Larksong Grotto fredonman

"dat way be redtail rise, led by avicus. certainly dey be havin' a healer." she worked over the man who was fast asleep, changing his dressings and making sure no pus had collected.
"but if you be trustin' yourself, den i will be on de way." she laid out what she had brought; bright; breathless; touched by the scent of the strange man she had met on her way.
she had been gone some hours. mireille sought to exchange a look with @Kelsier. "i be stayin' de night."

Kel was somehow more somber than usual by the time Erzulie returned. It was a large burden he had taken onto his shoulders, one he wasn't sure he wanted now that he'd spoken to Lestan. Erzulie, meanwhile, seemed revived by her short trip and ready to wash her hands of the situation.
He wasn't sure he could handle it without her. Sure, he knew the solutions to some problems, but he didn't know at all how to spot those problems. He wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Lestan being tired and Lestan dying. Or would he? Kel was torn.
I have it handled, Kel decided finally. His name is Lestan Mayfair. He's from Swiftcurrent Creek. If you could mention it to anyone you meet, that'd be great. He's uh, out of it. We talked. Didn't make much sense. Getting him home should be fun.

mireille chuckled. "you have been busy, kel." this time her tone was approving. "if we can keep him alive t'rough de night, he will be on his way to a better recovery, i t'ink." the fact that he had been up and talking at all was a miracle in itself.
amusement tickled her features. "what did he say?" she asked out of curiosity, crossing the small space to sit near kel with a sigh of tiredness.

What didn't he say? Kelsier considered how best to answer her question. Like I said, didn't make much sense. Kept talking about something - or someone? Called Reverie, He wasn't sure how to say that he thought it might be a deer. A fictional deer? Or a fictional god.
A fictional deer-god.
His brain was breaking. It was weird. Hope it's just the fever. Think he might've hit his head, though, Kel was pretty sold on that idea. A deer had kicked him and knocked all the sense out of him, so that he'd found a cougar and tried to talk to it and ended up here. That was the official story.

mireille grunted at that. "be careful, kel. someone dat crazed might bite." but this stranger, this lestan mayfair, lay sleeping and solemn now, almost boyish.
the red seawolf groaned, stretching her aching body with its odd simmering out upon the ground. quietly she considered kel again, kel of the birch bark eyes and the reticent manner.
why did she look at him so? mireille shut her eyes and yawned.

Kel nodded. He's harmless. Just confused, Was he assuring Erzulie or himself? It didn't matter much in the end, he supposed. Abandoning the man just wasn't an option.
He felt Erzulie's eyes on him again, and this time he actually looked at her and saw that her gaze was not critical at all. Kel felt himself warming with sudden nerves. Why was she looking at him like that? Tired? He asked as she closed her eyes and yawned, shifting a little bit away from her without quite realizing it. I can watch him. If she slept, she wouldn't look at him like that, and so he clung to the notion. Kel himself would not sleep, not tonight. He would watch Lestan until first light, and then he would hunt.

tired. no. "yes, t'ank you."
gracefully as she could, mireille folded her forelimbs close to her chest and lay down. this unfamiliar world. the unfamiliar terrain. she tapped her tail against the ground, now restless.
she had never slept before without the sound of the sea, at least not that she could remember. and now she lifted her head, and stared around, and stood again, pacing. "i wonder why he be all de way out here." hunting? ranging? mireille wanted to distract herself.

As soon as he said it, she didn't seem tired at all. Kelsier resigned himself to the reality that he would never understand women, and the realization that he could not avoid conversation. Said he was looking for a god. Said Reverie was bleeding, He sighed. Hope he didn't leave some poor woman bleeding to death somewhere. Might be a deer though. Might not be real at all.
Kel moved closer to Lestan, studying him again as if he might find answers in the shredded form of him. None were forthcoming. He needs help. Even if it's the fever talking. Seen enough traumatized wolves to know what it does. Long-term. He grimaced at the memories. Hope Swiftcurrent Creek has some good counselors.

bleeding. god. crazed. mireille snorted uncharitably. better to die than live like that. but her eyes became less hard when she looked at the sleeping man. "i hope he can get back to t'ose he loves."
reverie meant many things. she would never know what it was for him.
an inhale; mireille sat down again. "what a day."

Can say that again, Kelsier chuckled quietly. But he agreed with Erzulie's sentiment, and ultimately that was why he had committed himself to this. He knew what it was like to lose a loved one. Sometimes he thought about those he'd loved at Willowspire, wondered if they were alive, wondered if they thought him dead.
Whoever Lestan had left behind, Kel did not want to leave them to wonder like that. Told him I'd get him home. Settled him, I think. Maybe that's what he needs. Home. Kel sought Erzulie's gaze for the first time. Be careful out there. When you go. Don't end up like him.

did he know why she was going? again a contemplative, appraising look, and then mireille sank down to her belly again. "i have no choice but to be careful."
what did a man know of what a woman faced?
his eyes; they held her own
her eyes; they desired for a second, stroked across his cheek. and then she lay her head down, turning toward their patient should he wake in the next few hours.

He should have said more. He almost did. Kel almost started to tell her about The Evergarden, about paradise founded on the idea that men left unchecked could only bring destruction. And it worked. It really was perfect, utopian, elysian, everything — and he could never return.
So he said nothing. He turned back to Lestan when she did, and told himself to close that box and restore the locks. It was not good for him. He was not any less a person than her. He was not unworthy. Kel would spend the dark hours of the night repeating this mantra to himself, and when the sun started to rise, he departed to hunt. He returned feeling more like himself, more like the Kelsier he had built up at Willowspire through so much time and counseling and love. But not quite. Not fully.
He knew he would think about Erzulie long after they parted ways for the last time.