Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » "I'm RETIRED, for magic's sake!"

“I appreciate the offer, but unfortunately there are a few things that must be done first.” The redhead grumbles, laying out a blank sheet of paper and a pen. “Despite his status, even Master Eris has to be held accountable for certain things, and I get to be his unfortunate tattletale. A couple of the other seated members of the Court like to hear when things like this happen, and the sooner the letter is written and sent, the better. Lady Arathel, specifically, demands to hear of any and all changes to Jon’s health. She’s a rather… frightening lady. And I’m not about to get on her bad side by keeping this sort of information from her.”

Maddox shakes his head, stifling a yawn, and sets to work writing his letter. Much as he’d love to curl up on the sofa for a nap, however brief, this must be done. And then a copy must be made, because Pamoyan can’t keep his nose out of anyone’s business. And then another, because Coryn was just so nice when he asked… He crams as much detail as he can into the letter, starting with Gable’s arrival and the discovery of his condition, along with the ensuing bite injury, and the flowing days of rigorous study and stress. Then the complications of arcane exhaustion, the resulting collapse, the fever that seemed to have come out of nowhere and how frighteningly high it had gotten before coming back down. And now where they are at the present, with an unconscious wizard who doesn’t seem primed to stir anytime soon, and a house full of worried staff watching the rock on which their lives are built crack under the strain.

They’re all terrified.

“Hm?” The chief of staff looks up, halfway through his second copy of the letter, as Gable speaks up. “Oh… yes. We’ve joked that Jon must have had a sudden burst of divine sight that day, despite him being absolutely horrible at divination magic. Some stroke of foresight that led him to intervene, keeping them here instead of sending them on… I’m glad he did. I’m very glad he did. She been a blessing since the day she arrived, for both me and him.”

He goes silent, watching thoughtfully as Gable rubs the dozy wizard’s bruised up arm. The skin there looks a bit shinier than he thinks it should from where he sits, but writes it off as sweat and a trick of the light. The redhead chews his lip, debating back and forth about whether or not to say the words that desperately want out. It isn’t the stable master’s business, but then again, there isn’t really anyone else he can go to.

“I… I’m thinking of courting her, actually.” He announces, tentatively. “I just… I’m not sure how to go about asking her.”

"Huh. I thought Blackstaff was the only frightening lady in Master Eris's life." If Gable knew what the letter and its copies would contain, he might be brought to tears to look back on the wake of destruction since his arrival. Master Eris's comfort and reassurance and mercy and forgiveness (and Mr. Rex's forbearance) has made it possible for him to keep his hand to the plow, moving forward, wishing to earn the friendship they've shown him. But he certainly isn't worthy of it yet. Not by a longshot.

He purses his lips at the man's announcement and nods slowly, mustering up a thoughtful expression to stifle a chuckle; he does his best to appear in deep consideration, then hums softly, shakes his head a bit, and sighs. "Mr. Rex, I might not be the one to ask courtin' advice, if that's what you're doing. But I'd like to share an observation if you don't mind." He looks over at the other man and fails to contain his smirk any longer as he tells him plainly, "I figure you could phrase it just about any way you like; I believe Ms. Ariathel's real keen on you. I should have noticed it sooner, honestly, but I… I'd been taken with her myself when I first saw her, and that's why I'd asked you if she had a man. But in watching her with interest, I've seen the way she passes you glances at the table and has a sort of easy familiarity when she's by your side. The conversation you two shared a little while ago isn't the kind of thing that develops between mere coworkers, either. Not usually." Gable gives a shrug and falls quiet for a moment.

He nearly goes on to make another contrast between the head cook and his aloof wife to further illustrate why he believes his observations are correct, perhaps adding a comment regarding the clarity and wisdom of hindsight, but figures it would only sound like bitter self-pity. He smiles warmly instead. "Mayhap a letter would be nice, if you're nervous? Gives a man time to get his wording just right, and I think it's usually perceived as quite romantic. Even the boys on the ranch could swoon over a thoughtful paper. They'd tuck notes in their hat lining and take 'em out to warm their hearts in icy rains—so long as some jealous fool didn't get a hold of it first and shred it up, that is." There was always one or two of those skulking about. "How long have you known your feelings for her?"

Maddox actually snorts, albeit rather quietly, thinking of the various women in the wizard’s life. “Heavens, no. Every single woman who sits on that court scares the living daylights out of me, and I know Jon puts on a brave face, but they terrify him too. His relationship with Lady Arathel, though… well, it’s interesting, to say the least. They’re very casual about things, but I wouldn’t say there are a lot of feelings between them. She’s intrigued by him, he’s equal parts enamored and terrified of her, she likes his company, he needs her to keep him alive, she wants to keep him alive, but more to further her own studies than out of sentiment… it’s a strange dichotomy they have. They’re nothing close to lovers, but at least she’s kinder to him than Blackstaff is.”

He sits in contemplative silence, considering Gable’s suggestion. It’s a good idea. Really good, actually. It would give him time to think of how he wanted to word things, and then when she got it, maybe… maybe she might keep it? Maybe she might treasure it? If they did go further, would she still hold onto it? Maddox’s first love letter… He shakes his head. It’s a charming idea, but he’s getting ahead of himself.

“Erm… well…” The chief of staff looks almost embarrassed as he picks at the edge of the paper in front of him. “I suppose I’ve had feelings for her for quite a while now, but I’ve only just recently realized what they were. I’ve never really thought of spending the rest of my life with anyone else but her. Well, you know I’m devoted to Master Eris, but I’ve always thought of her as being right beside me, all the way, past, present, and future. I just forgot about the part where I have to actually make her mine, first…”

While the two men talk, Sapphire hops up onto the bed and curls up at Jon’s hip, her head resting on his thigh. He still smells wrong, and she’s worried. There’s fever smell, and the wet firewood smell, and now there’s dog smell too, but seeing as it’s newly acquired, she assumes the dog-man has something to do with it. She buries her nose in the blankets covering Jon’s leg, trying to drown out the wrong smells, but it doesn’t work. With a frustrated growl, she bunches up the blankets in her claws, kneading them like a cat. When she accidentally catches skin along with the fabric, Jon’s face wrinkles in a grimace and he makes an uncomfortable, breathy noise.

"It's nice to know that even a man as powerful as him can be scared of anybody." And enamored by anybody, too. Master Eris has certainly inspired reverence and awe in Gable's heart these past days. It's not easy to imagine someone else doing the same for him. The part about this Lady Arathel keeping him alive, though… Quietly he admits, "It sounds as though we could use her help right about now." And now he understands why the letters Mr. Rex writes cannot wait.

"Master Eris is a man worth his weight and more in your devotion," Gable chuckles, "but he won't keep you warm at night." And he might not be around for the rest of our lives, he refrains from adding. The wizard has been around this long, and his stubbornness might yet see him another hundred. Gable isn't sure what the limitations of an archmage usually looks like.

He nods with a continued smile and agrees that proposing the arrangement so as to make Ms. Ari aware of the plan, too, is perhaps the most important step to actually fulfilling the plan. "But we'll just say you've been biding your time til now. Sounding the waters and such. Practicing a bit of romantic tension." It wouldn't surprise him in the least if the tidy Mr. Rex is really an unawakened romantic at heart. "Are there any special dates on the near horizon? Her birthday, perhaps, or... the anniversary of her arrival?" He lays his hand over his heart and whispers devoutly, "'The day you walked into my life, everything changed.'" He's looking rather pleased with himself and enthused on Mr. Rex's behalf when the wizard's noise startles the smile clean off his face. He's on his feet the next moment.

"Sir?" Gable studies the Master's face and nearly reaches for the glass of water—no, the honeyed saltwater—then notices the blue dragon and her sharp, hooked claws. "Hey, I know you," he coos at her. "I saw you once before, when the wood described you to me. Yeah, it did. That's a sweet girl. This is Sapphire, isn't it?" He asks without glancing back at Maddox.

Not one to feel timidity around any creature great, small, or clawed (with the obvious logical exceptions) he offers the scent on his hand before attempting to show her a little affection. He does his best to ease her claws out of his master's lap with the other hand without upsetting the motherly apple cart too much. "You can stay there, sweet girl, but let's not claw him, huh? He's already got bit once. And beat up by the floor… but that wasn't a very fair match."

"It'll be coming up this spring, the anniversary of her arrival, I mean..." He says thoughtfully, considering all of Gable's suggestions. Even after claiming he shouldn't be the one to be giving romantic advice, they're all really good ideas. Given time, Maddox is sure he could have thought of at least some of it on his own, but given how distracted he generally is with Jon... and the uncertainty surrounding his future... there's a chance that wasting even a little bit of time could result in him losing her.

And that possibility is driven in starkly when he hears Jon's distress from across the room.

Like Gable, he's on his feet immediately, crossing the rug in far fewer strides than it would take most men. But the attitude in the room changes abruptly when the stable master discovers Sapphire clinging to her master's leg, digging claws into the wizard's soft, oversensitive skin without realizing it.

"Yep, that's her." Maddox responds, letting out a somewhat-relieved, somewhat-exasperated sigh. Leave it to the master's favorite pet to start upsetting the peace around here. "Normally she'll sleep with him, but she's not usually this clingy. She's smart though, probably put together that he's not feeling well."

Sapphire, despite her anxieties about her caretaker's wellbeing, basks in the attention Gable showers on her like a cat in a sunbeam. She sniffs his offered hand and confirms that he is, indeed, the source of the dog smell before gently taking his hand in her mouth. She doesn't bite with teeth, but she licks and nibbles his skin, memorizing the taste and smell of this weird man who she's never seen in the master's inner chambers. And yet here he is, so he must be important. Her claws curl around his fingers as she's pried away from Jon's thigh, but she doesn't mind, rolling over onto her side and stretching out her limbs and soft, feathery wings, baring the silvery blue scales of her underside in a request for belly rubs.

Maddox, meanwhile, has busied himself with checking on their wizard, since Gable has Sapphire occupied. He brushes sweat-slicked hair away from the man's face, checks the pulse in his wrist, rests the back of his hand against his warm forehead, counts breaths and considers the ease with which they come. Those in particular are somewhat faster, a little shallower over the past few minutes. The redhead grunts, stepping back, but he halts his retreat when he notices Jon stirring.

Jonathan makes another noise, this one still uncomfortable but less distressed, and his limbs shift in a half-hearted attempt at stretching before tired, red eyes start to crack open, just a sliver.

"Sure she understands. He's practically the love of your life, sweetheart, isn't he?" Gable admires the purity of such an attachment. Not only hers to Master Eris, but the bond forged between any natural animal and their chosen human because it transcends the need for a common language, physical resemblance, or even the alignment of morals. An animal can bite and you forgive it because it knows no better than its instinct; likewise a master may be particularly strict on a bad day, but all is forgiven when he is faithfully kind and just on the others. There is no lying, manipulation, or ulterior motive behind the affection in either direction. Companions need no explanation when you show up late for dinner: they're just happy you're there at all. And when your heart breaks and no human being could understand, they're a present comfort to sit with you through the wretched tears and cold silence.

Yes, miss Sapphire is a mighty important part of the healing process indeed, and she knows it. "He couldn't do it without you," he whispers only to her.

Gable relishes the honor of running his hand along her gorgeous underbelly scales. Jasper's are quite nice, too, but hers are as brilliant as her namesake and the feathers of her wings are as soft as silk. Honestly the urge to scoop her up for a cuddle is almost overwhelming, but he leaves her where she belongs. Perhaps some other time.

Although the next noise to break the quiet is less disturbing than the first the wizard uttered, it's no less startling, mostly due to the fact it arrives with all sorts of tiny movements that could be mistaken as writhing in pain. Gable straightens up with a horrified glance at Mr. Rex, then they watch together as life stirs in the wizard's eyes.

He can't tell whether they're in focus at all or even looking at them, but Gable's smile spreads nearly from one of his ears to the other. "Mornin', good looking." He keeps his tone soft, but with more voice to it than a whisper.

Jon stirs from his slumber and immediately regrets doing so. His eyes are dry, his head feels like it’s full of cotton, and everything, everything hurts. His mouth is dry too, and when he runs his tongue slowly over his teeth, what he tastes is the wet mustiness of damp wood. He grimaces at the realization of what that must mean, but decides that it’s a problem for later. For the time being, he brings his hands up to rub his eyes until tears well up and quench the dryness. But the process burns, and he ends up closing his eyes again anyway. The blue dragon at his hip, seeing an opportunity, creeps forward and licks the tear tracks on his cheeks dry.

“Saph…” His voice is rough, but she churgles a response anyway, and he rests the palm of his good hand on her back, between her wings.

“How are you feeling?” Comes Maddox’s ever-practical questioning. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Hm?” The wizard grunts, prizing his eyes open again, a bit wider this time. His gaze scans the room for a minute before landing on the redhead. It takes him a while to focus, and even then he needs another minute to process the question before slurring out his one word answer: “Why?”

“Oh, probably because you dropped like a sack of potatoes in an episode of arcane syncope all over Gable and then started running a fever so high we wondered if there would be much left of you when you woke up. If you woke up.” Maddox swallows, momentarily regretting his harsh choice of words, a distressed look crossing his face before being replaced by one of pure concern.

“Oh." Jon blinks, taking far longer than he should to process everything that’s been said. He’s present, but not keeping up with the conversation, or at least not well. The wizard makes another uncomfortable noise as a shiver grips his body for a moment, and he reaches clumsily for the blanket at his hips. “M’cold.”

“Anything else?” Maddox asks, softer this time while he helps his uncle adjust the blankets.

“Sore.” He sighs softly as sheets and quilt settle over his torso. “Head’s wrong.”

Gable watches quietly as their master wades through a heavy mental fog back into reality. It's a bit like seeing something being born, and he stays very still, afraid of moving wrong or knocking anything over to upset the moment. He leaves the questioning to Mr. Rex and chuckles in a mixture of relief and incredulity that the wizard doesn't recall any of the nightmare they all lived through.

Catching the chief of staff's look of regret, he reaches for Maddox to pat his shoulder and gives him a nod of reassurance. Take a breath. You're doing just fine. No one knows how to handle this sort of thing.

"Dehydrated, likely," he mutters when Master Eris describes his head as 'wrong', and reaches for the glass of regular water. If Master Eris can keep that down, then they can work up to the stuff the wood elf had mixed up. He hands the glass to Mr. Rex in order for him to hold it, should their master be too weak to do it himself. "I should tell Ms. Ari that he's awake. I said I wouldn't stay too long, anyway..."

He looks down at the wizard for a moment, torn between uttering several parting phrases or landing a kiss to the man's forehead. But nothing feels right—not especially that last one, though he's so glad to see him awake, it's more than tempting to shower him with some kind of affection. He settles on murmuring a few smiley words to Mr. Rex instead: "Tell him I wish him well. And that he's fired."

Maddox nods, taking the offered glass and testing its temperature before offering Jon a sip. He holds onto it, not because he thinks Jon is too weak to hold it, but because he’s well versed in how the words “slowly” and “careful” are typically received by a poorly wizard.

“Oh I’m sure that’ll go over well…” The redhead rolls his eyes, but still grins at the joke about telling their boss he’s been fired. He’ll wait until Jon is a little more lucid before doing so, of course. This barely-there version of him is the last person Maddox wants to banter with. At least he knows how his uncle is likely to react when he’s himself. This…? Not so much. “Ari should be in the kitchen about now, might even be on her way with lunch, actually."

He watches Gable go, partially to make sure he leaves through the correct door and not the one leading to the washroom, and partially because he regrets not asking him to stay. Despite the fact that most of the chaos of the past week has been due to his presence, he finds himself utterly unable to blame him for it. But when is life around a wizard not chaos? It had been… nice. Not shouldering the burden of taking care of Jon alone. Even sharing it with Ari sometimes felt like too much, because half the time he had to try and keep her nerves from fraying as well.

-

Ari, true to Maddox's word, is indeed in the kitchen when he estimates she should be. She stands near the sink at a chopping board, finely mincing a sweet potato. They don't grow well around Black Pine Crossing, and have a high chance of upsetting Jon's stomach if he consumes them too frequently, especially if they aren't prepared correctly, and so for him they are a treat reserved for very special occasions. Like escaping a potential brush with death.

The recipe is not, strictly speaking, on the list of approved meals. But the wood elf has been cooking for the man long enough that she has a good idea of what's safe and what's not. Minced, boiled, and mashed (must be all three, leaving out one step is just asking for trouble) sweet potatoes mixed with a little bit of rice porridge makes a tempting treat for the wizard. If he had the mental capacity to use the magic spoon she's been keeping apart from the regular kitchen utensils, she'd send it instead of going to all this trouble to make a special meal for him, but given how fragile he'd been all morning... best to make things as easy as possible.

-

Sure enough, as Jon sips his way through the glass of water, and then the salty honey mixture, he slowly begins to perk up. His mind clears, and he sits up a little straighter as Maddox fills in the details of what went on the night before, and how things have been faring this morning while he's slept. Sapphire has returned to her posting at his hip, kneading again but with a blanket folded beneath her claws to protect the skin of his thigh.

"Was Gabe here?" The wizard asks, brow furrowed as he has another sip of sweet and salty liquid. Despite the honey, it still tastes abhorrent. And because of the honey, the texture is abysmal.

"For a bit." Maddox admits tentatively, watching his master closely for his reaction. No words are immediately said, which worries him, but the fact that his face scrunches up in a grimace worries him more. "Jon?"

The older man's eyes have dropped shut again, and tears prick at the corners of them, quickly growing fat and full before rolling down his cheeks. But it isn't dryness this time that causes tears to fall: it's frustration. He hasn't been able to remember much of the past 18 or so hours, but the one thing he does remember, especially after Maddox's overview, is how much he needs Gable to know that none of this was his fault. He needs to talk to the man, needs to. But the one chance he had to explain himself, he didn't even have the presence of mind to recognize that he was even in the room, let alone say anything.

He should be better than this.

He lets out a shaky sigh as Maddox pulls him close, tucking his head against his shoulder. There's a high-pitched squeak that comes out at the end of that shaky sigh that has more frustrated tears falling. He can hear his nephew chattering softly, probably muttering meaningless platitudes, but he doesn't care to listen close enough to understand what's being said.

He feels too disgusting for that.

Gable greets the head cook with a continuation of his ear-to-ear smile. He waits for her to turn and read the good news in his expression before laughing softly and confirming: "He's awake and speaking a little. Still a bit cloudy an' all, but I think he'll be all right. You did so well guarding him through the night. You both did."

He inquires about the orange vegetable she's chopping so busily and asks for a taste of it in its raw form. It's quite good. Sweet and a bit earthy, like the grass he liked to chew as a boy. So long as Ariathel doesn't mind, he liberates a few rings of the peeled potato and snacks on them even while making his way into the dining hall for a real lunch.

Lorelei is already there at the table with Lee in her lap and the boy looks pleased as punch to be doted on by the young lady; he sends his father a grin and small wave of acknowledgement when they see each other and Gable returns both. He waits for Lee to wriggle down and join him on the other side of the table, but Lee does not come to him. His enthusiastic conversation with the girl continues through the meal. Gable watches closely; Lee does not look away from the maid even once. He does not check the room to see that his father is still nearby, either.

Soon their plates are empty. The girl stands and shepherds him away; Lee skips out the doors without a backward glance. Gable blinks.
.
.
.
.
"This is good," he tells himself and knows it's true. If only he could feel it.

-

For the next three days, Gable's work and craft consume his daylight hours and burn through his nights. When he isn't tending to the herd's needs, he takes his meals to the workshop, where he nibbles lightly between sawing and shaving, changing grits of sandpaper, stitching leather... Whenever he rests from his labors on Lee's birthday present, he takes a seat at the workbench and whittles a second project by the steady glow of candlelight.

If not for Mr. Rex's brief, daily reassurances that Master Eris has become increasingly more independent and determined to return to normalcy, Gable might not be capable of any concentration at all. But knowing that he will, eventually, need to speak to the wizard, to look him in the eye, to find the right words… he might build several more rocking horses before the waxing moon necessitates a meeting.

-

"How's the goat?" he asks the chief of staff on the fourth morning in the dining hall. As per the new routine, Gable checks in with Mr. Rex, greets Ariathel, and piles breakfast onto his plate in a double portion so as to avoid having to come back inside for lunch. The next step in the program is to make himself scarce as soon as possible in case Master Eris fancies a breakfast tea with the staff. Hopefully the noise and energy of the hall will ward off the recuperating wizard for at least a few more days, but it wouldn't surprise Gable if the man makes it a point to appear just to prove he's well.

All traces of the fever are gone by the next morning, though it takes another two days for Jon to recover the strength it took to fight it off, on top of trying to catch up on the rest he already needed. He ends up spending that time mostly asleep in various positions around his quarters: tucked in bed, sprawled on the sofa, folded impossibly small in his favorite armchair. Giving in to his body’s need for rest has finally allowed him to start healing as well. The bruises fade more quickly than anything else, but even his other injuries seem to heal with a supernatural speed, which could be attributed to any number of things. Ari claims it’s that he’s finally getting enough food and sleep. Maddox is adamant that the natural regeneration of his arcane reserves has something to do with it. Jon himself has begun to suspect the little dragon statuette has a healing enchantment burned into it, somehow.

Today, he is determined to make things as normal as he possibly can. So he gets up (on his own, mind), bathes himself head to toe, and gets dressed as the sun rises cold and pale above the snow that’s fallen the past few days. A nagging suspicion in the back of his head tells him he’ll need at least one nap today, but even in spite of that knowledge, he feels like a new man. He sure smells like a new man, at least. Gone is the odor of fever and sweat, covered now by his usual soap of juniper and wintergreen. Fresh, sharp, and clean.

Would that his bed smelled the same, but alas. He’ll have to convince Maddox to help him change the sheets, or do it for him. Ordinarily a little magic would be all it took, prestidigitation to get rid of the smell and the dirt… but not right now. He needs… it just needs done. The normal way, this time. Clean sheets. Clean blankets. Happy wizard. Happy dragons. Start fresh.

To her great irritation, he leaves Blackstaff behind as he steps out of his room for the first time in days, bundled in one of his soft, silky house robes, this one green trimmed with gold. His hair is still a bit damp as he heads down the stairs, but the chill is a welcome thing, now. It’s refreshing, it reminds him how it feels to be alive. Even the noise of breakfast in full swing isn’t as grating as it normally is. Maybe his head is still a bit fuzzy, but even so. He shambles over to where he sees Gable and Maddox chatting, his heart clenching as he’s reminded of the discussion he needs to have with the stable master. But breakfast is not the place for that and—

—did Gable just call him a goat?

“Mule, not a goat.” He corrects lightheartedly as he flicks Gabe’s ear before Maddox even has a chance to respond. “I carry more weight and I kick harder than a goat.”

The wizard doesn’t stick around after his sniped comment, though, and continues to his spot at the table, which has already been set with a steaming cup of herbal tea and a bowl of his usual paste. Someday he’ll convince Ari that sweet potatoes belong on the menu every day. Someday.

“As you can see,” Maddox finally responds once Jon has taken his seat. “He’s just about back to his old, ornery self. Thank you for your help while he was down, by the way. It definitely made it a little easier taking care of him having a third set of hands around.”

Gable's heart leaps into his throat—the wizard is here and he heard him.

The sting on his ear startles a laugh out of him and belatedly the joke catches up and draws out another chuckle, this time in relief. His chest is still thumping wildly, painfully, flooded with a stupidly disproportionate dose of adrenaline as he turns to watch the back of the wizard saunter away. It isn't until Master Eris has taken his seat and his glowing, happy face comes into view that the surreality breaks. He's back.

"Yes, I-I see that." He rubs his afflicted ear, then feeds himself a sweet scone to help soothe the nervous furnace in his belly. It does very little to help. "A couple hours of keeping you company and blotting his forehead is nothing, Mr. Rex. Nothing." He tears his gaze from their employer to give Maddox a sincere smile, a smile that contains regret that any of this happened to begin with, then excuses himself and heads for the exit.

He leaves the room as quickly and discreetly as possible, but not before pausing at the edge of the door to look back fondly at the head of the table. Smiles and greetings surround the wizard and distract him from looking in this direction, so Gable lingers. That robe is his favorite so far.

-

The workbench seat squeaks beneath his weight a short time later and his breakfast remains largely uneaten, pushed aside to make room for a large, handsome pair of nautical bookends.

Each end features a simple ninety degree base of solid wood upon which the unrefined shapes of a single helm and an anchor lean on either side, waiting patiently to be sanded and oiled. He stares at their dull finish now with his chin in his hand, imagining different ways to embellish them when they've matured past the roughing stage. A border along the base in the shape of sailors' knots, perhaps? A line of schooling fish? Rolling waves?

Illustrated library books stand just beyond the wooden models, proudly displaying pictures of merchant ships and seaside markets: inspiration and reference material. He pulls one closer to himself and browses one page at a time without absorbing very much.

Soon it will be time for the wizard to inspect his work for magical residue. Gable has wavered passionately between wanting and dreading the moment, but the feeling abated so long as Master Eris was unavailable; now it grips him once again and he's sure of the outcome he would prefer.

The rocking horse in question is rendered with realistic proportions and might resemble gentle Arvak in more ways than one. It strikes a trotting pose on the floor somewhere behind Gable and to his left and its body is polished to a brilliant sheen. The toy has everything a horse should have: a beautiful miniature halter and reins, a fine saddle with a deer hide pad, stirrups. But no mane or tail. A trim off the end of a pony's tail would do the trick nicely, but he wouldn't dream of asking for it. Perhaps his one-armed ripped tunic could be cut into strips, dyed, and braided... He sets the book down and takes up his scoop knife to finish hollowing out the anchor's ring.

He should have said something to Master Eris in the dining hall. It's been days since they've spoken (and even longer since it was coherent both ways) but he couldn't even find the words to greet him. To tell him he's looking well, or how much it means to see him that way. The wizard would probably brush off such a sentiment with a flippant remark, pretend he never fell off the horse to begin with, but Gable would have meant it with his whole being.

There's no productivity to be had in the workshop with his mind a million leagues away, so he pushes up and heads for the house, taking his uneaten breakfast with him to throw it to the birds. They deserve every charity in this white wasteland.

Jon fully expects to have his ear talked off during breakfast, and true to form that’s exactly what happens. He does his best to accommodate the questions and well wishes as he always does.

Yes, I’m feeling quite a bit better, thank you for asking.

So sorry for causing such a fuss, it really wasn’t a serious thing in the end.

Just needed to catch up on some rest is all, you know how busy this time of year gets.

No, I’m certainly not planning to do that again anytime soon.

Needless to say, the second his bowl is clean and his teacup empty, the wizard is more than ready for a little seclusion. He stands up and heads for the door, continuing his polite interactions with his concerned employees as they crop up, until Maddox snatches his arm up as he passes (he makes sure to grab the uninjured one; even if the other one is now free of the sling and splint both, it’s still heavily bandaged, more to remind the wizard not to be foolish about overusing it than anything else). Jon’s gaze snaps to that of his chief of staff, and they share the same serious expression.

“Whatever you’re planning to do today, please… take it easy. Don’t overexert yourself now that you’re finally upright again.” Maddox swallows audibly after his plea, refusing to release his hold until the wizard nods his assent. It’s not a promise, but it’s the best he’ll get today. He knows it’s been hard on Jon, being cooped up this long.

As much as the redhead would want him to, Jonathan cannot stay indoors today. He scoots back upstairs to grab his boots, knowing that if he tries to go outside barefoot there will be multiple people yelling at him when he comes back inside, or even before then if he gets caught. He can see it now, Maddox, halfway out a window, shouting at him to get himself back inside and put on some blessed shoes for goodness sake. Best to avoid the confrontation and just bear with the discomfort upfront. He’ll only be going out for a few minutes, anyway. Maybe.

Feet booted up and a fur-lined cloak across his shoulders, the wizard steps out into the chilly winter morning. Gone is the slushy half-snow of several days ago, and the grounds lay blanketed in white. The walking paths have all been tamped down, not clear of snow but packed in such a way that the surface is relatively flat and one doesn't have to expend much more energy to traverse them than they might ordinarily without the snow, and so it doesn't take long for Jon to find his way to the barn.

It's quiet, and there's no sign of Gabe around, so he helps himself to what he needs, unlatching the clip on Frost's stall and slipping quietly in. The stallion's ears perk immediately, and he gently presses his head against Jon's chest, making the wizard chuckle.

"I missed you too, friend." He whispers, stroking the horse's nose while feeding him carrots pilfered from the kitchen, after which the two are content to simply stand in the warm barn basking in each other's presence. Frost demands that his face be held, once he has verified that his master is indeed on the mend, and although it makes his arms tired, Jon doesn't dare complain. It puts him in the optimal position to bury his nose in the stallion's forelock, right between his ears.

Gable floats from room to room with no urgency, taking comfort in the warmth of the house while trying to calm his nerves. Master Eris could be around any corner at any moment and he still hasn't settled on any single version of a speech in which he apologizes, accuses, and begs forgiveness as serenely as possible. He's beginning to suspect there is only way to do this: the honest way, in the moment, straight from the heart, and without a filter. Telling him exactly what's on his mind. That's what the wizard has asked of him all along, isn't it?

When Gable's search of the house turns out fruitless, he decides against bothering Mr. Rex and figures their master has simply had enough socialization for one day. Probably back in his room, taking it easy. One can only hope.

The wood crafting muse is dead for the day, he's sure of it, and so he returns to the barn where Lorelei can track him easily should Lee need him. Or, dare to imagine it, want him. They'd been treating the bedroom as a play stage and he wouldn't want to intrude on the space, even if lying down for a short time would do him good.

A whiff of juniper and wintergreen greets him at the barn door and it only takes a few deep breaths to confirm the scent is very fresh. His heart leaps. Pulse quickens. He proceeds to follow the trail in virtual silence down the aisle until he can make out the soft rustling and gentle voice coming from Frost's stall.

When he comes to the stall door, he has a playful mule-related quip at the ready to fire (he's been working on it since breakfast) but it fades from his mind upon seeing Master Eris in such a vulnerable and candid pose with his steed. It's a... sweet moment. A sincere, intimate, lovely display of friendship and deep affection wrought by years of connection. Years of trials, obedience, and loyalty. Years of establishing that transcendental, unspeakable, unshakable, incomparable bond between man and beast.

Something aches and Gable knows it's a wrong kind of feeling, something that he has no right to feel in such a short time, but simply knowing that it doesn't belong to him doesn't make the feeling stop. Later he might recognize the jealousy for what it is but in the moment, it feels like having cold water poured on his beating heart.

"He missed you." He's gentle in breaking the silence and puts forth great effort to manufacture an expression that neutralizes the bitterness he tastes. Really he wants to shout, though he doesn't know why or what he would say, only that it would well up and burst out and once it started, it wouldn't stop until he'd emptied himself and cleaned out every hidden thing, every needy thing, every part that demands someone finally see him and hear him and maybe care so much about him that he can feel it even when he's alone, under the ridicule of his own demons: "Someone cares for me, so it doesn't matter what you say. Shut up." But some other part of him has an inkling that he's already got that. All of that. Or at least the fragile beginnings of it, which will break if he demands too much before his time. Before he earns it. If he's too honest. So he remains soft and, at worst, a touch melancholy, and leans his shoulder to the stall door. "We all did."

Frost hears Gable's entry before Jon does, unsurprisingly. His head is still clouded enough by tiredness that it takes the stallion's ear turning toward the barn door for him to register the stable master's approach. He doesn't recognize his footsteps by heart, yet, but there are only a few people who frequent the barn this time of year, and he can pick out Maddox's gait from crowd with no problem. The wizard stays put, however, just standing quietly and holding Frost while he waits for the younger man to break the silence.

"I am... deeply sorry for the distress I caused." Jon responds, after some thought. He hasn't looked at Gable yet, but finally does once he's able to convince Frost that poll scratches are just as acceptable as head-holding. He isn't sure what to make of the mix of emotions he sees in Gabe's face, though what shows on his own is pure, melancholic regret. "I want you to understand that what happened was no fault of yours. It was my own stubbornness and willful ignorance that landed me on the floor... and in bed for several days after... I chose to push when I should not have, and I ended up paying the consequences for it. And you did too, in a way. You, Maddox, Ariathel, everyone else too. I really ought to be better about considering that. I should know better."

He drops his gaze to Frost's hooves, studying the little dark patch that always grows on the inside of the front left, just so that he doesn't have to meet Gabe's eyes. He doesn't want to see the anger and betrayal he expects will be there. He had trusted the wizard as a teacher, even if it was just for minor guidance and not a formal education, and then Jon had gone around and immediately set a horrible example. He wouldn't blame the man for calling him all sorts of things, incompetent and foolish among them. He wouldn't blame him for wanting to leave, either, for wanting to find a better, more experienced tutor.

"How are your barriers holding up?" he asks softly, almost afraid of the answer he'll get.

As the wizard's speech progresses, Gable's mouth softens into a sympathetic dip and his gaze drops away to mirror his mentor. The words sound good. They sound right. Even the tone is right, and everything inside of him wants to accept the apology and move forward—get back on the trail and blaze on—but it's a little difficult to trust that Master Eris means every word of it when he knows this is far from the first time Mr. Rex and Ms. Ari have wrung their hands for the wizard's sake. But one has to consider why this keeps happening, and given what he's learned about the man and his patterns so far…

"Mr. Rex had begged you to rest before we went to town. He even had tears in his eyes, but you were bent as a bad arrow to get me that muzzle and find a way to mail my letter. …So I think in a way, it was my fault. I'm the one who should've known better than to ask another favor. To know you'd do something stupid for me and put me ahead of yourself 'cause you knew I was hurtin' and in need. Whether it's taking on a man with a child or feedin' the hound who bit you, you don't think about the consequences 'cause they don't matter to you. You just work out of your heart without your head sometimes." He looks up with the beginning of a forgiving and even admiring smile tugging at the corners of his lips, lending soft light to his eyes. "None of us wants you to change, sir. Just to take care of yourself, too, once in a while."

As for the shields he explains, "They're not so heavy as the first ones, but I sorta like that. After… after getting used to hearing your magic on the grounds all the time, and on your person, I think it…" The words get caught in his throat as it tightens with emotion. He looks to the ceiling above Frost's stall, where a spider who survived his cleaning rampage several days ago sits cozily in its nest. The wind pushes against the barn until the structure pops a few times. A deep sigh from his belly helps just enough to get him through the next sentence. "I reckon I would've been in a much worse state if I couldn't hear it at all," he finishes quietly. His gaze settles heavily on the wizard again.

"I don't do it intentionally, I hope you understand." The wizard sighs, knotting his fingers in Frost's mane. He wants to explain the whole thing. Every source of frustration that fuels each decision he makes to put others first, every word drilled into his being that brands him as less , that makes sacrifice his first instinct. But he doesn't need Gable's pity. He doesn't need to know those parts of him. Maddox knows those parts. Ari knows a few. But there is still so much that they don't understand about any of it.

"In a way, heading into town was taking care of myself, just more in the long term and less so the short." He huffs and gives the cremello stallion's nose a gentle shove as he gets a little too aggressive searching for more carrots. "You can't help what happened to you, Gable. Fitting that muzzle was the best chance we had at a peaceful full moon until you mentioned the cure, and Blackstaff wouldn't have let me rest until that was sorted in either direction regardless. What happened afterward was... a combination of factors you should never have to be aware of, let alone consider beyond that. I'm sorry that you had to witness my bad decision making in action. And no offense meant, but you barely know me, Gable. There was no way you could have known my limits or what I would have done after you asked for those things. I... hope that will not prevent you from coming to me with your concerns in the future."

The wizard shakes his head, and gives Frost one last pat before stepping toward the stall door. The stallion is starting to get pushy, even knowing his master's fragile state, and after the week he's had Jon isn't keen to take chances with that. As much as he would love to stay in the stall, he reluctantly unclips the latch and steps back out into the barn aisle.

"I'm glad it's to your taste, I suppose." He lets out another sigh, his tone tinged with regret, and he winces, hearing the sentence tacked on the end of Gabe's answer. It worked out in the end, but he would have rather given Gable the opportunity to determine how heavy the shields were himself than force him into something lighter just because he didn't have the stamina to build something more substantial. "It'll make it easier when you learn to build your own if you know the feel of what you want."

Gable blinks at being reminded that they are, essentially, still strangers to each other. "I might not know you, but I know the look of a beat man when I see it," he mutters a little sulkily, and steps aside to allow Master Eris to exit the stall.

He says nothing to the invitation to bring his future concerns to the Master's desk, though his doubtful expression might say it all. Once he has the cure, and so long as Lee doesn't break down the current set of mental barriers, then it should be a long time before he needs anything else that he can't provide for himself. Then he can make himself less of a burden on the wizard—and Mr. Rex's nerves.

Gabe sighs and scrubs both hands through his hair. "Maybe I won't have to learn. Lee's been real happy lately, so he hasn't bothered to test them. He's found a friend in that little lady, Lorelei." A shadow passes over him as he thinks about it, but he clears his throat and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Pivoting with his next breath he goes on, "I've just about finished his birthday gift. Turned out all right, I think. But I don't want you poking at it til you're sure you'll survive the encounter... Heaven knows if it's loaded with bad energy or what. I wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind while makin' it." He picks up a broom to excuse himself from eye contact. "You ought to head back, Master Eris, before that fever can get a grip on you again."

Jon tries not to let it show in his expression just how much Gable's subtle rejection of his offer of help hurts. There's a small, fragile part of him that wants to curl up and weep, right here in the barn aisle, right in front of Gabe. But there's a bigger, tougher part that has been hardened by years of public service, that makes him swallow his emotions and nod pleasantly. He exists to serve, and if his services are unwanted, that is not for him to dispute.

"We can certainly hope." He gives the man a sympathetic smile, hiding his hurt behind the veneer of a practiced neutrality. "The offer still stands if things change. Personally I think it is still a good skill to have, especially seeing as someone will need to teach Lee, eventually."

"I'm glad you've had a chance to do some carving." The wizard says slowly, his smile dissolving as the feeling of ineptitude rises up yet again. It makes him feel young in the worst way possible, like he's back in that tent on a barren battlefield, Eswell towering over him with poison in his words and a hard slap across the face.

"Twenty men died today because you hesitated!"

"I'm sorry! I was tired, my mana was running out, I--"

"No. No excuses. Do you see that stick, that one that elevated you to a position far beyond what you should have ever had? As long as you land your strikes, she will keep your fires fed. Catch their spells and use their mana to fuel yours. That's why you're here. To be her conduit, nothing more. Now don't hesitate next time. If you burn out, it will have been for a good cause."

Jon offers a weak smile, tamping down those awful memories. Gable is right. He ought to go inside and rest. That's probably why he's feeling so fragile and unstable at the moment. He's tired. Just tired. That's all. A nap on the sofa in the library is sounding awfully good right about now, and it would give him a chance to escape the confines of his boots.

"Of course. You're right. I am... fairly certain the fever won't be back at this point, but that doesn't mean I should be pushing my luck. I do seem to be woefully short on it of late." He grips the edges of his cloak and tightens it around him, but the chill he feels as he reluctantly turns back toward the house isn't from the wintery air or even the mention of another fever. "I'll be around whenever you're ready for me to take a look at that carving work of yours."

Gable makes a quiet noise of agreement; yes, Lee will need to learn eventually. And Gabe doesn't disagree that he should learn it for himself, too (and even has the desire to do so) but… No matter how it had happened or what intention led them to it, trust has, regretfully, been broken. Until he stops reliving the thump against his back and the clatter and the panic and the nightmare… he can't imagine sitting in that chair again: teeth clenched, shoulders tight, just waiting for that haunting sensation of Master Eris leaving the room even while his slack body remains.

Gently he replies, "I think I ought to… take a break from accepting your offers for a little while, sir. Maybe just do my job. Start earning my keep." And Mr. Rex's friendship, he hopes, which certainly can't be wrought by taking advantage of his uncle's generosity the moment he's barely back in the land of the living.

"It kept my mind busy," he says about the carving. A little smile creeps up when he thinks of the unfinished bookends that have turned out quite handsome, despite being executed in a state of distress. The muse stirs again. He'll finish them this afternoon, he decides, with steady hands and focused intention so they'll be ready when Master Eris is feeling strong enough to check the pony.

"We've got a couple of days yet." He props the broom against the wall for a moment to help Master Eris gather the cloak about his shoulders. It reminds him of the time not long ago when the wizard returned to the barn with a steady stream of blood rushing down his neck, looking so pleased with himself and then so annoyed as Gable tied him up with his own shirt. He gives the wizard's shoulder a squeeze in place of the embrace he'd like to give him; it helps a little. He feels solid. Alive. Whole. "Rest well, sir."