The commotion had woken Oren, though he'd chosen to keep his head down, not wanting to involve himself in whatever insanity Cross had brought down on himself. He was exhausted -- he'd had the misfortune of occupying the room next to Inan the last few days, and the man was relentless with his overtures of friendship. The only thing that could have made things worse was if he'd been bunking with Cross, but Saint Gideon had volunteered to share with the demon, proclaiming that he was the only one who had the patience to stay with him for such an extended period. Oren hadn't been about to fight him, even if the subtle jab at his shortcomings had grated on his nerves.

A sharp knock on the wooden table in front of him startled Oren from his thoughts, and Oren flinched back, lifting his head and blinking blearily up at Gideon. He felt his face twisting into a scowl as he met Gideon's pensive stare, the slant of the man's brows more accusatory than anything he could've said in that moment.

Oren envied his talent for nonverbal judgment as much as he loathed him for it.

"You're rooming next to Inan, aren't you?"

Oren's brow furrowed as he slowly sat upright, rubbing at one eye with his knuckles. "Because I'm cursed, yeah, I am. Why?"

Gideon knocked lightly on the table again, bobbing his head in a short nod. "Go get him, and Rae if you can. Cross' shadows won't hold much longer if he's as drained as I imagine him to be. So, here."

He offered his hand.

Oren dropped his gaze to stare blankly at it, uncomprehending. What did Oren have to do with any of this? He wasn't Cross' keeper – none of them were equipped for that, with the possible exception of Gideon and Gideon alone. "I'm supposed to do... what with this?"

Gideon's eyes narrowed, the corners of his mouth ticking downwards. Ugh. Oren knew that look. He wasn't getting out of this.

"Copy me. You won't have my violin but I'm attuned to my magic — you should be able to hear any notes I make as long as I'm within the confines of the village. So find Rae and Inan, and then follow the notes back to me."

Oren's lip curled up, but he took Gideon's proffered hand. His magic surged at the contact, and his features smoothly transitioned to match Gideon's. Oren shook himself out, getting himself used to the physical changes; Gideon was shorter than him by a few inches, and slimmer. He'd have to consciously adjust his gait, so he didn't embarrass himself as he dealt with this inevitable shitshow.

He nudged Ilias as he shoved his chair back none-too-gently and stood, toes curling inside Gideon's soft-soled shoes as he stretched his arms out above his head. The redhead got to his feet, as well, either correctly interpreting Oren's intent or not wanting to be left behind; either way, it got him to follow Oren to the staircase.

As they started up to the third floor, Oren turned to glance at Ilias from the corner of his eye. The redhead was picking at the neckline of his offensively orange shirt, eyebrows scrunched together in what seemed like contemplation. Oren knew the look well enough to reach out and tap the back of the hand that was curled into the loose fabric of his pant leg; Ilias jumped slightly, but fixed him with an inquisitive stare.

"Valda," he said.

Ilias blinked. "Yeah...?"

"I... copied you the other day. I didn't realize it until I transformed. Must have done it unconsciously on the way here."

Realization lit up Ilias' green eyes, washing away the near-constant gleam of worry Oren had grown so used to. He nodded slowly, fingers nervously fiddly with the leather cords of his talismans.

"So, t-that's where she went..." He didn't seem angry, though it was rare for Ilias to become genuinely pissed off anyway, so that wasn't exactly news. No, what was strange was that he wasn't even bothered. If anything, the brightness in his eyes was due to his stark relief. "I didn't summon anyone after that, because I wasn't sure what happened to Valda... I'm g-glad she's okay."

"Yeah... I should've said something earlier... Sorry."

Oren internally rolled his eyes. God, did he hate apologizing. It wasn't as though he'd really done something wrong, either. He'd acted on pure instinct when he transformed into Ilias, and it just so happened that in that moment the redhead has summoned his favorite familiar. So really, none of it was his fault, rationally speaking. So why did he even care?

Not worth it, he thought dismissively. Ilias wasn't angry and they'd cleared the air. It didn't have to be anything more than that.

Oren stepped onto the third floor of the inn and immediately turned right to go down the hall where he was rooming. Ilias trailed behind him, wringing his hands; he'd gone white the moment it had sunk in that something had gone wrong, muttering prayers to himself that Oren didn't bother straining to hear.

Although Gideon's hearing was insanely good, to the point where Oren almost didn't have a choice about whether he understood the whispered pleas that fell from Ilias' mouth. Gods, he wasn't going to stay in this form a moment longer than he had to.

As luck would have it, Inan was just exiting his own room as Oren rounded the last corner. He paused at the sight of Oren, blinking a few times before his expression bloomed into a smile.

"Gideon, right?" he said, starting towards them. "And Ilias. I didn't expect to—"

"Not Gideon," Oren cut in shortly. "Something's up with Cross and Atlas. The asshole djinn left already, so Gideon sent me to get you. And Rae. If she's here."

If she wasn't, that was her own problem. Oren wasn't going to go traipsing all over town to track her down, that was for sure.

Inan blinked again, not quite startled but — maybe uneasy. "Right," he said, then rolled his shoulders back and shook off whatever had distracted him. "Right, okay, hold on, Rae's still in her room."

Oren hung back with Ilias, fidgeting, while Inan knocked on the door across the hall from his, presumably belonging to Rae.

A moment later, the woman in question appeared in her doorway, a smile on her lip that quickly fell as she spied the group in the hallway. Her eyes seemed to linger on Oren and Ilias, which had both of them tensing, before flickering back to Inan.

"Who got hurt?"

"We're not sure," Inan said. "Cross and Atlas went out this morning. I'd say it's likely it wasn't Atlas, but..." He trailed off, shrugging with a helpless air about him that Oren didn't bother trying to interpret. "Oren's come to fetch us, though, so I say we go find out."

Oren was half listening to their conversation, half attempting to tune out the rustling of clothes as Ilias shifted on his feet, talismans clinking together in a distracting symphony. It was none of his concern how Inan explained the situation to his teammate. He wasn't sure exactly what he was waiting for – he'd only copied Gideon once or twice, and never while his magic was active. He saw Ilias turn slightly in his direction, looking like he had a question – and then he heard it. Or felt it, really, clear like a ringing bell but. Vibrations, or something, an awareness that shivered throughout his entire body. It was weird and disorienting, but it certainly did the trick.

Oren would have no trouble following this back to its source

"Let's get going," Oren called out impatiently. The faster they left the inn, the faster Oren could be done with this whole ordeal. Then again, finishing up here meant going out to continue exterminating lizardmen. With Rae and Inan. Gods, there was no winning here.

He heard Rae cut herself off mid-sentence, then respond, "Oh--yes, let's."

She and Inan drew even with Oren and Ilias before long, matching them step for step down the stairs.

"Don't worry. Your friend is probably fine," Rae offered, smiling reassuringly at the two of them. Judging by the way Ilias twitched, he didn't feel all that comforted.

"I'm sure he is," Oren replied, with as close to zero inflection as he could manage. Cross was always fine — that was his trademark at this point. Whatever havoc he caused or tripped into, he came out fine. "Spare some worry for your own teammate. Unless he's immortal, he's in the same amount of danger as the rest of us."

Ilias winced. "Not necessarily? They're, um, they're all really good, Oren."

"Gods," Oren muttered. He didn't speak for a moment as they exited the inn, focused instead on leading them down the twists and turns of the village, following the increasingly strong vibrations of Gideon's notes. "Okay, fine, whatever. It probably is Cross. Who cares."

Cross was, as noted, always fine. Always. And if it wasn't Cross that had gotten hurt, Oren didn't know Atlas and couldn't stand his teammates. What was the point in worrying about someone he'd likely never see again, who he hadn't actually met—

"Isn't that... natural?"

Oren snapped his gaze to Ilias again, who shrunk back, spooked by the intensity of Oren's eyes. Now Oren... Oren was quick to anger. Everyone in the guild knew that. There was no stopping it, really, only bracing for the inevitable.

"You, uh... said that out loud?"

"...Awesome."

"But... isn't it?"

"What?"

"Isn't it natural to care?"

"I don't know the guy--"

"But he's a human being, like us?"

Why is everything a question with him? Oren thought, irritated at the lilt that caught the tail end of whatever Ilias said. The man was nervous, he knew that, but he couldn't help feeling grated by the inflection; his skin crawled, his fingers curled into his palms. He set his teeth and hissed out a slow breath. Everything bothered him today.

Gods above, he really was horrible.

He blamed it on the Inan and his ilk, because that was natural for him.

"Whatever," Oren sighed after a beat of silence, during which Ilias had shifted several feet away from him, apparently terrified of whatever he saw on Oren's face.

Rae and Inan had kept silent during this exchange, and it was almost a shock when Rae let out a quiet laugh, gently elbowing Inan as leaned towards him, her voice dropped to a faux whisper.

"I think pretty boy might be...oh, what's the word for people who don't show their true feelings? I feel like there's a word for that," she joked.

Oren groaned and flung his head back. He didn't follow any gods but if one of them wanted to impart some timely divine wisdom on how to deal with annoying summoners, he'd gladly take it.

"He's processing," was all Inan said, shrugging.

Oren ignored the lot of them as they drew nearer to the notes' location. He could see them now, hovering just outside a small building. A house, maybe? A healer, hopefully, for Cross' sake.

"Up ahead," he said, and quickened his pace. Ilias hurried to keep up with him, and Inan and Rae did the same.