It was horrible of him to stay away so long, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't made for dealing with invalid friends-- invalid friends who were supposed to be strong and cheerful and gung-ho about life-- and hanging around the sad, empty house only made him want to leave again. Only made him want to cry, or want to strangle someone who wasn't there, or go hunt down that someone who wasn't there even if it meant crossing half the planet to do so.

Which he was afraid was the case. Sentio couldn't imagine Cacopheny just wandering around the dragons' lands, or even the human lands. The only thing that explained such a long absence was a return... "home", as it were. Not to Rao, not to his demoness, but so far south that no dragon would willingly go there. But since Cacopheny was the only one who could make things right again, Sentio had, now and again, rather recklessly considered it. Then reality would come crashing down again-- he'd be dead long before he found his bond, down there-- and he did the only thing he could do and stay sane: he left the house and worked harder than ever at his studies.

That's what he was doing the day his shadow decided to come alive and talk to him. He had actually been putting a book away, nearly running out of steam for that day and considering going home, and he dropped it in surprise when the sliver of darkness his foreleg cast on the shelf twisted away from where it should have fallen. It stretched, multiplied, and turned into a warped sort of mouth.

I am outside, it said. Please come out and come home.

The voice wasn't in his ears, or even in his head, but it was-- it was-- well, he couldn't describe how he heard it, but only one person could talk like that. Only one person would move his shadow, giving him chills in the process, to try to talk to him like that.

"Sentio?" Professor Veshal called from her desk across the study room from him, peering at him in some concern. "Are you all right?"

Well, he had dropped a book. That was probably cause for alarm, right there. He picked it up shakily. "I'm fine," he answered. "I-- I'm tired, though. I think I might go home...."

The mouth in his shadow, which his teacher couldn't see from where she sat, smiled and vanished, leaving things back the way they should have been. Veshal answered, "You do that. You work too hard, Sentio. Go home and get some rest."

She knew perfectly well that there had been no rest at home for the past two months, but it was the only thing she could say, really. Even he couldn't study all night. But if he hadn't been imagining that voice-- goddess, imagining things; the weariness and stress could do things like that, he expected-- maybe home would be different, this time. Or was it too late, now, and nothing could fix things at this point?

He hardly noticed leaving the library, hardly noticed anything at all, in fact, until he reached the gate to the city that was closest to the house. He couldn't think, chasing his own tail in his mind between hoping Cacopheny really was home, the certainty that he wasn't and he'd been imagining things, and uncertainty as to what he'd do or say if he was home. He just stumbled along through the city blindly, his paws automatically following their usual path and eyes not seeing anyone he passed.

Except at the gate, he couldn't tell himself he was imagining things, because he doubted a hallucination would look so thin and ratty, with his hair still in knots and his hands, clutching his robe-bound arms, nothing but skin and bones. Nor would a hallucination look so nervous. It was the real thing when Cacopheny smiled up at him tentatively.

"You can yell at me now," he said when Sentio failed to say anything-- couldn't come up with anything to say. Words completely failed him in this kind of situation. Was there any other situation to compare, actually, to make this one of a "kind"? At the continued, strained silence, Cacopheny added bracingly, "I esspected you to be ankry. Isss vy I came to find you rasser ssan vait."

"How--" He choked, tried again. "How long have you been back?"

"Jussssst a few hourss. Ronk enough to. To take a zhouver. Eat, a little. To-- to see Akija."

"You've seen her, huh?" Sentio swallowed heavily. "Seen how torn up she was after you left? How sick she got?"

Cacopheny's eyes closed, his expression tight. "Zhe is sssinner ssan me."

"She could have died."

Cacopheny drew a shaky breath. "I know."

"You'd better have a good explanation."

His head bowed. "I to not. But. I vill giff it anyvay, ven ve are all home."

"I-- well-- good."

He was angry. He was angry. But he was too tired to really be angry, and relieved, too. And still worried, because what if it was too late?

Shaking that thought away, he came the rest of the way out of the gate, starting wordlessly down the stairs. Cacopheny, to the great relief of the wary gate-guards, followed just as silently. He walked like he was tired, too, and he was thin. Almost as thin as Akija-- or at least, it looked more natural on him, closer to his usual state, than on the usually-healthy Akija. Even exhausted and starved-looking, his steps were lighter than they should have been, more silent, less awkward... and his matted hair and black clothes seemed fuzzy on the edges, like he was only barely holding on to form and mass and the real world. Like he'd vanish again any minute, to escape the mess he'd created, or at least a bond's disapproval.

Without even thinking, he'd shifted down into his human shape, turned on the spot, and thrown his arms around Cacopheny's bony waist. He was briefly shocked to find he'd grown another couple inches in the past two months; he came up a little higher on Cacopheny's chest now. But he still hung on, burying his face in the half-demon's chest and squeezing his eyes shut against tears.

"Sentchio...." Cacopheny's hands came down on his shoulders, but didn't push him away. His voice rumbled against his ear. "I am sorrrrry."

"Just don't ever do it again," Sentio said thickly, clinging to the back of his robes. "Don't ever, ever, ever do it again."

"I--" He half-expected a denial, a warning, a hedging that he couldn't promise-- because how could he? He was mad, insane, unpredictable. Not even he knew how he was going to act from minute to minute.

Instead he said, "I von't. I couldn't. Not after-- not viss-- I von't. I promise." He put one hand on Sentio's head, holding him. "Iss a promise, Sentchio."

An echo of the past, and one he could believe. Sniffing, Sentio managed to swallow the desire to cry, at least for the moment. "Better keep it."

"I alvays keep my promises," Cacopheny said. "Do you still vant to yell at me?"

Sentio drew back to rub at his eyes. "Maybe later. You're still a-- a big jerk, for leaving like that, but I'm too tired to yell at you."

Cacopheny smiled a bit down at him. "Rater, ssen. But do not ret Akizja see, or zhe vill be unhappy."

"It'll be a private yelling," Sentio promised.

"Koot. Akizja vants you home viss us." He kept an arm around Sentio's shoulders as he started down the steps again.

Sentio swallowed again; Akija wanted. Of course she did. It was important to keep Akija happy, at least until she got better. At least she wanted. Maybe that meant she was getting better. That would be wonderful-- better than wonderful. But he didn't think it would be too much to ask that maybe he would matter, too... maybe....

Cacopheny's arm tightened around his shoulders, as if he sensed his thoughts-- well, he probably had-- and he said softly, "I do, too."

I do, the shadow-version of his voice reiterated.

You're a good kid, another commented.

And the bond between them, for the first time in months, opened again, so at least he knew he wasn't lying. He shut his eyes on more tears, sighed, and leaned his head against his bond's side. "I know. I'm glad you're back."

Cacopheny smiled. "Me, too."