The next few days were... strange. Strained, even. Gone was the easy, comfortable feel of the hours spent alone with Akija during the day, while the dragons were all at the complex and when they weren't at the Watchers'. Frustration mixed with-- and usually easily eclipsed by-- pleasure had been replaced with tension, awkwardness, and embarrassment, and Cacopheny had no idea how to get back. They'd hardly touched in days, and only now did he realize how used to touching he'd gotten. It felt like he'd lost something, something important, and he could never, ever get it back-- because he'd been stupid and selfish.

The strangest thing was that Akija seemed just as miserable as he felt, but she didn't seem to know what to do about it, either. That Chario's shadow kept muttering about it every time he looked at her certainly didn't help matters, since Cacopheny could hear it, and it was depressing enough that he had to block it out after a while. Apparently Chario didn't understand why she was reacting so badly, since he thought she liked Cacopheny quite well enough. Hearing his confused musings only reinforced the thought that Cacopheny had somehow done something wrong to warrent her rejection. Especially since her own explanation made no sense at all.

It wasn't quite so bad when the dragons were home. Every now and then he could even forget he'd made such a mess of things, when Sentio was waxing eloquent on something he'd been studying, or Chario was passing along a joke, or Kenjista confided some bit of gossip that no one else really cared about. But then he'd glance at Akija-- whether to share a tolerant expression at Sentio's strange amusements, a grin at Chario's joke, or an eyeroll at Kenjista-- and find his gaze lingering, mind wandering, and memory quite forcefully returning. Even poor Sentio noticed, but he had to get his explanation from someone else, because the very thought of talking about it made Cacopheny want to curl up and hide somewhere.

The shadows were unusually quiet, as well, which left him feeling even more empty and alone. Tiger grumbled at the edge of his awareness, near-constantly. Tek made a few token attempts at making him feel better, but he didn't have much effect: he didn't have hands or arms to stroke or hold, and using Cacopheny's defeated the purpose. And the rest... seemed to have little to say.

One morning, finally too tired of the tense conversation and careful avoidance to deal with it anymore, Cacopheny just didn't bother coming out of his room. He wasn't hungry, so he didn't need breakfast, and with Sentio, Chario, and Kenjista gone, the rest of the house felt too empty, with just him and Akija rattling around in it. Getting up, to face his mistake and Akija's silence, just felt like too much effort. Not even Araski bestirring herself to call him a coward and a weakling managed to get him out of his blanket-nest before lunchtime. He could hear Akija working in the kitchen, or else he probably wouldn't have known the time.

She'd not left the house yet. She hadn't even gone up the stairs. He could hear her pace around the living room, sit down for a while and then get up again. She walked by his room at least eight times since Sentio and the others had left-- no, exactly eight; he'd counted-- and paused there, her shadow blocking the light from under the door, for several heartbeats at a time. Then she'd move on, go back to her restless moving around the lower floor. She never said a word. Neither did he.

When he finally did drag himself out of his blankets, the first order of business was a long shower that at least gave him some time stand under the hot water and think of nothing at all. He only got out when the water started running cold; he'd made sure in the past that the heat-spell did start to run out eventually between recharges, or he might never get out, some days. Then he just spent a minute standing in the steamed-up bathroom, listening to water drip off him onto the pristine-tiled floor, and to the complete silence in his mind. Even Tiger had finally run out of expletives and growls.

Ought to at least go out there, he told himself despondently, in the absence of someone else to tell him, as he took a towel and slowly wiped off the small mirror over the sink. Prove I'm still alive and not clawing myself up, or anything. Maybe eat something.

He still wasn't particularly hungry, though.

He dropped the damp towel over the towel rack just for that purpose, and turned to leave after a final wring of his hair over the sink-- but he'd only half-turned when he spun back, staring at the mirror with a frown. He could have sworn he'd seen something there, something other than his own angular face and tangled hair. For a long minute, he just peered into the mirror, as if whatever had caught his eye might be hiding somewhere beyond the silvered glass. But there was nothing. He must have just imagined it.

Crazy-crazy, mad-mutt, a shadow giggled, but it was half-hearted at best, and fell silent again immediately.

Sighing a bit, he rubbed at his eyes, trying to drag himself into something more resembling alertness and less resembling despondency.

Then he opened his eyes again, and what he saw in the mirror did the job for him. Long, bright hair pulled back from dark eyes. Faces, staring up at him from behind him, meeting his gaze in the reverse of reflection. He knew those faces.

He whirled, breath catching uncomfortably and threatening to turn into a cough, but the bathroom was empty except for him. He leaned back, gripping the sink to keep from sinking down to the puddle-ridden floor. He was alone. He was imagining things. There was no one in the bathroom with him. No one. 

Maybe I should eat something, he told himself desperately as he straightened shakily. Maybe I'm so hungry I'm seeing things. And-- and I just don't realize it. He'd done that before, before Chiya and Ketvia had come for him. Or he thought he had, as he still wasn't sure how much of what happened back then was real, hallucination, magic, or just plain madness.

But were they ever the result of bad food? Those two? Surely not....

The fact remained that he should go outside, show his face, and eat something. At the very least, even Akija's strained company was better than silence and silence. He could think of something to talk about, anything to talk about. They hadn't talked enough in the past few days....

His bedroom wasn't empty. Those same two faces-- long blonde hair mostly concealing the features, but with the dead, black eyes somehow staring at him from behind the pale curtain-- looked up at him from the pile of blankets he slept in. Panicked, he backpedaled and slipped on the wet floor of the bathroom, cracking his head painfully on the sink on his way down. He still managed to slam the bathroom door shut with a foot, panting and whining, one hand on the back of his head. When they didn't follow him inside, he braced his back against the door and hugged his knees, prepared to wait for as long as it took for them to go away.

He didn't come out until the house was full of dragon-chatter, that evening, but even then he felt the silence waiting for him. They weren't going to go away, not until his life had been completely turned on its head. Not last time-- not this time. It had been too much to hope that he'd never see them again.

He just hoped, now, that this time wouldn't wind up ruining anyone's life but his.