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For the rest of the night, Fenris slept, and he dreamed of Toril. He dreamed of their past, trying to figure out the whole while where he had gone wrong, how he had caused her so much pain. And those children, the little Dustlings he had seen playing together, returned. Both the young ones that were his and not, and he wondered about them as well. What did they mean? He hoped, even if he didn't believe it could be true, that the first ones meant that he and Toril did have a future, one that wasn't full of hate.... The other three, though... He just couldn't guess at what their presence meant.

Outside his head, his condition wasn't improving greatly. His wounds had stopped bleeding again, and his breathing became a bit more even, and that was about it. The angel still looked as if he was on death's door, and needed more help.

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when Fenris awoke again, barely cracking open his good eye and lifting his head to look around when he didn't feel Eden next to him in the cramped hole. The movement made his sore, stiff bones and muscles start to ache again. It seemed that Eden had left him alone, though he couldn't say for how long he'd been gone. Fenris didn't think that the other angel had abandoned him, but he couldn't be sure. He just had to hope for the best.

Grunting softly, the bloodstained angel let his head fall back to the sand. He felt thirstier than when he'd passed out, and the lack of movement had allowed his hurting body to stiffen, so getting up would have been a difficult trial, if not impossible. He wasn't sure what he would do if Eden didn't return - he supposed he could drag himself to the oasis' water to drink, but hunting for food would be out of the question, as well as walking to town. He'd never felt so weak, so useless... It wasn't a condition he was used to, and didn't enjoy. But it was his penance, and he would accept it.

Fenris didn't move an inch as he heard Eden land, he was so tired and weak. He glanced towards the noise, and almost smiled at the sight of the dark furred male carrying the blanket and bucket. There was something mildly amusing about watching the bucket swinging back and forth, clasped in his beak, but he was too uncomfortable to truly appreciate the humor of it.

Instead, he slowly lifted his head to fully look at the other male, wincing softly at the movement. After a moment he spoke, in a soft voice, cracking a little from the dryness of his mouth and throat, "Wh-what's in the bucket?" I hope it's something wet and cold, he thought to himself, though he wouldn't say so aloud. He thought it would be rude. He was also curious about what the blanket was for, but figured that Eden would explain all in short order.

Fenris watched with some interest as Eden unfolded the blanket, believing that the other angel had some good foresight to have thought of bringing the blanket. It would likely get sand on it eventually, considering they were in a desert - even to an oasis, there was an infinite amount of sand - but they would get to that when the time came. Besides, it had to be more comfortable than laying right in the sand, as he was now.

As Eden left to fetch water, Fenris gingerly rose to his legs and started climbing out of the hole. His clawed and bite-marked legs were as weak as a newborn Dust, at getting out of the hole Eden had made was difficult but he somehow pulled it off. Then he made the few feet to the blanket and carefully settled down onto it on his side, trying not to make too much of a mess on it or hurt himself more. When I am not so tired, I should go into the oasis and rinse the blood off... His blanket will be filthy when he brings it home...

Sighing, he rested his head on the blanket and pulled his battered wings close to his body. He would need to groom out the dead and damaged feathers in addition to a bath, the wounded Angel realized. He was not looking forward to the healing process.

As he heard Eden returned with the bucket, Fenris carefully rolled onto his stomach - wincing as he rested on his gashed chest and stomach before he lifted up a little - and waited for him. When the bucket was before him, the wounded Angel dipped his beak into the water and drank slowly, savoring the cool liquid running down his dry throat. It was refreshing and possibly the sweetest, most delicious water he'd ever drank.

Fenris withdrew when he couldn't drink anymore, then rested his head upon his forepaws. The water had made him feel better, but he was still broken and battered, weak as a babe just popping out of the dust and meeting the world. He looked up at Eden with a sad, tired golden-red eye and said in a quiet voice, "Thank you, Eden... I appreciate what you are doing, even though you don't have to... I'm indebted to you..."

Fenris nods slightly to Eden's words, shutting his eye and letting out a deep, raspy breath. He disagreed that he owed Eden nothing - if he survived this, it would be the other Angel's doing - but he didn't feel like arguing with him upon it now. Maybe later, but for now... He's quite right about needing more rest... Wonder how much of the last few hours have I slept?

Instead, he shifted on the blanket until he was as comfortable as he could get, and tried to ignore the hurting in his body, and the hollow ache in his heart that had been growing ever since he first learned the truth about Toril... As well as the nagging voice in the back of his mind that something was wrong with the Demoness, that she was in danger and needed him. The latter of the two were much harder to ignore than his physical pain as he tried to fall to sleep, but eventually the Fiery Angel did slip away from the waking world, into the land of restless, ceaseless dreams of a Demoness of black and orange... And the Angel she had once been.

Fenris stank. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it; after a week of blood drying in his feather-fur in the hot, desert sun, there was no way the Angel could - or would - deny it. For most of the past few days, Fenris had spent it either passed out or drinking water or eating whatever morsels Eden would bring him, and trying to conserve his strength and heal. Some of his minor injuries had healed - the shallow gash under his right eye was had closed a few days ago, and he could see out of it once again, for example - and the most serious were scabbed over and itched like crazy. He resisted the urge to scratch, though - the itching meant he was, indeed, healing, no matter how much it drove him mad.

His body still ached, and his wings were still tattered and beyond use, but movement didn't make him whimper and whine so as it had on the first day. Eden had indeed been taking good care of him, but he expected that his filth and odor might drive the other Angel off before too long. Fenris had never been all that vain, at least that was what he thought, but he had always been a clean creature, careful to groom his wings and fur at least once every other day before his fight with Toril. He felt thoroughly disgusted at his current state, and wouldn't be surprised if lice or some other disgusting vermin were uniting with his scabs to make him even itchier.

That's it... I don't care how much I hurt. I need a bath, and I need one NOW, he nearly growled to himself. Without much warning to Eden, Fenris rose from his blanket - by this point about as filthy and blood encrusted as the Angel himself, and he silently decided either he would drag it out of the hole or he'd get Eden to - and started climbing out of the hole. His legs were weak from lack of use and the abuse from Toril, so he shook and wobbled with each step, but he would not back down from his mission of cleanliness. He was intent on jumping into the cool waters of the oasis and not coming out until he could smell something other than rancid Dustling blood.

Fenris had made his way to the oasis slowly, the use of his forelegs making him bite his tongue to keep from wincing - they had suffered more damage than his hind legs in the fight - but he still managed to get there some time before Eden would wake. He stepped into the water without much hesitation, aside from a small shudder when the cool liquid made contact with his skin or wounds. The Angel moved forward until the water covered his back and reached the base of his wings, finding that the cold was both was both refreshing and a little painful as it sank into his wounds. Some of the blood was already leaving his featherfur, though, and to be somewhat clean again would be so nice.

Fenris drew in a deep breath and dunked himself fully beneath the surface, and almost let all that air out as the water came into contact with his thrashed wings. He took a second to adjust before he started to swim in the shallows, hoping that there no big fish in here that would try to bother him. Toril had said she caught fish when she lived in this particular oasis... He hoped that, in spite of the blood, the little creatures would see him as a predator because of Demoness' old diet.

Toril... The thought of her made his heart ache again, and he poked his head back above the surface. Every time he thought of her - which was quite frequently - he felt a great sadness and loss, with no small amount of anger mixed in. The sadness and loss might have been his, but the anger... He could not explain where that came from. Perhaps from Toril?

Can I truly feel what she feels...? Are some of these feelings coming from her? And why? Is it because of me, or has she been in some sort of danger? Gods, I wish I could go to her... he thought, and his heart felt doubly heavy. Fenris started paddling near the shallow end of the pool of water again, trying to drive these things from his mind.