in the space between your lungs, carve me a home

Kaveh felt as though weights had been tied to his feet, every step harder and heavier than the next. His head spun, throbbing painfully, and pain spread down his back and right side, searing pain from the grazes there. There were salves, from Tighnari, rubbed into them, but they were only there to chase off infection, not pain. His vision was blurry, but he knew the way home from muscle memory, as he fumbled with the door, opening it after a moment, grateful it was unlocked.

He'd managed through dinner, still riding the adrenaline of the day, but the second he had stepped out of the Tavern to head home, everything had come crashing down. The aches and wounds littering his body. The weariness of racing around for days with little sleep and little food. The exhaustion, more than just physical, from everything that had happened with Sachin and the Diadem.

Groaning, he dragged his hand over his face, as he deposited Mehrak by the entryway. Water. He needed water, and maybe some painkillers. Alhaitham usually had strong ones from when he had migraines. Surely he wouldn't mind sparing a few.

"Finally home, I see," Alhaitham's voice sliced through the air, and Kaveh blearily lifted his head to look up at him, only to realise that everything had smeared together in an array of colours, and black was closing in around his vision.

Oh, he thought, as he felt his knees suddenly weaken. His hand shot out to catch himself against the wall, but he fell short, and thumped his shoulder against it, gasping in pain from the bruises there.

"Are you drunk? What are you- Kaveh!" Alhaitham's voice never sounded like that, never so panicked and concerned, as he called Kaveh's name, just as Kaveh's legs wobbled and gave out underneath him, and the floor rushed up to meet him.

Before he could hit the floor though, consciousness blissfully left him, and he slipped away into the darkness that encroached his sight. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of hands flying to catch him.

-

His entire body felt wrong. He felt hot, and then cold, and pain, in so much pain, making a choked whimper slip out of his throat.

"Shh, it's okay," a voice said, somewhere above him, and he tried to open his eyes. Kaveh's sight was still blurry at best, and non-existent at worst. There's something warm and solid pressed against once side of him, and there's a sort of weightlessness to his body that makes him think he might be getting carried. His head felt too heavy to think about it though, as it lolled backwards, still throbbing in agony. That voice was still speaking, but he could only understand a few of the words, his hearing ability dipping in and out in waves. "-so heavy, muscly bastard- inconvenience, tiring- it's okay- rest, Kaveh," they say, going from grumbling frustration to soft concern, and that made him feel strange, his chest tight for some reason at hearing that tone from that voice. He didn't know why, too out of it, too hot and in too much pain to know who was even speaking to him, let alone why that person was making his chest feel so funny.

Kaveh was lowered onto something soft, a bed perhaps, and hands brush his hair, so gentle and light. There's a click of a tongue of disapproval, as the back of a palm rested against his forehead, so cool and pleasant feeling. A quiet noise of contentment escaped him, and the hand moved to cup his cheek, stroking his face with soothingly cold fingers.

"I've got you, just rest. It's okay, Kaveh," they said, whispering quietly, and he let himself trust in the words. Kaveh let his body relax, let his eyes slip closed, and sank away into the comfort of that touch and words, into the comfort of sleep.

--

Kaveh dreamt.

It wasn't something he was used to doing, but since the downfall of the Akasha's, it was something that happened infrequently to him.