Louis has had a very bad day so far.

He and Yakumo had managed to make their way relatively deep into this maze of caverns, and then Yakumo took a blow to the chest and fell from the path, and now there’s nothing to do except to wait and hope that Yakumo can get back to him before the best option becomes dispersing himself.

He’s safe enough at the moment, but he doubts his reprieve will last much longer; between his limited regenerations, his limited stash of blood beads, and the sheer amount of Lost in the area, he’s not holding out much hope that he’ll be able to meet up with Yakumo any time soon.

(It might just be best to disperse now instead of waiting.)

(He… doesn’t even know how long it’s going to take Yakumo to reform.)

(But he’s so close to another bloodspring, he knows he is—)

(Ugh…)

And then he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Two figures, human-sized—

And then light, familiar and unexpected, as the withered mistle he’d passed blooms to life.

(What the fuck?)

(How?)

Louis hesitates a moment longer, then clenches his jaw and shoves away from the wall, cautiously moving back towards the mistle. Hopefully, whoever he’s about to approach is peaceful enough, though he’s not going to hold his breath on that one. This close to the Red Mist, he’s probably either dealing with thugs, thralls, or revenants who were formerly the first and are soon to be the second, none of which take kindly to strangers.

Still, he feels like he has to try…

Two heads turn towards him the moment he steps around the corner, and he instantly bites back a grimace at their appearances; the more eye-catching revenant is wearing a veil with glowing red crystalline growths spearing up from the left shoulder and the right elbow, and his stillness is… worrying. It’s a dangerous sort of stillness, like how Davis sometimes gets when startled, like how some of the deadliest Lost get right before they pounce—

“Haven’t seen you around before,” the second revenant says as he slowly rises to his feet, hands carefully empty and in sight despite how tense his body is. “Might want to clear out of here quickly, if you don’t want to be captured.”

Louis tears his gaze away from the piercing amber gaze of the first revenant and inclines his head a bit. “Is that a threat, or a warning?” he asks cautiously, even if he suspects these two are thralls. At least, the second revenant certainly looks the part, his posture deferential in a way that Louis’ never seen one of the local thugs be.

(The first revenant might be a new capture, not yet beaten down by hardship.)

(Or he might be on the verge of frenzy.)

(Damn he really hopes it’s the first…)

“A warning, really,” the second revenant answers, slanting a sidelong look at his companion as he does. “It’s dangerous out here either way, but a lone revenant like yourself is easy pickings for the bastards who make their living enslaving others.”

“This group won’t be a threat for much longer,” the first revenant rumbles as he finally looks away from Louis and refocuses on the mistle in front of him. He runs his left hand through his blue hair and rolls his shoulders, clearly making an effort to relax despite Louis’ presence.

The second revenant smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his gaze as he glances at the first revenant and says, “This gang isn’t the only one out here, just the one we were caught by.” When the first revenant just shrugs his shoulders, the second huffs a soft laugh and looks back at Louis to say, “Our plans for regaining our freedom aside, fact remains that it’s still dangerous out here.”

Louis gives them a tired smile, even if it’s still hidden by his mask, and inclines his head. “I’m aware,” he says agreeably, because the man is right, it is dangerous out here alone; he’s strong enough — and well fed enough — to defend himself even without Yakumo watching his back, but that doesn’t make him invincible. A large enough ambush could see him dispersed or even ashed no matter how strong he is.

“You should go home,” the first revenant tells him gruffly, giving Louis a sidelong look and gesturing sharply at the mistle in front of them. “The two of us might not have anywhere else to teleport to, but I assume you do.”

“I do, but I’d rather not, just yet,” Louis answers, then gestures down the tunnel he’d been waiting in. “If I’m right, there should be a bloodspring not too much further in. I’m…” he hesitates a moment, wondering how much to tell these two unknowns, before deciding to just lay the bones of it out for them. “I’m doing some research into them, trying to figure out where they came from.”

The first revenant’s jaw flexes at his words, his amber eyes going slightly unfocused for a moment before he shakes his head and gives the second revenant a look and says, “Your choice.”

The second revenant frowns, looking between them, then cautiously says, “Look, if there’s an active bloodspring in these caverns, we need the blood beads to distract the gang with. We can give you one or two once we’ve dealt with them—”

“I don’t need any,” Louis interrupts, shaking his head. “I have plenty for myself, and a safe place to return to. I just need to get a look at the bloodspring and run a test or two, nothing that will harm it, I promise.”

“Huh. Got any to spare?” the second revenant asks, tone carefully joking even thought Louis can see the tinge of desperation in the man’s eyes. “It’s been— whoa—” the man almost yelps as Louis fishes a blood bead out of his pouch and tosses it to him. He blinks at it for a moment, then immediately tosses it to his companion. “Here, eat,” he orders.

The first revenant catches the blood bead on instinct and scowls at it, slowly rising to his feet as he shifts his gaze from the blood bead to his companion. “I should think you need it more than me,” he refutes as he tosses it back, a stern look settling on his features. “I ate before I was captured. I’ll be fine for a while yet.”

“Your old mask was damaged not half a goddamn hour ago,” the second hisses back, clearly preparing to toss the blood bead back.

Louis chuckles lightly at their antics and solves that problem by fishing another blood bead from his pouch and tossing it at the first revenant without a second thought. “There, now you both have one,” he tells them with a touch of amusement.

(And a touch of warmth if he’s being honest.)

(It’s not often he sees revenants prioritizing others like that.)

(Maybe… maybe he’ll invite them back once things are settled here.)

The first revenant turns his scowl on Louis for a moment, even as he fidgets with the blood bead, before sighing and looking away again. “Fine. I know better than to say no to a meal,” he grumbles as he swiftly brings the bead to his mouth and bites, draining it in a few swallows.

“Hey, thanks man,” the second revenant says cheerfully, before biting into his own blood bead and eating. Tension slips from his body as he does, evidence enough of how close the man probably was to starvation and the resultant frenzy.

(Not that Louis’ surprised by that.)

(The life of a thrall is a terrible one.)

“Got a name we can call you?” the second revenant asks once he’s drained the blood bead dry. “I’m Oliver, and that’s Erich.”

“I’m Louis,” Louis tells them, then offers his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Erich eyes first him, then his hand, then sends a sidelong glance at Oliver and takes a step back, leaving Oliver to grimace faintly as he steps forward and shakes Louis’ hand.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” Oliver agrees. “Don’t mind Erich, he’s currently plotting revenge against the people who captured him and his companion.”

Erich snorts and crosses his arms over his chest, gaze focused on the mistle again as he dryly says, “You can just say I don’t remember enough to know how friendly interactions go.”

Oliver winces. “Didn’t think that was my place,” he murmurs as he steps back from Louis and rubs at the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry,” he directs at Louis, “Erich’s uh… missing more memories than most revenants are, so don’t mind him. He’s not being rude on purpose.”

“Oh.” Louis can’t keep himself from giving Erich a wide-eyed look, taking in the man’s wary stance and tense shoulders, the guarded look in his amber eyes, the clear defensiveness creeping in as the silence begins to stretch, to strain— “I’m sorry,” Louis offers awkwardly, uncertain if he should extend his hand again or not. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It’s… I was offering a handshake, it’s a type of greeting.”

“I guessed the purpose,” Erich admits, hesitating briefly before he slips closer once more and unfolds his arms, awkwardly holding out his gauntleted right hand. “It’s… nice to meet you,” he echoes Oliver’s words as he briefly shakes Louis’ hand, his grip almost non-existent and his gaze focused somewhere over Louis’ shoulder instead of directly on him.

Louis refuses to take offense; it’s clear that Erich’s uncomfortable, though he can’t tell if it’s because of him specifically or just because of the situation in general. Worse, there’s a flash of wistfulness, of grief, in Erich’s eyes right before he lets go and steps away, hidden just as quickly as they appeared, and it… it leaves something cold-aching-troubled in Louis’ heart.

(He’s going to invite these two back no matter what.)

(They need a home.)

“We should get moving,” Erich announces before Louis can say anything else, turning away and affixing his mask in place without a second’s hesitation; it’s a practiced move, a confident one, and Louis can tell immediately that, for all Erich’s apparently discomfort with interactions, combat is not unfamiliar to him. “There’s no time to waste.”

“Erich—” Oliver begins, then pauses, gives Louis a wary look, grimaces, and reaches out to gently tug Erich to the side, away from Louis. They huddle together, a heated, whispered conversation passing between them, accompanied by sharp gestures from Oliver and narrow-eyed looks from Erich.

Louis can’t catch most of their words, not that he’s trying, but some of it is… rather impossible to miss. And rather worrying, if he’s being honest.

“—not helpless—”

“—not my point—”

“—fought in worse state before—”

“—don’t have to—”

Oliver and Erich pause, staring at each other, then with a grimace Erich inclines his head slightly and steps away, apparently conceding the victory to Oliver. Oliver slumps with a tired sigh and runs a hand over his face, clearly exhausted, before giving his head a shake and snapping his mask in place at last.

“Right, with that sorted out, let’s go,” Oliver declares as he steps away from the wall and stalks past Louis. “Louis, you’re up front with me. Erich’s guarding our rear. Let’s get this over with.”

“Alright,” Louis agrees willingly enough, taking a brief moment to make sure the mistle has refreshed him before he follows Oliver away from it, calling his blade to hand as he goes.

It both is and isn’t a surprise when Oliver materializes a gigantic hammer and slings it over his shoulder like it weighs nothing; it’s a pretty typical thrall’s weapon, junk cobbled together and forced into service as a simple weapon, but Louis has no doubt the man excels in wielding it. Everything from his stance to his easy handling of the massive thing indicates experience and a measure of skill that’s a relief to see.

It’s Erich who’s the surprise.

Given the man’s… interesting blood veil, Louis’ not entirely certain what sort of weapon he expects the man to materialize, but it certainly isn’t the sleek, well maintained bayonet that he does draw; it almost looks like a modified Queenslayer bayonet, which frankly answers more questions than it doesn’t, now that Louis thinks about it.

(Of course this man with his lack of memories would be from back then.)

(Of course he would.)

Erich falls into step behind them, bayonet held easily and gaze scanning the cavern in front of them as they advance, though he does keep casting Louis — or, more specifically, his sword — wary, uncomfortable looks.

(Why?)

(Does he recognize the blade?)

(Did he do something he thinks Louis will attack him over, despite their current truce?)

Argument aside, Erich doesn’t seem put out or uncomfortable being the rearguard, as if it’s a position he’s familiar with taking.

And he probably is. If he’s been wielding a bayonet since Operation Queenslayer, then he’s likely done this thousands of times, more than enough to engrave it into his instincts instead of conscious thought.

They don’t make it far before the sound of Erich’s footsteps cease and Louis looks behind him to see Erich staring thoughtfully down a little side path.

“I’m going that way,” he decides after a moment.

“Erich—”

“It goes up, slightly,” Erich interrupts Oliver without looking away from the side path, though the angle of his head suggests he’s still keeping an eye on Louis. “If you insist on me playing rearguard, then I might as well take a position that lets me help with a smaller chance of hitting one of you in the back.”

Oliver scowls, then glances at Louis in question. “Know where either of these paths lead?”

“No, I don’t,” Louis answers. “We could take a quick look down that one first, though,” he offers in an attempt to keep the peace.

“Yeah, alright,” Oliver agrees, then gestures for Louis to lead the way. “You first. Your sword’s better for a route like that.”

Louis makes an agreeable noise and starts to advance down the narrow side path, stepping carefully as it narrows even further and then peering around the corner—

“No enemies in sight,” he tells the two following him. “There is a ladder at the end of the path, though. I’m going to go check where it leads.”

“Drop back down immediately if there’s a Lost up there,” Oliver orders. “Erich can kill it from down here.”

“Will do,” Louis says as he crosses the distance to the ladder and climbs up, peering over the edge to see—

Nothing. Just a flat area that opens up onto a larger cavern. There’s no sign of any Lost in sight, and when he hauls himself the rest of the way up, it’s easy enough to see that the ledge is exactly that: just a ledge, without any way up to it beyond the ladder he just climbed. There’s even a good view of the cavern beyond, including many of the Lost within it.

All in all, a good place for a bayonet wielder to set up to give them ranged support without worrying too much about being ambushed in the process.

“It’s clear,” Louis says as he swings himself back onto the ladder and slides down. “Erich’s right, it’s a good spot for him to attack from while you and I come in from the other direction,” he tells Oliver.

Oliver frowns slightly, casting a glance behind him at Erich, then sighs and says, “Alright, I guess that’s what we’ll do then. C’mon, let’s get out of this narrow corner and see where the other path leads.”

Erich presses his back against the rough cavern wall as Oliver turns and slips past him, and then practically plasters himself in place as Louis approaches to do the same thing, which is… worrying.

The man is utterly still as Louis steps past him, even the rise and fall of his chest almost unnoticeable. Except for his eyes, pupils blown wide and attention fixed on Louis’ blade, following it as Louis moves. And once Louis’ past him, Erich’s head tilts to keep him in view, even as his left hand slowly lifts from his bayonet and rubs at his chest.

As if trying to massage away an ache.

As if trying to shield himself—

(Fuck, he’s going to have to be careful around Erich.)

(Though… does the man even realize what he’s doing?)

(Does he remember what he’s afraid of, or is it just instincts?)

(And does it entirely matter which?)

(…probably not…)

Still, there’s nothing he can do right now except to get out of Erich’s personal space and make sure he never sneaks up on the man. If — and it probably is an ‘if’ and not a guarantee, given Erich’s clear fear of him — Erich agrees to Louis’ offer of a place to stay, then he can attempt to do… something about the situation. Not that he’s entirely sure what that something will be.

But that’s a problem for later Louis.

Right now, he needs to focus on the battle ahead.

He’ll deal with Erich’s fear later.

(If he’s even allowed a later…)