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Malodore let out a startled noise as it suddenly plummeted (or did it?), but Riley's arms were around it, and it held as tightly to her as she did to it, its tail twining around one of her ankles gingerly, so as not to hurt her. The fog swirled into new shapes, new patterns - people this time, undefined and distant. Malodore watched warily as one figure stepped forward and addressed them.

Them? Or was it only speaking to Malodore itself?

"I took nothing from you," it said, firmly. The shadow chuckled and shook his head, clearly disbelieving; the plague doctor looked beyond, tensing a bit as it realized the natures of the figures beyond, the shadows resolving into something recognizable as soon as its gaze landed on them. Its friends... Christof and Calder, and Lizzy and Junko, Sammy and Shehk... even Jericho, which made its gaze narrow sharply. At last its gaze came to rest on a green-skinned girl, her face turned away, water trembling in the depression atop her head.

"Hasuko-"

Malodore swallowed, then closed its eyes firmly. They were nothing but illusions. "Ignore them," it said, softly. "It is only the fog, I am quite certain..."

Malodore sighed at the kiss, then opened its eyes to blessed nothingness-

No. No. Not nothingness at all. With a muffled curse, the plague doctor dropped to its knees next to the figure on the ground, placing its hands over Riley's, feeling the warmth and slickness of blood, the edges of severed musculature flicking weakly against its palms. "Move your hand," it murmured, gently feeling over the wound as soon as she did so.

Quickly, it fished out needle and thread from its sleeve and set to work, but the more it stitched the slicker its hands became with blood, foul and thick with warmth that was rapidly fading. It moved faster, but there was simply too much, far, far too much-

The figure convulsed, then smiled thinly. "Thank you," came the faint whisper, and then their thready pulse stilled entirely, chest coming to a stop. Fresh blood failed to emerge.

Dead, by any count. And not likely to reanimate.

"Merde-" Malodore buried its head in its hands for a moment, briefly overcome; when it took its hands away its mask was marked with long smears of blood. It focused again, then recoiled - the figure was clearly garbed in white and gold. How had it not noticed before!? How could it have wanted to heal one of them-

It staggered to its feet, throwing the needle and remaining thread down as it did so. "No," it said, firmly, feeling... strange. Fog shifted to the side, and it flinched away, wings rattling.

Finally, when she could take no more waiting, Riley approached the figure. She attempted to ask it a question, but her thoughts remained in her mind, as there was nothing out there to reach. The entire faux kitchen disappeared, and instead there was in front of her the one thing she had been looking for; a door. There was no hesitation; she reached for the knob, intending to leave immediately. When her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, they clutched tighter at the sound of Malodore calling out to her. She felt cold claws grasp her shoulders, and she let go of the door.

It was all she was looking for, anyway. She didn't need the door, now. She had what she was looking for.

"Don't go. Please. There's still another way. You don't have to do this!"

The brief moment of content was shattered as soon as Malodore's voice spouted statements that did not make sense. Riley growled, annoyed with the ruse, but a blanket of ease seemed to suffocate her hate. She couldn't be mad, even at a fake Malodore. It was still Malodore, after all.

I'm not leaving you. Let's go, together. You'll come with me, won't you?

The figure sighed, and let her go. This, perhaps, was more like Malodore. "You cannot go where I go," it says. "Not now, but perhaps..."

The wisps overtook her Malodore, and without thinking she reached out to follow it. But soon it, and the door, were gone.

And her rage was back.

WHO ARE YOU TO TOY WITH OUR EMOTIONS? She screamed into the nameless fog, as her hands balled into fists. This place had too much power over her. Too much power over them all.

She got up, touched her arm where those cold claws had just been, and then stormed off.

You ate me. You ate me. You ate me. The words rose above the soft hush of whispering in Malodore's mind, a constant thrum like a heartbeat, an unaccustomed rhythm. It was alone in the fog, no Riley, no shadow-ghoul, no kitchen. Nothing but featureless fog and the smoothness of the ground beneath its hooves.

The plague doctor sat down with a thump. So this... this was Insanity, this whisper, this hiss and hum, this slow press on one's mind. Si, it understood now, how such constant stimulation could-

You ate me. You ate me. You ate me.

-destroy the mind, as the Insanity grew louder, and your self grew smaller-

You ate me. You ate me.

It felt strange, prickly. Irritable - of course, it was constantly being pecked at, constantly stimulated. Its mind would grow raw, like a wound that never had a chance to scab over. Raw and bleeding and fouling, slowly, exquisitely, grey appearing to fill in the bits that got worn away.

Grey.

The greyed-out pumpkin pill was still in its sleeve. Malodore took it out, pinching it between thumb and foreclaw. Tainted, clearly; it was tainted too. It was not safe anymore, not here.

There was no one else here.

The plague doctor took a deep breath, pulling fog into its lungs, and downed the pumpkin pill. The effect was immediate, a rush of health and vitality that cracked through it and left gaps behind. The voices rose hungrily like a wave. You ate me, you ate me, you ate me-

Malodore hunched, feeling the brush of fog against it like the pressure of a thousand gazes; it drew its wings around itself. Slowly, it examined its own hands, but grey on silver was not the easiest thing to distinguish. Under the bandages, now... ah, si, it would be there, would it not?

It opened the front of its coat and tore aside the bandages over its chest - and yes, yes, there on its flesh were streaks of grey, beautifully complimenting the bloodstains on its mask. It admired them for a moment before being overcome with the fear that someone might see; it closed up its coat with a furtive hiss.

You ate me, you ate me, you ate me.

Part of its mind, under the constant buzz of sound, was recording, making notes - it was an experiment now, a great and grand experiment.

Phase one complete.

Second phase.

Trembling a bit with the effort, Malodore sought its FEAR, the power that had always kept it safe up until now - first from disease, and then from Insanity. The plague doctors of the Casa Cirurgien were all familiar with the concept of the FEAR-purge, flooding one's FEAR deliberately through one's body, or through the body of another. Doing the first was inadvisable but sometimes needed; doing the second was tantamount to treason, as Malodore had discovered long ago.

Its FEAR was still there, still powerful. The plague doctor set its claws into the ground and began, deliberately invoking that ability which, up until now, had been passive.

You ate-

It rose as if it had been waiting for Malodore's call, a warmth like a fever that made it shudder. FEAR washed over the Insanity, drowning every voice; its flesh tingled, and it knew without looking that color was overwhelming the grey beneath its clothing and bandages. It felt... triumphant, victorious, and when its system had been cleansed it slumped forward with a shaky exhale, expelling every bit of the fog from within its body. It felt drained, but not anywhere near as much as it had expected to be.

... and, bizarrely, it felt a little bit lonely.

Slowly, Malodore got to its feet, pulling its wings around itself protectively. Drained, yes, and sobered as well. It had gained an understanding, the briefest glimpse of the enemy it fought. An unorthodox method, but not unheard of even among the hidebound histories of its Casa. Know thy enemy applied to more battlegrounds than the literal.

Malodore pushed on through the fog.

Riley was looking down at the stairs herself, when she heard the voice. It came from surpisingly close; the fog had literally put a wall between them, and when Malodore called for her, the wall disappeared. She turned her head to look up from the stairs, and cocked it, studying the figure very carefully.

It could be a trick. But even as she thought that, she felt Malodore in her mind, and in her very skin. She reached out and pulled it against her, a rough movement that left it slamming hard into her. She didn't care. This was important.

You are not to let go of me again for the rest of .. the rest of forever. She nodded at the decision, sharp and final. Is that clear?

Feeling the real Malodore in her arms settled her anxious heart. But the words confused her for just a moment, until it started to sink in.

You suffered the same delusions as I did. She murmured, more a confirmation than anything. She shifted her arm to hold it more comfortably while it simultaneously held her, and then answered by heading down the stairs. I'm very well, thank you. More so than before they had come to this place, that much was for certain. And you?

For all that one might suffer in the fogs, despite the tragedies that had befallen them before.. Riley thought that her and Malodore were making out rather unscathed, for once.

It was nice.

She didn't even question the stairs as a valid exit. She just took them.

Riley's footsteps slowed to a stop. She was still, for a moment, before turning Malodore to face her. Her hands rested on its shoulders, and she slowly slid them down its arms, following her hands with her gaze. When she reached its hands, she brushed the sleeves away just enough to see the claws and wrists outright, before placing them on her and letting go. Her hands reached out to touch its neck, gentle touches that still had purpose.

When she was satisfied, she pulled it closer, back into her arms.

She was so mad. The bubbling anger boiled under her skin, barely containable. But she said nothing to it, and held her anger in check. It had taken in the disease, almost purposefully, to study it? And then managed to expel it?

Her anger, previously fueled by fear that ebbed away, was now nothing but a slow rumble in the back of her mind.

We don't have to go. Her voice had taken a subdued quality, held tense and careful. She didn't want it hearing the anger in her voice. We can stay right here, until this is all over, if you want. If that's what it takes to keep you safe.