The sound of her voice rang through the house, clear tone chasing away the shadows of silence that had been lingering since her departure. There were a number of explanations, of course. Some understandable, some less so, but when all was said and done, it was Melody that came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron before placing them firmly on her hips and looking down at the 'puppy'. Although the term still undoubtedly applied, the growth he had shown ever since his arrival had not slowed for an instant, to the point where he was suddenly threatening Temperance's knees with all of that fluffy fur. Given the faint aroma of sausage that still lingered in the air, it was all too readily apparent just where his latest snack had come from, and Melody's look was tinged with that age-old mixture of weary irritation and humorous care that seemed to cross over every puppy-owner's face from time to time.

"Your Thomas is out, Temperance, driving himself up the wall with trying to solve all of your problems at the same time." A wooden spoon jutted threateningly in her direction, only to be forced behind her back again as Artos made a spirited nip in its direction. "We've had carpenters and glassworkers by to look at the greenhouse, a rotating posse of young guardsmen and other such fellows asking questions, and your father came by the other day looking for Thomas for gods alone know what reas- Artos, if you don't sit and wait, you're going to get a swat on the rump, now SIT- What reason. People wandering by at all hours of the day just to lean over the fence and have a talk with that talkative man you found, and all he'll tell me is that it 'wouldn't interest me much anyway, because-"

"Because," came the voice from the doorway behind Temperance, already weary and mildly amused "as I informed you several times, those were in fact soldiers, worried about what's coming, who happen to remember my time in the service. They're merely trying to ensure that their quartermaster ledgers are secure and up to date, not to mention somewhat legible for anyone that might have to take over in the due course of things. Now, if you could kindly avert your gaze with that mildly judgemental little sniff you've clearly perfected, I haven't seen Temperance in almost a week, so I'm going to-" greet her, was the implied conclusion, but his arms were already wrapping around her, lifting and bringing her up to his lips in that quiet, adoring manner that Melody had sniffed at so often, even if the corner of her lips did curl upward in the moment before she turned her back on the two of them.

In that moment, time, space, and everything between melted away for Thom, and even when their lips broke apart, he let his head rest against her shoulder for a time before finally letting her go and stepping back, fingers lightly clutching hers as though afraid they were about to disappear. "Welcome home, Temperance."

"Oh, Melody," she said, greeting the woman with a smile. "Have you been staying late to help Thomas?" She asked, walking over to give the woman a warm embrace. Melody wasn't all that fond of such touching, but she tapped Temperance on the back all the same. It'd been a while since she'd been away from home for so long. Her response about Thomas was met with a little head tilt, her hands on her hips. "Now, you say that as if it's my fault. I didn't ask that large summoning to destroy my greenhouse, nor did I --" the fact that her father had come by, specifically to speak with Thomas, surprised her. She frowned. "My father? And he didn't say for what reason he wanted Thomas?"

But she was still going, ignoring Temperance's questions as she scolded the whining puppy by Temperance's knees. "Really, you must slow down," she began to say, but they were both interrupted this time. Not by Artos, but by Thomas himself. Just looking at him had relief washing over her, and not caring if Melody had turned away or not, she was already reaching her arms around his neck as he lifted her up and their lips met. She smiled even as they kissed, giggling when he finally pulled away from her. As his head rested on her shoulder, she reached to scratch at the back of it, fingers moving through his dark hair and kissing at his jaw until he let her go. Well, as much as he would let her go, his hands still clung to hers.

"Thank you, Thomas. I'm glad to be home." She took another deep breath, inhaling the familiar smells of home, and sighed. "I hate to bombard you since we've both only just gotten home, but there's quite a lot we should discuss, I think." Squeezing his hand, she tried to smile, but already she was feeling worried about how he might take the news.

"I'll take my leave, then," Melody leaned down, giving Artos another bite of sausage, before reaching for her coat which hung on a hook by the door. She stepped into her shoes and wrapped a scarf around her neck.

"Had I known you were still here, I would have asked the carriage to wait for you, Melody. I'm sorry."

"Oh, it's fine. I've never minded the walk before."

"You usually leave before nightfall, and it's quite chilly out," she argued.

"Goodnight, all three of you," Melody said without further argument, exiting and closing the door behind her. Temperance shook her head at the old woman, then reached for Thomas's shirt to bring him down for another kiss.

"She tells me you've been very busy, and that my father visited you. What did he need? Thomas, I hope you've not been running yourself ragged while I was away." She reached up to touch the side of his face, examining his features carefully for any sign of exhaustion.

Thomas shot one grateful glance at Melody as she turned to leave, well aware that the last week had only been even remotely manageable due to her help, and he would have to find a better way to repay her in due course, even if she bore it with only the usual grumbling. Waking up to a breakfast already made in the morning was still a strange sensation for him, though it seemed far more agreeable to Artos, who had begun each morning by waking him the moment the first piece hit the pan. Even that, though, paled before the relief at simply seeing Temperance again, the ability to hold her in his arms, and yes, feel her lips against his, and he smiled as she reached up to touch his face.

What she found there was obvious enough in its own right. He wasn't exhausted by any means, but the normal stubble on his jaw was a little longer than usual, his posture slightly slumped, but there was nothing that could keep the little spark in the depths of his eyes from disappearing when she was around. "She always sees more than she lets on, it's true" he murmured, leaning back so he could slip his boots off, stretching his feet out with a contented little sigh as they were freed. "And all of that happened, but most of it really wasn't anything major. A couple of old friends reaching out for advice, is all. Most soldiers don't really have my head for numbers." His lips quirked upward, but he was tired, and that tugged them down again after a moment.

Finally, he convinced himself to let go of her fingers so he could slip out of his coat and hang it up by the door, but he reached for her hands again a moment later, still unwilling to be apart from them for any more time than was strictly necessary. "If we are going to talk, perhaps we should sit down? Better than standing here in the doorway, hm?" His arm slid around her shoulders, but rather than heading into the kitchen, his feet found themselves treading towards the bedroom instead, the little clicks of Artos' paws trailing after them as he ducked his way through the door. There, he found the time to lean down to kiss her again, savoring that moment of blissful co-existence before settling down on the foot of the bed.

"Now. I won't say I haven't been busy, but it was well worth doing." He began, resting back on his hands as he looked up at her. "We have a shipment of reinforced oak beams arriving next week, and some fresh panes arranged for the roof of the greenhouse. In the interim, I sourced some waxed canvas to cover the surfaces in there to prevent any additional water damage on the desk or the countertops. Melody helped me move the surviving plants around during the day so they didn't get too much water or too much sunlight, since that's a little bit out of my expertise, and yes, I did make sure she got to leave at a reasonable hour, despite her protests." He took a breath, lifting an eyebrow at her. "And, since you asked, your father didn't need anything, I asked if he could stop by for personal reasons, not to mention some of Melody's cooking. We talked about business for a bit, and then he left with a full stomach, that's all." Well, maybe not all, if the subtle little smile hovering at the corner of his lips was any indication, but as practiced as Thom was at dissembling, Temperance had a way of bringing the truth out to the surface.

"So, with that, the army buddies, and a bit of work here and there for the local guard, along with keeping an eye on young Berengar, yes, I've been rather occupied, but we're both people that take a lot of pride in what we do, and I'm quite proud with everything I got done this week, so please~ There's no need to be concerned about me, Temperance."

As he removed his boots and his jacket, Temperance was watching with a half-smile. "You always say that, you know? Not that specifically, but the same kinds of things. It was nothing, Temperance. Just a little of this, a little of that. As if that works on me." After all, who were they if Thomas wasn't making it seem like he hadn't done much when he, in fact, had done a lot, and Temperance wasn't scolding him for it? The familiar back and forth did feel good, and had her even more relived to be home. Going out and seeing new places, exploring, doing new things - even things you desperately want to - is an exciting thing to follow through with. But at the end of the day, it is exhausting. It is trying. And Thomas was home. Comforting. Loving.

"Yes, let's sit," she agreed, and leaned against him as he wrapped his arm around her. Instead of moving into the living area, onto the couch like she had expected, he guided her into the bedroom, and gave her a kiss that had her blushing somewhat as he pulled away and sat down on the bed.

When she'd regained her senses, she walked around to the other side of the bed and climbed onto it, pointing her feet the opposite way from his, but tucking hers somewhat under herself and resting her hands in her lap. Her eyes met his, and her lips formed into something like a half-smile, half pout. His thoughtfulness was not surprising, but she would never take it for granted. It always made her melt. The way he bent over backwards to make her happy, to help her rebuild, made her want to cry (happy tears), but if she started now, she'd likely end up curling against him and then falling asleep. She couldn't do that just yet, with so many other things to speak about, so instead she held it in with a slow, deep breath.

"Well, I won't pry any further about what kind of personal business you could possibly have with my father that you couldn't explain to me in great detail..." she said pointedly, lifting a brow. "And I hope you know how grateful I am that you've helped keep the greenhouse as well taken care of as can be in my absence. I'm eager to get back out to it...it's strange to go so many days without having my hands in the dirt. I really couldn't do any of this without you. But to say there's no need for me to be concerned...really, Thomas? You must know I will be concerned for you at all times, except times like right now, when you're with me and I know you're okay."

Reaching a hand out, her nails gently scraped across the facial hair growth along his jawline. A moment of silence passed, and then another, and finally she brought herself to meet his eyes again. Now she was frowning, and her tone took on a more serious note. "So," she took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "Which shall I tell you first? The good news, the bad news, or the very bad news?"

It was all too easy to fall into those familiar habits, and in the absolutely best way, going through the motions that had become routine because they were comforting, because they were loving and warm and familiar. The way her hand kept seeking out his jaw, and his natural response to lean into it because it was her. Half of him wanted to simply pull her close and lie down, but that was a quick road to sleep, and she'd already said that they had a lot to talk about, so he restrained himself from reaching out again, pulling Artos up onto the bed instead and wrapping his arms around all that fur, his chin resting on top of the puppy's head. She wasn't going to pry any further into the visit from her father, which was good for the time being. There was time enough for that discussion later, once they'd settled a certain number of other issues, though it was clear enough that she had a reasonable idea of what he was planning.

"I think we've had this discussion before" he responded with a soft chuckle, leaning into her outstretched hand before following the momentum down to rest his head in her lap, albeit still with that puppy as a makeshift boundary line, who had wriggled his way around to lie on Thom's stomach, nuzzling a wet nose happily into his neck. "Regardless of the circumstances, we'll always be concerned about each other. That much is true. And we've come to as much of an understanding of that particular status quo as we can while. So yes, I can tell you that there is no real cause for concern, while at the same time understanding absolutely that you'll be worried about me regardless. And the opposite is also true. Tell me until you're blue in the face that I don't need to be worried about you gallivanting off to some asylum, but I'll still have my reservations. None of that lessens the fact that I'll always be happier when you're around than when you're not."

He sighed quietly, one hand pushing Artos' snout away from Temperance's fingers, where puppy teeth had been all too prepared to nip and nibble until they transferred attention away from stubble and into soft fur. "We're going to have to get through all the news eventually, though, so asking me to choose is a little unfair. Why don't we start with the bad, move on to the very bad, and then see if we can't at least finish on a bit of a high note?" With his free hand, he reached up, cupping his palm against her cheek so that his thumb was resting at the corner of her lips to see if at least he could wipe away the frown before she started. "Of course, you can take your time with it. We don't have to jump right into the uncountable tragedies of life when it's been so long since we've spoken properly."

Her smiles came all too genuinely and easily when Thomas was around, but even more so when he spoke. Temperance might be one to talk a lot, but that didn't mean she could do so in an eloquent way. Thomas stung words together into sentences as bright as stars. They all made perfect, beautiful sense and they were often times impossible to argue with. Just the sound of them brought her comfort, and already she was chuckling and nodding and agreeing. "Yes, you're right, of course, my love. Our worries have never and will never disappear merely because we excuse them to the other, and yet I'm sure we will continue to do so."

The word had not quite been used yet, but he was right. It was very much an asylum and yet, the very definition of the word was so different from what Beldam was. "You were right to have those reservation, Thomas," she admitted finally. His thumb at her lips did have her smiling, but it had turned into a smile made more of sadness now that she was recollecting what she had seen at the Beldam. "No, no, if I don't tell you this very moment, I'm afraid I might not want to tell you at all." She huffed, looking down at his head in her lap, one hand moving it's fingers through his hair and the other doing the same to Artos.

"The bad news is just that, that you were right. Beldam is not a kind place, and I think I very much knew it would not be, but I'm not sure I was truly prepared for just how unkind it was." She took another deep breath, as if the previous one had not been nearly enough to force the truth from her lungs. "Cam Petyr was elated to have me there, and he showed me what he called a promotion celebration. A ceremony for a witch who had been...I don't know, unruly and disobedient, I suppose. Her punishment had been to wear a bridle, with a tight gag. Like an animal, like a horse. The way they clapped for her when she ripped it away from her face, and the look in her eyes. Thomas, she looked barely human, as if they'd taken her very soul." The words brought about tears, tears she had worked very, very hard to restrain when the presence of Cam Petyr and the supposed doctor in charge of the witch Temperance spoke of but that she could now finally release.

"And that was a promotion, so I can only imagine how badly the others are treated. He said she had attacked a guard, one that had gone into her room in the middle of the night for, what he claimed, was some kind of inspection. Freedom is the reward for obedience. That is what he said, the doctor who was carrying out the promotion." She pulled her fingers temporarily away from Thomas's hair and Artos's fur, long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"He would only agree to let me see the promotion ceremony if I committed to employment there. I've already signed a contract, of which I have a copy for your keeping. In two weeks time I will go to Beldam and stay there for a week as an employee, as a doctor. A week is the shortest amount of time he would allow. I read through the contract thoroughly, but I know I should have brought it all to you first. It is as much your decision as it is mine."

She wasn't sure which of those parts were the bad news or the very bad news, but there it was. "I had no choice, though. The women there...they need help. The help of someone who understands them, not the brutality and perversions of the men who run it. If I can collect the information for this potion of mine and perfect it, I can keep all of that from happening. I can prevent those women from ever being treated like that, ever again."

For the moment, Thom let his eyes drift shut. Not because he was giving in to sleep, or really because he was tired at all, for Temperance's presence, as always, gave him more than enough energy to remain in the moment. Here, however, anticipating her words, he was merely shutting off one of his senses to listen better, each word from her lips like water dripping into dried earth, lips curling into a smile of his own as she curled fingers into both his hair and the puppy's. As she began, however, he didn't need his eyes to see that her smile had turned sad. He could hear it in her voice, feel it in the shift of soft skin under his fingers. Something had happened, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was, but he knew he had to, for her sake. Whatever had happened while she was there, it was fresh in her mind, haunting her, and likely would for some time to come.

It mystified him that anyone could imagine that Temperance would be glad to witness the goings-on at a place like Beldam. For someone who had dedicated her life, her work, and almost her entire self to helping others, such casual cruelty was practically anathema to who she was. At first, his response was little more than a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes and mouth, a measured response to the cold anger that had momentarily flooded him at her description. Perhaps he had misspoken at the beginning. Beldam was less an asylum than it was a prison, less a place for healing than it was a place for some manner of mental reorientation. Brainwashing, some might say. And that, in its own way, was anathema to everything that Thom believed in. Manipulation, coercion, the sly tweaking of malleable truths, those were all well and good, but people always relied on their sense of self to guide their actions. Strip that away, and you might as well strip away everything that made them who they were. Which... it seemed, was entirely the point of Beldam and the 'doctor' that Temperance had met.

His hand, still on her cheek, shifted its thumb to gently wipe some of the moisture that had begun to leak from her eyes. "Temperance..." His tone was chiding, but not accusatory. "It should be painfully apparent that I would support you on any decision, but knowing that, you still came back to me worried about that choice. What you do with your time always has been and always will be your decision, and I'll still always be eternally grateful whenever you choose that time is better worth spent with me than any number of worthy causes you could turn your attention to."

With a small smile, he brought his hand back down to join its counterpart in Artos' fur. "So you had no choice. I can understand that. Because as I hope you agree, I can understand you. So often, we forget that those with powers outside our understanding are still just as human as we are, and I can think of no better person to remind those men of that fact than you."

Even as he reminded her of his support and his, seemingly unending, understanding, Temperance couldn't help but continue to cry. All she could think of was the look of that witch. She hadn't really even noticed Temperance was in the room. The bridle was probably the least of it. There was no telling what the men in that place were doing to her to force her into subservience - because that's what it was, more than obedience. More than anything, it had been a clear power dynamic and because the witch was capable of far greater strength, the so-called doctor, and Cam Pyter himself, had to put her down to make themselves feel powerful.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said as he helped to wipe away from of her tears. "I know you will always support me, but we're still in this together. I should have insisted on speaking with you before I made the final decision. Even if just so you could look over the contract." She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself, to keep her voice from shaking. "But what's done is done. I had hoped I could work days on and off as I pleased, but I suppose living there for a week will only help me to see what they've gone through."

Shoulders slouching, she slowly pulled her legs out from under him, slowly the fall of his head onto the bed with her hand. Then she rolled to lay next to him, looking up toward the ceiling. "I fear that, because of all of this, the witches there will be even worse off than what I've expected. Traumatic experiences from childhood or military battles or...mental defects, whatever they may be - they'll only have been made utterly worse by their treatment there."

She turned her head slightly to look over at him, frowning. "He works with the military, possibly with the King. Do you think they know? How Cam Pyter and his family have been 'rehabilitating' these witches?" Eyes moving to focus on Artos, she chewing at her lip. "Or how long this has been going on. Or what happened to the witches who were never rehabilitated. Or if any of them have...simply gone missing. I have so many things I want to know, but at the same time, I don't want to know them."

Thom had to struggle for a moment to reign in his mind, which had already gone off into spirals of lateral thinking, searching for ways to help Temperance, and by extension, those other witches who were actually suffering. Perhaps a truly generous spirit would have taken the two in the opposite order, but Temperance always came first. That... was likely best left unspoken for the time being, since she was clearly still stuck in her own thoughts and memories of her trip. In the end, it was easy enough to pull away from those thoughts, because with the current state of things, there was very little he could actually do without doing some fairly intensive research.

"I think someone needs to see what they've gone through" he murmured, reaching up with one hand to pull one of the pillows down from the head of the bed and settling it underneath her head as she lay down beside him. Of course, this gave Artos the opportunity to squirm across and transfer a good half of his floofy self to her stomach, his chin landing on her chest with a tiny thud as he beseeched her with those large, dark eyes, tail thumping hopefully against Thom's stomach. "And worse or not, it does give you the opportunity, no matter how slim, to show these people what their work has truly been doing to these women. Trauma, 'defects', or whatever else brings them there, those women are wounded in so many ways that it seems to me the last thing they need is more damage being done. Like getting sent to the apothecary for a stab wound only for them to dig a knife in somewhere else and call it 'the theory of relocated pain'."

He had opened his mouth to respond further when another shift in the mattress made him glance aside, finding himself face to face with Edith, who clearly had not quite expected to run into this particular gathering, and had frozen, eyes wide and unblinking, until Thom found himself in the midst of an unintentional staring competition. Artos had perked up as well, but with a scathing flick of her eyes in his direction, the large cat circled around both of them to the head of the bed, clearing out a space for herself with some careful kneading before settling down, the tip of her tail twitching cautiously.

"I think..." Thom began carefully, measuring his words. "I think that most of the people involved with this care more about the end product than they do the treatment it results from. Many of them might also be afraid of these women, and fear does have a tendency to breed both jealousy and apathy. One thing I can certainly do in my own time is turn some attention towards military records. Reach out to some friends that still owe me and dig through the partnered witches over the last few years. See if there's anything in the numbers that might explain why a certain number of them do end up in Beltam, or if there's any trace of witches going out and not returning. At the same time, I'll have to put some feelers out in the boroughs to see if any young women have disappeared from the streets as well. Just to satisfy my own concerns."

As she laid down, Thomas pushed a pillow beneath her head and despite how badly this had all made her feel, she couldn't help but smile. "I think so, too. Someone should see them, even if it's just me. They can't even try to reach out to the few female guards because they're all graduates of the Beldam." She shuddered somewhat, and was happy to have Artos climbing over halfway on top of her. Between his warmth and the warmth of Thomas beside her, it did make her feel better. She lifted a hand to scratch the big puppies head. "I'll be staying with the female guards while I'm there. I fear seeing what a fully successful case is."

Edith jumped onto the bed, and once more she was chuckling as she watched Thomas and the large cat stare at one another for a moment or two, before she turned away from them both and found room below Temperance's feet to settle down. Temperance was glad Artos didn't move to bother Edith, she wanted to keep his warmth where it was, so she continued scratched his ears.

"Theory of relocated pain," she repeated the words, eyes gazing up toward the ceiling now, not looking at it, but imagining all that she had seen of Beldam. "I'd like to relocate their pain to that doctor, and Cam Pyter," she mumbled, more to herself than to Thomas, though she obviously didn't care if he heard.

Thomas's answer, though likely correct, hurt her nonetheless. As long as the witches returned to duty and did their jobs, the King and his military probably didn't care how the end was achieved. Not asking questions was almost just as bad, it made them complicit in this terrible injustice, and it made Temperance angry.

But at least she had Thomas to support her. She couldn't have done any of this without him. She nodded as he spoke of looking deeper into the records and reaching out to people he knew. She felt like he was always calling in his favors on her behalf, jumping on things he'd been holding out on for one reason or another. It sometimes made her feel as if she was causing him too much trouble, but she knew exactly what Thomas would say about such a feeling.

"Just be careful, Thomas," she added when he was done, frowning over at him. "I'm not sure what Cam Pyter is capable of, but something tells me there are other members of the nobility complicit in this." Cam's family was not particularly high up on the totem pole of nobility, she knew that much, and a place like that didn't run off of the families money alone. He had to have some kind of income, either from the Crown or the nobility who donated their unruly daughters and wives to Cam's cause.

With the hand closest to him, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I don't think I'd be able to get through this without you, Thomas. Thank you for supporting me."

Thom slipped a hand down to find hers as she continued, his fingers interlacing with a gentle squeeze. He knew the answer wasn't what she was looking for, but it was fairly reasonable to surmise that that was the bitter truth. The kingdom as a whole could show, and had shown, a rather callous disregard for the long-term damages such a 'treatment' might result in. Not just from the witches being treated, but from any others, if they grew concerned about their own safety from such actions. And sure, sometimes the collective fury of a group of individuals was more than enough to enact change, but it seemed like quite a dangerous proposition for everyone involved. Particularly so from the imaginings of someone so far removed from the reins of power as he and Temperance were. The more appropriate question might be to ask exactly what Cam Pyter had been expecting when Temperance was invited to Beltam, because it seemed exceedingly unlikely that her current reaction was what anyone involved would have intended.

Perhaps they were simply blind to the effects of their own 'success', and merely went about it, willingly blind to the fact that such a thing could be much more of a gathering storm than most of the alternatives. Taking their minor, damaging successes as more proof of a self-fulfilling prophecy. "It could be done, I'm sure..." Much like her murmur, his own wasn't exactly intended to be heard, but it was the first few inklings of an idea forming. "As you say-" he continued, now actually addressing her as his eyes traversed the space beyond the ceiling "- he has to have financial support from somewhere. And following numbers is... well, relatively harmless. There could be some answers there, certainly."

It might be a beginning, at least. A way to coax some more names out from under the proverbial carpet and drag them out into the light. But he would give it some time for Temperance to see if there was another way, first. He would always have enough faith in her abilities and her willingness to do the right thing to at least give her that. "Has any of this given you a hint as to what might happen when your work pays off? How your potion might be used in this treatment, or in an ideal world, replace it altogether? Of course, I imagine investigating the difference in treatments between soldiers and witches might also lead to some rather poignant questions, would it not?"

His response to her thanks was a warm silence, along with a squeeze of the hand she offered him, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple. "It's what I'm here for" he replied, chuckling. "Always."

She nodded once as Thomas spoke of following the numbers. Cam seemed a thorough and careful person in covering up his own trails, but she had to wonder how far that extended. Many people could easily find out about the Beldam's torturous ways if a witch escaped and managed to get back to Skia, or if one of the employees decided to talk. But when it came to paperwork and ledger keeping, did he really need to make sure he was so careful?

Temperance couldn't really know yet, not until she got closer to him, and got a better look at how he ran the business side of the Beldam. Whilst working with the witches would be her main priority during her stay at Beldam, she had come to the conclusion on her ride back that it would also benefit her to get closer to Cam Pyter, befriend him, gain his absolute trust, and pry information from him. "I trust your judgement. I'm hoping we'll have a better grasp on all of this after my first week there, but in the mean time, anymore information we can find on Pyter and his family might be valuable."

Speaking of the potion itself, and how it would all end up working out for Cam and his asylum, was something else entirely. "I am a little suspicious about that, in truth," she admitted. "I told him the truth - I have the idea for a potion that could aid in the healing process for people who suffer from mental illnesses that might make them act rashly or violently. That I thought it could help the women who were there. In exchange for allowing me to speak with them, study them, I would make sure he has access to the potion. And the truth of the matter is simply that I cannot imagine he would ever not have access to it. If it's successful and the King grants me sole ownership of the recipe, I would of course help the witches of Beldam. If the King takes the recipe for himself to use only for the military, such as they've done for birth control potions, he would still have access to it, as most of his work comes from witches in the military."

She took a deep breath to still herself, to calm her quickly beating heart. "And of course, if the King makes the recipe public knowledge, Pyter would still have access to it. The only way he loses is if I fail, but I thought he might reject me simply because if the potion is successful, there may be no need for his work at all." What followed had been what struck Temperance as most strange. "But he did not reject me. In fact, he agreed rather quickly and asked me very few questions about my plans, ideas, how the potion might work...I'm not sure if he simply thought that there was no way I could succeed and therefore he'd be receiving free labor, or if he thought the image of a healthy witch might improve the place somehow." Shrugging, she shook her head. "I would like to think that the potion will carry the same results for men and women, but that is something else I will have to look into more thoroughly before perfecting it."

Men didn't carry the same darkness within them that the witches of Nevermere did, that was openly known. But they were just as capable of suffering, of falling ill, of losing control. Especially those young enough to be turned by the wolves curse. The target of the potion would not be to heal the darkness, or cease a negative emotion. It would be to heal the brain, and that would, ideally, be the same for women and men.

It was all new territory, though, as far as potions went. Few did research into the mind. "I know, but I appreciate it all the same," she said, smiling at him, ever thankful that he was there for her regardless of what questionably stupid choices she might be making. "What of you, and your work, in the past week Thomas? I know you've been busy here, but surely with talk of this war going on you are more busy than before. Everyone wants information during war."

If there was one thing you learned, growing up in the rough and tumble, it was that monsters could come in all shapes and sizes. Personal or impersonal, human or inhuman, intended or unintended, anything had a potential to be monstrous. And it was only once you sat down and faced that potential that one could slide along to the next realization that some of these monstrous things happened for a reason. Not always a good reason, or a logical one, but often a perceived reason that could make a monster of one thing and a martyr of another. And there was little doubt that whatever monstrous things he was doing to these damaged women, for they were still women first and foremost before even considering the fact that they were witches, Cam Pyter had his reasons. It still brought a cold anger to Thom's chest that anyone could witness something like that and take pride in it, but it only meant that there was something damaged in the man's mind, as well, something not quite right.

In addition, simply the fact that he had agreed so readily and eagerly to Temperance's request pointed a telltale finger read to Thom as an honest interest in helping, which meant that he likely was under the impression that everything he had done so far was helping. . . Somehow. It was a lot to think about, which only piled on to the numerous things that Thom already had to consider in recent days. Shifting one hand to scratch idly right at the base of Artos' tail, he let out a quiet sigh. All of this, of course, was leading to the fact that he was going to lose Temperance for another week sometime in the future. She would come back, of course, but he would still feel the loss. The cottage was hers, the greenhouse was hers, and it had felt almost like he was trespassing in the time she was away. Perhaps that had been the reason why he had devoted so much of that time to setting up repairs for the greenhouse, because it made him feel like he had a bit of a purpose in being there, beyond the fact that it was simply where his bed was. Well... their bed. It was just a lot harder when she wasn't around.

"I was more referring to the difference in how they're currently treated." he corrected himself quietly. "Witches with these issues are sent to Beltam, but what of soldiers that display these tendencies in the wake of stress? The symptoms, to me at least, seem much the same, so why is there such a disparity in treatment? A trained soldier, should they have an 'episode', can present a significant danger to those around them, and a more direct and immediate threat than a witch. So why does the treatment differ in such radical ways?"

With a small shrug, he turned his thoughts back to her, and his attention, lips curling up into a smile once more. "Nothing too taxing on my end, I assure you. And yes, everyone might want information during a war, but many of them should probably realize that there's only so much of it available. It's not as though my reach extends all that far beyond this city and its inhabitants, and much of that information would probably be of more use to the other side, so you can likely understand a bit of reticence in just handing it out. Economically, many things will likely change, and it might be a bit of a struggle to stay ahead of that, but for the time being, it's rumors and speculation that has the potential to cause more harm than good..."