A Recovery

Mikiel wandered through the forest, more on guard than usual for a mission. After some time resting and confirmation that he was well enough to return to work, he had been called in to assist with the current investigation. The last squad had been slaughtered, so Investigations needed any backup still available (as long as said backup had field experience). He had been informed the ‘incident’ from nights ago was a result of everyone’s Marks being rescinded, and he was surprised to find himself feeling apprehensive about going on a mission without any magical protection. He paused to rub his eyes, lifting up his glasses slightly as he did so. Both eyes were still bloodshot, and while it didn’t impact his vision at all he couldn’t ignore the discomfort. Or the sympathetic glances from his co-workers who didn’t suffer as much as he did. What’s the point? He didn’t lose his sight like some of the others.

So far, he hadn’t encountered anything out of the ordinary, but as he got closer to the edge of the forest, he could spot two shapes in the distance. One black and red, the other white. 

He advanced closer, slowly, carefully, although the drop in temperature from his psiionics would give away any attempts at stealth. He can make out the shapes more clearly now, one belonging to a troll lying face-down on the forest floor, and the other a capybara who he can only assume is the troll’s lusus. The creature nips at the troll’s red scarf (barely visible amongst the wild tangle of hair now decorated in leaves and mud), attempting to drag the body away from this spot. Mikiel would have assumed the troll to be dead if not for the barely-audible muttering about… Something. Saving someone? A ‘thing’ of some description? Whatever, this is not his problem. The capybara spots him staring this way, and lets go of the troll’s scarf. It makes a noise to get Mikiel’s attention, and tilts its head in the direction of the probably-dying redblood.

“What do you think I can do about it?” Mikiel scoffs, and then immediately realises that he’s trying to talk to a literal animal. Ugh, this job really is driving him insane. He shakes his head, and turns to leave.

He barely makes it a couple metres before something bumps into his leg, almost tripping him over. It’s the lusus. He waves it away, and keeps moving. Then it bumps into him again, and this time succeeds in tripping him over. 

“Hey! What the hell’s your problem?” 

The capybara grabs Mikiel’s shoelace in its mouth, and starts to attempt to pull him back to the body. He can already tell this creature has no intention of giving up. He sighs.

“… Okay, fine. I’ll help. Happy?”

The capybara seems to understand the blueblood’s intentions when he stands back up, wiping some mud off his white jacket and re-tying his shoelace. It trots back to the troll on the ground, and Mikiel follows, crouching down beside the body once he reaches them.

“Can you stand?” He touches the troll’s shoulder, who flinches at his touch. Mikiel assumes it’s due to his hands, no one actually enjoys being touched by a cryokinetic.

The redblood manages to turn his head just slightly enough that he can see Mikiel in his peripheral vision. The intensity of that stare is disturbing, as if he had seen something no one should ever have to witness. Mikiel recognised that stare, he’s seen it before from others who have made contact with the supernatural. The redblood doesn’t respond to his question, still muttering something that might as well be pure gibberish.

“Ugh, I guess not.” He groans. “Your lusus won’t leave me alone if I leave you here, so you’re coming with me.”

Picking up the redblood feels no different to picking up a corpse, he doesn’t resist whatsoever and only winces whenever Mikiel moves his hands. Mikiel notes that the troll’s other eye has swollen completely over, undoubtedly he’s suffered more than a black eye to be in this state. He manages to lift the troll onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position, not listening to any pained noises coming from his mouth. If they wanted a medic to come rescue him, the capybara should’ve tried looking for someone else.

“You’ll have to deal with the cold.” Mikiel says bluntly, but gets no response.

He stands back up, shifting his position somewhat so he can retrieve the communicator out of his pocket, but not before first getting a mouthful of hair as the wind blows the redblood’s long locks into his face. Ugh, really? Have some people not heard of scissors before?

With the communicator in hand and dialling, he makes sure the troll feels safely secured on his shoulders, and starts heading back to the main meeting point. The capybara follows after him.

“Giacho.” He states once the calls connects. “I’m heading back. I found someone.”