Jason counts his breaths. In 2, 3. Out 2, 3. In 2, 3. Out 2, 3.

Jason woke up hanging from aching shoulders. The Outlaws had been investigating some disappearances in a small, isolated coastal town. He groans at his stupidity. A little girl had asked Jason for help, leading him to an alley. He doesn't remember anything past that, but the ache in his head tells him enough.

It takes way to long to realize he's been stripped naked. Possible concussion. He's been hung by his wrists between 2 big pillars. The ache in his shoulders indicates he's been like this a while. Of possibly even greater concern is the the Lazarus pit he's suspended over, the largest he's ever seen. Massive runic circles and praying cultists surround the pit.

The pit bubbles and frothy violently. A dark mist pooling and creating a dark starlight filled Vista across the ceiling. The impression of a face studies the mere mortals who dared summon it. Jason isn't scared. Somehow, this being, this god, is comforting. He gets the impression of the acceptance of inevitable death. The feeling of the grave enveloping him isn't choking on mud and claustrophobia, but like coming home....

Jason is crying. He wants to spend the rest of eternity with his king.

A thousand layered melody echoes in his head. Such beautiful pain. How could we deny such a treasure?

₊✩₊˚. 𓆩 A Study in Bats 𓆪 .⋆☾⋆₊✧ Have you ever tried to just will some bats to come to you? It's dusk, so the sky is darkening, the wind picks up, you see little silhouettes of bugs, and you wish… real hard… COME TO ME, BATS. It's ok if they don't come, you aren't speaking the right words. Try reading and stitching this book, A Study in Bats, and they'll come right to you.

I’m calling to you through the dark and the deep,

to ring through your heart and your bones in your sleep;

I summon the people of my heart to my side and my sight;

I call those who will delight in me and bring me delight,

those who will support and love me, bring out my highest and my best;

let them be true to me and worthy; leave the rabble for the rest.

may this spell harm only those who wish me ill;