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kingdomsofrain2026-01-17 02:26 pm
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2026-01-17 02:26 pm
shitlords!
placeholder title above! hmmmm
1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
no subject
Seeing nothing with which to barricade the door behind them, Faolan presses an ear to the wood to ascertain whether the suit of armor is approaching.
The rooms below are silent, so he turns back to the others and with a low voice says, "I need to rest."
And, glancing at Dmitri, he adds, "So does he."
<.>
(He could use the rest, true.) (He doesn't like to *admit* as much.) (He also doesn't bristle at Faolan's words, though he would have taken sharp offense from any other being.)
Dima's eyes dart sideways and he sighs slightly, nods. "It wouldn't hurt. Rest, gather our thoughts. This is all turning cockeyed rather quickly."
He scans the room, slightly, *slightly* relieved that it seems to be quiet. "And I'd like to look over the papers from the chest." He'd like to look at the scrolls, as well.
<.>
Sen has no argument against a rest, even if he doesn't feel particularly fatigued, himself. It's no good having the two men drop, leaving them all somewhat (mostly?) defenseless.
If Rin's in agreement, he'll hand over the papers he happens to be holding. Faolan likewise passes over the letter he read off.
<.>
Rin is in agreement, if only because they don't really care so much about papers; they'd rather check over their newly acquired crossbow and maybe have another look at the jewelry.
They're going to take a quick prowl around the room before settling in against a wall, preferably very near to Sen.
<.>
Meanwhile, Faolan slips his hand from Dmitri's and crosses the room, away from the three others. With his back as close to a corner as possible, he sinks to the ground, draws his knees up to his chest, rests his chin on his forearms, and stares at - nothing, really.
He ought to try to meditate. The trance state he's supposedly able to achieve.
It's hard to think with the weight of the dead wolves below and - what Dmitri might have done. And how he'll get home. And. And. And.
Bless the dice, Fae recovers 7 hp during the rest, bringing him back to full health.
<.>
Faolan looks so lost.
Dima wants to go to him. (Dima would rather sit near him, next to him, feel his presence as a comfort.) But Dima also knows he's caused the man distress; knows Faolan made the choice to settle himself apart. So Dima chooses a place against the wall approximately equidistant between the thieves and Faolan; somewhere he can keep an eye on the man. Somewhere he can let his gaze wander, and still let him have his space.
Settled on the ground, Dima begins to examine the contents snagged from the chest, beginning with the scrolls, then progressing to the deeds, the will, and the letter. In the latter documents, he'll be seeking clues that might unsnag the not-quite-remembered detail(s?) from his mind.
<.>
Sen spends the next hour nodding off against Rin's horns. Faolan at last manages some brief state of meditation.
He does feel a little better. A little more capable of looking Dmitri in the eye (should the need arise) or of confronting whatever might be waiting downstairs. (There was a monster, after all.)
As he stands and moves to rejoin the group, he says carefully, "Listen. This place is...Something's obviously wrong here, so it's best if we stick together, we four. But I want to make something clear. Just in case someone feels a wild impulse: we don't harm children, no matter how strange they might be. None of us, while we're together."
Perplexed, Sen stares at Faolan; briefly his eyes drift to Dmitri, then come to settle on Rin. [ Have you been eating children again, Pretty Rin? ]
And with a smile, charming (if somewhat tense), he responds, "Not at all unreasonable."
<.>
Dima spends the hour engaged in his examinations and - yes - more than a bit of intentional and unintentional gazing in Fae’s direction.
Is there anything about the spell scrolls he’s found, or anything in the papers that might trigger his recollection?
<.>
The spell scrolls are "Bless", "Protection from Poison", and "Spiritual Weapon".
[HIST, d: 16]
So, while he's reading the papers, Dima begins to recall there were rumors about the Durst family and a scandal revolving around a cult of some sort. He remembers specifically that there were rumors about guests of the Dursts vanishing, never to be seen again.
He can't recall *when* this happened, or which family members were involved.
<.>
It was, he thinks, his sister who dealt with most of the business relating to the Dursts. He ought to have paid closer attention; mostly, he remembers thinking the cult absurd, the rumors not worth his time when there were actual troubles at hand to be solved.
He's setting the papers in order when Faolan speaks, and though Dima tries to appear unflustered by the man's words, he can't help tensing, freezing—
Then returning his eyes to the papers, to storing them carefully in his pack. (Where the raven totem still waits, thank the gods.) He nods, glances up again at Faolan as he speaks, "Agreed."
He's not certain it's wise to agree. He's also not certain of his own reasoning, and does know he's inclined to trust Faolan's judgement in this. (Knows he doesn't want to see that horror, that disappointment again.)
Not yet rising, he indicates the scrolls. "We have three spells scrolls. I'd like to take them down eventually, but if worse comes to worst and we need a little aid, these may be useful." He'll convey the gist of the spells if anyone should ask.
Rin spent nearly the entire rest sleeping peacefully against Sen, and they meet Sen's message with a grin, a laughing flash of pointed teeth. [ Not for years now! Tsk! ] And! They're going to acknowledge that 'Pretty Rin' with a pleased little huff.
To Faolan, they offer a shrug and a nod. "I can work with that."
<.>
Faolan nods, more to himself than the others. He can work with them if they can work with this.
(Maybe. Maybe this will be enough to send Dmitri after someone a little less...Faolan.)
He listens quietly to the spells, giving Sen leeway to do most of the questioning. Then glances around at the doors leading deeper into the attic. Wonders if there really is an infant somewhere here, or if - what? The children were lied to? Mistaken, somehow? The baby was taken by the parents to safety? He can't quite make any of it fit.
Sen rises and offers a hand to help Rin up; neither he nor Faolan seem eager to make decisions just now.
<.>
Rin accepts Sen's hand; of course they can hop to their feet, but it's a nice gesture, and they like gestures.
They also like to keep moving, so Rin's going to give Sen a little wink, then begin moving quietly toward the nearest door. Might as well work around the perimeter, they figure.
They're going to check the door for signs of traps before readying their crossbow and opening the door.
<.>
The nearest door is locked from the outside with a heavy iron padlock. There are no traps that Rin can see.
At this point, Sen remembers the iron key he found and - feeling not great about this - offers it to Rin, but holds it when they try to take it.
"Careful. I'll be aiming overtop your head."
Faolan approaches to join them, glancing back once at Dmitri to see if he, too, cares to see what's behind the lock.
<.>
no subject
And, as he aproaches the group, intending to keep near the back, he dares it: He offers his hand toward Faolan, and Messages: [ For stealth? ]
<.>
Faolan looks again at Dmitri, then down at his hand, held in - offer? Plea?
There's no need for stealth now. Whatever's here knows they are here - Dmitri knows that.
It's a moment. Faolan knows this is a perfect moment to put Dmitri off - to laugh at him, to rebuff him, to speak again of what he might have done (what he might still do to Faolan.) As much as he doesn't have the heart for romance, neither does he have the heart for cruelty, however. His hand eases into Dmitri's, but not without an unreadable, mostly-rhetorical, [ Is it? ]
Sen raises the crossbow and Faolan settles his free hand on his scimitar, ready for - whatever may occur.
Nothing occurs when the door pushes open.
In the room's four corners are a pair of small beds, a chest of toys, and a dollhouse - a perfect replica of the Durst house in miniature.
In the center of the room, lying entwined, are a pair of small skeletons, one of them holding the tattered remains of a doll.
<.>
Dima's on the verge of messaging again - knows the impulse to offer, simply 'No' - when the door opens, and the room falls into view.
This is... Oh.
This is far from hearteningly.
He sees the dollhouse, but his attention fixes - of course it fixes - on the skeletons; on what they could mean, seem at this moment to mean. And he squeezes Faolan’s hand, turning, seeking to meet his eyes. [ Stay here. ] It's a request; an imploring. An attempt at shielding something he can't quite see the shape of.
Dima is going to approach the skeletons, and examine them for signs of identity and signs of just how long they've been here.
<.>
Approaching the skeletons, Dima quickly sees they're wearing the same clothes as the children the party met outside; the doll in the smaller skeleton's arms is indeed Hildabear.
They have clearly been here a very, very long time.
Long enough to become skeletons and their clothes to rot away in an enclosed room.
Sen is dumbfounded; he lowers his arm and steps in the room after Dima; no words come, however. Sometimes, eloquence means knowing when *not* to speak.
<.>
There isn't a lot in life that unsettles Rin. In this moment, though, they know unease - they know a cutting sadness? - at the sight within the room.
They don't want to keep looking at it.
There's nothing they can do with that, or for it.
So Rin drifts quietly, quietly toward the dollhouse and inspects it - it's an intricate thing (it's something they might have like, when they were very young) - giving particular attention to the attic and the rooms they've not yet seen.
[INSP: 18]
<.>
Rin finds that the front of the dollhouse swings open on cleverly disguised hinges, allowing them to see a cross-section of the house. Within are all of the details, down to the rugs and crystalware.
They are able to see numerous secret doors, including one here in the attic that leads to a spiral staircase.
Faolan looks on in undisguised horror, his empty hand now gripping the doorframe. The other things in the room don't matter.
It's the pitiful sight in the center that holds him (will stay with him.)
He thinks about rushing to stop Dmitri from inspecting the bodies, fearing the man will take something from them as he did the skeleton downstairs.
Them, he thinks, We can't leave them like this.
As the thought forms, so do the ghostly apparitions of Thorn and Rose beside their bodies.
"Please don't touch our things," Rose says, her voice a dim echo of that of the girl they met in the street.
<.>
At the ghost's (girl's?) words, Rin steps back from the dollhouse. It was fair game for looking when no one was around, but if the children are still here - even if they are a little see-through - things get a little murkier. They twist their lip a little and offer, "It's a good dollhouse."
Dima, who had dropped to one knee to examine the skeletons (the remains) (the remnants of these children, and there's a surging desire to usher Faolan from the room, to keep him from looking; there's a flashing image of the man hugging the children - 'children' - outside, attempting to offer comfort, and Dima's heart twists), wonders at the appearance of the ghosts. Wonders how long they've been tethered here; what drew them to this moment.
He can't precisely move, or he won't, and he knows better than to speak at length - when has he known what to say to children, let alone their spirits? - and speaks only, "Pardon, we— Wandered in."
<.>
The girl doesn't respond to Rin; it seems enough that they moved away from the dollhouse; from beside her, clutching her spectral skirt, Thorn Durst peers at the tiefling with unblinking, haunted eyes.
She does, however, respond to Dima when he speaks.
"No, you didn't. You unlocked the door."
She points at the door in question and, by proxy, at Faolan. He jerks in faint surprise, then looks down at the door's lock.
And back up again, realizing this wasn't an accident.
"Who locked it?" His voice is almost inaudible, hoarse. He tries again. "The door. Who locked it?"
"Our mother and father," Rose replies. Thorn immediately pipes up, " To protect us from the monster in the basement."
Rose hushes him and frowns, then continues, "They never came for us. No one came, and there was no food."
<.>
Technically, the godsforsaken elf unlocked the door.
Dima isn't going to point that out. Especially when Faolan's unlocked a more important piece of information—
To protect them.
To leave them, knowingly or not, in abandonment.
He considers. He nods. He looks at the bones - there's a thought here; there's something that might be done, if they can find the way, the right set of skills - then looks at the girl and speaks, "So we did.
"There's something happening in your home. This— Monster you speak of. We're looking for it.
"Do you know anything about it?"
And, after a moment: "Do you know where it came from."
<.>
Both children shake their heads.
Unsure what to do, Faolan slowly begins to approach, thinking - he wishes he could lay these bones to rest. He wishes this hadn't happened. He wishes the children could be as lively as -
Focused suddenly, he asks, "Do you remember meeting us outside in the road?"
Again, the children trade looks - now showing more confusion in their faded expressions. Rose again answers for them both. "We couldn't leave. The door was locked."
<.>
Rin thinks - but mercifully and for once doesn't say - that they knew there was something off with those kids. Mostly, that doesn't matter a whole lot right now. Mostly, they just don't like anything about this situation, and they step just a little closer to Sen.
Dima doesn't want that question to linger. (It's something they'll all need to deal with. Something with a meaning that can hold no good, and the word that comes to Dima's mind is 'lure,' and 'trap,' and what are those beings - what is that being? - they met outside?) (What was it that dared to lure Faolan's compassion for the sake of some foul trick?)
His jaw sets. He exhales. And Dima speaks, "No; of course you couldn't." And (thinking; calculating): "How long have you been here?"
<.>
Sen slides a hand to the small of Rin's back in gentle reassurance - or solidarity. Or flirtation. Whatever they need, he's happy. (And really, he could use at least the solidarity, himself. This situation is grotesque. Abominable.)
(Fucking odd.)
Rose considers a moment, her mouth puckering with thought as she gazes towards the sad little window of their attic room. "I lost count of the winters. At least sixty."
Faolan makes a small, pained noise, but quickly turns away under the guise of inspecting the window in question.
Sen doesn't quite as easily hide his reaction: a sucked-in breath that comes out again as “Fuck.”
<.>
Rin doesn't mind that hand at all. They don't usually care for being touched by strangers, but Sen's not really a stranger, and if they're being honest, it's kind of... not bad to not be looking at this all alone. So they don't move at all. So they only continue to watch, not sure at all what to make of this, or what any of them are doing here, or what they're supposed to do about ghost children.
Dima, meanwhile, nods at the girl's response. "That's quite some time." Quite some time, but possibly, possibly not too much.
(If only he could remember more of the Dursts.) (If only the deeds had mentioned some date— He could ask about the deeds! But the thought that follows says it might not be a question for children. Says that he should take care in prodding the edges of what these ghosts remember, what pains they might yet hold.)
(Another thought, stray and barely registering: It's a little easier to talk to ghost children than flesh-and-blood children.)
He should be careful, he knows, not to promise more than he can reasonably offer. But there isn't any hurry, is there? They've waited at least sixty years; perhaps they won't mind a little longer.
(What would Faolan want for them?) (And.) (What does Dima want for them.)
"There are a few more questions we'd like to ask you, but—" Think of the names Faolan shared. "It's Rose and Thorn, yes?
"Would you like to be freed of this room?"
<.>
Faolan bites the inside of his cheek to keep silent, folds his arms, and makes a slow beeline for the door. He can't listen to this.
He knows it's right - this talk of moving on. It's right, it's natural.
But it's miserable, too.
Those poor children.
Rose shakes her head no and Thorn follows suit. They've been so long in this room, trapped as shadows of who they were; they can't imagine any longer anything beyond the small (un)life they've had.
<.>
It makes sense.
Ghosts who linger long enough forget what possibility can mean, what the world can be, and these children had— Mm. Painfully, painfully few years to learn in the first place. The world they know most is in these walls, is a composition of memory and dust-riddled absence.
Dima watches them, breathing slowly, letting the rest of the room fall out of focus (save for one presence that seems to shimmer radiance) (save for one presence, who's heading for the door) (’Don't go far,’ he thinks; ’Please, Faolan, don't go far’). He keeps his eyes on the ghosts; needs to, in case the moment takes a turn for the worst, or in case they should lose interest and disperse.
"Rosavalda; Thornboldt. You've been here for a very long time. It would be different to exist outside, but— But we could help you." (It's odd, to speak 'we' like this. He doesn't have the space to think on it.)
"We could find you a home. Somewhere safe. Where you could be together still, and drink warm tea with honey, and have biscuits whenever you like.
"You'd see trees and streams. Beautiful things. I know of a woodworker— Oh, she's skillful. She could build on new dollhouse for you, twice as large as the one you have now.
"We could mend" (the briefest pause; what was the name again?) "Hildabear; you could hold her through it all.
"You'd have each other still. You would— You could play freely. You'd have soft beds, and new clothes.
"And you'd feel warm again."
<.>
Faolan wishes he could bring himself to flee the room. It's not his nature, but this is unbearable - two children, dead from neglect (padlocked away in an attic -), and Dmitri trying to convince them to move on to whatever awaits past life.
- Except.
Except that isn't what he's saying at all. Oh, it starts as a gentle framing of a beautiful next world, but then he speaks of food, of honey and beautiful things - of a woodworker he knows.
(Faolan's heart clenches in his chest, lodges in his throat.) He's looking now, not at the corpses, but at Dmitri (who said 'we', and just what is he thinking?)
This man doesn't deserve his hope. No noble does, and not one who just drew a dagger on a potential infant. (...Maybe it was stupidity, a panicked act?) (He swore never again.)
He doesn't deserve it, and - the more Faolan thinks about it, the more he thinks maybe, he shouldn't be giving these children hope, either. (Not for the mending of the doll, and not for warmth, and not for life.)
(...But it's. Possible. The druids know ways.)
He almost says Dima, don't make promises to them.
But Sen is stepping forward and placing a hand on Dmitri's shoulder, whispering something in his ear that Faolan can't hear, and the moment might be past for him to intervene.
Sen, realizing what Dima means to do - what Dima might, someday, be ABLE to do - steps forward as Dima talks, realizing it isn't enough to say these things. These are ghosts, yes, but frightened children in need of convincing.
He grasps Dima by the shoulder and whispers at his ear, "You want these things for them. You can see beauty in a future for them beyond the walls of this wretched house. Convince them of yourself. Swear to yourself that the world you'll give them is better than this one."
And, banking on what he's been observing since the four of them came together (was it only a day ago?), he adds, "Do this for Faolan."
[PERSUA, d: 27; with Bardic Inspiration from Sen]
Thorn steps out a little from behind his sister's skirts; maybe it was the mention of Hildabear that did it, or perhaps it's just that he was young when he died, and can hardly recall their parents. He regards Dima curiously, then tugs at his sister's hand. His whisper isn't particularly quiet. "He'll fix Hildabear, Rose-"
Rose hushes him, her expression both very young and very old; at ten, of course she must have known - suspected - they weren't locked away without food for their protection. And of course, she wants to feel warm again. (And - perhaps a new dollhouse, too.)
They fear being abandoned again; these strange men - and the tiefling - might not.
A moment of silence passes and, after giving Dima the same critical (curious) look as her brother, she ventures, "You'll never leave us?"
Faolan is listening very, very closely.
<.>
no subject
Isn't taking any of this lightly. He hears what the girl is asking; he knows the risk in promise. How difficult it could be to reach from now to some distant future, to the time Dima can find the right practitioner or learn, perhaps craft a spell all of his own. And 'never' is, particularly for ghosts, a complicated term.
Still. He does know what he wants for them; it's a picture growing slowly clearer; it's a feeling in his sternum.
"You'll never be abandoned.
"I'll never abandon you." For all his faults. For all his lacks, hasn't he always defended his family?" There are bonds I keep above all else; in my care, you would stand among their utmost.
"If I leave home, I will always return to you. I will always sees to your care.
"It will take some time to bring you life. It must be done correctly; it must be done when we can bring you both, together.
"But we'll have you with us. I will— I mean to gather your bones. To wrap them in fine cloth, and keep you safe. Keep you with me— With us. If you can travel as you are now, or visit us at all, so much the better." He might, Dima thinks, learn to call up their ghosts; it isn't beyond possibility.
"When the time arrives— You'll have family, if you wish it. And I will never leave you to hunger, or to wither. I won't leave you without word, or without a way to reach me.
"You'll never be alone again. You will never be forgotten.
"I want life for you, Rose, Thorn. I want to see you thrive."
Behind Dima, a voice speaks, quiet but certain as Rin chimes in: "You'll have to show me your new dollhouse. You'll have to show me everything; I bet it'll be the greatest."
<.>
It's like penance.
(It isn't at all like penance.)
Dima's promises to never leave them, isn't it a little like mending, though? For the wrong he did -
For the wrongs others have done. To these children. (To Faolan.)
He doesn't know when tears first stung his eyes, but he blinks them away, warning himself off this path. It'll only bring harm later when Dmitri can't deliver. (When Dmitri vanishes from all their lives.)
He doesn't believe the promise that they won't be abandoned, but Faolan does know life can be lived after abandonment, and they deserve a chance to live. (And there are ways.)
There are ways.
To resurrect them.
To carry them until that time.
"You could -" His voice is weak, but he ventures again, "They're attached to something. Here. The dollhouse, or the room. They'll need something else to carry them with us-"
No.
"With you."
(No.)
He doesn't want to suggest taking a bone from their bodies. It's ghoulish.
"Something from the house."
Sen glances at Rin and, after an awkward pause, furrows his brow in pained apology and mouths I'll owe you.
Out loud, he comments, "We just happened to find a pair of rings downstairs."
Thorn steps a little closer to Dmitri, though he doesn't release Rose's skirt. It's clear what he'd like, but that what Rose decides, he decides.
<.>
If there's a moment's reluctance in Rin, it's brief, scarcely noticeable. There are always other rings, after all. There's more still to be found in this house, most likely, and—
Well, if nothing else, these kids definitely had dibs on the rings for a long, long time.
So Rin's already reaching into the Bag of Holding, and produces the rings. They move a little closer to the ghosts - to Dmitri and Sen waiting close, and what was it Sen said to the man? (it seems a lot like they know each other somehow, and doesn't that seem strange?) - and hold out their hand, showing the rings.
"These. These are what we found.
"Do you know these rings?"
<.>
Rose steps a little nearer to Rin and reaches out to take the rings - then stops, hand hovering as she seems to recall she can't touch them. (Maybe, that's what makes the decision for her. Maybe the desire to touch things, to feel things.)
"Those are mother's." Her hand doesn't recoil, however. There's a faint sorrow in her expression as she looks first to Rin, then to the men around her and Thorn. "But they're meant to be ours. One for Thorn when he -
"When he marries - and -
"When I'm - old enough -"
She stops speaking and her lip trembles.
Faolan and Sen both share the same thought: it's a wonder she kept it together this long. Faolan alone thinks it's a terrible thing, not to be able to comfort a crying child.
He does what he can, kneeling before them just as he did in the street, just beside Rin. He gives the girl an encouraging smile.
"Those will do," he says softly. "And you see, Rose? Dmitri can wear the rings, and then you'll go along with him until he make you well. Do you think you can take hold of a ring the way you've held on here, in this house?"
Thorn looks uncertain if hopeful, but Rose's nod is almost eager in its certainty.
Faolan glances at Rin and offers a wan, grateful smile, then reaches out and carefully - almost reverently - takes the tattered doll from the bones at the feet of Rose and Thorn. The boy gasps and reaches out in a panic, but Faolan meets this with patience. "Dmitri will mend you, and I'll mend Hildabear so she's waiting for you."
<.>
Oh, no.
(The poor child. The poor children.)
(He will mend this. He will.)
There's nothing Dima can do to reach them, touch them, and though he isn't particularly practiced at handling children, he knows they could use an embrace— Faolan's, perhaps Sen's, if not his own. A hold, a hug from someone with a caring that runs to their core.
He curses himself for not knowing better magic. He thinks thanks to Faolan for speaking, for thinking quickly, for the rings and for holding the bear; it's something, and the boy must see the meaning.
(Dima noticed as well the particularity of Faolan's words: That the bear would be waiting. The bear, alone? The bear, alone in promising.
He won't think on it now. He won't entertain the twist of sadness, sorrow that it brings. This isn't the time for his own concerns.)
"Yes; we'll have Hildabear ready and waiting, and she'll have adventures to tell you about. While you hold her; while you and your sister and I all sit together." He doesn't precisely think about what he's committing himself to; he also knows the meaning in his words, and knows no pull against this vow. Someone ought to aid these children, and there's plenty of room in his home in Morovsk. There's plenty of coin, should Dima choose to commission a home all of their own.
He doesn't like to see these children abandoned, and stranded as ghosts. He won't let this continue.
And he nods. "You'll have your rings, as well. They were always yours, and waiting for you; I'll keep watch of them, I'll keep them until they sit upon your fingers.
"Your mother's wish will be fulfilled.
"And you'll be so beautiful, so handsome with your rings."
Dima cants his head slightly, manages a smile. "I am Dmitri. This is Faolan, Sen, Rin. I think we'd all like to help you—" And. Because what Faolan suggested holds weight; because it's a better-than-viable approach: "You need only take hold of your rings, and we'll begin."
<.>
It's apparently no difficulty at all for the children to grasp on to some tangible connection; their images fade for a moment, then appear once more, if a little less vividly. They each step away from their bones and towards Dmitri, Rose quietly instructing Thorn to be brave. (Hearing this, Faolan wonders if she's speaking more to herself.)
He tries not to think about the small pieces of speech that remain ingrained with him; things Dmitri said that might promise (a home) (a family) (love?) a world Faolan knows won't be his. He focuses instead on the task before them of carefully wrapping the bones; his cloak is sacrificed for the task. After a moment, Sen stoops to help him, surprising Faolan with the care he shows.
(Even if he does keep casting glances up at Rin that Faolan would characterize as 'adoring'.)
As they work, Thorn tugs Rose's skirt and whispers to her, and Rose wipes away ghostly tears, sniffs, and instructs, "Hildabear should be there, too, until you can mend her."
<.>
Rin stands very near, more moral support than anything; as far as they can tell, Sen and Faolan have a deft handle on wrapping the bones, and they don't want to upset anything by intruding a hand. It seems important that this be done with care. It seems important not to break the solemnity of this moment, and what Rin does speak is simple, again soft—
"It's good you have Hildabear. I can tell she really wants you with her."
Dima does offer a hand here and there - adjusting the shift of a bone; looking to Rose, to Thorn, then adjusting another placement - though he strays from interfering with Faolan and Sen's work. Mostly, he remains attuned to the children (the ghosts) and to the room around as best he can. To listening for any changes in the atmosphere; to seeing whether the children seem to be particularly discomforted as hands ready their bones for holding.
He raises a hand toward Rose, toward Thorn, and tilts it slightly sideways. As if offering the shadow of a gesture, a reassuring, slightest touch. "Both of you are very brave. You've been brave all this time.
"You can rest now, children. It's all right; you can hold close to one another, and to Hildabear, and let us take care of everything." He's taken the rings from Rin, or Rin's slipped the rings into his hand, and Dmitri closes his fingers around them, slipping his eyes shut briefly, nodding to himself. "You've done so well; I can feel your presence in these rings.
"Thank you. I— You ought to be very proud of yourselves. Brave Rose; brave Thorn.
"Everything will be all right; I swear it."
<.>
When the children vanish - though their ghostly presence may still be felt near at hand (figuratively and literally for Dima) - and their bones carefully stowed in the Bag of Holding, the party is free to continue on to the staircase leading down into the dungeon. Faolan argues there's no need to search the rest of the attic; whatever's left to be dealt with, it's in the basement.
XP awarded: 480.
That should roll everyone over to level 3. (Meaning everyone now is at level 3 / 900XP.)