep sorrow and shock first. Then anger followed, wild and undirected though certainly not at the smaller man before him.

His wounds were obviously not self-inflicted and so the innkeeper bubbled with a rage he'd never felt in all his life, not even when he'd cast Ocarern out so many years ago. Aren twitched and flinched as his eyes roamed over his back, question upon question rising up in his throat that he was unable to voice.

A hand reached out to hover over but never touch, making mental notes about his worst wounds and those that seemed already infected. What could have possibly happened to cause such marks? Such pain? Who could have done such a thing to another living creature?

He wondered if it had been punishment, if the thief had been caught and lashed for his crimes. He wondered if he'd been enslaved or if it all was the result of some horrid accident the elf had yet to tell him of.

When he finally opened his mouth to speak Aren was shaking in his despair and disbelief, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. He shut his mouth without a word, though, one hand tightening at his arm while the other retrieved the tunic that had been cast aside to allow him to dress again if he wished.

"You need healing," he croaked, wincing at the lack of firmness he'd wished to carry in his tone. "Urgently. Now." The rest they could discuss later, but one niggling thought would not leave him. "Are you safe, Oca?"

Ocarern felt the wash of colours all but drown him with the depth of Arensaenger's emotions. He was little more than a hapless ragdoll in the other man's grip even has he was handed back his tunic and permitted to mechanically wriggle his way back into it. He did not dare look at his old friend, fearful that the rage he had felt would come out to bite him. Even the elf's ears drooped completely with his sense of defeat.

"Safe?" he finally repeated quietly and tiredly. "Am I?" Ocarern lifted his gaze slightly to look at the human before dropping it again fearfully. "I...don't know. Am I, Arensaenger? Am I safe?"

Aren stiffened at his questions, nostrils flaring at the idea that anyone was out to harm the elf. But he was there now and he could only presume that whatever had happened to cause his injuries was recent by the look of things.

"Did you...escape?" From a jail or something else he wasn't quite sure what he was even asking himself. "Whatever. Whoever did that to you will pay if they dare show their face here," he grumbled angrily, still unable to let go of the blind anger he held towards that unknown entity. "I don't care the reason. That is completely unjustified." Cruel. So very cruel that he could barely hold back the tears welling at his eyes for the bright memory of the fresh, open wounds the elf had been carrying around with him for who knows how long.

"You're safe with me," he declared, though what truth there was to that he wasn't sure. He didn't know what he could even promise the skittish elf, but it was a sentiment he felt deeply in his heart. "Please, just- Let's get you something for those," he pleaded softly, already heading for the door with fingers locked firmly around Ocarern's wrist. "I'll take you to the healer."

The elf shuddered in the other man's grasp, drowning under the weight of his waking nightmares. He could hear maniacal whispered tones and smell burning, bleeding flesh, in the same moment that he felt a strong, beating heart and the gentle breathing of the man cradling him close. Ocarern allowed himself to be bodily manipulated along, too emotionally shattered to resist or even really notice the change of location immediately.

It was only once they began to reach the stairs that the elf seemingly became aware again and fought to dig his heels into the polished wood floor. "No, no, no! I won't go, I won't! No go, no go! Please I want to stay," he sobbed irrationally, clinging to Arensaenger in desperation. "Don't send me back. Please, please, please," Ocarern chanted, his voice trailing off as it was cut off by wet, choking sobs.

Aren's chest felt like it was being crushed by the sound of Oca's pleading cries, the desperation in his voice almost too painful to hear. He placed a steadying hand to his shoulder but as soon as the elf started sobbing he quickly gathered him up in his arms.

"Shh. It's alright, Oca. I'm not sending you anywhere, I'm going with you and then we can come right back home. Do you remember Vanessa?" he asked quietly, lightly petting at Ocarern's hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"She always patched me up after a scuffle and I promise she's still just as good with her salves and potions. She's a good person, I know she'd help you," he offered, afraid of leaving the elf's injuries untreated. "I can be right there beside you if it would make you feel any better."

"Nasty, smelly woman," Ocarern replied with a disgusted crinkle of his nose. He never had liked the smell of her potions and brews. He continued to cling fiercely to Arensaenger but allowed himself to be moved forward even as he contemplated the consequences of seeing Vanessa. "Promise no leavy, Aren? Promise me?" the elf asked, his ears flapping about so hard they probably were smacking his friend. "I don't want to be alone anymore, Aren. Please no leavy."

Aren't had to stifle a laugh at Ocarern's opinion of the healer. Instead he flashed him an encouraging smile and kept his arm around his waist to help guide him down the stairs. At least he told himself the elf needed his guidance and that was why they needed to be touching at that very moment.

"I promise I won't leave without you. I'll be right there, you won't be alone," he tried to assure him. "And if you want privacy I can just...turn my back while she patches you up. That sound okay?"

Ocarern remained glued to his friend's side as they ventured down and out of the tavern. The light of day made the elf flinch slightly, turning inward towards his friend more as if the human could protect him from that too. He murmured quietly to himself as they went, lost to his own memories and horrors, though he gave Arensaenger no trouble as they traveled the short distance. His favorite human could lead him to the ends of the earth and still Ocarern would have followed with the state he was in.

A series of sneezes pulled the elf from his thoughts making him realize that they had at last arrived. He scowled and wrinkled his nose as the assault of different scents and colors threatened to overwhelm him. "No leavy," he growled at the other man, shifting to clutch the much larger hand tightly within his own small grasp. Arensaenger was not going to be escaping Ocarern any time soon whether he liked it or not.

"I promise." Aren smiled in what he hoped would be an encouraging manner, but the elf seemed a bit distracted and he didn't really blame him. It was clear he'd been through a lot in their time apart and whatever that had been seemed to leave him exceptionally cautious.

Aren knocked on the door to Vanessa's shop gently before entering. It wasn't common for her to have extended visitors, people tended to come by only to place and pick up specific orders, but he was convinced from what he'd briefly seen that Ocarern would need more specialized attention than he could give his wounds.

As he expected her shop was empty except for the gentle sound of tinkling glass in the back room behind her counter. "One moment!" she called distractedly, making her way through to the front in a hurry, panting to catch her breath with a smile that quickly turned to recognition. "Aren! How can I help you today?" Her eyes flickered between the pair, a small glint of recognition in her eyes towards Ocarern and it took her several moments of silent contemplation to see exactly who he was. Despite the years the elf looked more or less the same as before.

"Well we need a little help with a he-"

"Ocarern, isn't it? My it's been a long time since we saw you," she mused quietly, relaxing and wiping her hands of the potion she'd been working with across her skirts. "Sorry, how can I help?" She lifted her head with an apologetic smile, meeting Aren's eyes.

A slow blush grew on Aren's cheeks, his grip tightening slightly on Oca's hand. "I'd like your help with a healing salve. Or treatment. Something. Um, for him." The human looked Ocarern's way, his eyes lingering on the back of his shoulders for a moment before he looked back to her with an apologetic smile. He knew he was being vague but he hoped she wouldn't press the elf for information and could help him without any fuss.

"Oh!" She blinked, eyeing the elf curiously and not seeing anything wrong with him since he hid it so well. "Can I ask what kind of...injury?" she asked Ocarern gently.

The elf scowled at the woman and the mention of why they were there. If he was not feeling so overwhelmed and clinging so tightly to his friend's hand then he would have scuttled out of the shop in no time at all. "Minor fall," he grunted out, the lie feeling thick and heavy on his tongue as he both avoided eye contact and fought to keep his wildly flailing ears in control.

It was obvious though even to his ears that he was lying and did not wish to draw more attention to himself. Instead he squeezed Arensaenger's hand tighter and leaned in closer against the man's side. Ocarern wanted nothing to do with showing or telling what happened. Showing the human he loved was enough. The woman, healer or not, had no need to see how weak and pathetic he really was.

Aren sucked in a tight breath at Ocarern's obvious lie, frowning slightly and staring at him quizzically. He didn't understand why he would lie, he didn't understand the shame he felt. Lying would get them nowhere, though, and wouldn't get him the help he needed to heal.

"I don't know how...or what happened," he told her honestly, nodding his head and gesturing behind the elf. "He has deep cuts on his back. So many and- and they aren't closing. He's still bleeding."

He narrowed his eyes and glanced between them, hoping she might understand the importance of the situation. To his relief her eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly in surprise. It probably wasn't a typical morning for her to get customers walking in with grievous wounds in their small town.

"Oh my... I-I think I can help. Stay right here, I'll make something for you right now," she promised, dashing away back to her workbench and hurrying to whip up a few concoctions. When she returned with two jars she looked between them with concern before handing them to Aren with a sympathetic smile.

"No charge, unless you'll give me a drink next time I'm down your way." Vanessa giggled nervously and eyed Aren, probably a little too comfortable in lingering on him openly before she remembered she hadn't fully explained their uses to him.

"So the grey one. Use that until his wounds close, it should help his body heal and numb pain a bit. Use the green one once they scar up. It should help him relax and still numb things so he can heal neatly. Let me know if you run out of any and need more. You'll want to use the green until the scars start to fade," she explained, tapping the top on each jar as she spoke.

Aren nodded along with her explanations, eyeing Oca warily and hoping he would permit him to help. "Thank you for your help, I'm sorry to barge in on you like this. You'll definitely have that drink next time you're around," he promised, smiling tiredly and tugging lightly on Oca's hand to try to lead him back towards the door. The sooner he could get him back home and in relative privacy the better.

Ocarern clung tightly to Arensaenger, refusing to let go of the human even as he conversed and accepted the healing salves from the woman. The elf said nothing during the entire exchange though he did not stop for a second from casting furious scowls her way with every seemingly flirtatious word she said to his human.

He could not get them both out of there fast enough. Ocarern did not need any encouraging to leave beyond his friend's small tug of his hand. A moment later and the elf was all but dragging the human out of the shop and back to the tavern in a flurry. By the time they reached there, despite it being such a short walk, Ocarern was practically hyperventilating as he shook fiercely for reasons he could not even understand. Caught between reality and nightmares, his own lifeline to the present was his clammy hand in Arensaenger's larger one.

Aren walked in silence, trying to keep up with the elf without running and stumbling a few times for his efforts. Once they were back at the tavern and he got a good look at him trembling so bad he felt the familiar ache in his chest from the day before when he'd seen how stressed the elf had been.

"Let's go inside," he spoke softly, trying to be mindful of Ocarern's sensitive ears as he led him through the door and as quietly up the stairs as he could. Once safely behind the door to his room Aren set the salves down on the bedside table and turned to gingerly hold the elf by his shoulders. He desperately wanted to hug him and almost decided against it when he thought on how much he usually hated being "caged."

"I'm sorry, we don't have to go out again if you don't want to," he whispered, not understanding the source of the elf's stress but carefully snaking his arms around his shoulders and neck to hold him closer, trying to be mindful of his wounds.

The elf allowed himself to be led inside and dragged up to Arensaenger's room without a fight. Once there though he could not help breaking down and dissolving into a mess of tears, his face white and clammy with fear. He clung to his old friend the moment it was safe to and just absolutely refused to let go. In his fear, he was long beyond caring about touch beyond that which could cause the searing pain in his back to reignite.

"Must stay safey. No safe. Can't find me. Mustn't find me. No safe. No safe," he repeated shaking his head hard against the other man's chest. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. So sorry. Will be good elfie. I pwomise. No hurtie please no hurtie. I'll be good. So, so good. Don't let him find me," he begged, his words disjointed and harsh as he whispered them in a jumbled mess. Ocarern was too far gone in his memories to realize all that he was saying or that he was not in any danger from Arensaenger or his former master for that matter. All he knew was that he hurt and hurting mean run, more pain is coming.

It broke his heart to see and hear such fear in the elf. His brow furrowed in worry for what had happened to him while he'd been away when he was so clearly afraid of "him" finding him.

"I've got you. You're safe here," Aren murmured quietly, holding him in a gentle hug and trying so hard to just be strong for his clearly traumatized friend instead of demanding answers about his past. He'd always known him to be quite the clever pickpocket but Ocarern was a kind soul and one that did not deserve such lingering torment.

He eyed the first jar of salve, slowly reaching around the elf to swipe it off the table again. With his other hand he quietly removed its top and gently pulled Oca's tunic up to bunch around over the tops of his shoulders.

Gentle assurances were murmured under his breath as he dipped his fingers into the jar to scoop out a bit of the gray mixture. He made slow but steady work of spreading a layer of the medicinal ointment along the elf's back, using all his restraint not to flinch at the feel of his cuts right against his bare hand.

Aren bit at his own lip to stifle the tears that threatened to spill across his cheeks, not understanding at all how the elf had made it home with such wounds or how he even gone out with him like nothing was wrong at all. His gentle voice turned to whispered prayers as he finished covering the last of the elf's wounds, slowly replacing the top and rolling his shirt back down with the hope that the elf would not flee if he was spared from sudden movements. He hoped dearly for Vanessa's medicines to work for him, to numb what pain he must have been in and help his body heal.

"Would you like to rest? I should probably check downstairs but... I'd rather stay with you today," Aren spoke through sniffles, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from flowing.

Ocarern was completely lost in his own world. He did not see Aren reach for the salve, nor did he know until it was too late what the other man was trying so desperately to do. It was a blessing therefore that the elf was suffering from such a sensory overload between the memories and the flashing colors of his own emotions that the pain was a dull roar in the back of his head.

He clung with a iron-grip to the human's clothes while he worked on him and he whimpered and cried pitifully. Ocarern was not about to release the other man even if his life depended upon it. He feared that if he did he would lose Aren and completely succumb to the pain and horror of his former reality. Aren as his port in the storm, his anchor at shore and the little thief was not about to give that up for anything. He needed him and he was selfish enough to hold onto that.

Slowly, ever so dreadfully slow, the pain began to numb. The searing fire in Ocarern's bones dimmed though remained. he slumped, exhausted, forward against Aren and nuzzled his nose against the other man's neck. "no leavy," he begged quietly, his voice sounding hoarse and chocked up as he spoke. "Please no leavy, Aren. I needy you," he breathed against the warm skin so close to his lips. "I'll be good," he promised. "So, so goody. Just stay. Please?"

It was like a knife through his chest to hear the desperation in the voice of the man he'd loved. He swallowed hard against the tightness in his throat, nodding eagerly as he braced the elf to him with cautious hands at his sides. He was too fearful of hurting him to give him a proper hug.

"Right, no leaving," he agreed, pressing a light kiss to the elf's hair. Surely his sister would understand once he could explain their circumstances, but it did leave him in an awkward position when he'd been such a stable part of keeping the inn running smoothly for years.

Aren knelt slightly, scooping Oca up by his thighs and cradling him close. He slowly walked them back to the bed, plopping down gently to sit but holding the elf close on his lap. "Are you okay? Is there anything you need?" he asked quietly, chewing at his lip nervously and having no idea what he could offer the elf besides the quiet calm of the room and his presence without leaving him or making him brave the presence of others again.

The elf whimpered with each movement, his breath caught in his chest until they were still again. He breathed slow and shallowly through his teeth just trying to will the pain away. Bit by bit the stillness and the medicine began to work and cool numbness spread through him. Only then did Ocarern slump completely forward onto Aren and relax his grip on the other man.

Tentatively, he licked his lips, realizing only then that he had abused his bottom lip badly as he fought through the pain. The sting was startling but not unexpected. Ocarern buried his face against the human's neck, hoping to derive more comfort from the touch as well as shield his own pain from him.

"Fine," he murmured roughly, smoothing his hands out across Aren's shirt as if to brush away the deep wrinkles he had set into the fabric with his desperate clinging. The elf adjusted his seat more firmly in the man's lap while nuzzling his face against him more. A dark voice in his head reminded him that he owed Aren and should repay him in the way his former master had taught him.

His hands dropped lower and lower to play slowly with the hem of the other man's shirt at his sides. "Thank you for your kindness," he continued. "I do not deserve it. I have not earned it," Ocarern added, slipping his hands underneath to touch warm flesh, "yet."

As Ocarern began to relax Aren was able to breathe a soft sigh of relief. He hoped the medicine would work well for him, he never wanted to see the elf enduring the pain he'd seen on his face and in his eyes before. It was breaking his heart a bit to hear that he thought he didn't deserve it, though. Despite their past, the elf had always held a special place in his heart. Perhaps he hadn't done enough to show him that, had jumped to conclusions too quickly and not shown him enough kindness in the past. Aren could only hope he might be able to rebuild what was lost to time.

"You don't have to thank me for kindness, Oca. You deserve that and my respect," he reminded him gently, raising a questioning brow for the way the elf was teasing his fingers along the hem of his shirt. As his hands slipped beneath it, though, Aren bit back the small noise of surprise as he tilted his head to look down to watch him.

As confused as he was about the why, he couldn't help but think Oca looked particularly nice perched on his lap as he was. And just his hands on bare skin was enough to raise butterflies in his stomach, nevermind the sudden warmth that seemed to radiate from his hands that he kept firmly at the elf's waist. "What do you mean yet?" he whispered, eyeing him curiously but not exactly wanting him to stop.