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The ache in battered limbs started a touch earlier than Sharra had originally surmised.

Walking back to the dorms, it became increasingly less delightful to place one foot in front of the other, and the ghoul that he was so protectively transporting seemed a heavier weight as time progressed. Luckily there were a thousand other issues on his mind, and that detracted from what otherwise would have been a fixation on his injuries. It definitely did something for the urgency of their trek, mind…bruised muscles already fantasizing about the softness of cushions.

There were still very ponderous issues still hanging in the air, ones that would likely cause a restless weight if left unaddressed, and for once, Sharra was not the source of them. So it was no surprise that the Nergal’s attention slid over to the dejected fey boil, studying him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey….you know it’s because of how much you mean to us, right?” All of it. The worry, the anger…whilst not always properly expressed, the blond demon was absolutely certain of the truth of his words this time. This mess was a horrific domino effect, complex, layered emotions all toppling one by one.

Hadiyya had put up no resistance when Sharra had scooped her up against his chest. Crying really didn't cover the emotional break she appeared to be suffering from. The ghoul wept, one delicate hand curling tightly into the front of the nergal's shirt. For a long while she didn't hear him, or Marosa, or anything really. Her mind was a static buzzing, senses dulled by the weight of the emotions threatening to crush her, and everything that had happened in the last week. She was, understandably, at the end of her ropes. Cracked and crumbling.

The tears did slow though, Yaya quieting slowing until it wasn't immediately obvious if she was still conscious, or had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that taken hold of her. She was utterly limp in Sharra's arms. Head lulling against his chest as the boils made their slow way back to the dorms. All she wanted in that moment was the glide of silken sheets across her skin and the soft embrace of a pillow beneath her head. To fall into the sweet spell of sleep, and linger there.

For now though she was awake, and she did hear their voices, but she felt as if she were caught in some numb daze. It probably should have been alarming, but in all honesty the lack of emotion and thought came as a relief to the demon ghoul. She didn't try to fight free of it, not yet. Instead she embraced it, wrapping it around herself like a blanket on a cold day. The numbness was safety, it was easy. What waited beyond it was anything but.

The gancangh said nothing, merely nodding as he listened to Sharra, feeling guiltier by the moment. Sure, he'd been through a lot of pain and failure, but it didn't compare with what Sharra had gone through with his own family. He'd forgotten that his aunts no longer existed... and he regretted not being able to ever meet them.

The hand on his arm tightened, and he leaned closer to Sharra, closing the distance. He didn't really have anything to say, but merely gave a nod in response. Flexing his arm experimentally, the faerie winced and dropped both hands, shoving them in his pockets and deciding to just deal with the pain he'd been dealt.

He could really use some coffee at the moment, and welcomed the fact that Sharra was talking - his own thoughts were devious and against him, for the moment. Of course, he didn't realize that he started mumbling to himself.

"... need to see Da'luagh."

Jerking his head towards Sharra, Marosa blinked for a moment, trying to decipher what the other was asking before he actually realized that he mumbled his statement out loud. Taking a breath, the faerie rolled his shoulders back and popped them, head lowering.

"Because maybe, for once... oi won't be a ******** up with everything oi do." His mouth twisted into a frown, and the gancanagh shook his head. "Oi need to have lunch with him anyway... his majesty demands it." Reaching into his sporran, Marosa fumbled about for a moment until he produced a postcard with a picture of a frog hanging from a branch just inches from falling, insects flying around with the words above saying "HANG IN THERE!"

... tactful. Real tactful.

"Oi've only ever fought twice, Sharra. And ye know as well as oi do what happened with the dragon fight." Opening the door to the dorm room, Marosa used his good arm to help lift Hadiyya onto the bed. "Both of these times oi've ******** up. Twice now. Twice." Putting his head in his hands, the faerie sat next to Hadiyya and breathed slowly for a few beats.

Pulling his hand away from his face, he reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind an ear, sorrow on his face. Marosa felt incredibly guilty for what he'd done.

"... Oi asked her to marry me, Sharra. But..." His golden gaze slid to the nergal demon, voice lowering into an almost whisper. "Oi don't just want her." He wanted it to be the three of them. He wanted the best of both worlds.

The gancanagh's shoulders slumped as he stared at the floor.

Sharra's words to the gancanaugh would have had quite a bit of reinforcement had the djinn in his arms been in any state to provide it. Instead it felt as if their voices washed over her. Apart of the conversation, but a part from it. Even when the emphasis was placed on her. She didn't stir, barely even seemed to be breathing, until the both of them were laying her prone form on a familiar bed.

The white noise and cotton that had filled her mind began to clear as the color and glow slowly returned to dim eyes. Not the bright Caribbean she normally bore, but something far more subdued. A grey-blue with only a faint glow, dark as as the ocean when clouds stole away the sub. Her eyes had become a measuring rod for the ghoul's emotions, another mark of the control she continued to gain over her Fear.

Sharra sank down to sit beside their fey, and the djinn's head turned against the pillow, gaze focusing on the backs of both their heads. Copper curls and sheets of pale blond. Darker for the water she'd doused them with. They were all sill wet, but that was a problem she could fix, even as drained as she felt. A twitch of her fingers, and they all began to dry, quicker than they would have on their own. Banishing the moisture away.

Moving more than that took an absurd amount of effort, but Yaya couldn't just lay there listening, not when this was the topic of painful conversation. One more hard situation befalling them, one right after the next. This, at least, she had a small measure of control over. If not the boils, than her thoughts and twisted feelings.

Rising up on weak arms, she shifted until she shoulder her way to lay her upper body between them. The bend of her legs slid to spoon around the gancanaugh's hips, cool fingers gliding over his thigh to lay an arm across his lap, but her head dropped into the curve of the nergal's bent knee.

In the last week and a half the nergal had managed to redeem himself considerably in the djinn's judgmental eyes. She saw the effort he was making, heard the truth in his words when he spoke. Trust wasn't there yet, the ghoul remains guarded, but the hostility had essentially gone from her. With the cooling of those negetive feelings came the knowledge that she was standing very nearly in the same place she had stood before: to keep one was to accept both. If she didn't, if she couldn't, she feared she lose everything.

It was either a step in the right direction, or the first shallow cut in something that would sever her ties from them completely.