Healing.

[catch]

"You do not know what this madness is!" The Wolf howled so, that the faint outline of stars behind the ash-gray sky shook where they stood, and somewhere distant came the sound of shattering glass, tiny pops and glittering pieces falling as glitter against the dull clouds. There, then, was the Wolf, crouched low in a doorway, his massive head thrust out from the shadows, disappearing so completely into the darkness that its whole body seemed to be made of the flashing iridescence of millions, countless, of flies. The calm confidence, the bland malevolence, that Dulcie had seen was all but evaporated, and the beast's visage was truly terrible, a snarling mask of scurvy, abscessed gums and milky, jaundiced eyes.

"Lies! Long have I guarded, and I'll be guarding yet while the stars fall from the sky. I am worn away, but I am strong still. Why would you help him when all he will do is destroy you!"

[Lamai]

I don't need to know what this madness Names itself. I simply know that it is. I'm not afraid of it. I've survived madness before; I'll survive it again. Do you even know what to do with a mind that doesn't fear you?

One of her hands rose, arm pulling away from the frail, almost skeletal frame of her body to reach towards that horrific visage. She couldn't see it, but she could feel the illness coursing through him.

I do not ask you to stop guarding, Wolf. I ask you to let me stabilize this place so that no one dies. What do you think will happen if you fail? Even the best fail, Wolf. Let me HELP you!

[catch]

At that, the wolf gave pause, his leathery lips flattening over his long, loose fangs, and here began a long, lengthy silence, where even the Fire House did not belch, nor did the wind bring that terrible, decaying smell, but - instead - the faint edge of a refreshing sea, and the cries of some ocean bird. For several beats of it's heart, the wolf saw what she offered, but because it feared her so, it could not lie. Not as he had done Dulcie. The gentle sea-birds turned to infants, or pigs, screaming, somewhere so far away that their cries came faint, spewing from the Fire House, who's vast chimneys burned once more.

"You would condemn this creature to madness. A gentler madness than what he would have without me, but madness all the same. Would you do that? Could you?" The wolf shouldered his way through the narrow door, upsetting the clotted masses of flies just long enough until he is clear, before they settle on him again. In that brief time, the fallen angel could see the same markings on the beast's diseased skin that grace Catch's hands, that imprint every part of this world, and the Wolf's voice was mocking, yet cautious.

"And what would you tell him, when his only, good dreams are gone, and the Silver light no longer bade him to find himself? When I whisper in his mind, strong as ever?" The Wolf laughs and shakes his flanks, but cannot dislodge even the smallest fly. "Fine, then. Heal ME. Take what you need to do so. Your precious Wood would be safe again." And for a moment, at those last words, the Wolf sounded like Glenn.

[Lamai]

And what would you do if I simply freed him from you, Wolf? Lamai asked him thoughtfully. I think you need to give me the truth. Completely. No secrets, Wolf. No lies. No games. There was a firmness in her tone that offered no wiggle room. He wanted to threaten her with the extinguishing of a dream? Fine.

The Wolf's problem was that he was staring down a creature that had faced down more nightmares than she had dreams. He could howl and growl all he liked; he wouldn't be able to scare her.

And do not misunderstand me, Wolf. Lamai spoke softly. There was a gentleness in her that didn't match her words. I am no longer bound by a vow. If you force my hand, none of you will come out of this alive.

[catch]

The Wolf drew back, his lips twitching again over his teeth, words of challenge and words of threat, in his own domain, as if Catch's mind belong to this creature, this nothing. In a way, it did.

"I tell him where to go, and what to do." Truth dragged reluctantly from his ruined, fleshy throat, dewlap jiggling from where the beast had once been fat and full. "I tell him the things he must remember, and keep from him the things he cannot. I am in his flesh. If you kill me, he will remember. He will go mad, and you will not be able to control him, and the power you seek will be poured down your throats until your bellies burst. But if you heal me, then you have your placid, obedient creature. This is the truth. I swear it."

Did the beast shake? Its long, rat-like tail curled and flattened against it's sunken belly. It was frightened, and it could not hide it from the mist and atmosphere. It feared for it's existence.

[Lamai]

It was not an emotion that she liked to inspire. Fear had a way of twisting the most noble heart. It poisoned a soul. However, there were times when it needed to be wielded. If nothing else, Lamai had been taught that she could not stand by and wait for someone else to stand up to the shadows, no matter the price. There had certainly been some heavy prices over the years.

That strength, that -security-, was there as she started forward towards the quivering animal. It didn't matter if it was Voice or Spirit or simply a soul trapped and bound. The fact of the matter was.. it was here. It was here, and it was frightened, and it was dying.

Tell me what he will remember. Tell me where this madness stems. You have my Word, Wolf.. no one will know of it. Only you and I. But if I am to heal and to ease this torment here within, I must understand it.

Closer still, those steps moved, until she was within an arm's length. Then, she simply lowered to her knees and waited. It was just as Catch had done before; the offer was there. Come to her. Give her the fear and ache that seemed to poison the very existence of this inner world.

His would not be the first mind that she had eased. Only this time, she would not fail.

[catch]

The closer she got, the lower the Wolf became, until his bowed chest touched the cobble streets, and the tattoos wound themselves around his crooked, hairless feet, winding up his his legs like carnivorous creepers. If this was truly a creature of flesh and blood, then it would have taken such an offer, yet the closer she got, the more it flickered, the more it seemed to be made of gossamer web and dripping ink. Less horrible, and somehow more.

"The Master put me here," it pants, as if just being near the fallen angel was pain, it's words coming in wild whimpers and whipped snarls, the geas fighting and defiant still in it's weakness. "They took the horn and drank the blood, and their eyes boiled in silver tears, and the Master put me here to keep the Word and the Promise. He is gone, and this creature is too strong, and soon there will be nothing left of me, and his wroth will devour the world."

[Lamai]

I have seen wickedness large enough to devour worlds and stood toe to toe with it. This Master of yours, does he have a name?

Inside, there was a moment of fear. Concern. Worry. She didn't want the Wolf to name Glenn. The mention of Blood had spooked her, for Glenn had said the same thing. Don't drink the blood until the end. And this had the feeling of his fingers all over it.

If you come to me, I can remake you. Strengthen you. Purify you, so that you don't weaken and grow ill. I know you are afraid, Wolf. I have made you afraid, so that you can know what it is I do. If I do this for you, there will be no slow waste. But if I do this for you, you must Believe.

Trust. It was going to be a hard thing for a creature that wasn't entirely its own mind. She could see through it now for what it was. A flicker. A mindless thing, set to protect and cage what was underneath. What it was that was underneath, Lamai still wasn't quite sure.

The one thing she did know, however, was that nothing should be chained to another. Not herself. Not anyone. Somehow, she had a feeling that Glenn was going to become quite angry with her in the end.

[catch]

"Have you?" the wolf squealed, mocking probing. The way it's lips writhed, the way his teeth chattered and clicked, it was obvious that the thing wished to cast out this intruder, this virus, this angel-winged thing that must be stopped, must be destroyed. The fabric of the town cracked, creaking at it's edges, straining against Lamai, and a light brighter than the sun shot through what creases it created. But it was sickly, feeble, and not nearly strong enough.

"The Master is dead," the thing whispered, after the last of it's strength was spent, and even the Fire House lost it's sparks, the last puff of lonely black drifting lazily into the sky. The Wolf thrust it's head at her, dribbling ink as black as pitch on her hands, her arms. "He has been dead for six thousand years." Thus did it surrender to her, leaving the choice in her hands, capable of speaking no more.

[Lamai]

If the Master had been dead for six thousand years, then it wasn't possible that Glenn was that Master. Good. That did not mean, however, that Lamai couldn't purge all of the ties.

She felt it. It crawled across her, dissipated but still vaguely struggling. Did Glenn have any idea of just how close Myrken had come? Regardless, it was within her power to strip and rebuild.

That was exactly what she did. It couldn't be a full rebirth. That power was beyond her. But she could heal the corruption. She could.. change the terms. Not fully. Unfortunately, there would still be some things that remained unchanged. But the danger, that she could contain.

It took some time. Each step had to be carefully rewoven, as if she was patching an old, tattered rug. There was no need to change the pattern. It simply needed to be refreshed and renewed. It was.. exhausting work.

Long work. In the outside, the sun had gone down long before she was finished. Inside, that smell of death and decay made way for life.

Alright. Let me see you. Even that sound was tired. Now, she was the vulnerable one.

[catch]

It's fur was white as a maggot's, growing thick and full from a skin that had once been leathery, black and calloused, where once only pus-boils and wooden warts had grown, its eyes red as blood. The creature, the geas, whatever it was locked inside Catch's head gave a shake, a mighty, tremendous leap straight into the air, and he dissipated like mist above her head, snarling in rage. It strained again, against these new boundaries, and even it had meant it's destruction, the wolf still howled on the wind in frustration. There was a crack, under the woman's feet, shot through with a light, the burning of an unkind sun, primal and pure, unforgiving and ungentle. It simply was, neither good or malevolent, and it swallowed the woman away from ash and fire, black smoke and the ruins of the town, and thick, flabby arms as they tried to close on her. The brief glance she would get of the Fat Man was not a pretty one, a hint of pillowed arms and rolls of belly, covered in a too-tight butcher's smock, a face like Treadwell's without a beard, the hair shorn on head and lips, and empty, pig-like eyes, and the light mercifully swallowed her.

It had been her doing, that this new power aided her like this, the thing that lay under the ruined town and the dark forest, the one beam that sped away from the White Wolf as it raged and fought to bite it again. It forced itself into her eyes, into her mouth and nostrils, a pure, sweet stream, but too much and too fast and not at all gentle, and it flushed into her pores and around her wings -

- and forced them to grow -

__________________________________________

Catch pulled away from her, the sky black and the lake's shore grown fat with the tide. And he sat. What was in his eyes were nothing, even as he looked down at his trembling hand. The black marks were invisible against his skin, but it was there, tattoos of purest white, and he, with mechanical movements, brought his hand up to get a closer look. But there was something wrong. Was this his hand? Trembling, frightened, Catch drew his fingers along his brow, where it pitted and scarred, and he utters a low, animal moan, disbelieving. Knowing on some level that he had never known before. He turned to Lamai, his fingers digging into the sand, the rocks, his eyes wild and filled with sorrow, lit from within by a strange, luminous knowledge, it's greater memories locked away.

"Why am I crying?" he asks her, confused, frightened as sorrow chokes him as it never had before. He wept, and it all seemed so bottomless, this darkness, but he didn't know why, or if he'd ever be happy again. "C-c-can we he-help Ser G-Glenn now?" he forced, past his chattering teeth and heaving throat. That was why he had done this, hadn't he? he would be sad for Ser Glenn.

[Lamai]

Lamai had always tried to be careful and gentle in her healings. The forceful flush of power that pushed and extended and rebirthed was enough to make James cry out in alarm as she was unceremoniously dumped. The healer woman nearly crumpled backwards, and the shovel was dropped as James lowered to a knee, only to have Lamai rest a hand on him in reassurance.

"Sometimes, you have to get past the pain to really feel better, darling Catch," Lamai explained softly. The force of the regrowth had exhausted her far more than the actual work, and even with that, she was moving forward. There was a crawl to that slender frame, and then arms were wrapping around him like a mother might protect her child.

"Yes, now I can help Glenn. You did wonderfully, Catch. You were spectacular, and I am so very, very proud of you."

[catch]

He did wonderfully. He did wonderfully. He did not see flames, the blood-suckers that Kacela so despised, the wistful memories of Dulcie that had choked him with emotions he could not name, the teeth and chicken-feathers of Suede. In fact, he had seen nothing at all, only a deep, cocooning rest, until the light had blinded him and seared his hands to silver, and filled him to the brim with... this. What was this? A deep, aching sadness, a keener sense of loss, things that had, until now, been dully felt and dully ignored.

As Lamai drew him into her embrace, he felt her dying. Slow, so slowly, but dying, as the trees did, as animals did, and for a long, long while, he could do nothing but cry. There was subtle difference, things to be felt and seen of him, eyes that saw nothing but color, even in the depth of night, his ears - they had always been large - jutting out even further. A spattering of new hair, and his curls jut even further from the brims of his collective hats. A light had escaped, and the Wolf raged.