A... British New Englander in King Arthur's Court?

[howtheyshine]

It will be, he decides, for a "weekend." A quick trip to make sure other-John-and-Arthur are okay, to help them if they aren't. It scares the shit out of him and he debates bringing his John and Arthur, but that... seems like it could end badly for the Arthur part of the group. Edwin isn't sure why he has that particular conviction, but he trusts it.

So popping back to his timeline, he tells John, is to find the Charlie there and heal him. Get him home if he needs the transportation. It's not a lie! It's just not the whole truth, either.

He doesn't introduce himself when he finds Charlie sputtering blood in the middle of a field in Spain. Just fixes up that injury and takes them both to New York, before leaving Charlie at the address of a 'friend' that John mentioned. It's a church, not a house, but Charlie should be safe enough either way.

He's preoccupied during the whole undramatic rescue, searching this plane for the feel of his other-brother, but he gets nothing until he stops looking for place and starts looking through time on a whim.

Then, Charlie and the one-armed priest Edwin brought him to are treated to the vision of the weird teen boy in the corner frowning into the air, muttering, "What in the fucking--" and vanishing without finishing his sentence.

It's raining. It's soggy with rain, where he blinks back into existence, and his loose sweater immediately feels ten times heavier. Not that it matters, really, but it's not pleasant. Which is why he dries it with a thought and nudges the rain to fall around him instead of on him.

He squints through the gray and starts walking, following the feel of his familiar-unfamiliar family, until he sees two figures through the downpour.

Two!

Edwin grins, almost saves himself time by teleporting the last thirty feet, then realizes that will probably startle them both, badly.

"John! Arthur! I-Is that you?" He's jogging toward the shapes as he talks. "It's--it's Edwin, uh, Yell-- Yedwin-- I mean, I was Yellow, but I picked a name. I told John."

He wipes damp bangs out of his eyes, those still wet even if his clothes aren't and the rain is now leaving him alone.

"The body! It worked! You got it!"

Comments

[greatoldjohn]

He's being dramatic. I'm not going to let him get a pneumonia.

John's voice in Edwin's mind is wry and practically comes with an eyeroll even if he doesn't do one. It feels like the kind of thing Arthur would feel despite not being able to see. Instead, John's hand will rise up to gently stroke over the back feathers of the little bird.

"Arthur, Edwin's turned into a small bird. I think I could do that, now that I've seen him do it." But- "...which we can try out once we've found shelter, of course." And on that note- "I think I see a somewhat ramshackle shack not too far from here. I doubt it will have supplies, but it should keep us out of the rain."

[howtheyshine]

I can help! I'll see if it's empty.

He drops into the air, flutters awkwardly for a moment until he gets a grip on both flying and keeping the rain off, and then zips off toward the shack John spotted, which leaves him and Arthur briefly on their own.

[lestercraft]

He doesn't quite flinch, at the sound of two voices in his head, so jarringly fucking familiar, and he just pulls the robe tighter around himself like it'll help keep the cold and damp away. "Right. Sure. John, which way?"

Because he's going to march determinedly forward if he's not course-corrected and he doesn't care. He's just- so tired.

[greatoldjohn]

More quiet, less cheerful, now that Edwin's flown off-

"This way, Arthur. And-"

And seeing how Edwin was able to do it, he's able to shield Arthur from the rain as well. He hasn't figured out drying him off without setting his clothes on fire, but it's something. Hopefully.

"I can tell him not to do that. If you'd prefer."

[lestercraft]

He doesn't settle down, when he feels the rail stop, because now he thinks he's about to walk into a tree and hesitates, which lets John get a few steps closer. And it's hard not to flinch at the presence behind him, which makes him start moving again.

"I don't know, John. I just- I need a fucking break." The word is a growl, lips curled around it, unhappy - but moreover, stressed. "I can't- I-I don't know how to think right now, everything keeps fucking happening a-and we can't do anything about any of it. What the fuck happened to Larson, then, if Y- if Edwin is here, what about..." He pauses again, throat suddenly aching as he chokes quietly on the name. "Charlie...?"

[howtheyshine]

There's plenty of room under the eaves of the building John spotted for a cardinal to get into the space. There's not much to it--it might have been a way station, at some point, a spot to rest, with the hard-packed dirt floor, barely-hanging front door, and the space that was the back door roughly boarded up. A peek through the cracks shows him the rubble of a stable.

It's drafty and damp, the latter of which is easy to take care of, at least. He's been practicing state changes and environmental manipulation. Basics anyway. He pops outside to claim some wood from the stable, blinks back into the shack, and dries the wood so he can get a very small fire going. He pops back outside two more times to gather as much wood as he can to dry and stack against one wall.

By the time Arthur and John catch up, a fire will crackle softly away in a scraped out pit, and there will be enough wood to one side for it to stay fed through the night. The shack is even edging toward warm.

Edwin-as-himself stands near the boarded-up door out to the stables, and he'll be locked on their reactions as they come inside. Look see he can most definitely be helpful.

[greatoldjohn]

John will glance over at Arthur as he sees everything that Edwin's done. It's not that he isn't worried about Charlie. It's not that he isn't worried about everything that just happened. It's just that-

"Let's take that break," he says quietly under his breath over to Arthur, "and then we can think about the rest."