#truelesson

Evening was falling slowly. The sky overhead (or what little of it could be seen among the dense canopy of the Woodlands) only just beginning to turn to a more golden hue. However, if the group keeps a steady pace, H’aanit assured them that they will reach Victors Hollow before night sets in properly.

Victors Hollow... Olberic’s next destination. Where he will find the black knight -  Gustav - who may know of Erhardt’s whereabouts.

The thought is something he tries not to dwell on.

And yet, as if Olberic needed something else to plague his wandering thoughts and unconscious mind instead, he finds himself still troubled by the sight, the feeling, left lingering in the Quarrycrest sewers where they had travelled from. It clung to him, much like the stench of blood did. (Both still feel like they cling to him, even). And it had illustrated to Olberic all too clearly that Cyrus may be in something well over his head. Something dangerous and occult... Though maybe he should have put that together sooner, considering the title of the book Cyrus seeks bears a title like ‘From the Far Reaches of Hell’.

Not only that, but Olberic could swear he has noticed a change in Cyrus. A strange distance in his eyes. One he could swear is familiar. He has tried many times to bring it up, and every time the words die on his tongue. Quietly, Olberic curses his inability to act accordingly over something so simple as asking a question, but the last thing he wants to do is pry.

Olberic slows his walk. He often ends up taking the lead, or even walking ahead at times, given his habit of walking at a marching pace. He slows right down until Cyrus gets closer, and he then continues at the scholar’s pace. Taking a breath, Olberic does not look at Cyrus as he quietly addresses him.

“ It--... ah... We are almost to Victors Hollow, 'twould seem. It... will be nice to sleep in a proper bed again, don’t you think? ”

Therion was known for waking up rather early, and had been simply checking in to make sure no one left in the middle of the night like he normally did (and to also remind himself that the group was safe). However upon attempting to pick the lock to Cyrus’ room, he found that it was unlocked. Odd. But perhaps he was in the inn’s library or simply forgot to lock the door. The professor could be scatterbrained after all.

The thief opened the door carefully, making sure he was quiet as he looked towards the bed to see just a piece of paper on it.

But no Cyrus.

Therion blinked, and walked towards the bed. It was then that he looked over the note. At least he had learned to read at a young age. That’s one bonus he had over other thieves.

As he read the note though, he realized that it was clear that the professor was doing something stupid.

Something stupid that could get him killed.

The thief swore under his breath and stuffed the paper into one of his pockets. He returned to his room to grab his weapons and the apothecary outfit that he had been given by Alfyn. If Cyrus was dying by the time he reaches him, he’ll need healing abilities. And he didn’t have time or the energy to bother Ophilia for quick cleric lessons.

Besides, the apothecary outfit brought less attention to him funnily enough. Likely because people didn’t expect an apothecary to steal things from him and thus, ignored him.

As he headed outside of the inn, he left a message to the others with the innkeeper as he looked for anyone that may have seen the professor leave. There were a few people, and Therion quickly got the information he needed by offering to buy them a drink if they told him where a scholar went if they had seen him. Once he had the information and paid for the drinks for the guys he left, and went looking for the wayward party member. A ways into the forest he found himself following the same footsteps that Cyrus had taken just before. Into a less traveled part of the forest. 

Why was he going this way?

It was one hell of a walk by the time he reached a clearing, and he was still looking at the ground as he got through the trees and plants in the way.

Blood. The smell hit him hard. It was almost dizzying. But he looked away from the ground and towards the source. That black robe...

Cyrus.

Oh fuck.

Therion only paused to look about the clearing, searching for whatever may have caused this. It was early morning and he hadn’t heard fighting, so whatever it was may be gone now. Or whatever it was happened to be in that cave that’s under that tree...

No. He needed to leave. With Cyrus preferably. Or at least he needs to get far enough away from this area and treat the other’s wounds so he’ll survive.

Therion knelt down, making sure he wouldn’t make too much noise retrieving Cyrus. Upon reaching him, he took a quick glance over the wounds and pressed two fingers to the scholar’s neck. It was weak, but there was a pulse. That settles it then. He needs to get Cyrus and himself out of here.

Therion looked up towards the cave, squinting to see if he could spot whatever had attacked Cyrus. But he couldn’t see anything. So he turned his attention back down to the professor and grabbed the bandages he had brought with him. He had to get the cloak off first, and he just wrapped the bandages over the clothing to act as a temporary covering for the wounds, but he was soon ready to try to drag Cyrus far away enough from here so he can set up a camp of some sort. After all, the walk had been long and there’s no way he’s getting back to the others before Cyrus dies.

If only Alfyn and Ophilia were here...

The thief shook his head, and lifted up the scholar as much as he could before beginning to drag him towards the forest. He had the man’s cloak draped over one of his shoulders too, mainly just in case he ran out of bandages so he could tear what remained of it appart into makeshift bandages.

He dragged him back to the side path he had went off of, and a bit farther before setting Cyrus back down and checking the pulse again. 

{THERION} ---- “First aid... Right. First aid... How did that spell go...”

He normally wasn’t this panicked, but these had to be some of the worst wounds he’s seen. Magical burns, deep wounds... And so much more. How the hell was this guy even still alive?! Therion shook his head, and got to work with replacing the bandages and getting what remained of the man’s shirt off so he could clean the wounds and bandage th-

Nevermind. He’ll need stitches too. Great. First Aid wasn’t going to heal this all on it’s own.

Therion swore to himself as he went back into the pack to get the stitching kit that Alfyn had insisted that he carried about, and made a mental note to thank the man later for giving it to him. He’ll need to work on the gashes and bleeding wounds first to stop the other from bleeding out. Then he’ll get working on a salve for the magic injuries... Though he might have to make a fire first if this takes all day...

Therese had made it to the professor’s side as soon as she could, upon receiving Ophilia’s letter. It was a relief to see Cyrus awake, considering he had fought the fallen god. She had a bunch of books in her inventory, even though she promised Cyrus that she would remain in Atlasdam to work on her studies; she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding that would only fade if she checked on the professor.

“Professor Albright, I am so glad that you are safe. Miss Clement wrote to me, saying that you had been injured fighting a fallen god in the Hornburg ruins. I just had to make sure that you were okay.” She said as she placed the books she had brought down. “I’ve brought you some of your favourite books, the academy sends their well wishes.” She added.

“ Is that so... ”

Cyrus mutters, his expression unreadable.

One eye twitches as he stares at his alternate, younger self for a few moments, before slowly opening the contents of the vial in his hand.

“ If anyone finds out you are watching me perform blood magic, they’d have my head. As you well know, I’m certain. ” The stench of blood soon fills the room, despite the size of the vial. (It can’t be too much, the vestal and the beast would figure out what he’s doing far too quickly, after all).

“ But if you think you can handle it, I won’t exactly stop you. So long as you promise to keep it between us, one Albright to another, yes? ”

Not that Cyrus’ name means anything to him anymore, but that is besides the point.

He begins to draw runes on the floor, trying to save as much of the blood as possible.

Visitors weren't terribly uncommon at the lab, but they were almost always young Pokemon trainers on their way to Celadon. And, well, given the nature of her experiments, Lenora didn't often invite them to stick around for more than a half hour or so.

Today, however, was excitingly different. Not only had a guest of similar scholarly background shown up, but he had actually called ahead to ask for permission to discuss her work! Lenora had never been so flattered in her life!

She did warn him, though, about the content of her research. He said it was fine, but... Well. Most visitors were easily appalled regardless of her advice, though. She hoped that wouldn't be the case with Mr. Albright. Oh how she longed to explain what it was she was doing for man and pokemonkind!

The subject he had brought up was interesting as well: rumored assasinations using Pokemon poisons. It was so exciting! She was thrilled to discuss it!

Mr. Albright informed her via instant message that he had arrived and she quickly (and safely!) put her latest experiment on pause before hurrying out of he lab and down the corridor leading towards the front lobby area. With empty chairs, of course; those were only occupied when her asistances had returned

Heels clicked quickly across the floor as she made her way to the entrance and greeted the young man, polite and as amicable as she could muster.

All day they had, indeed, and many more, Olberic would hope. But now is hardly the time for such thoughts, now is a time for joy.

“ Hmm... I have never been particularly good with words. Actions, on the other hand... ”

He laughs, kissing Cyrus again, staying there as long as he could. And only when he had to stop did he, but even then it followed more.