Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

23

Sapnap hauls Tommy up, the blond wincing. His arm is tense and slightly swollen under their hasty bandages, and Tommy is more worried that Tubbo didn't contact him that night.

"He just forgot, or was distracted," Sapnap protests, and Tommy shakes his head blearily, exhausted.

"He promised, that no matter what he'd check in, it just feels wrong," he says anxiously, "I know he 'as Skeppy and that weird fuckin cat, but still...I'm worried something happened to him."

"Scry him then," Sapnap suggests, "that's what that ball does, it's a scrying orb."

Tommy looks at it with clear worry, and nods,

"...you're right, that it does."

Focusing, a flicker of Tubbo carrying a container of fruits passes across the orb, and Tommy releases his breath.

"...Alright, so he is jus' busy. Good to know, I suppose."

They stumble down the hill, towards the path again; Sapnap only really left it in search of wood and more food, but they had gotten more and more sidetracked, it seemed.
They can see the city in the distance, but the dusk is setting in and they know that they won't make it to the city walls in time to be let in.

Sapnap bites his lip, and begins to build a fire, uncomfortable being so in the open. He watches as the flames lick up, springing to life joyfully.

"Tomorrow, Tommy," he promises, "we'll get you help tomorrow."

Tommy scoffs, rubbing his forehead,

"I'm perfectly dandy, Sapnap. I haven't an idea what you mean. You're saying it like I'm on my deathbed already, you morbid old man."

He gets a weak cuff on the shoulder from Sapnap before the raven-haired man mutters,

"Sleep. I'll keep watch."

He watches as Tommy drifts off, surveying the area around them.
Nothing stirs, he's pretty sure- except maybe a small movement downwind of them, a bit closer to the city.

* * *

It had started that afternoon- George had gone down on his knees, whimpers and cries of distress and pain overwhelming his words when he tried to explain what was happening.

Clay knew the venom wasn't fully gone from his system, but he had only realized then that George must have collected so much that the process of finally purging all traces of it must be...

He had flinched to imagine it.

Now, a whine escapes George, and he tightens his hold on the sheets, struggling slightly.
Clay rubs his back gently, reassuring him in a quiet tone,

"George, it's going to be okay. The venom is just hitting the second wave, that's all. It'll be out of your system after this. You'll be fine."

George rolls over, nearly elbowing Clay as he did so, wrapping his arms around the blond's waist and resting his chin miserably on Clay's lap.

"It hurts like fucking bitch," he inhales sharply, "I can- I feel every injury again, it's like they- they're open again? Are they open? Clay?? Clay am I bleeding?"

He hides his face against Clay's stomach, pressing against the other's soft tunic as the prince runs his fingers through George's hair gently.

"You're not bleeding," he reassures the brunet, "you're just fine. Let's lay back down, we can go to sleep. Does that sound good Georgie? You want to go to sleep?"