Backdated to May 2
When Julian arrived, Dering was covered in a strange white powder that immediately assaulted his nose. He coughed, but that only agitated the air and sent more into his lungs. He immediately covered his mouth and squinted his eyes, but it was hard to see through the dense, dry air.
It was like fog, but worse.
Julian had learned to deal with the cool dampness and the lack of visibility. Sometimes the wetness made him cough but never like this. Even with his mouth covered, it took a few seconds for him to get control over himself.
By now, he knew the layout of the clearing fairly well, so he hurried towards the stairs beneath the great tree with his eyes almost completely shut. The steps were sticky and he almost slipped, and while it wouldn't have been the first time he tumbled down them, he managed to catch himself this time. In the first room, just a little down the hall and behind a closed door full of Cyril's old instruments, he stored many of his supplies--useful for gardening, or more recently observing the fish eggs in the river.
The air was earthy down here, but clear, so he drew in a great breath--and promptly coughed for a few seconds while shuffling towards the box where he kept his goggles. He hadn't used them often, but it was the only way to actually look into the river, and it was the only thing he could think of to protect his eyes. He knew he looked silly but he didn't know what was going on and was determined to find out.
He scrubbed his face with his sleeve before putting the goggles on, and he tied his hair back. A trail of white powder followed him into the storage room, so he grabbed a broom and swept it out, but it felt like a problem he should solve later. He didn't have a mask but he put that on the list of things to bring for next time. For now, all he could do was, with great regret, tear the ribbons from his hat and fasten them into a mask he could wear.
Julian called for Cyril but there was no response.
He went back outside and called again, but there was still nothing.
Living in a perpetual state of worry, Julian was used to the unfamiliar twisting in his stomach, but this felt different. Worse. He didn't know what to do and he couldn't find Cyril to find out.
The powder covered the ground, and the trees, and a little bit of everything he could see. It was like pollen, but he'd never seen anything like this on Dering.
Cyril was not by the roseberries, which again had been spared the worst of the anomaly thanks to where they'd been safely tucked away in the roots of an enormous tree. Cyril was also not by the river, which Julian ran to. He felt some relief though, because the strange powder was sparser, and not even covering most of the trees. And, more importantly, the water--though cloudy--was clear enough that he could see the fish eggs.
He called to Cyril to no avail, and checked the video recording the river to try and find any significant event.
Two days ago, the camera had gone dark for a few hours, and then slowly it had faded to a grey haze, and then finally cleared up, but Julian still had no idea what was going on.
Electricity clawed its way across his skin, but as the unease crept deeper, he stopped thinking about it. A familiar, almost comfortable, numbness washed over him. The rock in his stomach was present, but became lighter, and his mind stilled.
Julian focused on the facts.
- Strange dust was covering Dering.
It stung his eyes and hurt to breathe.
It didn't sink into the river, but seemed like it was carried away by it.
Cyril was gone, or at least preoccupied.
None of that was bad. But he still needed answers.
Julian shifted his lute so that it rested on his back. He walked back towards the clearing, to where the powder was more dense. Touching it seemed like a bad idea, but without a good idea...
He swiped his finger across a well coated leaf, and then pinched it between index and forefinger.
It was sticky, but dry, and itchy. It didn't smear, only spread.
Before every trip to Dering, he packed a few necessities, and today he'd packed his lunch into subspace rather than with a lunchbox. He pulled out a water bottle and opened it with one hand, pouring the water over his fingers, and--
It dissolved. Instantly.
Okay. So Dering just needed a good rain, probably. Hopefully.
He returned to the roseberries, flushing them with water, and they cleared up immediately. He could see no damage to them--they were taller by double almost since his last visit, and had new leaves budding. The smallest of the three looked a little sad, so Julian took a few extra moments to check on it before moving onto the next plan.
There was no way he could get enough water to dissolve the powder, but he fetched the watering can and tried a few things. In every instance where he poured the water, the plant seemed unharmed.
Just...dirty.
But Cyril was still nowhere to be found, and after an hour dedicated to searching for him--to visiting the shrines they'd mapped out, to following the safe paths, to circling the perimeter as far as Cyril told him he could go.
His options were dwindling, and the the pressure in his throat rivaled that in his stomach.
The tickle in the back of his throat was more like a scratch, like something horrible was slowly crawling its way up from deep inside of him.
He was going to throw up.
Though he wracked his brain for any other option, it felt like only one path was left.
He needed to talk to the Code.
He hadn't been to its chamber in months, and he had always assumed that's what it preferred. It had never spoken to him, and despite how often he'd visited, or asked--begged--it for guidance, he had received only silence.
Julian couldn't blame the Code. He wasn't a very good Knight. Or a very good person. Or a very good anything.
Especially compared to Cyril, who had so many stories, and who had actually studied to be a Knight. Who had guarded this forest for a thousand years, long past his death.
If he could have avoided it, Julian wouldn't have even humored the thought of bothering the Code. He didn't want to annoy it, and if it had rejected him already, it had no reason to respond now.
He was more disappointing than ever.
But Cyril was missing, and something strange was happening to Dering, and Julian had worked himself into a quiet fit before he'd even made it to the Code's hidden chamber.
Julian removed his goggles despite the way the air stung his eyes even down here, and he put his hat in subspace temporarily. He smoothed his clothes and brushed off what he could, and fixed his hair.
He knocked, stupidly, knowing it wouldn't grant him entrance, and then quietly slipped through the door.
The Code was a bright, pulsing ball of light--vibrant and alive. It gave no indication of sickness, nor did the walls of flowering vines.
Julian tucked his shoulders in and bowed his head as he shuffled in, but no amount of shrinking made him feel any less exposed in front of the magical orb. "Hello, sorry," he mumbled, approaching like he expected the Code to explode if he got too close. "I don't mean to intrude. I hope you're doing well."
The Code did not respond, so Julian cleared his throat and said, "There is, um, something strange happening on Dering right now. I was hope you knew where Cyril was?"
He was met with an expected, but disappointing silence.
But Julian waited. He stood perfectly still, sans the uncontrollable fidgeting of his fingers and anxiety flooded him
Neither he, nor the Code spoke. It wasn't a contest, Julian just didn't wan to talk over it--not that it was saying much.
A moment passed and he asked, "Please?"
And silence, again.
But Julian waited one minute, then two, then five. Every second ticked on and felt more crushing than the last.
Julian had done a good job of stomaching his fear until now, but if Dering was in danger, if the Code wasn't going to help--why? Why?
He was here, trying. Doing his best. Something wasn't right but he didn't know what. He had no memories to guide him, no books to read, nothing.
Was this punishment? Would it listen if he brought Lysithea here? Or would it tell her how awful he was and spend the whole time outlining his every flaw in such detail that she decided she couldn't stand the sight of him anymore?
Oh, he wasn't helping. He knew he wasn't helping. His pulse was erratic and his skin was hot. Standing still was easy externally, but internally, it was a storm.
"I don't know what to do. I'm worried about Dering. I'm worried about Cyril. It's not like him to to be gone like this."
And--
Silence, again.
Julian couldn't call this a waste because doing so seemed so disrespectful, but hope only had so many limits. He expected the Code piece would reject him, so he avoided it--and confirmation of it--at all times.
His heart was pounding in his chest so ferociously that he was getting dizzy, so it was a good time to leave.
"I'm sorry. I'll figure it out. Thank you," he said, and bowed quickly--too quickly, because a headache suddenly smacked into his head, but it didn't stop him. He stood up and left, closing the door behind him.
The panic was back. Prickling like embers on dried grass. The spark was going to be a blaze, and Julian was going to get caught in the fire.
It was going to consume him. He felt it coming.
A type of panic that he couldn't control without medicine, of which he brought none, because it only ever got this bad at night. He couldn't go home to get it. He wouldn't be able to come back for a week, unless he got Lysithea, and--
What would she think if she saw Dering like this?
Failure. Wrong. Disappointing.
He had to find Cyril.
He had to find Cyril.
He had to find Cyril.
Julian didn't make it out of the underground chamber before breaking into a run. He didn't know where to look.
No--he did. The parts of Dering he hadn't been to before. The ones that were dangerous. The ones only Cyril went to.
Something bad had happened, he knew it, and if Cyril needed help.
Julian nearly tripped on the stairs as he ran up them; he'd been so busy equipping the goggles and his hat-slash-pseudo-face-mask for the day that he wasn't looking where he was going, but he got up to solid ground, back to the hazy forest, and--
There was Cyril, standing a few yards away from the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and looking into the sky.
Julian froze. He stared.
His eyes felt more wet than before.
"Where did you go?" he asked, so desperate and panicked that Cyril startled before turning around.
"Julian," he greeted, but withheld his joy. He was too clever to carry on as if nothing had happened, and he took in Julian's appearance with moderate alarm. It wasn't just the outfit, but the heavy breathing, and the pale face, and the way his eyes were unfocused and red and very wet.
Cyril's brows furrowed in thought, and he watched Julian for a long moment. "What are you talking about? I've been here the whole time."
Time stopped, and Julian didn't know what to say. He replayed the day in his head, looking for cracks in his memory, but there were none. He couldn't argue with Cyril, but when he couldn't make sense of anything, he admitted, "I don't understand. I was calling for you. I've been looking."
Cyril's brows knitted together and his frown deepened. "I've been here the whole time," he repeated slowly. It brought Julian no comfort.
His head hurt, more than just a physical pain, but like each memory he tried to replay just scraped his brain.
"I--I don't--"
He didn't know. He already said that. Hadn't he? Had he told Cyril, or the Code?
Julian tried again, awkwardly approaching Cyril--who looked like himself. "I came here and saw all this white stuff, I got worried. And I couldn't find you. I went to the River, and the roseberries, and the Code. I was calling for you," he repeated, but his desperation was not accusatory. Just afraid.
Cyril understood the distance, so turned to face him. "It's alright. I'm here. Were you distracted by the fluffbugs?"
"The what?" Julian's mask was fogging over, too hot inside and too cold outside. He fought, and failed, to keep his lip from trembling.
"The fluffbugs. They look like little balls of dandelion fuzz." Cyril gestured vaguely. "It's mating season. And a mess. I was waiting for you to show up, I wanted you to see it."
Julian wanted to beg Cyril to believe him, to know that he'd been there, for hours. But he didn't want to argue. Just understand.
...But maybe it didn't matter.
Julian joined Cyril's side, and wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and tell him how worried he was, but his gut--still unsettled--told him it would be unwise. So he stayed quiet. Cyril had no body to embrace, so standing next to him was as close as he could get to it. "Is it poison?"
"No. Are you having an allergic reaction? That's common when their diets are inadequate."
"I don't know." Julian looked at Cyril's face and trusted him. He looked right. Sounded right. Carried himself right.
...But Julian was still afraid of him.
Or, more accurately, afraid of losing him.
Cyril nodded knowingly. He didn't push it. "Just take it easy, please. I worry about you."
"I was worried about you too." Julian's words tumbled out like a crack in the dam, small but with too much pressure.
Cyril raised his brow. "I'm fine, Julian. I promise."
"I know," Julian said. He'd have believed anything. Cyril could have told him that they'd been talking all morning and Julian would have just said yes. But he couldn't say that, and he wasn't even thinking much right now anyway. He just didn't want to upset anyone.
He didn't want to be a problem.
"But I was worried about you," he blurted anyway. "I was scared. Please don't do that again. Please don't go. Please."
The sudden raw emotions commanded Cyril's attention. Julian hadn't taken off the mask, but the wetness in his eyes was overflowing--falling, nearly.
And Julian cared more about making sure Cyril didn't leave than he was about hiding it.
Cyril wasn't used to such raw honesty. Julian wasn't, either. The process was draining on him, body and mind. He was trembling, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of Cyril. He was afraid if he blinked, he'd disappear again.
"Okay," Cyril answered, very slowly. "...I won't leave you, Julian. I'm sorry for scaring you."
Despite his best efforts, Julian sniffled. He was obviously ashamed of it, but when all his energy was directed somewhere else, it left cracks in his walls.
"Okay," Julian answered, but his voice cracked.
He'd feel stupid about this in an hour.
...But for right now, he was just relieved.
