The sun had risen above the horizon when Tapendra left the castle. The early morning breeze was crisp and cold, and his breath fogged in front of him as he made his way across the grounds. It was quiet, a giant contrast to the chaotic and red-tinged night before. Tapendra hadn't gotten much sleep; they'd arrived in the Hut the night before only...was it really only 5 or so hours ago? It seemed longer. He usually slept in short stints as it was, so it had been easier to get up early.

He headed towards the dark forest, his goal the cheery and picturesque Hospital Hut that stood just outside it. Darian was probably still asleep, but he was also aware the man was likely to leave as soon as he could - which was good, technically speaking. Best not to have outsiders on school grounds when it could be avoided, after all.

The door to the hut was unlocked, as usual, but he knocked before heading in. It was quiet inside, but smelled faintly of the potions of last night. There was still some other signs of the previous night, as well; the operating table was still where they'd dragged it, the couches shoved out of the way.

He found Darian's room easily enough, as it was the only one with a closed door, and he knocked but got no reply. He opened the door cautiously, looking at the sleeping figure on the bed. He seemed...smaller without his glamour on, really. It was strange. Not an unwelcome change, but very odd.

"Darian?" He asked, closing the door after him and walking across to open the curtains. The sun shone into the room, its light somewhat dimmed by the fog rising from the lake.

Sunlight seared across the room and Darian winced, turning his head sharply away from the light. He dragged an arm up and over his eyes, face screwing up, nose scrunching. "Merlin, Tapendra?" he asked, completely dazed, mostly asleep, "What're you - " But he trailed off in favor of rolling over and burying his face in the pillow, shoulders bunching up around his ears. It was too early. It was too early indeed. His muscles ached, that insistent hot throb which demanded nothing but a great deal of sleep.

And of course that was enough to wake him, to make him remember what he was doing here in the Hospital Hut in the first place. Strange bed, no problem, but the pain was of a different flavor than a little muscle fatigue. He huffed into the pillow with eyes still shut, sliding his arms further under the cool fabric. Faint irritation that Tappy woke him. But yes, he needed to leave.

Gods, he needed to leave. Which involved... moving.

He dragged himself up on his hands and turned back over, eyes open but narrowed still against the cool white light. They flicked over to Tappy, Darian watching him without any particular emotion. "Morning," he said, voice low and rough.

Darian looked a mess, rather like Gigi or Cyhirae when chased out of bed far too early in the morning. His hair was...terrible. Horrendous, even. It was hard not to laugh at it; as it was, he found himself smirking for a moment before he caught it and stopped. Flat along one side, Darian's curly auburn tresses had rebelled in the night and so the opposite side of his head was a storm of tangled curls, puffed up. He looked utterly unlike himself.

He blinked at Tapendra slowly, and Tapendra offered him a sunny smile in return. Tapendra's large frame was blocking the direct rays of the sun and casting Darian in shadow, which probably didn't help. "Sorry to wake you up so early," he said, , folding his arms. "I figured you'd be in a hurry to leave before the students started wandering in." He looked at the way Darian moved, tilting his head slightly. The man still looked stiff and bruised.

Darian was tired, but he wasn't slow. His hands went to his head, and he ran fingers through his curls. They'd dried as he slept after his bath this morning - so yes, that was probably why Tappy was smirking. He combed fingers through his hair with the care of the very vain, nose wrinkling in distress. Without a mirror, even his little tricks were useless; there was one in the bathroom, but beautifying would have to wait.

For now he took his wand from the nightstand as well as a tissue and transfigured it into a white ribbon, raking his hair off his face, tying it back. Then he raised a brow at Tappy as though daring him to smirk at any other part of his bare-chested, bare-footed, tired-eyed demeanor.

"No, you figured right," he said, slipping out of bed. To his pleasure his clothing from the night before had been laundered, now sitting in tidy folds atop the dresser. He picked up the trousers, examining them. The charms inlaid in the shirt would have shed dirt and blood, but the trousers were not Libertine-made. They would have stained, and stunk, and ripped. Now they were clean, and a tear in the thigh had been mended. Darian fingered it critically - neat stitching, not up to his standards, but what ever was? "Hm, what do you think Tulojow would like?" he asked, picking up his shirt next. "I'll have to send her my thanks for this."

Tapendra did not continue to smirk, even though he was somewhat nonplussed by Darian's physical appearence as the man stood. Mostly, it was the shirtlessness...and the visible bruises on his torso and back. He'd seen the wounds the night before, but now with time to spread, the bruises were kind of horrifying. They certainly had been aided by Tulojow, though; instead of the angry purple bruises he would have expected, they were yellowish - a sign of quick healing. Darian would feel it for several days, but ultimately seemed like he'd be fine. Of the places where the skin had been split, there was little sign of the once open wounds.

"My guess? I'd say..." There was a difficult question, actually. "I imagine she'd appreciate...um, probably foodstuffs. Maybe some interesting or rare tobacco?" He rubbed the back of his neck, and clarified, "Pipe tobacco. Something...like that?" He frowned. Tulojow struck Tapendra as a more practical sort of woman; but she'd probably appreciate whatever he sent over. Gods knew it was more than she usually got from the average student!

"Your clothes alright?" He asked, looking at the pile - now glad he hadn't woken Tulojow. She'd evidently tended to them (or the dirt repelling charms on them were excellently inlaid) and he had to wonder when she'd gotten to bed.

Darian mouthed the words rare tobacco to himself, brows quirking. Well, all right. He could probably procure that.

"Yes, they're fine," he said, slipping on his shirt. "She did an excellent job with these trousers, didn't she?" He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of the soft trousers Tulojow had provided for sleeping, looking over at Tappy with a smirk he didn't quite feel. He couldn't give less of a shite about changing in front of the other man, but Tappy had proven sensitive about such things. He had gotten Darian here last night, so Darian could be nice enough to provide him with some warning.

Of course, these clothes weren't exactly his daytime standard. The trousers would need some shimmying to get into. Darian looked down speculatively at his bruised torso, the first time he had ever doubted his own hips.

"You know," he said. "This would have all been a lot easier at St. Mungo's. Not that I'm blaming anyone, you understand; some things cannot be helped. It's just going to be long trip home." And Rhys could have brought him clothing. Then again, maybe Rhys not knowing was for the best. "Think the floo network here could get me to London?"

"Yes," he agreed, then caught Darian's gesture and his expression. His eyes widened a moment and he muttered an apology, stuck for the moment on how to react. Did he leave? Darian blocked his path to the door and the slight unsteadiness of Darian's frame said it was probably unwise to leave him alone while he struggled with his trousers. He swallowed, and turned his back, finding the sun shining on the lake a suitable thing to avert his gaze towards.

At least Darian had warned him, rather than just dropping his trousers. That was an improvement, and one that he was grateful for, even as the awkward piled on like ice.

Tapendra grunted at Darian's comment, though, and shrugged. "I agree," he said. But then, he hadn't been the one who'd found Darian in London and not taken him to the hospital all of a few miles away. "Just be glad you were unconscious when he was Appearating. That's miserable when you're not concussed." He couldn't imagine what it was like when you were.

He sniffed, shifting on his feet awkwardly. "The um, the fireplace here just floos to St. Mungos," he said, rubbing his forehead and trying to ignore the rustle of cloth behind him. He'd just have to listen for any sounds that might have been Darian falling. "I'm not sure to which floor." He'd seen the elf come and go during the debacle with Ava (could they even call that a debacle? The word seemed terribly inadequate). "I don't think they'd approve of you just flooing in, though. You might have to go down to Hogsmeade."

Darian was swift out of and into his clothes, setting his shoulder blades against the wall for steadiness. He hitched his trousers up with a roll of his hips, steamrolling over his body's complaints like ripping off a plaster - quickly, efficiently, with barely a wince. Quick fingers made quick work of the buttons and straps. He laughed. "Yes," he said, thinking of the multiple apparition points, the general nausea of side-along, paired with how he'd felt last night. "That would have been a mess."

On top of the pile had been his jewelry. He put on his rings slowly; his necklace was missing, as well as the black stone he'd worn on his right middle finger. Such mysterious casualties for the previous night, but he hardly cared. Everything was replaceable.

"I don't think they'd approve of you just flooing in, though. You might have to go down to Hogsmeade."

Darian made a face, caught between a grimace and another laugh. "I'll just knock on someone's door, shall I?" he said, patting Tappy on the shoulder to let him know it was safe again. He mimed with a salesman's smile and a knocking fist, "Yes, hullo, can I use your Floo? I know I look like a wrockstar before rehab but I'm harmless, really, the bruising's only for show. No - " he smiled, shook his head - "I'll hop out at St. Mungo's. I can always say I wanted to check for lingering effects. Snitch a potion while I'm there, probably."

Tapendra rolled his eyes, taking the zip of the zipper as the signal that Darian was probably suitably clothed. Thankfully, this was actually the case. The way the man's hips moved still had that odd stiffness to him - Tapendra could almost hear Darian's body protesting. But on the outside, without that familiarity, Darian seemed fine.

It made him wonder if the man had ever been injured and been hiding it the other times he'd seen him. It seemed something rather characteristic of Darian, to hide flawlessly.

"I didn't mean that, you cad," he said, though he wasn't offended - he was far too busy imagining Darian doing just that. He grinned slightly at the thought. No doubt he'd be successful at the first door he came to, his personal magnetism enough to overwhelm any of the mere mortals who lived in the small village. It was a rather funny mental image. "The Three Broomsticks is on the network, remember?"

He wondered if Darian bothered with that sort of older, more traditional pub type of place. Tapendra himself hadn't been there on his own in some time; he usually found himself there in Ignan's company, Signature being too modern (and muggle) for the older man's tastes. On his own...he went to Signature. It was exciting, modern and so wonderfully disconnected from the day-to-day of the castle.

Tapendra resisted the urge to roll his eyes, smiling slightly at Darian's comment. "If you're going to nick potions, at least steal them from..." He couldn't remember the name of Darian's relative - the blonde haired and level headed man who's assisted him when they first met. He'd looked more like Landis. "From your cousin."

Darian smiled back, partially responding to Tappy's own grin and partially at himself for forgetting. "Right. Well. That's a bit of a walk, isn't it...?" He looked at Tappy mock-coyly, as if to suggest he was perfectly capable of coming up with all the excuses Tappy might want as to why he ought to just floo from here instead. It was so much closer. It was cold outside. And so on. Perfectly legitimate concerns which could lead to the perfectly legitimate conclusion of his having to do just that much less to get home.

Now where were his boots? Darian did not see them anywhere about. Perhaps in the first room, where they'd brought him in. He could not remember removing his shoes but, alas, he remembered very little.

"I don't think I'd want any of the potions in Landis' closet," Darian said, amused. He assumed that was the cousin Tappy meant - Darian had such a lot of them, but Tappy probably knew that one best.

Tapendra couldn't argue that point - the pub was over a mile away across the lake and outside the grounds. Hell, from the Hut, it could easily be up to two miles. Given Darian's condition, it was a little unreasonable to expect him to make his way there, wasn't it? It wasn't like he could just take him in his car or something either, and due to the wards Appearation was out of the idea. A broom was also out of the question - Hooch would have his hide.

"I suppose," he admitted, with a slight sigh. "Just - I don't know where in Mungos that comes out. It's probably in someone's office, and -" He stopped when Darian spoke again, looking a bit lost. He hadn't meant Landis. Was the other man not his cousin?

"I imagine most of his are fairly mundane?" He said automatically, confused. "I mean...gods. I'm sorry." He rubbed his temple, smiling slightly sheepishly. "I didn't really get a chance to meet him, but he treated me when - when you got that photo. Your blonde relative who works at Mungos? Has the short hair, nice chap. You brought him lunch." His name had started with an R, hadn't it? Was it Reese?

Darian considered this, the matter of the floo output vs. his own - as Tappy thought it - personal magnetism. He had no doubt in his ability to talk his way out even if it did drop him off in someone important's office, but the idea seemed to make rule-abiding Tapendra most reluctant. If it really wasn't an option...

"Will you walk with me?" he asked. "I'd love the company." There seemed a good chance that Tappy would agree; he'd kept eyes on Darian's body, and not for the usual reasons. He was concerned. What a soft-hearted man. Darian on the other hand was sure his body would loosen up after the walking. He was just so tired, and it would be good to have something to keep his mind busy while he walked. Tappy was an old subject, but not yet one he'd gotten tired of toying with. He would do well to keep Darian's will intact.

For now he scooped up his wand and exited the room, going for the bathroom, one hand curling behind him as if telling Tappy to follow. He peered at himself in the mirror, the sickly yellow of his sunken eyes, the tender swell of his bottom lip. The cuts was gone but the bruises still blossomed. "Oh, Rhys. He's my brother."

Tapendra blinked, then shrugged, his smile not wavering. "Sure," he said, his momentary pause borne not from surprise or hesitance, but from a moment's thought to losing his morning swim. He could swim when he got back, he supposed, though that increased the risk of encountering students. Besides - he could leave Darian alone in London a bit more easily. Thugs tended not to come out during the day, and if he collapsed into a pile of misery someone was likely to find him. Here in the Scottish Highlands, it was easy for Darian to trip and fall into a ditch and not be found for hours.

He followed him, though the hand signal did make him pause a moment. When Darian revealed his error, he flushed - though there was some point in not thinking brother. The man looked - and acted, in a comparison's sense - more like Landis. Though from what Darian had said before, Darian was something of the familial exception...

"I'm sorry," he said, though he had gotten close on the name. "He didn't..." He trailed off, not sure how to voice what he'd been about to say politely. "He's very..." He was trying to find a word that described Rhys, or rather that quick impression he'd gotten of him. He watched Darian as the man sorted out his horrendous hair, and the word finally came; next to Landis's efficient demeanor and Darian's dandy flair, Rhys was..."He seemed rather...normal, really. For a Morgan." He ran a hand through his hair. "Behavior-wise, anyway." The Morgan line did seem to throw attractive men, that much he wasn't going to argue.

His hair he dealt with easily, releasing it from the ribbon. A quick spell had it falling in much neater, lovelier waves, its crazed sleep-patterns no match for Darian's cosmetic charms. His face...

Well, that required a little more work. Darian removed one of his rings again, setting it on the bathroom counter and training his wand on it. There were charms, there were powders and creams, and then there was this. He seldom resorted to glamour of this magnitude, but there was no other way to hide the bruises. The ring made an easy focus, a physical tether to allow him to hold the illusion with less effort. He began to cast under his breath, weaving several spells into one cohesive magic.

He was quick about it - he had done this before. Darian slid the ring on and looked into the mirror with satisfaction as the illusion snapped into place to leave him with smooth, unmarked skin. He turned his face to the side, smirking as he admired his own brilliance. 

"He didn't... He's very... He seemed rather...normal, really. For a Morgan."

Darian grinned, his gaze flashing up to catch Tappy's in the mirror. That was too funny. Rhys was probably the only nice Morgan Tappy would ever meet. "He's the good son," he said. "Mature, responsible... normal. Not all Morgans are as dashing as this one, but Rhys does have his charms. He's a good bloke. He'd give me hell for this." This was, from his tone, nothing but a source of amusement for Darian. He would be singing a different tune if Rhys was actually here to scold him.

Tapendra watched, both fascinated and, in an odd sort of mix, worried. Darian's spell hid any injury he might have incurred - he looked normal. Dashing, untouched, and - with his face back in order - his confident, overwhelming self. How often did he do that, Tapendra had to wonder. Had he sat across the table from him with bruises and he'd had no idea?

The man's jovial tone was a relief from such disturbing thoughts. He smiled, glad that - on the surface, anyway - he hadn't caused offense. He still wasn't certain was was safe around Darian, what things he could say, and what things he couldn't.

"I'm not sure I'd describe any of the Morgans I know as dashing, other than you," he said,waving a hand vaguely. "Certainly not Landis," who was really the only other Morgan he knew enough of to make such a judgement. And in the case of the blonde Librarian, words like intelligent and cunning came to mind, rather than dashing. Dashingly intelligent, maybe? No. Landis didn't flaunt his intelligence. It was just there, its extent kept in careful reserve. The impression he always got from Landis was that, no matter how intelligent Landis seemed to be at the time, he would always be smarter than whomever he was talking to. 

Still, the idea that Rhys was Darian's brother made him somewhat curious as to the actual layout of that family. He'd been around enough pureblood families to know siblings were often wildly different, but the flashy dandy before him was certainly an odd scion of the Morgans if the others were any indication. The same cold be said for himself though, couldn't it?

"I'm glad someone would give you hell for it," he said, crossing his arms - smile turning to something more like a playful smirk. "Life isn't really life without a mother hen in it."