Under a sky, no one sees Waiting Watching it happening

[onlyeverdoubted]

WHO: Bodhi
WHERE: Around town, the inn
WHEN: Forward-dated to March 18
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: None, will update
STATUS: Open

---

The storms didn't bother him a bit--he had far more on his mind when he first arrived, and wild weather has always been a bit of a specialty of his. The odd little flickers of light excited his curiosity, but he's known planets with much odder bits of phenomena. The soft, wet cold is just as unusual by his standards. Fog is kind of fun. Not, it turns out, the best thing to wander into alone, not when he can't trust his memory to race away to unsafe places, when shifting shapes and unpredictable dimness can so easily evoke... Well, he learns not to stay too far after the first time out.

Aside from that, he doesn't give the little lights or insects or weather much thought. He has Jyn's crisis to deal with, after all, and while he has yet to really find his niche, he's always intent on staying busy, contributing enough with odd jobs to justify the time he spends meandering physically and mentally. He doesn't try to avoid the little lights.

He notices the fever itself. He was a sickly kid, and he's not particularly sturdy now, but what he lacks in immune system, he makes up for in resilience. He moves a little more slowly, takes a few more breaks, but he keeps going. The other symptoms come on more slowly, and these, Bodhi doesn't notice. He's always sure he's doing everything wrong and that if anyone knew the truth they'd hate him. He glances to the side too quickly to see shifting shadows that couldn't be there more often than he'd like to admit. It's a little bit of a bad day, but he's not feeling well. It'll work itself out.

There are slips he doesn't usually make, though, or not without checking carefully to see if anyone's around. Talking to himself--a low, constant murmur, hard to make out any individual pieces. Drumming his fingers in complicated patterns against each other and whatever satisfying surface is nearby (actually, he's done that all his life, but if people notice they sometimes ask, and he gets flustered by having no answer). Long moments that, left uninterrupted, stretch on and on of just being... absent. It's so easy to slip back under, let bor gullet have him. Keeping his head together is the hard part.

There's nowhere he really does belong, and he winds up in the trees and the fog over and over again, but once in a while he gets lost near the inn, his usual base of operations.

Comments

[learned_to_die]

"Could I trouble you? To come with me to find him?" Ned assumes it'll be a man simply because it always was a man back home, though he's also vaguely picturing the Maesters with which he's familiar: simple robes of uncomfortable fabric; heavy chains of varying metals, each one forged when they'd mastered a new discipline; weathered faces of a man who's poured himself into the well-being of others. "I don't think I'll run into much difficulty, but it'd be better having someone with me in case I do. If I remember correctly, it should only be a bit further south from here," he says, gesturing in the proper direction with his unbattered hand.

[onlyeverdoubted]

It's fortunate that Bodhi has more better nature to go around than he gives himself credit for. He'd so much rather walk away and leave directions to the inn in his wake, but he's not letting himself ignore need anymore. That's what got him into that uniform in the first place. He'll do it. "I don't know how much help I'll be," he warns, but he falls into step. Sort of. The distance between them is more than is reasonable, and he's still holding himself stiffly and scanning his surroundings every moment. Not the attitude of someone who's actually used to survival--he'd get himself killed faster that way, if anything actually wanted him dead.

[learned_to_die]

"Even if it's to run and find help should something happen to me, it is more than I could do on my own," Ned replies gently, grateful that Bodhi - for all of whatever might be plaguing him - seems to still cling to some moral compass. Some sort of compassion and sympathy to help a person in possible need. He follows a few paces behind - just enough to allow the man enough space, to not feel overly crowded, but enough to keep him in Ned's sights. "You're quite kind, to help," he adds, glancing down to his battered hand.

[onlyeverdoubted]

"I'm a pretty good messenger," Bodhi agrees, buoying his own mood a little with the joke that would be totally incomprehensible to almost everyone, especially a stranger. That does as much to bolster his focus as being given a mission does. "Can't--can't be that useful, um, in any other ways, though, probably..." Walking quickly and scanning the path, the space the man's giving him, all of it adds up to letting him stay on task. Minimally. Enough that he doesn't bolt off into the trees.

[learned_to_die]

Ned can only nod to Bodhi's first statement, no frame of reference for him to either agree or disagree. It certainly seems to hold true, however, given their circumstances and given the help he has agreed to give to a stranger. He tilts his head as Bodhi continues on, both out of strain to hear and out of curiosity. The man seems to be rather eager and rather adept at being the first to speak in an ill manner of himself.

"None of us can be useful or skilled at everything," he replies, "If we are gifted at one or two things, then we are luckier than many."