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WHO: Ronan Lynch and Alec Lightwood
WHERE: Out in the woods, because where else
WHEN: Tuesday 10/25
WHAT: Ronan shifts back to sleep, occasionally. Alec finds him.
WARNINGS: Ronan's mouth, nightmare imagery

[It's been two weeks, he thinks.

Longer since Gansey's been gone, but that's different, that feels stranger because he came back and Gansey was gone. And that, with the knowledge of what came after, that was bad enough. At least Adam was here.

And then Adam was gone, too, and it's less that Ronan is heartbroken as much as Ronan is untethered. He wasn't over the nightmares that the demon left behind. He wasn't over the image of Gansey on the ground. He wasn't over the black abyss he saw when he had to fight. He wasn't over the idea that the demon was coming after everything he loved.

So it's been two weeks and Ronan finally shifted back from his bird shape and into his human one, and fell asleep - somewhere remote, the woods, where it was quiet and the sunlight dappled through the trees. It reminded him of Cabeswater, which is what he wanted.

The nightmare was almost all-encompassing. It was blackness that wrapped around his wrist and whispered to him that it would eat this world, too. It was Ronan trying to create light, trapped in the driver's seat of his car, vomiting ichor, reliving that night and thinking this is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream.

He sleeps right up through Alec walking nearby, right up through Chainsaw screaming his name as she flies to try and distract Alec from her dreamer.]

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[ Sometimes, he just has to get out of the city and away from the mundanes that fill it. He's tried to acclimate to his new surroundings, but it's difficult. Living with mundanes in a cramped apartment—it seems cramped after spending most of his time in the rambling hallways of the Institute—is a trial. Going to his laughable excuse of a "job" is a struggle.

All in all, Alec is deeply unhappy with his present circumstances and occasionally the only answer to that is to get as far away from it as possible. This isn't quite that far, of course, but it's a start.

And he's enjoying it. The smell of the forest untainted by fumes and the reek of garbage. The solitude. The peaceful quiet. It's a relief to be away.

So naturally, his pleasant walk is interrupted by what seems to be a dive-bomb from a raven. Alec ducks out of the way, sidestepping with the swiftness of a Shadowhunter, and starts to continue on his way. Though his senses are more alert than they had been just a moment ago. Because maybe it was nothing more than the actions of a startled animals. But maybe it's more, and it's never hurt to be cautious. ]

[He wakes up when he hears the cawing, and that's a problem, because he was in the middle of a dream where that nothing was coating his hands, and now that nothing is really coating his hands, and he can't move. He can't feel anything. The terror of it is excruciating - that he brought it with him, that it will grow, that it's here, and he can't move.

Chainsaw screams, and as he wakes, he can feel the black nothing wrap up his wrists. Is that is? Are his hands gone? Fuck, where's anyone who knows what to do, he thinks, shit, shit, shit-

The stillness of waking passes and he makes noise as he rustles, up, and Chainsaw yells his name again. Kerah! Kerah!]

Fuck, no, fly away!

[ The sound of shouting draws Alec's attention away from the bird and he hurries in its direction. Getting involved in mundane drama isn't something he wants to do, but the guy who's shouting could be in trouble and he can't turn his back on that.

What he sees when he reaches the source of the commotion is a young man and... Alec isn't certain precisely what it is he's seeing. That uncertainty does not, however, prevent him from going to his aid. ]

Hey. [ A low call to get his attention as Alec gets closer. ] What's going on?

[He turns and swears a thick, steady line. It's weirdly poetic in a way, even though it's filthy.

What he sees is Ronan sitting up against a tree, peeling thick slabs of nothing from his hands. It's sticky - no, not sticky, sticky is the wrong world, but it's the only thing that approximates how it acts, like moving viscous liquid, black as ink.

It's also clear that Ronan vomited, but he growls up at Alec.]

If you value any part of yourself you'll fucking run, too.

[ It's not the first time he's heard someone curse a blue streak and it's hardly intimidating, but it does give him pause. If only because it emphasizes how bad whatever that is covering the guy actually is.

Alec has never seen a substance like this before. He has no idea what it is or what its doing to the young man beneath it, but simply because he hasn't encountered something like this before doesn't mean he's about to turn his back on someone who clearly needs his help. ]

I don't run.

[ Quietly spoken, it isn't bravado, just a statement of fact. Arrows aren't going to help here, so Alec reaches into his pocket and draws out his stele. He doesn't know if that will really help either, but it's better than going in empty-handed. ]

Are you in pain? What is that?

[ Stupid questions, perhaps, but he needs more information before he can act. Or try to. ]

Then you're a fucking moron.

[He snaps it, and some of that nothing flicks to the ground, and it's just blackness. It eats away at the grass.

A spike of fear goes through Ronan, and it doesn't have to do with the blade in the boy's hand.]

Nothing.

[It's not a lie.]

[ Ah, mundanes. How Alec dislikes them. He eyes the guy, unimpressed, shifing his focus only when the black stuff drops away and consumes the grass. Then he gives him a bland stare, one eyebrow ticking upward. ]

A fucking moron who's willing to help you.

[ That clarification is important. He is willing to help. But he isn't going to push. ]

If you'd rather deal with it yourself, say so. I'll stop wasting my time here.

[He pulls his hands a little closer, and stares at Alec.]

Are you serious?

[He slams his hands into the tree and starts scraping. The ichor is smearing on it.]

Take off your shirt, if you really want to help.

[Jesus God.]

[ That question gets a flat, unamused look. The kind of look that wonders if the speaker really thinks Alec appears to be a comedian. It fades once it becomes clear what the guy's doing.

Ordinarily, such a request would be met with an uncooperative snort, but even Alec can see that there's a good reason for it. Pocketing the stele for the moment, he strips off the shirt and hands it over. He's got a tank top underneath, which covers many of his runes, but there is a scattering of them across his arms and shoulders that is visible now. ]

Here. Get as much of it off as you can. I'll burn it when you're done.

There's more cursing, and Ronan holds his hands out and grits his teeth. He hates this for so many reasons, most of them impossible for him to vocalize. This would be better - easier - if someone who understood exactly what this was and why Ronan was starting to sweat, panicked over it. He doesn't take Alec's shirt. He holds his hands out instead.]

You have to cover your skin. If this shit touches you, it's going to do to you what it did to that grass.

[He's not sure they can burn it. Burying it might be the only way to get rid of it.

The grass is nothing, now. It's hard to describe. There's just a patch of nothing there.]

Grab it and pull.

[ If this is the kind of thing that lurks in the wilderness of this Earth, Alec's going to start wearing gloves on his walks. There's certainly nothing like it where he comes from.

It's a little difficult to ensure both hands are covered by the same shirt, but Alec does his best. The bulk of the fabric hangs down between them, making a little pouch. He hopes to be able to collect most of the black stuff there so it can be disposed of.

Once covered, he reaches out without hesitation, closes his hands over the guy's forearms slightly above the black gunk, and drags them down. To him, it's like pulling off too tight gloves, but he's strong and determined and doesn't quit.

He also isn't the sort to talk to hear himself talk, so he works in silence, glancing up from the task every now and again to check the guy's expression and make sure he isn't hurting him. ]

[If Ronan is in pain it doesn't show on his face. He's staring at the nothing, and when the first wrapping oozing garbage is off, there's his hand, and he almost lets out a sob of relief.

As it is, Chainsaw does it for him, cawing. He shakes a little and reaches back to take his own shirt off, then loops it over his arm. His tattoo, which covers the entirety of his back, is just barely peeking up over his shoulders and ribs, hooks and snarls and briars.]

Now this one.

[ Alec too shows no sign of emotion as that hand comes free, but he's feeling a bit of relief of his own. He isn't a warlock. He can't heal people who aren't Shadowhunters and even then, he can't do that very well.

He nods at the instruction, setting the black-filled shirt on the ground and getting a hold of the new one. Just like before, he makes sure his hands are covered before prying away at the remaining gunk. ]

Where did this come from? This forest?

No.

[He considers this. Some people know, but the number here is infinitely small. This guy is literally pulling his dreams off his body, probably at great peril to himself. He probably deserves to know.

Probably isn't really a word in Ronan Lynch's vocabulary. He watches as the black garbage peels away, and makes a decision.]

I dreamed it.

[ That's... not the answer Alec's expecting. He blinks, surprised, though he doesn't pause in getting the gunk off of him. ]

You dreamed it? [ It's less a disbelieving echo and more an attempt to work his mind around what that means. ] Like magic?

[ He's been encountering a lot of magic-savvy people here. ]

We call the people who use it in my world warlocks. [ Because he's learned that there are all kinds of weird names for the same thing here after speaking to the witchboy. ] Is that what you are?

[Ronan doesn't reply at first, he just looks at the nothing that's just-

It's just lying there. Not trying to kill him anymore. What the fuck is he going to do? He can't go home, he can't go home because what if this shit appears and Matthew and Noah-

He rubs his eyes, heavily.]

That's what I fucking said, and I'm not a fucking warlock, asshole.

[It comes out more tired than biting, really. He bites back more vile cursing.]

It came out of my dreams. I pull shit out of my dreams.

[ This is what he gets for trying to be civil to mundanes. Dropping the bundle of gunk onto the ground, Alec sketches a quick rune on it and stands up as it starts to burn. ]

I'd talk to someone about that if I were you.

[ But that someone isn't Alec. He isn't a warlock and he's tired of the guy's attitude. ]

Before it gets out of control.

[ Duty done as far as Alec's concerned, he turns and starts on his way. ]

[Ronan watches it burn, and then looks over, and-]

Jesus fucking Christ.

[He wishes he could start fires that way.

Chainsaw flies over, and maybe this is better. Ronan rubs his face. He needs to get a new shirt.]

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