A fresh chorus of massacre sound effects railed from beyond the lopsided flap of the tent. A muscle in his jaw twitched, his knuckles blanching around the handle of the flashlight as the roof of the shooting gallery creaked and snapped between the clutch of fierce talons behind him. He could feel the bird's tense agitation as potently as he could feel the crackle of static in the air, precursor to nature's retribution. A tortured silhouette staggered from the Pool's darkened entrance, and Gray's feet planted as the beam of his flashlight crossed a mess of jutting limbs and ghoulish attributes, recognition widening his eyes.
"Oh, shit."
Awed and horrified in equal measures by the state of the prodigal wendigo, he'd obliged the order even before it was given, directing the light directly into the deformity of its face to better investigate the Thing That Was Jaime. Coro screamed indignation and lightning ripped the indigo sky anew, illuminating everything so brilliantly that the distortion of Jaime's appearance threatened to imprint itself in ultra-violet upon his retinas. He did not advance, but nor did he recoil, narrowed eyes squinting in wary observation.
Trust fall.
Okay, so it was Jaime, then. Enough of him, anyway. He'd known the other man was still alive courtesy of sporadic reports from Cressida, conveyed on those nights when she'd awaken with disorienting visions of rushing underbrush and the smell of pine and entrails fresh in her nose. If something had happened to him, Gray would have known about it simply because she would have been the first to know. He'd been bracing for what had felt an inevitable eventuality for some time, but nothing could have prepared him for such an appearance, like a thing crawled straight from some Clive Barker nightmare inspiration
"We'll call it even," he assured, cautiously holding Jaime in the spotlight while he marveled at the way human flesh seemed to restore itself over the abstract mass of monster joints and teeth underneath.
Gross.
Self-preservation had never been a strong suit for Gray. Fascination tended to win out over the small voice that urged hasty retreat, and the mapwork collection of scars he'd accrued over the years was testament of his folly. However, the unmistakable sound of her voice calling out from the direction of the labyrinth saw him cease in his halting approach, head whipping as Coro bellowed immense displeasure from above at the second intruder.
He raised his hand in the direction of the avian beast, an imploring note creeping into his voice. "No," he snapped, commanding in a way that so seldom carried into his easy-going disposition. Distracted and fascinated by Jaime's appearance, he'd almost allowed himself to forget the imminent threat of Coro's rage. He should have known she would be here, that she would already know of his return. Nonetheless Cress' appearance renewed his alarm, and his mouth pressed flat as Birdie appeared at her flank. Not ideal. Far from it.
"Just another day at the office," he returned, audibly strained as his eyes darted between her, the emaciated half-wendigo and the rearing Thunder Bird who saw fit to preen like a pretentious car hood ornament. Undeterred, Cress was coming closer. Her intent to interject herself between him and Jaime pulled a disbelieving sound from him, the muscles in his neck straining as his fingers reached for her and only just barely managed to close around grasping fingers. He held her fast, not pulling but definitely insistent. From the corner of his mouth, he pled caution in a single utterance of her name.
Eyes the grayish green of a storm-riled sea found their corners, affording Birdie a glancing acknowledgement that bordered on apologetic. "Nice night for an evening," he muttered, and Coro's wings gusted, sending hair and dirt and tent flaps billowing while thunder provided emphasis akin to a show-offy cymbal clap. "Absolutely not. It's under control. See?!" Coro offered what Gray imagined the avian equivalent of a sneer might be, blue electricity running veins through her body until her eyes resembled crackling lanterns.
"Not to rush your process, but we should find cover. All of us." He didn't want to know what singed Wendigo hair smelt like. He really didn't.