Caius D'Onofrio (poweroftheeye) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2018-01-31 08:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | #september 2017, caius, caius x reagan, reagan |
Who: Caius and Reagan
When: Morning, Tuesday September 26
Where: Reagan’s house in Black Cove
Warnings: violence, blood
Status: Complete
The fog was driving Reagan insane. She hated not being able to open her store. She hated being stuck inside. She hated trying to practice her craft in her side room and failing because she couldn’t concentrate without having some semblance of daylight pouring into her room. She was on edge, as she was sure everyone in town was. And Reagan was in tune enough with Point Pleasant’s history to know that three full days of fog was not normal. If anything, it was a sign, only she didn’t know what it was a sign of just yet. Reagan had meditated, calling on her deity to give her answers, only none came. Her Gods were quiet. The silence only added to her frustration and by Tuesday morning, Reagan had more than had it with the weather.
In an act of defiance against nature, and the town itself, Reagan got up early in the morning and got dressed to go for a jog while Caius slept. They had been inseparable since returning from Anguilla, but for work and some minor obligations around town. They slept in whomever’s house was most convenient at the time, but since the fog settled into Point Pleasant, Caius had been staying with her in Black Cove. Reagan was hoping he would like the house enough to sell his own and move in permanently, but that wasn’t a conversation they had found time to have just yet. Soon, though. No one else knew they were married, but Reagan felt like a man and wife should be living together, and she was sure Caius felt the same.
It was on her mind in a vague sort of way as she left him in bed and headed outside. It was chilly and the fog was thicker than usual and Reagan noted how quiet it was. Sure, it was early, but she didn’t hear much of anything. No birds, no signs of life. Everyone was probably still inside, taking Sheriff Barrett’s warnings to heart to stay off the roads unless absolutely necessary.
It was amusing to her that she thought she could actually jog in this when she could barely see two feet in front of her. Reagan was able to stay on the sidewalk, her sneakers hitting the concrete with purpose, though she remained cautious of her surroundings. She had barely reached the end of her street when her irritation spiked and her fingers curled into fists. Reagan came to a stop, breathing in deep as she turned around, positive she would find someone behind her, or watching from a distance. Even if they were, she wouldn’t be able to see them terribly well. It made her angry. Angrier than what was probably rational, but Reagan didn’t care.
All she could hear was her harsh breathing. It seemed to echo in her ears and she felt like clawing at her skin to try and rid herself of the unexplainable restlessness that was so very quickly growing into a simmering rage. Someone, something, was watching her. “Where are you?” she yelled, turning around again, her ponytail whipping over her shoulder. “I know you’re there, asshole.” Somewhere in the distance she heard tires squealing, following by a sickening crunch. Then silence. And then shouting. It was too far to make out any words, but the fury in the screams sunk deep into Reagan’s consciousness and she turned again, immediately heading back to her house. Or at least, what she thought was her house. Reagan ran, squinting into the fog to try and make out the homes that lined the street. Her sense of direction seemed to fail her, which caused her to curse angrily under her breath. Her nails bit painfully into her palms as she struggled to keep from screaming herself.
Finally she stopped, hands lifting to press against her eyes. It felt like the fog was fucking with her on purpose. Confusing her, keeping her lost and alone until something came for her. The fear spiked, pushing through the rage and Reagan lifted her face. “Hello,” she yelled. She was getting desperate enough to get onto her hands and knees to feel for grass so she could find her yard. She was close, she could feel the energy from her home, but she felt stuck in place. Reagan called out again, thinking whatever was out there would respond, and if they didn’t, someone would. Someone would hear her.
Caius was slowly getting more fond of Reagan’s house and all its sunlight. Maybe because it didn’t pose any sort of threat anymore, or mean anything except his wife was an incredibly willful woman. Caius could love that about her more easily now that they were married. The big issue was resolved, everything else seemed very easy to deal with in comparison, to him. So he was comfortable in her place, sleeping soundly and naked in her bed when she got up to go out. Caius woke up when she’d shut the front door, but only halfway and only long enough to verify that Reagan wasn’t in bed with him anymore. That wasn’t too unusual, so he didn’t think anything of it, his sleepy mind completely having forgotten about the fog that was still blanketing the town.
He kept sleeping until a sound filtered in through his unconsciousness. It was Reagan’s voice, distant, and she sounded distressed. Caius’s heavy brows flexed in his sleep, his dreams sliding apart as worry dragged him to the surface of them like a fish on a hook. He heard her for sure the second time, and Caius’s heart leapt into his throat. He scrambled out of bed, a little stumbly as he grabbed a robe and headed out of the bedroom. “Reagan?” he called, her name almost coming out as a bark. Caius looked wildly around the house as he hurried through it. She’d sounded far away ... but how far? “Reagan where are you?”
Reagan yelled again, the panic dulling into nothing but unbridled anger now. She brought her hands up to her shoulders, squeezing tightly as she clenched her eyes shut to try and push every bad feeling away. Nothing worked. She started moving, one foot in the other as her nails dug into her skin. Reagan probably should have been alarmed at the violent urges threatening to take over but in the moment, they felt completely natural, like the need to hurt something was akin to breathing. The solid foundation beneath her sneakers shifted and she knew she had found her yard. Or a yard. Breathing heavily, Reagan kept moving. Her flesh stung where her fingers had dug in and when Reagan pulled her hands away, she noted the bits of blood under her fingernails. With her chest heaving, Reagan opened her palm and watched the fire spark and build. She wasn't worried about anyone spotting the magic in this weather. They would see the fire, but they wouldn't see Reagan, right? It was a candle in the darkness. Or fogness. Whatever. The fire she conjured would help her find her way back home, or maybe she would just burn down whatever home she came across. Watch it go up in flames and become nothing but charred wood and ash. The thought brought a smile to her face. She needed to damage something, and now.
Caius heard her more clearly then, and he could tell she was outside. As he rushed toward the front door, he saw some sort of light come alive through the big front windows. It was a soft orange glow, like a candle -- of course it was fire, it was Reagan. Caius hastily tied his robe closed and pulled the front door open, rushing out into the fog blanketing the front porch. “Reagan!” he called again, bare feet padding down the front steps. He couldn’t see shit through the fog, just her light like a beacon. Caius knew it was hers too, he just knew it. “Rea, are you okay?” Feeling a sudden upsurge in annoyance at all the godforsaken fog, Caius spit out some words meant to clear it away from him, but it didn’t quite work. The white mist around him swirled a bit, but came rolling back in just as fast. It wasn’t normal fog. He’d known that, he just couldn’t help but be pissed that what would be his first line of defense wasn’t working.
Reagan turned toward Caius’s voice, but instead of feeling relieved that he was so near, she scowled, wondering what had taken him so damn long to try and find her. But that was just like Caius, wasn’t it? When was she ever his first priority? Why did she keep letting him treat her this way? Reagan moved toward his voice, her steps purposeful over the ground. She wasn’t even worried about tripping or running into anything. It felt like something was pulling her, leading her exactly where she needed go.
“Oh, I’m just fine, obviously. Can’t you tell?” she snapped, the fire licking along her fingertips. Of course she wasn’t okay. She was lost out in this god forsaken fog while he had slept in her bed without a care in the world. It was unacceptable and Reagan would make sure he knew it. “Where are you?”
She was easier to find than he was, the fire glowing like some moving lighthouse. The yard was sizeable, but not too huge that he wouldn’t be able to reach her in a handful of seconds, so that was what Caius hurried to do. Even though the skin on his back was suddenly crawling. This fog was so fucking unnerving, he hated it. He especially seemed to hate it this morning, like there could be anything out there, just ready to reach and sink claws into flesh. Caius had to get Reagan inside, it wasn’t safe out there.
She sounded pissed, but that barely registered at first, his mind was so occupied with getting out of the fog. Caius reached his wife, her face and flames suddenly becoming clear as he got close enough. “Thank the gods,” Caius muttered, reaching for her non-flaming hand. “I was asleep, then I heard you calling. Come on, let’s get out of this pea soup bullshit.”
Reagan didn't see the mop of dark hair until Caius was close enough for her to reach out and touch. What kind of fog was this? What was moving through it, malevolent and unseen? Whatever it was seemed to slither through her, prompting a sick sort of satisfaction as she extinguished the flame in her hand and hit Caius hard across the face, her palm still burning from the heat that Reagan would never feel. Fire was her element, it would never harm her the way this fog could. But it could harm others, and right now, she wanted to hurt him. Reagan didn't give Caius much time to react to the attack. She projected a burst of her magic toward him to knock him off his feet, wanting him disoriented and confused so he couldn't fight back. The violence inside of her was uncontrollable and exhilarating, but Reagan knew what Caius was capable of. She just couldn't give him the chance to tap into it.
The slap was entirely unexpected, and it hurt much more than it should have. Caius’s skin started shrieking like he’d put his cheek on a hot stove. He cried out, and was struggling to turn it into words when an unseen, hot force hit him in the side and back and sent him sprawling face-first into the grass. For a split second the coolness of the dew felt heavenly against his hot cheek, but that relief was very short lived. He realized that Reagan was attacking him, and while he couldn’t wrap his head around why, fear lanced through Caius. She wasn’t a witch to be trifled with.
As he scrambled to his feet to put some distance between them, Caius’s brain started trying to fill in blanks. Had this been her plan all along? To marry him and then murder him? The fog would be the perfect cover, if she did it right she could claim she had no idea what happened. Then her inheritance would be secure. He’d already put her name on all his important documents, she stood to make a fortune if he died. That had to be it, he couldn’t think of any other reason for this. Bitch. Caius gasped out the words to call on the shadow beings that resided inside of him, hoping it would at least clear his vision enough for him to defend himself.
Caius might have been practicing darker magic with his old man, but Reagan was not afraid of him. She had dangerous power of her own, even if she didn't allow it to surface as often as it wanted to. But now she didn't care. He deserved this, and more. That's what it felt like to Reagan, what she heard whispered in her ear. Caius deserved to hurt the way he hurt her over the past fucking decade. She would make him sorry for it. "Don't run away from me," Reagan snapped, watching the movement in the fog in front of her and realizing he was back on his feet. She could lose him if he tried to run.
Reagan jerked her hand up and to the side, scratching through the air. She wanted to claw her way into his skin and the magic boiling inside of her was all too eager to help her achieve her goal. Reagan felt the sting near her collarbone for a brief moment, and then her ring absorbed the backlash she would have otherwise dealt with for causing another physical pain, But Reagan knew she had drawn blood somewhere on his body and yet it didn't feel like enough. "Caius," Reagan screamed, her tone sounding crazed and desperate. "You fucking coward!"
Something was wrong, and Caius knew it somewhere in the back of his mind. Something was Very Wrong. But it was hard to really grab hold of that and let it influence him when his own anger was flaring. He hissed a breath in with pain as the fleshy part of the side of his thigh split open into four long scratches. Gouges, really. Caius bit back the animal noise that almost made it out of his mouth, the brief clarity in his vision faltering as blood poured down his leg. At least that gave him more ammunition.
Caius opened his now-black eyes and turned. The vision enhancement didn’t completely cut through the fog but he could see better, and more importantly he could see Reagan’s shadow against all the white. He swiped some of the blood off of his leg and hastily drew an X on his forehead, then hit it with the palm of his hand, projecting the effect out and away from him. If she was temporarily blind and deaf, it would give him a couple of seconds’ worth of advantage. Pain flared up in Caius’s head, which told him that it worked, before his own amulet drained the backlash away. Limping with his teeth bared, he advanced on her, waving a hand to push an incredible gust of wind forward to knock her off her feet.
She fully expected him to run. To hide somewhere in the fog where she couldn't find him. It wouldn't be that easy because she could always find him. Chest heaving, Reagan lifted both hands to slice open another part of his body - she could always follow the smell of blood, after all - when her senses were taken from her. Reagan doubled over, gasping as everything went silent but for the jack hammering of her heart in her ears. The fog was blinding enough, but now she couldn't see anything. Asshole.
Reagan had no way of knowing where he was now and while that might have made her panic, it only made her angrier. She released a scream of fury that she couldn't hear, but felt burn her throat until the wind pushed her back with force. Reagan landed painfully on her back, her teeth sinking into her tongue as her head hit the ground. She tasted blood immediately and rolled onto her side to spit it out. "You're a fucking cheater," she spat, her voice dull and far away, but that meant her senses were returning. It was a cowardly move to blind her. Unfair. But that meant he was scared of her, which he should be. Reagan started to scramble to her feet, swiping the air in front of her with her arm, half expecting to connect with something solid.
Another cut, this one across his side, and Caius couldn’t stop the curse that burst out of him. He put his hand against it, feeling the hot blood surge out over his fingers. She was really trying to fucking kill him, wasn’t she? He saw her go down and that scream of hers only made him angrier. Reagan was hurting him and he wanted to hurt her back. Stop her fucking breath in her throat, look into her eyes as she suffocated. Reagan had tried to get the drop on him? She wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.
Words started coming out of Caius, incantations he’d memorized and barely practiced with, strong and ancient words to direct the Obscurities to destroy his enemy. They would seep into her, into every orifice and tear her apart from the inside. Caius wanted to see it, he wanted to make sure she was dying, so this goddamn fucking fog had to go. He spread his hands and started up a whirlwind, his anger and the blood fueling his magic to blow the fog away in a widening circle, until it encompassed both of them and most of the front yard. He watched the shadows racing to envelop his traitorous wife, fierce victory flooding through him.
Her sight was coming back. Her hearing. She tried to find the energy to call her element to her and engulf Caius in flames, to watch him burn like their ancestors. But she was still trying to catch her breath, the violence that had gripped her causing her hands to shake. Reagan got to her knees, facing Caius. The outline of his form was becoming clearer, his voice carrying on the wind, though she couldn't make out what he was saying. An incantation, but not one she'd ever heard before. No. Reagan was not going to let him win. She curled her fingers into fists, feeling the fire rise up inside of her. But there was no time to send the burst of flames at Caius and end this. The fog had dissipated so rapidly that it took Reagan by surprise. It wasn't gone completely, but swirled around them like they were inside a goddamn tornado.
The relief was almost instantaneous, like she had been drowning and finally managed to burst to the surface where she could suck in the oxygen waiting for her. Her eyes ticked to Caius, whom she could see clearly now, but there was no time to call out to him. Dark shadows took her by surprise, surrounding her, followed by a pain so severe that she fell to the ground again, no longer in control of her own body as she convulsed with them. The shadows were inside of her, incapacitating her. Killing her. Screams that sounded nearly inhuman filled her ears, but Reagan dimly realized they were her own. The metallic taste was on her tongue and in her throat again, and Reagan had the vague hope that they kill her quickly now, so she wouldn't choke to death on her own blood.
With the fog out of the way, out of his eyes and nostrils, Caius automatically took deeper breaths. He saw Reagan fall, saw the shadows disappear into her, heard her start to scream. A moment ago, her scream only made him more full of rage ... but now it cut into him like he was the one in agony. That noise, the sound of an animal dying, sliced straight through Caius, worse than Reagan’s magic did. He felt an amplified version of the fear that had pulled him out of sleep -- his love was being hurt, but this time it was him doing the hurting. Seized with sudden panic, Caius started shouting more words in Latin as he ran toward her, null words, words to call the Obscurities off.
They didn’t immediately respond, and he got a deep down impression of disappointment from them, but they were still his to command. He saw the shadows seep out of Reagan’s mouth and ears, sliding along the ground like mist until they dissipated. About that same time Caius hit the ground with his knees at Reagan’s side, cold fear gripping his spine, barely feeling the pain from his cut thigh. He pulled her up into his lap, patting her cheek and feeling for a pulse and magically pushing air back into her lungs all at the same time. “Reagan? Rea, Rea open your eyes,” he demanded, his voice shaking with terror. She might wake with the intention of slashing his throat next, but Caius couldn’t think about that yet, all that mattered was that she did wake up.
There was a thrumming of sound in her ears, but she could hear Caius's voice close by. No more incantations. Her name. The intensity of the pain wracking her body had dulled, leaving her feeling sore, though parts of her body just felt numb. Reagan felt like she'd been hit by a truck, but she supposed if she could feel the pain, then that meant she was still alive. Lucky her. There was sticky blood caught in her throat and Reagan turned her head and coughed, spitting the blood out over Caius's chest and robe. Her eyes fluttered open and Reagan managed to lift her hand to grip weakly at his robe. She no longer felt the urge to hurt him, which was fortunate for him because she could have easily sliced open his throat then and there if she'd wanted to. Only she didn't want to. Why had she been so dead set on hurting him before?
The fog still surrounded them, but it wasn't touching them anymore. Caius's magic had pushed it away. At least temporarily. "Fog," Reagan muttered, her voice hoarse. Her throat felt like she had taken a long drink of scalding water. "It's the fog."
Caius groaned with relief when Reagan opened her eyes. He didn’t even mind the spray of blood. That robe was ruined anyway, he was already bleeding all over it. “The fog?” he repeated, but what she meant clicked into place a second later. All of the blind rage had cleared as soon as he’d gotten the fog away from them, so of course it was the fog. That whirlwind wouldn’t last forever though, so they needed to get the hell inside. Reagan looked weak, and Caius was thrumming with adrenaline, so he was going to make sure that happened.
“Come on, hold onto me, I’ve got you,” he murmured as he quickly slipped his arms underneath her more solidly. Standing up with Reagan’s added weight sent sharp agony through his injured thigh, and Caius almost stumbled with her, but he managed to grit his teeth and keep his balance. He moved as fast across the grass as he could, letting the swirling winds narrow down so it was just around the two of them as they crossed the lawn. It was a little harder getting up the porch steps, but soon enough they were through the open front door. Caius kicked it closed behind them with a bang and carried Reagan to the nearest couch to gently set her down.
Nausea rolled through Reagan as Caius lifted her and her body screamed with lingering pain at the jerky movement of his steps as he carried her inside. While Reagan had been able to figure out the fog was to blame for the violent shifts in their moods, she still had no idea what Caius had called to her in retaliation to her own attack. It hadn't been a spell she recognized, but she knew damn well she would remember how it felt long after her body healed. Reagan winced as Caius set her down on the couch.
Reagan closed her eyes and focused on breathing. The taste and smell of blood turned her stomach, though she was usually anything but squeamish when it came to the unpleasant side of magic. It took awhile, but when she felt like she could talk, Reagan opened her eyes to look at Caius. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I hurt you. Are you okay?" The memory of the pain she had inflicted on him was fresh in her mind and she was thankful that she hadn't managed to do more damage. She could have killed him, just like that. They could have killed each other.
Caius didn’t move from where he’d sunk down at the edge of the couch, panting lightly and doing his best to ignore the dizziness from his screaming headache. The blood loss probably had something to do with it too. He’d pulled his robe down enough to look at the slash on his side while Reagan gathered herself, then bunched it up to press to the wound. As long as Reagan kept on breathing, he didn’t care too much about himself. He felt hollow and a little shell shocked, like the whole ordeal had taken more out of him than it should have. He looked back at her when she opened her eyes, sitting up a little and moving one drying-bloody had to stroke her hair. “I’m okay,” he said, even though that was a lie. His cheek was red and burned, he was still bleeding, and his new wife had tried to kill him and vice versa. It had been a shitty morning so far. “How are you feeling? What can I get you?”
How was she feeling? It was as ridiculous a question as her asking him if he was okay. He had nearly killed her. In their entire time together, and apart, she and Caius had never used magic against each other. Oh, she was sure they thought about it once or twice, during their most intense fights, but that had always been a line they never crossed. Reagan groaned as she pushed herself up, her hand coming up to wrap her fingers around his wrist. What happened outside was blurry, like someone else had taken over her body. But no, it had been her. She had started all of it, and the physical evidence of that was right there on Caius's cheek, where she'd burned him.
Reagan cursed softly, ignoring her own discomfort as she took in his appearance. He was pale, splattered with blood, and she knew it wasn't all hers. "I have salve in the cabinet in my bathroom," Reagan said weakly, using her free hand to push the robe away from his side so she could see the damage. "It'll help heal the wounds."
Caius had been asking more on her behalf, though given how light-headed he felt, something to help heal where he was cut open would probably be a good idea. He felt kind of clammy and cold now, and his attempts to hold the robe in place against Reagan’s tugging were weak and ineffective. He leaned a bit and looked down at his side, grimacing as the fabric stuck to it a little and had to be peeled off of him. The wound did not look good, but at least he was clotting up, that was something. It was doubtful he would bleed out.
“Your bathroom, okay,” he murmured. Caius used the couch to help get himself to his feet and turned to start in that direction. He had to pause and brace himself against a chair before he got too far, to let a small wave of dizziness pass. The implications of everything that had just happened hadn’t sunk in yet, Caius was currently in damage-control mode. As soon as his vision cleared, he continued the suddenly arduous journey back to the bedroom.
She wanted to get up to help him, but she wasn't sure she could make it more than a few feet without collapsing. Her muscles felt like they had been through a grinder and her stomach was threatening a mutiny as the nausea got worse. Reagan watched Caius go, noting how he walked, the grimace on his face. Reagan closed her eyes and sunk back against the couch again. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on bringing her magic to the surface, wanting to heal some of the internal pain she was still feeling. She didn't know what those shadows had been, but they had been inside of her, pushing through her body, trying to suffocate her. She was deliberately trying to ignore the fact that she and Caius had done this to one another. Reagan started to shiver so she reached out to her element to warm her body.
It occurred to Reagan that Caius might need to go to the hospital. There was nothing they could do for whatever those shadows had done to her, but it was possible that he would need stitches if the salve didn't work. Reagan swallowed hard and sat up again, turning to put her feet on the ground as she waited to see if the nausea would pass long enough for her to stand up. "Caius, let me get it," she called out to him before he could get too far. "I can walk... sit down and let me take care of it."
The truth was, Caius didn’t exactly know everything the shadows had done to Reagan. He didn’t have that explicit of control over them, and he’d been completely out of his mind to sic them on his wife. He didn’t know if he’d stopped them in time to prevent real lasting damage, and if Reagan hadn’t woken up ... Caius supposed he would’ve had to get her to his father. He didn’t know how he would’ve explained all this, so he was glad he hadn’t had to yet. “I can walk too, stay put,” he stubbornly called back. His thigh was still burning with pain, so he was limping, but he was making it. His were just surface wounds though, gods only knew how hurt Reagan really was.
Reagan sighed, but she was in no mood to bicker stubbornly with him over this. He needed to get patched up, and hopefully he wouldn't try to do it all himself. Her body begged her to lay back down, but Reagan sat back against the cushions instead, her hand resting on her stomach. She wondered if she ought to call her mother. But that would mean explaining what had happened, and what Caius had done. Veronica was already less than thrilled about the engagement for some reason, and Reagan didn't want to give her another reason to try and talk Reagan out of marrying Caius - even though that was already too late. No, they could handle this themselves. They couldn't always run to their parents when they had a terrible experience with their magic. And this hadn't really been their doing - it had been the fog. Still, Reagan needed to know what Caius had done, and what those things were. Magic could have long lasting effects on people and Reagan had no clue what she was dealing with.
Cringing, Reagan finally forced herself to stand. She paused, drawing in several deep breaths, before heading for the kitchen to get a damp washcloth to help clean Caius off. She thought she might vomit, but so far, the nausea stayed swirling in her stomach.
Why the fuck had Reagan bought a house with stairs? Nevermind that his house had stairs too, Caius was cursing them mentally as he climbed, making heavy use of the banister. Having a mission helped him focus and keep thoughts of what had happened outside at bay. It had obviously been the fog, but ... Reagan had still tried to kill him. He wasn’t sure he would be able to shake that mental image anytime soon. The fog had been in the way, but he’d seen enough of her face to have that snarling anger burned into his memory. Like the fire-hot slap to his cheek, he felt branded. And then feeling the answering rage inside of himself ... it had been scary. What was even scarier was how he hadn’t hesitated to send absolutely deadly force after her.
He finally reached the top of the stairs, feeling even more sweaty and dizzy, and hurried as much as he could to the master bathroom. Caius rummaged around, but couldn’t tell which salve Reagan meant, so he pulled a towel down to the floor and dumped a bunch of jars and bottles into it. The journey back down didn’t take quite as long, thankfully. “Got it, I think,” he said breathlessly as he limped back into the living room.
With her hands still shaking, Reagan managed to find a dry cloth in one of her drawers. She grabbed a bowl and filled it with warm, soapy water before taking it into the living room to set on the coffee table. Just the other night they had been there together, in front of a fire, drinking wine, ignoring the fog completely. Now she felt trapped inside her own home, and while she wasn't necessarily afraid of Caius, it was still jarring to be near someone who had nearly killed her. And fuck, vice versa.
Reagan was sitting again when Caius reappeared and she arched a brow briefly at the sight of the towel that looked quite full. It was only one jar. But she didn't label anything, because she knew what was what and Reagan motioned for Caius to set the towel down on the table so she could sort through things. "Sit," she instructed as she rummaged through the bottles until she found the small, fat jar. "Take off the robe."
Caius was magically gifted, but his talents had never seemed aimed toward the healing arts. That was much more Reagan’s department, with all of her work with herbs and poultices and everything. He admired it in her, it was a very useful direction for her skills. He hoped they were good enough today for him not to need any additional care -- if this effect of the formerly-pesky fog was the same everywhere, the hospital was probably very busy. Not to mention, Caius wanted to avoid going if at all possible.
He obeyed her directions this time, sitting on the couch next to her and pulling the robe off of himself. It at least wasn’t stuck to him any longer, it just left him naked and feeling even more vulnerable than before. His dark brows furrowed with pain and his face more pale than usual, Caius kept his mouth shut and watched his wife do her thing with what he’d brought her.
There was a lot of dry blood marring his body and Reagan got a better look at the cut through his side, and then on his thigh. Four gouges... from her nails. She could remember doing it, but she could not remember why. Only that she had been feeling violent and infuriated and he had been an easy target. The only target. Reagan left the jar in her lap as she got the cloth damp with the warm water. She began to clean away the blood so she could get a better look at the wounds and what she needed to do with them. She was not as in touch with her magic as she should have been while she worked. It felt buried somehow, like it was struggling to surface from some dark shadow inside of her. Reagan felt a tickle in her throat and lifted her arm to her mouth where she coughed. She could taste blood on her lips again. She wiped it away quickly and got back to work. When he was clean enough, Reagan dropped the bloody cloth back into the bowl of water and stood.
"I need you to lay down on your back," Reagan murmured. She unscrewed the cap to the salve and set it aside before dipping two fingers into the dark, creamy mixture. "Once it gets into your wound, it's going to start working on cleaning out any potential infection before it begins closing the skin completely. It's going to be painful at first, but only for a few minutes. If this doesn't work, you're going to need stitches."
Caius didn’t catch sight of the blood, sparkly as his vision was from Reagan cleaning him up. It hurt, bad, but he’d managed to stay silent, just gritting his teeth and bearing it because it had to be done. He had heard how wet her cough was though, and it hurt something deeper inside of him. Gods, what if he’d truly hurt her? What if she was hemorrhaging? What if he’d done enough damage to eventually kill her? It all made Caius feel panicky, which wasn’t good on top of everything else. He wanted to demand to know how she felt, how badly she thought she was hurt, if he needed to call for an ambulance, but Caius knew that wouldn’t get him very far with Reagan. Mundane medicine might not be able to help her anyway.
He just nodded to what she said and turned himself to lie down. It felt both better and worse at the same time. He tucked his arm behind his head on his injured side to keep it out of the way, gazing at her with open worry. “I’m so sorry,” Caius murmured. The words were stupid, pale things that didn’t touch what he was actually feeling, but it was all he had at the moment. “Are you in pain still?”
Reagan knelt down on the floor beside the couch and started to spread the salve over the deep cut in his side, wanting to get that healed before she moved to his thigh. She was just thankful she hadn't been able to see terribly well in the fog, otherwise she might have sliced into an artery, or just gone for the kill by cutting his throat. It made her sick to think about. With any luck, the salve would work, the wounds would heal and all Caius would be left with would be some more scars. She just felt terrible that she was the reason he had them, and she had a feeling he would remember that every time he saw them. Her gaze ticked to his when he told her he was sorry and Reagan wished she had some comforting words to make him feel better. She just didn't know what to say. "Just nauseous," she whispered, going back to spreading the salve over the entirety of the wound. She spared another glance at his face. "What were they?"
Reagan had warned him that it would hurt, but Caius was still unprepared for just how much it burned in his open wound. He stifled a noise after the first touch of salve, the muscles in his core clenching as he did his best not to squirm, moving to grip the arm of the couch behind his head with both hands. He just hoped all the pain meant it was working. Caius was usually pretty decent at withstanding pain, he’d endured a lot of it over the course of learning magic, but this was on another level than what he was used to. He took a couple of shaky, purposeful breaths, watching Reagan’s hands more than her face. “Spirits,” he answered, his voice a little strained. “Shadow spirits, called Obscurities. Been learning them.”
Obscurities. Reagan had never heard of them. Maybe her mother had. But Reagan felt reluctant to ask her mother anything about what had happened today. She didn't think she had the energy to try and explain the circumstances. But she had a name, and she damn well knew what they felt like now, so it seemed possible that she could research them on her own. "And you control them," Reagan said. It was more of a statement than a question. He had conjured them outside. He had sent them to attack her. He was the one who called them off before they could kill her, right?
She knew he was in pain from the salve, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was the only way she could make right what she did to him. From the looks of it, the salve was bubbling over the wound, but that meant it was working. With that finished, Reagan shifted on the couch a bit to get to his thigh. There were more cuts to deal with, so she got to work. "Is that where your last scar came from?" Reagan asked, her gaze ticking briefly to his face. She remembered seeing it on his chest for the first time in Anguilla. It would make sense that something that dark would leave a noticeable mark on his body.
Reagan had said the pain would get better, so he just had to tough it out. As a small mercy, the salve against his leg didn’t burn quite as badly. He kept breathing deliberately, doing his best to keep it all muffled, and tried to focus on what Reagan was saying. “Yes,” he answered her non-question. He did control them to an extent that he was still learning the boundaries of. It wasn’t magic that he’d intended to use in any real-world situation yet. Caius had taken them on, but he was still studying them himself. Reagan might want to join him now, he realized. They didn’t usually meddle in one another’s magic, but this morning kind of changed things, didn’t it? “Yes again ... I got it the night I summoned them.” Caius took another couple of labored breaths, glancing down again at his injuries. Ugh, it smelled weird.
Reagan wasn't entirely sure she wanted to study the Obscurities. If she did, it was mostly to know what they were and what their purpose was. What they might have done to her, and if there were any lasting effects. Something told her Caius wouldn't know if she asked him. She fell silent then, spreading the salve over the gouges in his thigh before going back to take a look at the wound in his side. The skin was already starting to look a bit pink, like it was healing. That was a good sign. Reagan capped the jar and set it on the coffee table before she stood to go wash her hands. While she was in the kitchen she got a glass of water to rinse the bloody taste from her mouth. Her tongue felt a bit sore where she had bitten into it earlier, but it would heal just fine. Reagan poured another glass of water for Caius and carried it to him on the couch. "Does it still hurt?" she murmured, offering him the water.
While Reagan was gone, the stinging started to subside, just as she said it would, and Caius could really get a look at himself. He knew the spell she’d been using against him, and while it could be vicious -- the human body really was so soft and vulnerable -- it was simple. He knew the slashes would heal, probably without any issues. What he truly didn’t know, and was currently cursing himself for, was whether what he’d done to Reagan would heal without issues. Not that Caius was completely blaming himself, she had attacked him first, or rather, the fog had made her attack him. And made him viciously counter-attack. He hadn’t felt in control of himself at all, and that helped a tiny bit, but not much. “Much better,” he answered softly, pushing himself up a bit to accept the water from her and take a sip. “Would that work on my face too?” He nodded toward the salve. Caius’s cheek was still burning. It hadn’t been as important when he was bleeding out, but now, if they could do something about it ...
Reagan had very nearly forgotten about the burn on his face. His skin was pink and splotchy, but she had been more focused on her own pain, and where Caius had been bleeding. She sat on the edge of the coffee table and picked up the salve to open again. She had just washed her hands, but it didn't matter. Burns could be just as painful, if not more so, than the kind of wounds she'd inflicted on him elsewhere. Reagan didn't need to use as much as she had on the cuts, so she took just a tiny dab onto her fingertips and leaned over to spread it carefully over his cheek where she'd hit him. She wished she had answers as to why things happened that had happened. Reagan knew something had been in the fog to make them react the way that they had, but what. Why had it triggered all her previous resentments toward Caius that she had since forgiven? Was it affecting everyone in town, or just those vulnerable to anger? "Better?" Reagan asked once she finished and screwed the cap back on the jar. "It looks like it's working, at least."
Maybe because it wasn’t open skin, the salve didn’t hurt as much on his face. Caius still winced a little from the sting, but it faded into a nicer warmth faster. “Yeah, much,” he murmured, glancing down at his side. It was kind of incredible, the way the wound already seemed a little smaller, and the skin looked less aggravated. Caius looked at his wife then, his dark brows drawn closer together. He reached for her hand with his free one, some anxiety in him desperate to touch her in a loving way again. “Thank you, you’re amazing,” he said softly. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Reagan wasn’t so skilled and prepared -- he would’ve had to go to a mundane hospital, at least. “Can I do anything for you?” Healing wasn’t his thing, but he very strongly wanted to help her somehow.
Being prepared was one of Reagan's strong suits, especially being a witch in a town like this. It was never smart to be caught off guard. Of course, she rarely had to use her healing lotions for these kinds of wounds, but she was glad to have had it. If Caius would have had to go to the hospital, they would have had to go back out into the fog, and then explain to the nurses and doctors what happened. They would have had to lie, which was yet another of Reagan's skills, but she didn't need anyone else nosing into their business. She didn't pull away from his touch, understanding the need for the physical contact after what had happened. Reagan wasn't entirely sure how to answer his question. How was she supposed to know what to ask for if she had no idea what had really happened. "I don't know, can you?" Reagan asked. There was no bite in her tone, just wariness. "I can see what I did to you. I can physically touch and heal it. I don't know what you did to me, and I don't think you do either."
Shame crossed through Caius’s eyes. He’d been studying, he’d been diligent, he’d been practicing, but he hadn’t known everything. He’d allowed himself to have gaps in his knowledge, and that apparently made him dangerous. He hadn’t expected to completely lose control of his mind and actions though. Especially not in a context that would endanger his wife. “Not entirely,” he admitted. “And my books aren’t here ... I’ll call my father. They need to be warned to stay indoors anyway. I won’t say it was you.” With a soft grunt, he sat up further and moved to pull his legs around Reagan so he could get fully upright. His phone was in the bedroom and that meant more stairs, but his body was already feeling stronger, so that was a bit less daunting.
Reagan reached out to place her hand on his knee before he could stand. "Who are you going to say it was?" she asked. "You know what your father is going to say." Anthony D'Onofrio wasn't stupid, and he would ask questions. If he felt even an inkling that Caius was lying, or that he might have turned those things on Reagan, she knew he would call Reagan's mother next and Reagan did not want to deal with that. "I think this is something we need to deal with on our own. I feel okay right now. I'd rather you stay sitting and rest and let me get some bandages on those wounds. They're healing, but you should have them covered up until the process is completely finished."
Caius stayed sitting when she touched him, looking over at Reagan with a pained expression. He’d been planning -- as much as he could plan anything on the fly -- to say it was some random person, someone outside the same time that Caius was when things just went crazy. But Reagan probably had a point that Anthony would poke holes in his story. Still, he hated the risk. Not knowing what could’ve been done to Reagan ... ultimately what he could’ve done to her ... it sucked. But she sounded pretty determined, so he sighed and sat back again. “Okay ... but if you start feeling any different, any sort of bad at all, you have to tell me,” he said. Caius didn’t know what he would do, but he would do something. Even if that meant alerting their parents. Reagan’s life meant more than dealing with them.
If things got bad, obviously they would have to turn to their parents, but she wanted to avoid that if at all possible. They meddled enough as it was and she hated the idea of her mother thinking she couldn't handle her magic properly. But that hadn't been Reagan outside, nor had it been Caius. It had been something else, something darker, and she hated how easily it had taken them over. Reagan nodded. Since he remained sitting, she stood so she could take the abundance of her bottles and jars back upstairs to her bathroom. She would grab some bandages while she was up there. "Stay put," she instructed as she gathered everything to the middle of the towel again. "I'll get some bandages. Do you want any pain killers?" Maybe the best thing would be for the two of them to rest and recover and worry about the implications of what happened later. It was too difficult to talk about at the moment and she still didn't feel entirely like herself.
Caius had been with Reagan Kelly long enough to know when she was in certain modes, and right then she seemed determined to get shit done, not talk. Which was probably for the best, if he was being honest. Part of him was still reeling from what had happened outside, and he was sure Reagan was in the same boat. Now that most of the panic and scramble to do damage control was over, everything could sink in and maybe they needed to process a little before they discussed it. “Yeah, just ... anything you’ve got,” he answered from where he was obediently staying put. “Would you bring me my phone too, please?” Caius was still worried about his parents and Sera, and he wanted to make sure to get the word out they should stay indoors, even if he wasn’t spilling details about how he knew.
Reagan nodded, remembering that his phone was upstairs in her bedroom. She gathered the towel up to carry everything back up the stairs. "I'll be right back," she murmured, relieved not to have to deal with their parents at the moment. Although, she was starting to realize, like Caius had, that she should text her parents and Nate about the fog, though it was possible they already knew something was going on. Reagan left Caius on the couch and headed upstairs, thankful that the steps didn't cause her any discomfort. She replaced the jars and bottles in her bathroom and found the bandages under her sink.
When she straightened, she lifted her arm to catch the cough that tickled her throat. She tasted blood again, Reagan wiped her mouth and stared at the crimson streaks on her fingertips before she quickly turned on the tap to wash them away. She was the Queen of compartmentalizing her emotions when the situation called for it. She could be stoic and unfeeling, if only to protect herself. But she was helpless to stop the tears that filled her eyes and the pain that clenched tightly in her chest. It took her a moment to gather herself again, and she splashed water on her face to try and ease the redness that had surrounded her eyes. When she felt like she could, Reagan took a deep breath, grabbed the bandages again and walked out into her bedroom to grab her phone, and Caius's.
Reagan walked back downstairs and crossed the room to Caius, offering him his phone as she set hers down on the table. Then she began to pull apart the wrappers to the bandages. "How do they feel?" she asked, motioning to his wounds. "They're looking better. But we'll put these on to keep them safe for now, okay?"
Downstairs, reality was sinking into Caius’s mind more as well. Being still and quiet and no longer in a lot of pain made thinking too easy. He and Reagan, his new wife, had tried to kill each other. Any of those slashes could’ve been to his throat, or deep enough to cut an artery. You could die from a slice to the inside of the thigh, couldn’t you? And gods, the way she had screamed when the Obscurities had gotten inside of her. His expression turning even more pained, Caius picked up a couch pillow to press over his face for a moment. It was a little grounding.
There was obviously some bad magic going on, or some chemical in the fog, or something like that. It hadn’t been them acting of their own volition, he knew that, but it was hard to square that with the vivid memories of what had just happened. Seeing that look on Reagan’s face, feeling his skin split open, feeling that irrational rage. Didn’t they have enough fucking problems already? They didn’t need this on top of them.
He lowered the pillow and controlled his expression when he heard her coming down the stairs, then accepted his phone with a murmured thanks. Caius started texting his sister almost immediately, though he held his phone so he wouldn’t be in the way of Reagan bandaging him up. “They feel better,” he said. “A little itchy now, but that’s it.” A warning sent to Sera, Caius looked at Reagan again, his face a bit pained again. “Thank you, love,” he murmured.
Reagan took care in placing the bandages over Caius's injuries, not wanting to hurt him if he was still sore. She glanced at his face a couple of times as he texted his family. This was something they would have to talk about eventually. But not now. Reagan didn't have the energy, and she wasn't sure what she would say. They both needed to just take some time and process everything. And hope the fog cleared up soon, because Reagan wasn't about to venture outside again. She sat down beside him and leaned in to curl her body against his, her arm slipping over his stomach to cling to him. It was difficult to process just how close she had come to truly hurting him, or creating a fatal wound. If she had been able to see any better, deep down in her gut, Reagan knew she would have. She had been that set on destroying him. It was an emotion that felt foreign to her now, despite how natural it had been at the time. "I'm sorry," she murmured, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek to his skin. "I'm so sorry."
Some tension that Caius hadn’t been aware he was holding in his core loosened a bit as Reagan curled up against him. He settled both arms around her, turning a bit so he could hold her better and press his lips against her hair. He breathed in her scent, thankful that there was nothing different about it, and swallowed back some emotion that threatened to boil over in his throat. “Me too,” he whispered to her, squeezing her very gently. He’d already said as much, but it bore repeating. Which wasn’t something Caius often did with apologies. This was a special case. After a moment he pulled back a bit and tilted her face up with a curled finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I love you so much,” he murmured. “I would never have done that, in my right mind.” Caius brushed his thumb against the soft spot right under her bottom lip.
"I know," she said, because she did know it and she believed him. That was really the only thing keeping her sanity held together at the moment, the knowledge that the fog had used them against each other and that neither of them had wanted this. But Reagan didn't know if Caius would have reacted the way he had if she hadn't attacked him first. Would he have succumbed to anger the same way she had? Or was he just a target and her violence merely triggered his own? She didn't know, and she didn't want to. "But we'll be okay," she murmured, searching his eyes with her own. They would just have to give it some time. And maybe they would have to talk about this more in depth later, but... not now. She lifted her face a bit to press a kiss against his. "I love you. And you know I would never purposely do anything to hurt you." Not anymore, anyway. They were past all of that drama and this was supposed to be a new start for them. Reagan couldn't let this derail what they had going.
Likewise, Caius knew that Reagan wouldn’t have acted against him like that on her own. The disturbing thing was, he hadn’t known that outside. Not enough to stop whatever had happened to them and keep his wits about him. If there was one thing Caius hated, it was feeling out of control, and that ... that had been a scary way to lose control. So he nodded that yes, they would be okay, and then softly kissed Reagan back. His arm tightened around her a bit and he leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes for a moment. “I know,” he murmured. “I love you too. More than anything.” He had the same bad feeling that this wasn’t over, Caius just hoped whatever the fuck was going on wouldn’t escalate into bloodshed again. He moved to kiss her again, lingering in it a bit this time.
Reagan didn't want to move. She just wanted to sit there, clinging to Caius for the rest of the day. With the fog still thick and no sign of it clearing up, it was entirely possible that she could do just that. Clearly she wouldn't be opening up the shop today. Going anywhere was just impossible. Maybe she would perform a cleansing spell later, just in case something in the fog followed them inside. Reagan closed her eyes and kissed him back, her own arm tightening around Caius, though she was mindful of his side. Despite what had happened, he was still Caius. Her husband. They had been through a lot over the past ten years, maybe nothing as terrifying as what had happened, but Reagan knew they were strong enough to withstand the aftermath, whatever that might be.