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Malodore kept Riley's hand in its own, their fingers entwined as they walked towards the monster dormitories. The sight of the building alone was enough to make Malodore start fretting internally. It didn't want to not find Jericho. But maybe the dragon was back, and would be just fine...

... or maybe not. It hated not knowing, almost as much as it might hate finding the dragon definitively absent. "It won't take long, I suppose - if he's there. If not..." It sighed. "Well. It is much harder to prove a negative."

"Si, si... I don't know what I did without you, truly," it said, quietly. Well, it did know - it involved a lot more tears, for one thing, and a bit more screaming. But there was no point in making plans now. Not until they knew for sure, or as close as they could get.

It led her up into the dorms, heading for Jericho's room. The plague doctor's pace visibly slowed as they drew near to the dragon's chamber, its hooves dragging a bit. Which was stupid. Still, it peeked around the corner with trepidation before sighing and walking up to the door.

"There are notes, still. Surely he would have removed them if he were there..."

One of the notes fluttered to the ground; Malodore picked it up, squinted at it, then stuck it back on the door with a sharp stab of one claw, driving paper into wood. "His closet?" it asked, uncertainly, stepping inside. The lava pit bubbled, and the plague doctor automatically scooted away from it, plastering itself to the back wall furthest away. It sincerely hoped the closet wasn't behind the lava pit...

Malodore's feathers rasped against each other as it inched over towards the doors she'd indicated, only to pause when it put a hand on the door. Wait... how did she know...?

Hm.

It slid the door open carefully, its stomach twisting a bit as it realized the closet was full. "Well-stocked, I'm afraid," it said, trying to sound less panicked than it felt. Though really a good chunk of it was the lava pit's presence.

When it 'heard' its name, it turned, biting back a startled exclamation at her sudden pallor. "What is it, mia cara?" it called, hurrying towards her, then stopping and veering sharply towards the nearest wall. It was visibly agitated by the presence of the lava pit, but kept moving forward nevertheless, with a certain grim determination. "A note? From him?"

... It was not from him.

Malodore sank to the ground, stunned. For a moment it sat in a puddle of its own robes - and then, quite suddenly, it raised one clenched fist high and slammed it into the ground. "Dannazione!" Slam. "Dannazione al paradiso!" Wham.

"L'ho fallito..." Slowly, the fist descended once more, but it slowed before impact; Malodore pulled its arms close, hugging itself as it shook, wings rasping dissonantly. "Non di nuovo, non ancora... ho giurato un voto!!"

Its shout rang against the walls, and it fell silent.

If Malodore noticed the span of time between its initial breakdown and when Riley came to its side, the plague doctor did not mention it - instead, it clung to her when she was near enough to hold, taking comfort in her presence. "We can get him back," it swore, its voice shaky. "Just as what happened with you - we just have to find him..."

Its voice trailed off. Jericho had last been seen on the Island of the Hunters - and in the form of fog, rather than a statue. Unless he had solidified at a later time? But they had no way of knowing. It ground its beak in frustration. "How do we get to him? To them? I know how to find individual Hunters, but the one who opened the way to the Island was..."

It shook its head. "Medea. The Horseman High Priestess. Ah, mia cara, I do not... I do not trust her. Her gifts are too strange, her purpose too clouded. She asked much to take us to the Island in the first place; I did not take her gift, and was bound..." The memories of the humans trapped and dying, tormented in the Famine Lair also echoed in its mind, available to Riley for the first time.

Its feelings were conflicted. It had gladly destroyed Hunters, yes, and would do so again. And yet it could not help but feel that while their actions were misguided at best, they were not without provocation. Not after what it had seen below Famine.

"She might be," it said, with a sigh. "But I do not doubt she would request a price in return... I would imagine she would levy it most on you, for you are far more valuable than I."

At her speaking of stands, it laughed, though there was no joy in the sound. "I have not proven very effective at such things, mia cara. Not after losing you once, and now Jericho as well... perhaps Ashford is also there, fog and stone, and I have three failures to my name instead of only two. But whatever you choose to do, I shall support it, and you," it added, drawing itself up.

It might be downtrodden, but it could be strong for her.

It flinched away from her gaze for a moment, then stilled, looking back at her. When she was done, it looked... well, much the same as always, really. But it emanated sheepishness. "I... grazie, mia cara," it sighed, heavily. "So you see some of the wounds this has left on me. I had never before lost a... well, you were and are far more than this, but you were also my patient, in the matter of Insanity. So... I had never lost a patient before..."

Its wings swept around them both, as if Malodore was trying to hug her with as many limbs as it possibly could. "I am a fool in one way, though, and you cannot deny this single truth: in setting myself against an impossible, poorly understood opponent as my nemesis." Meaning the Insanity, of course. It was rather like a small minipet challenging a train.