#wensforth

No, he wasn't dreaming. Was he? There had been... he had gone... there. To the city in the astral sea.

As though born of the thought, a new sound built in the back of his mind: first like a whisper, then an echo of breaking glass, compounding, crowding out the quiet of the tower, growing louder, screaming, screaming, screaming--

His throat convulsed, like he wanted to scream too. He swallowed it down with effort.

"You're back!"

Yussa's eyes flew open. He hadn't even realized that he'd closed them again. Wensforth stood in the doorway, gobsmacked, his spectacles slightly askew in the way they were when he'd put them on in a hurry. He was smiling. His sharp goblin teeth would have made the expression quite fearsome to some, but Yussa only felt a surge of relief and fondness.

"Yes," he croaked, tasting dust, and cleared his throat. "Yes, I've returned."

Wensforth approached with rapid steps, carefully picking his way through the untouched remnants of the astral projection ritual. He helped Yussa sit up, and steadied him when he swayed. "You were gone a long time, sir! Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Did he need anything? His stiff muscles protested every movement - a kind of blissful anguish reminding him he was home, was free - but there was no physical injury, as expected with astral projection. As for his mind...

---welcome--

The whispers began again, and Yussa shook his head to try and clear it before it could become screaming.

--welcome welcome WELCOME--!

Yussa gripped the arms of the chair. His tower was quiet; it should be quiet here, save for the susurrus of the sea. The air was humid and warm, and he sucked in a lungful of it, tasting it. His robes, he distantly registered, were stale with sweat and desperately in need of a wash. There was a luxurious throw blanket from the parlor across his lap that had not been there when he laid down. The texture of it was cloud-soft and comforting.

The quiet started to feel like it belonged to him again.

"...Sir?" Wensforth ventured.

It took a moment to make his mouth work, to shape words. "A cup of very strong tea, please. And some biscuits."

"Right away," Wensforth fussed, then hesitated and wrung his hands. "Ah-- a bit has happened, while you've been away. Some... guests. And I have strict instructions to pass along to you several messages from... Allura Vysoren?" His smile became more of a sympathetic grimace.

Yussa sighed and slumped back against the lounge. "Of course you do. Well... tea first. The messages will keep. I'm certain I know what she has to say."

"Of course. Yes. Tea." Wensforth straightened his spectacles, and turned to leave. He paused at the door. "Welcome back, sir." And soon the sound of his pattering footsteps disappeared rapidly down the hall.

(welcome, welcome--!)