Manus did, in fact, fix the spare room’s door.

Jarl notices this as the small group of humans and daemon ready themselves for bed. It’s almost midnight and the nocturnal wildlife outside the priest’s home is already up and about: rustling leaves and grass alike.

They seem more active tonight: almost as though they know their technical brethren is around.

Áesta, for his part, doesn’t seem all that nocturnal right now. He’s yawning a lot and snuggling Manus’ arm like it’s his own personal pillow—not that the magician seems to mind: he seems more than happy to utilize the oddly cuddly daemon as a crutch as he makes his way to the chamber side of the log house.

Which does beg the question: where is everyone sleeping?

Jarl’s room is the largest in the house as it’s technically the master bedroom; the spare room is the smallest and farthest from the main part of the house (the kitchen and living room); across from that is the bathroom which is shared by everyone as it’s the only one in the house (it’s really a powder room, however, with the actual bathing equipment around the bend and thus beside both the powder room and the spare room); and then Jasey’s room is between the powder room part of the bathroom and Jarl’s study. The study is small and was probably originally a large closet of some sort; Jasey’s room is almost as big as Jarl’s and one they had shared as kids (before their parents died or Manus came into their lives); while the powder room is small (smaller than the spare room and more than made up for by the size and luxury of the bathing section).

Obviously, Jarl is sleeping in his room; he gave Áesta the spare and it seems like Manus will share it with him; but that still leaves Hagen without a bed… unless he also shares with another…

Or just uses Jasey’s room…

~

“I vill be fine on z’e couch.”

Jarl frowns, not entirely comfortable with this notion. While he really doesn’t like the idea of anyone in Jasey’s bed, he also really doesn’t like the ideas of being a bad host or a bad friend.

Even if the couches he has were specifically bought to be comfortable as well.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hagen. I can—”

“Ich cannot.” Hagen rests a hand on Jarl’s shoulder and raises the other in a placating gesture, “It is not right. Z’e only one z’at should sleep in z’at bed is Jasey. Ve must simply bring ‘im back.”

Jarl smiles. It feels horrifically bitter.

“I did vant to ask, z’ough… Vhat will become of z’e parish vhile ve are gone?”

Here, the priest pauses. “Ah…” He frowns, “… I was going to have Sophie watch over things temporarily…”

“Z’e Head Nun?”

Jarl nods, “She is well respected in the parish; and she knows how things are run. She might not be able to do things only a priest can—like masses or confession—but she can keep the church running smoothly, schedule people for me to see when I return, and maintain the money flow so food and livelihoods remain intact.”

Hagen slowly nods, “Makes sense… it vould still be a huge change for everyone, z’ough…”

“I trust her.”

~

Jarl eventually concedes to Hagen sleeping on the couch.

He doesn’t like it—and he swears whoever took Jasey will pay for this indecency too! But he accepts it.

Pretty easily, too.

What’s harder for him to accept is Áesta randomly appearing in his bed later that night—err, morning. Illuminated orange irises rimmed in glowing green shock him awake faster than a bucket of icy water.

He literally jumps off the bed.

“Wha—‽” Áesta’s hand quickly covers the priest’s mouth in a universal message to shut up.

“Manus wouldn’t shud up.”

Jarl blinks. He sits up from the floor to stare incredulously at the daemon in his bed (that sounds more wrong than it was meant), “You mean he’s… sleeptalking???” How absurd! Manus has never done that before!

Then again, stress can do a lot to a man.

“No.” Áesta pulls back the covers so the priest can more easily return to bed. It’s at that point that Jarl registers that Áesta’s already made himself quite at home in his sheets… “E kept talkin’ ‘bout Jasey.”

“In his sleep?”

“No: while wakin’.” The two lay down with over a foot between them and Jarl wonders why he’s allowing this. “E kept saying ‘ow much ‘e misses ‘im so Ah tossed ‘im in ‘is room.”

Jarl’s eyes explode, “You what‽”

A warm hand—too hot and soft to be human—curls around the back of the priest’s neck. Long black claws tickle the short hairs at the holy man’s nape and Jarl baulks at how oddly comforting it is. “E needed it.”

“… That’s Jasey’s bed.”

“Is é,” Áesta says quietly with a nod. “T’at’s hwy ‘e needs it. ‘E needs t’e boy.”

The priest furrows his brows, confused.

“C’m’on; Ah know ye humans do it, too.” The daemon makes a gesture with his free hand, “Sharin' scents?”

Jarl’s nose curls, “No?”

Áesta’s expression screams some weird combination of damning disbelief and parental patience. “Ye humans never smell a t’ing and end up t’inkin’ o’ someone? Someone special. Because ye know how t’ey smell.”

Well… when he puts it like that…

“hWhen daemons miss each ot’er, we nest: jus’ bundle up in t’e ot’er’s stuff—t’eir smell.” Áesta buries half his face in Jarl’s pillow, as though demonstrating what he means, “T’at’s hwat Handsy needs.”

The priest slowly nods, processing; then, he asks, “Do you… do that…?”

Áesta’s eyes slip shut as his breath eases into sleep, “Don’ ‘ave ‘one ta do it wit’…”