Coagulate

by Rose Thorne

Disclaimer: Slayers is owned by a bunch of folks who aren't me. I'm borrowing them for my perverse pleasure, much as Xellos borrows emotions for his.

Zelgadis ran as fast as he could with one leg going numb down the ruins' corridor, slashing behind him with his Astral Vine-enhanced sword, keeping his other hand against the wound in his side.

He had known there would be demons, but he hadn't expected so many. He'd been careless, stupid. And one had gotten through his defenses. And given the impact, its claws were poisoned.

The shaman had cleared out a defensible room a little further down the corridor, one he could ward if he reached it.

The sound of pursuit was further behind him after another swing of his sword, and he reached it. He tossed his blade aside and used both hands and as much strength as he could muster to push the stone door back in place. He fished a piece of cascarilla chalk from a pocket and drew the runes necessary to ward the room on the door, his blood mixing with it to turn the symbols pink.

Just as he finished, there was a crash and then a howl of rage beyond the room.

There was no time for relief, Zel realized as his leg started to give out, the numbness hitting his knee, his vision starting to dim as the poison threatened far worse.

Quickly, he murmured the incantation for Dicleary, feeling the drain of the spell as it removed the poison. It took more than he expected.

He leaned against the wall, panting, and let his body slide down. Even with the poison dealt with, he felt woozy, and when he pulled at his tunic he realized why; the side of his shirt and pants were sodden with blood, and the deep gashes across his side and hip were still bleeding heavily. Each breath he took felt left the wounds burning. It was too much for his body to heal unassisted before he bled to death.

So soon after the mudslide incident, Recovery would strain him, using his body's resources to at least stop the bleeding. He felt like a fool for not waiting longer to explore the map Xellos had left. For not letting himself recover further, too frustrated by the fact that he'd lost his leads on Claire Bible manuscripts to the Mazoku.

Better unconsciousness than death. He'd have to take stock of his own idiocy later, when he wasn't bleeding all over the place. Even though he modified it to focus only on stopping the bleeding, the spell took the rest of his strength.

Zelgadis let himself slump onto his uninjured side as his vision faded. He could only hope the ward held.

Pain woke him, his blood-caked tunic being peeled from the healing gashes. He opened his eyes to a figure leaning over him.

A too-familiar figure.

"Xellos?" His voice was hoarse, weak. What would the Mazoku be doing here?

"Goodness, you do seem to make a routine of this sort of thing. Really, you should have more care."

Somehow the playful amusement of his voice sounded off, like an undertone of displeasure. Zelgadis wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Still bleeding?" he asked, though he figured he'd be dead if he was.

"No, though those slashes do look ugly." The Mazoku let the tunic fall back into place.

Zel shrugged slightly, wincing when the movement brought pain. "They'll heal."

"Hm."

Xellos reached forward, gently pulling the pack from his back. He pulled out the canteen and handed it to Zel, who suddenly realized how thirsty he was. It made sense; blood loss begat dehydration. Moving hurt too much, so he opened it with his teeth.

By the time he had slaked his thirst, Xellos had a fire going.

His body wanted rest so it could heal, exhaustion tugging at him. But Zel wanted at least one answer.

"Why are you here?"

This was the second time Xellos had shown up when he was injured. The Mazoku wasn't rescuing him or anything ridiculous like that, but he was helping… and that seemed rather out of character to Zel.

"I thought I'd check your progress with the map I left. Honestly, I expected you would have rested more after your last brush with disaster, and especially before coming here."

The exhaustion was eating at his vision, and he wasn't able to do more than grunt at that. Zelgadis knew he'd made a mistake; he hardly needed Xellos to rub that in.

The Mazoku had moved to the door, peering at the rune. "This was stronger than I expected, but it seems your blood has given it more power. How interesting."

Zel's own curiosity was piqued at that, but he didn't have the energy to even consider the matter further. The glow of the fire followed him into sleep.

When he next woke it was to the smell of a hearty stew. He was alone, next to the fire in his bedroll.

And naked again—he hoped this didn't become a running thing like going over waterfalls. But at least he was clean of blood.

As he ate, he examined the healing gashes, wincing as he realized that one across his hip had come uncomfortably close to castrating him. He shuddered. Even with his body's ability to heal, he didn't think it'd regenerate lost flesh.

His torn clothing was beside his pack, both oddly devoid of blood, and Zelgadis realized abruptly that the blood that had to have pooled where he passed out against the wall was similarly gone. The fascinated tone of Xellos' voice before he'd passed out again came to mind, and he tried not to be creeped out.

His tunic and pants were distressingly shredded in places, ruined. A note atop read, You nearly became a eunuch. I doubt you want to lose that! Zel grimaced at the reminder. Fresh clothing is in your pack. Do be more careful with this set, Zelgadis-san. Another crude chibi version of the priest signed the note.

His pack had also been restocked with food and water. There was even a small stock of firewood, enough to last a few days. Zel had the uneasy feeling he'd paid for this help with his blood, literally.

He was likely to need more rest after casting another healing spell, and so after finishing his meal he dressed and built up the fire, moving gingerly with the pain. Fortunately none of them reopened.

The Recovery spell sapped him, though not as completely as last time—not suffering from blood loss probably helped. He crawled back into the bedroll and mentally took stock of his situation.

Zelgadis had let his frustration get the better of him, and he'd very nearly gotten killed as a result. And as much as he'd like to, he couldn't blame that on Xellos. The Mazoku irritated him, but he needed to better control his emotions. He had gotten himself into this situation.

Because of his foolishness, he was trapped in a hostile space, protected by a ward, until he was recovered enough to fight a horde of monsters. And at least he had enough supplies now for that.

As sleep started to pull at him, he wondered again why Xellos would bother… and like with the blood, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

This is connected to Morass. I've had it mostly written for a while and finally finished it. Thanks to Norakwami and Chrissy Sky for reading through and giving quick feedback!

Poor Zel—that is totally gonna be a running gag.

Also, I've been on lock-down due to a possible coronavirus exposure. 13 days since possible exposure and no symptoms so far.