“Jasey wasn’t scared,” Jarl begins, deciding to start with something good—the best news they heard.
“They described him as excited and curious,” Manus expanded while nodding in agreement with the priest. “Constantly exploring the place rather than being afraid. He didn’t fear the kidnapper, either.”
“Z’at is… very strange…” Hagen frowns while jotting these points down.
He stares at them incredulously as Jarl racks a hand through his hair. “Stranger still: the nabber knew Sign.”
Blue tinged green eyes stare up the holy man like he grew a second head.
“The workers at both the inn and the bar said they wouldn’t have been able to understand Jasey otherwise. This guy, when members of our own parish still need Jasey to write things down, literally translated for them the whole two or so DAYS they were here—and that’s another thing! Jasey seemed comfortable with him—like, he didn’t know he was taken—!” Jarl chokes on a sudden breath as Manus puts a hand on his shoulder. He shudders weakly, mind spinning with panic and worry, and buries his face in his hands. “He’s in danger… and doesn’t even… He acts like he’s on vacation with a friend and I… I’m not there for him!”
Áesta’s hand reaches out, a clawless finger brushing against shaking fabric, before silently pulling away. (Chances are the priest won’t find another daemon’s touch all that comforting right now…)
“You’re going to be, z’ough,” Hagen says gently over the magic waves of Manus’ Lay Tablet; “Very soon.”
~
“We think the kidnapper is a daemon.”
“O?” Hagen jots this down with a thoughtful frown as Jarl sniffles through his subsiding sobs. “Vhy?”
“The workers here commented a lot on his red hair and eyes—in a way that means it’s not a trick of the light—and the inn’s well kept fireplace pitched a fit on them while they were in their assigned room.”
“Pitched a fit?” The apothecary raises a brow at this. “Vhat, like: daemons exacerbate chaos? Z’at bit?”
Manus rolls his eyes but nods nonetheless, “They exacerbate energy but yes: that bit.”
“They call him Red.” Jarl adds, voice slightly muffled by his self-protecting hands. He sounds wary and tired, like finally expressing his tumultuous concerns not only broke something in him but drained him, as well. “Manus and Áesta think he’s… a fire daemon or something.”
“Because of the fireplace, yes.”
“…” Hagen stares down at his notes pensively before barking out a dark, wry chuckle, “Leave it to our Jasey, ja, to be taken avay by a damn fire daemon in z’e middle of December and z’ink it is a vinter holiday trip!” Dummkopf is muttered under his breath as he rubs his probably aching temple and then shakes his head, “You said two days? Or so?” The doctor half of Witch Doctor’s hand is once again poised over his notebook.
“… They arrived on the 20th and left on the… 22nd…”
Hagen’s pen drops. Jarl and Manus can feel their stomachs go down along with it.
The apothecary looks horrified.
“I vas… [z’ere…]”
~
“Yes—yes, you were.”
Manus watches warily as Jarl addresses a now petrified Hagen, magic at the ready. Áesta tenses and recoils, eyes wide and appetite long gone in the room full of pain, blame, anger, hate, sorrow, and fright.
Not even the sudden spark of desire for vengeance from his main course seems attractive.
“Which means you might have seen them.” Large, rough, callused hands reach out towards the Lay Tablet—towards the blue-lit image of Hagen above it—and, for a moment, they all think Jarl’s going to strangle him, regardless of the fact that the two aren’t able to actually touch each other. “You might have…”
The priest pauses, sky blue eyes—normally so bright—dark and vacant; they might have been stormy, before, but something has alighted in his mind and caused him to no longer be that angry.
“… They might have seen you…” Jarl’s brows furrow pensively before his once again bright eyes turn to both Manus and Áesta, “They did say that, right? That the kidnapper left with Jasey the same day Hagen came.”
“… We have no way of knowing if there’s an actual correlation but… yes,” Manus cautiously confirms.
Áesta, however, perhaps cruelly, points out: “Hwat t’ey said were t’at Hagen got t’ere room—hwich means: t’ey checked out first.” The daemon raises his brow rather contemptuously, “Hwy’re ye avoidin’ t’e truth? Hagen had a chance ta save yer brot’er and didn’t. BE angry. Rage if ye need ta. Yell at ‘im. Tear ‘im apart!”
Jarl turns, eyes dimmed and wide, to stare in horror at Áesta; why, he isn’t sure—this IS a daemon, after all, and he should know better than to expect anything more from the monster he’s contracted to…
“Ye believe so much in fergivin’ ot’ers—fine—but t’at don’t mean ye gotta do it wit’out feelin’.”
~
“‘E’s yer friend, Ah get it.
“But ‘e’s also failed ye—and yer brot’er! If ye’re hurtin’—and Ah know ye are; we all do—t’en HURT.
“‘Urt ‘im: yell, rage, scream; t’reatin’ ‘im if ye have ta; cuss if ye must, too!
“Just let it out; don’ keep t’at pain inside ye: ‘e’ll understand.”
~
So, he does.
Jarl isn’t entirely sure WHY he does—why he listens to Áesta, the daemonic monster he’s now stuck with, or why he suddenly thinks the horrific creature is right, or why the nightmare being is making so much sense—but he does. He yells and screams, accusing Hagen of failing him—failing Jasey—by leaving his baby brother alone with the kidnapper when he was so close—right THERE—well within his reach and HOW COULD HE—?
And he cries, broken and beaten and blind to the apologizes pouring from Hagen’s mouth.
And from his own: because he realizes, suddenly, that the one he’s most upset with—most angry with—is himself.
(And God.)
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