"You didn't, no. But I am struggling and need to be strong. I can come undone at home where it's safe. Here is a pit of vipers. It's dangerous."

Theo grinned softly and tilted his head slightly, looking at Fletcher with such deep warmth and affection where only the man could see. "Is it so wrong to want to see that my boyfriend is equally cared for, simply because I care for him? You take care of me so much. It goes both ways."

He made a point to exaggeratedly pick up another bite of food and eat.

"I'm not fussed. I didn't say any of that." Fletch grimaced again and began to look rather sheepish. "I...didn't. What, I take care of you and you turn it around on me? Eat your damned food, Theo. I'll do the same when I've got a minute."

Theo picked at the food but wisely chose to keep his protests to himself. If Fletcher didn't want to admit he was being a burden to the other man then Theo wasn't going to push it right now. He added it to the list of things they still needed to discuss together.

"Yes. I mean you have no idea the extent to which I hate these balls. And I mean if I had a reason to want to stay like this was something you enjoyed and wanted then I could endure but my dislike of them is fairly well known at this point. I often got in trouble with Father for hiding in the host's library to read the night away. Apparently this is in appropriate behavior befitting a man. Who'd have known? Apparently wandering garden in the dark with a young lady is far better despite the scandalous nature of it. Makes no sense," he grumbled while popping another bite in his mouth to chew sullenly.

"No, you're right," he continued also switching to sign albeit sluggishly. "I'm sorry for putting you more on alert and stressing you. I'll do better. I don't know what came over me. I just need another minute and then I'll go back out and play the part—do you—did you get to eat anything?"

"What's there to be sorry for?" Fletch replied, genuinely confused by the apology. "Just eat it. Then you can get pissed." He set the drink down and crossed his arms, hunching against the chill. The next look he gave the man bordered on concern. He grimaced. "Maybe you're joking, but...if we weren't aiming for certain...outcomes, is disappearing still what you'd do? Lov—Theo — you've a fiancée in there. She shouldn't see you getting cold feet already." He shook his head at how he'd said even that much aloud and switched to sign again. "She certainly shouldn't see you preferring the company of a guard. None of them should. Just hang in there. Stick to it. You'll be out of the worst of it before you know it. But please don't give your dad any reason to make this worse on you."

He offered a small smile in return before settling more into the shadows leaning against the rail. He look he gave Fletcher upon the man's return was soft and only for his eyes.

"You're taking care of me again. I'm sorry," he murmured, accepting the plate without protest even as his eyes lingered on the drink instead.

"How rambunctious are they getting out there? Think we can manage to disappear before main course is even served?"

Theo was afraid of losing him. But he wasn't going anywhere, was he? He'd made it this far. He was going to keep on living, damn it. He chuckled, but it was hollow-sounding. "Survived this long, haven't I? Wasn't my first time close to dying. Sure it won't be my last. But I'm alive, and I intend to keep it that way for a while yet. So don't worry. I'm not going anywhere — except to get you some food first. Otherwise I'll have to hold your hair back later while you cry whiskey drunk over a basin. And neither of us wants that."

He graced the man with a secret and loving smile before allowing his face to fall and turning back towards the party. A short time later, nobles successfully navigated, he returned with a small plate and another drink. The plate he handed to Theo. The drink, he held onto. "Eat first," he said.

Morthil's mouth dropped open in shock. 

"The...the whole village....gone? You're joking, you're"—but then Morthil saw she was not joking. It was true. The village was gone, Morthil likely the only known survivor.
He sagged in Goblinda's arms, his heart broken and in pain.

Goblinda tensed. Morthil could sense it. 
Something was wrong. Instinctually he wanted to help....


And then it was as if he was transported to a dark place. The sounds of Lin and Go Linda faded. 
All was deathly quiet. He could smell the devastation, feel the sting of the embers floating through the air. His nose burned from the smoke. His lungs seized up. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He could feel pain. Emotional pain. Physical pain. It felt like there was a hole in his chest. And the hole was filling with blood. 
His muscles felt like someone had torn them apart. His lungs screamed for air. He could hear the cries and screams of dying people. But all he could see was black. A darkness so intense that it pressed on him.
Even though he could feel everything with intensity, it felt muted still...and then everything came rushing back. He was back in Lin's house, in the arms of Goblinda.
But then she dropped him and he landed on the floor, breathing hard, sucking in air as if he actually had just been wherever that was. The emotional distress was so much that he shifted, finally, into his elf form. He took a few deep, shaky breaths. 
"What happened...what was that?" 
He looked at Goblinda. 
She did not look good. 

His hand slowly lowered his glass. Fletcher had made no move to fill it up and Theo felt ashamed because of it. He was behaving childishly and had forced his love to feel the need to step in again and take care of things for him, to monitor him for his own good. Theo placed it back on the rail and smoothed the front of his robes from imaginary wrinkles. 

"I'm afraid it will be you. It almost was you. It's not me I'm afraid for. It's you."

Fletcher's expression softened. It was worse than he'd thought: Theo really did look like he was about to crumble. What did he even say to a man who'd deteriorated this quickly? "It won't happen again," he insisted. "I'll make sure it doesn't." He stayed where he was, and his flask stayed where it was, too. Instead, he brought his hands in front of him and signed. "You're not alone this time, love. I'm here. We do this together."

"Huh? Village... goblins...?"

Goblinda frowned; She clearly was putting effort into attempting to recall what the talking cat spoke of... But it seemed mostly for naught. Despite her pondering, she came up with nothing; Not even the slightest inkling that correlated the cat-not-cat's story. While she thought, kitty still in hand, Linda tapped her chin a bit as well, thinking on Morthil's question. She'd recovered enough of her poise in spite of everything to shake off the feeling of dread that had nearly devoured her earlier.

"Your village... ah, you mean the one that Goblinda escaped with you from, I take it. Where you'd been resting... Well..." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then braced herself for the news she had to deliver in regards to it. "I... fear I don't exactly have 'good' news. Word by courier reached Ketra yesterday morning of a village some half-day's journey from here, near the mountain's base... Or rather, what was a village. Sounded like the entire town was razed to the ground-- strangely enough, in a mix of red and green flames. There were... no survivors, as far as I know." She explained, sorrow in her words as she tried to lessen the blow to the poor man as best she could.

~~~

She hurt. Her arms hurt. Her head hurt. Her legs hurt. Everything hurt. Accured flames and the soot of charred bodies filled her lungs. Singed her eyes. She couldn't stop the bleeding from her forehead, which further impaired her vision-- Nor could she stop the pulsing wound on her chest, which stained her platinum armor blood red. Yet her spear parried yet another blow from the massive battleaxe of an opponent she was too blinded to clearly see-- her ears serving her well even amidst the crackling flames and the uneven footing.

"Hah... hah... DAMN YOU! FALL!!!" Roared a dangerous, powerful voice, unfamiliar to her. Even through her blurred vision, the burst of green flames which suddenly flared forth were still plain to see-- A nimble leap to her right to evade them, then a dash forward from the very air she'd leapt into. Her spear was poised to pierce directly through her foe's chest-- a matching wound for the one he'd given her while protecting the kitten. He had no other choice-- Releasing his axe, he caught the incoming spear with both hands, just before it ripped through his chest. She wounded him all the same-- she could feel the blade puncture something, at least-- but it was a shallow wound. He yet remained standing and, with herculean force, swung her by her own weapon before releasing the spear, along with her, and sending both into a burning pile of debris-- the remains of a home, most like.

Good. He'd thrown her away from the kitten. He yet approached, having recovered his battleaxe. Though she could barely stand-- barely breathe-- she smiled. She would've been really sad if the kitten's fur had gotten burned.

~~~

"Ugh!"

Morthil found sudden freedom; The goblin that'd been holding him suddenly released him, as if shocked by lightning. Not even a moment later, she'd crumbled to her knees, clutching her head in pain as if a seething red blade had stabbed right through her skull. "L-Lin!? What's wrong?" The brunette stuttered, her heart set to racing once more as she quickly moved to the Goblin's side, attempting to steady her a bit on her knees. "I... My head..." The red-headed goblin muttered, before attempting to shrug off the effects of her sudden migraine... if it could be called that.

"Your head...? Could... Could your memory loss be related to some kind of physical trauma after all?"