Welcome to Gaia! ::

He had stared at the messages on his phone, guided the menu to respond, and stood there with his thumbs raised above the keyboard expectantly for a handful of seconds - only to shut the phone and toss it away, or pocket it, or otherwise rid his hand of the damn thing several times over the course of the first day back. He made excuses for himself: too world-weary, too exhausted, too . . . something. Empty. Hollow. Something like that. He'd sleep it off and then get back to Bells in a better mood, or at least one less drained.

Only when he woke up the next day, that same dull ache remained, gnawing a hole at his core with impunity. And he'd look to the mark atop his right hand, the softly glowing blue crystal hanging from his necklace, remember Medea's speech, and give a deep sigh. Such was the price for power: a little corruption. But he could deal with that. He had dealt with worse on this path.

So it was that after he took a well-needed shower, dried off, and changed, at last the zomboil found it in him to turn his phone on and respond to Belladonna's concerned texts.



And even that short message sapped his strength, the looming and long conversation they were going to have ominously hanging over him. Not even Lanna's attentions were able to despoil the gray clouds.

Yip? Lanna's curious nose prodded his leg. Whiiiiine.

Mort absentmindedly pet her, reading the text with a shadow of amusement passing over his features. It was so much like when he had taken his own vacation and had to engineer it so that Bells and Ramina didn't meet when he returned. Though fifteen or twenty minutes...he ought to make his way over then, to make up for his slow pace. That, and lingering in his room was suddenly beginning to feel claustrophobic and stale when minute before he had been perfectly fine.

Then again it had been a week or so since he saw her. Some eagerness was to be expected, dreaded conversation topics or not.

He took another cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, paused, and skid the necklace with his fragmet off, setting it inside one of the drawers. Much as he didn't want to part with it, having something potentially powerful and dangerous outside, when he was barely beginning to understand it...It was better off here. And as for the mark on his hand, gloves would have to do for now.



Ruffling Lanna's head in passing, Mort headed out and locked the door behind him. The trip to he reaper dorms was I eventful, though self consciously he kept picking at his right hand as if the sigil would burn its way through the glove and betray him. With a hastened pace the zomboil stood before Belladonna's room before long, willing himself to calm down and stop being so fidgety. What was he so nervous about?

Nothing. Everything. Jackdamnit. His brain hummed with the anxious energy, granting him a small headache as he leaned against the wall and continually checked his phone.

The wait dragged out to the point of being maddening, like hours were passing instead of minutes. The zomboil fidgeted, twitched, and even casted glances down the hall in case she had forgotten to text him of her arrival, which she wouldn't, this was Bells he was talking about here, that one time she went straight to his door instead was just a fluke, just chill out -

And then, the fateful flash and rumble on his phone put him at ease, and the message read while he walked away from the dorm - and then, ironically, left without a response to let her know he was coming. It didn't take Mort long to get outside and an even shorter time to locate the conspicuous red hair, and he strode with purpose to meet the witch. Nothing else mattered: not the luggage, nor the troubled look on her face, nor the fact that he might have looked a bit too determined to make it start the reunion off happily. What mattered was that the second Bells was in arm's reach he pulled her into a tight embrace that lifted the ghoul off her feet - close to Death Grip proportions, but closer to bear hugs.

"Missed you," he murmured into her hair, as if that wasn't obvious enough, refusing to let her go even if she struggled. At least she was whole. Here. Untouched by the Hunters. He nudged past her hair and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Am allowed carry both you n' luggage yes?" Because he didn't want to let go.

The grim look melted into a grin at the sound of her laughter as he kissed her again, this time on the lips. "Should've mentioned luggage help before, then," Mort chided her teasingly, loosening his grip just enough for her to not have to have her face pressed into his clothes. "Would've brought Thor, make piece of cake for carrying everything." Though in reality even if she had, he still would have left the arm behind; he wanted to greet his ghoulfriend with both arms so that he would feel every moment together.

Thus he was more than happy to oblige her request. Mort craved his dose of happy after the recently harrowing events, and the longer he tarried outside the more he didn't have to think about how he would explain to Bells what she'd missed.

"So, how was trip?" he asked. "Must've been nice to get away for a while." Well, he assumed. Beaches weren't really his thing.

Had she mentioned it before? Maybe he'd missed it in his initial rush and following anxious wait at her door. Well, no matter, because kisses. Mort listened to her short tale and chuckled as he imagined the splash Mrs. Divine must have made. "Sounds tempting, but not really made for beach," he told her, his smile hiding the creeping nervousness at the idea of being around both bikinis and the ocean he so feared. "Sand not, ah, nice to skin, n' wet sand's worse. Plus afraid might discharge in water on accident." And nothing would ruin the vacation faster than frying his ghoulfriend and any surrounding people. Not to mention her parents would re-kill him and make sure he had no chance of reforming in a pumpkin patch.

"Also, could say am dead serious~" With an uncharacteristically cheeky grin, Mort shifted the witch from his front to onto his back, letting her piggyback as he waddled over to the luggage. Each piece was lifted in turn until he determined the two heaviest to carry. "Can carry the rest with magic?" he asked with a glance over his shoulder, grunting as he picked up the bags. "If need, c-can take third one."

Or a fourth. Or all five. He wanted to be an impressive strongman today, damn it!

He gave the bags a look over just in case one was wavering dangerously from the spell; the last thing he wanted was to accidentally get tripped up by one while going up the stairs. Dragging on the ground was a bit risky . . . And only two of three were being affected. So with a grunt of effort, he transferred his current load to one arm, leaned over a bit, and snatched one of the remaining duffle bags, which was then hung around his neck. Hopefully Belladonna's spell worked on the remaining luggage.

"Mrrrr . . . Y-Yeah! Away!" Mort chimed in, trying not to sound strained as he turned and began to make his slow way back into the reaper dorms. Zombie strength or not, three bags and a ghoul were pushing it to the limit for him. He also would have to traverse the dreaded stairs over encumbered.

But . . . but strongman!

He didn't feel so much like a strongman, though, as he eased up each stair individually with clenched teeth. This was an awful idea. Terrible idea. What the hell. Aghhhhh.

"What . . . about . . . Binx?" the zomboil wheezed as he inched them closer to the witch's bedroom, the last bit of stairs slowly being trodden upon with a cacophony of loud steps and bags swinging into each other. Eventually, somehow, the pair stood before her door, Mort swaying in place from the exertion. He was pretty sure if he didn't put them down soon, the bag's strap would cut through his stitches and lop his head off in revenge.

Mort listened to her rant in amicable silence, not having a real comment but bobbing his head every once in a while and enjoying the moment: the sound of her voice, the warm pressure of her body, the sense of normalcy surrounding them. It made the trip up the stairs much easier, and he would have done it again so long as she stayed with him. Her impish grin was met with a quirked brow and a little smirk of his own. "Naughty~" he teased as he stepped into the room, rolling his head and shoulders about until the popped.

Not that he would complain. Binx was like an overprotective parent with claws with a dry sense of humor, neither of which he felt at his best to deal with. "So . . . Where should sit for story time?" Mort asked, a little hesitant to move until a designated spot was chosen. "Is, ah, long. Should stay comfortable." Because Jack knew he wasn't going to be.

"My pleasure," he answered in spite of the fact the he could feel the straps ingrained into his neck and arms. As she went about sweeping the bed of clothes, Mort slid his shoes off and nudged them against the wall, bending and cracking his toes and trying to check if they smelled - the shower had done him some good. At the invitation to lie down, he nodded and plopped himself on the bed to situate his head in her lap.

This was good. The way he could stare at something and not necessarily look at her reactions.

"Lanna missed you too," he added suddenly. A delay. Though what were the point of those now that she sat in anticipation? It was probably jus causing her more concern than necessary. Besides, the beginning wasn't so bad.

"Story comes in three parts," Mort began, lacing his fingers over his chest. "First part started when heard noises in Other Bathroom." He describe how a small group of them heard a mysterious voice harassing the secretary and how Arel had managed to warn them to leave before they were caught by speaking overly loud. From there the students  congregated in Arel's office for investigation. "Snatched apple cider bottle from desk," Mort said with a bit of a mischievous smile. Their search uncovered a hidden tunnel behind the bookcase, which had been lucky since I had to house the students when the mysterious voice had strode in and tore up the office.

In the tunnel they had found a strip of lockers with the names of the students from the Trance. He described to Bells how he had unlocked Callie's and found a backpack and mysterious gold chest he couldn't open, and how a mysterious light suddenly filled the corridor. The next thing he knew, he woke up in a vividly colorful land as a minipet.

"Yes. Minipet."

Mort told her how strange it was to be a Spoilers and how the area had been so intoxicatingly zen that he even had the guts to try flying  while carrying  whom he had followed about most of the way. "A-Actually felt nice," he confessed, knowing that his short time on the witch's broom had been met with mixed feelings. "Think will pursue wing project after all."

From there the pair had straggled after the group to a strange building full of puzzles, which he assumed they had decided to look at after investigating a strange old man who had been watching them and rambling about all sorts of strange things. It had been a small gauntlet of man-eating plants and pitfalls and noxious gas, but the area a the end had been the strangest: a void dimension full of unfinished or forgotten creations and fragments that either began to corrupt them (had he mentioned Horsemen and Hunters were there too? Yeah) or, in Mort's case, continually shock them. And in the end some crotchety owl had demanded the fragments back for its mirror or whatever...And next thing he knew, he was back in the locker corridor.

"All in all, weird," Mort finished with a fit shrug, tilting his head up to view her. "Had strange haze-dreams for a while afterwards a-bout two forces clashing...Not sure if has connection or not." He paused to let his tale sink in and rest his voice.