He didn't know when, exactly, he woke up. He didn't even know when, exactly, he'd fallen asleep. More to the point, he hadn't the faintest idea where he was when he finally realized he wasn't sleeping. Dragging his eyes open was hard enough, without having to focus them, as well; after a moment of peering blankly into an odd mix of light and shadow that seemed completely unfamiliar, he gave up and shut them again.

'Blood, boy, don't wake up yet, a voice groaned behind his eyes, making him twitch feebly.

Shut up, my head hurts....

You don't have a head.

So? It still hurts.

S'too bright....

S'too early!

Actually, it's the middle of the afternoon, that's not early at all.

It's early for us, right now.

And him, too.

Even the shadows were exhausted. That was a first, it had to be. He managed to pull his eyes open again, and even focus them a little. That didn't help matters any, because he didn't recognize anything that he could see. It certainly wasn't his cell, because that wouldn't have patchy light coming in through the window, and he wouldn't be laying limply curled on a pile of very soft blankets. But Her room was nothing like this, either, all different colors and angles. Though he supposed a day with Her could explain why he had no energy at all.

And... it would explain why he hurt. Because, he realized slowly, he did hurt. He hurt just about everywhere: an ache here, a throbbing there, a sharp burst of pain as he tried to move his heavy arm. It felt as if he'd run a mile. As if he'd been twisted into even stranger positions than She could come up with, and been left there for hours. As if he'd been torn apart and She had healed him on the surface but left him bleeding underneath his skin.

But... that was what She always did.

Yeah, and you're not as used to it anymore.

After finally being healed up, and all.

Guess dragons're good for something.

All they do is make you weak!

Be quiet, I've such a headache....

I've got an everything ache.

But you don't have anything to ache with, moron!

Claws, not so loud....

The disorientation grew worse, making him feel faintly nauseous. He struggled to sit up and brace himself against the cool comfort of the wall behind him, squinted around at the dappled brightness and darkness, and saw nothing he recognized. What were those round, wicker things? With pillows in them? And that long wooden thing-- and where was all that damned light coming from? It hurt his eyes, it hurt his head, but he could see in it anyway. His pile of blankets on the floor, though comfortable, was unfamiliar, the silk-soft tunic felt strange, being clothed felt strange. Even the sensation of being clean, warm, and comfortable-- or as comfortable as he could be when everything hurt so-- washed away any possibility of normalcy.

There was the sudden sound of voices-- not shadow-voices-- from somewhere he couldn't see, but he couldn't make out what they said. They sounded all wrong, too muffled and muddled, without the distinctive sounds he knew. That was when he felt the first stirrings of panic.

Panic turned into outright fear when something big and white and gold, all light and no shadow and moving too quickly for his tired eyes to focus on it, suddenly bounded into the room. He scrambled weakly back away from it, only to find another wall blocking his path, though even that small, hurried movement left him shaking and out of breath, every muscle burning, so further escape would have been impossible, anyway. For a terrifying moment he tried, and failed, to get a clearer view of the stranger; all he could make out was all that light, and the anxious babbling of a shadow not his own.

Then something small and black came careening into the space, as well, running into the white one and sprawling back with a child-like squeal of what sounded like surprise. He blinked, recognizing the voice. Something red and black poked in above it, and he finally got his vision focused enough to make out features. He blinked again. Akija. Kenjista. Sentio.

Fear died, panic faded, and with them went the strength that held him upright. He sank abruptly back into the blankets he'd woken up in, still trembling, patchy memories coming back to him now. Rescue, bonding, classes, Sentio and Akija and Chario and Kenjista-- relief, finally knowing the room as Akija's living room, and the familiar, if slightly blurred, faces for who they were.

Relax, whelp, Tiger's voice said, but not to him. He's not gonna hurt you, or anything.

That brought back a little more. Dreams, lots of dreams, and the torment of hearing Her shadow-voice when he was awake. Wanting Her back, wanting Her to take him back, wanting Her to leave him alone so he wouldn't hurt Sentio. In the end he'd left, he'd escaped, he'd gone back to Her to keep them safe and because he'd wanted Her so badly--

But now, She was nowhere.

"Cacopheny?" he heard, soft and as if from across unfathomable distance.

"Ko avay," he rasped, unable to coax his voice above a whisper.

That horrible, wrong, not-Her voice spoke again. "Cacopheny, c'mon, I've been worried-- you've slept all day, and all day yesterday--"

"Ko avay," he interrupted, aching in more than just his body. "I to not-- to not-- vant--" His voice faded weakly into nothing, but his thoughts did not, and Sentio could hear those if he let him. I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to be here. I don't want any of this. I don't want-- I don't-- Even that hurt, that reminder, that memory, that everything was wrong. He tried to slam shut the link, forcibly silence the vibration of bell and scream and roar and thunder that rang inside him, but he didn't have the strength. Strangling on sorrow, all he could do was think, Just go awaaaaaay....

Going to cry, are we?

Such a baby.

I'm not-- I'm not--

But you are already.

That shadow was not entirely unkind, even gentle, strange and unwelcome and still craved for-- but he was also right. He tried to bury his face in the blankets, let them soak up the rebellious tears, but there wasn't any comfort in it. She was gone, again and always, and he had nothing. Nothing except a dragon who didn't understand him, didn't trust him, didn't even like him, and a bunch of clothes he never wanted to wear. And that did not, in any way at all, make up for the loss of everything he'd ever cared about. She was gone, taken from him, too far away. Again. Always.

Another voice, distracting him from his grief only long enough to make him angry. He didn't even know what it said, couldn't pay attention, couldn't focus enough to make out the words; he only knew that it was another intrusion, another unwanted, another not-Her. Somehow he managed the strength to lever himself partly off the ground, raising a clawed hand to tear away whoever spoke, tear out their voice, shut it out so that he could mourn in peace.

"I sait ko--"

Akija.

Falling back, away from him.

He hadn't realized she was so close.

I can't. I can't!

Hopeless.

Helpless.

Then help me!

.... No.

He remembered, staring into gold eyes which were not Her gold eyes, and the momentary strength left him. He couldn't, and he knew he couldn't, and they knew he couldn't. The growl died in his throat, choked into a sob, and he crumpled helplessly again, too weak and tired to do more than shake as tears fell down his face again. Still. Again and always.

"No," he heard, softly, and he felt her hand come to rest carefully on his head. He didn't so much as twitch, not surprised or upset or even angry anymore. He couldn't be. "Sorry, but no."

There was no way he could try to speak to her, he couldn't get words out around the grief, and she had no shadow to talk to. He didn't even know if he had the energy to try and fight with Aedelian Landwerlen's gift, and she wouldn't understand the words he knew better. All he could do was inch himself closer and bury his face in her knees, where she knelt on the edge of his blankets. Maybe she wouldn't mind. She'd seen what he was, what he used to be and what he could be, seen his shadows. And she was still here. For now, at least.

"It's all right," she murmured, purring faintly and stroking his hair, like Chiya used to, "It's all right." He let her, trying to take at least a little comfort from her soothing, though he didn't think anything would stop his tears, not even exhaustion. Something warm and furry settled behind him, murmuring under shadowy breath of nervous worry and anxious affection: Sentio. Part of him acknowledged the dragon's presence, even welcomed it, but the rest of him couldn't even think about anything but loss. He didn't have anything he could say to him, anything he could send or think or do; all he could to was cry helplessly and silently and hope he wouldn't mind, just this once.