"Rhys, holy shit!" Lily proclaimed, her voice cutting through the idle chatter of passers by as she made her way through the travelling bodies. Initially upon spotting him, she held a victorious swell in her chest, but as she drew closer to get a better look; her heart immediately sunk into painful palpations, each beat striking at her ribcage with a fervour that caused her to rub dutifully at her chest.

Rhys was leaning at the corner of a flower shop. It's arranged plants standing on display in front of the large glass window. They would be closing soon, and even though the shop keeper was in and out of the small door, her exit and entrance signalled by the chiming of a small bell as she picked up the foliage to bring them inside, she didn't seem to notice Rhys at all. Which struck Lily as a curious thing as Rhys looked anything but like he should be there. He was pale, and shivering. Sweat called the unruly locks of his hair to cling to his forehead, and he overall held a sickly disposition as the smooth, red-brick, wall did most of the work in helping him stand.

Lily couldn't help but note how he winced as if his entire body was on fire when she had finally made it to him, and placed a hand on his elbow. He did not look good.

His head was swimming, aching from the back and crawling to the front like scurrying fingers on a chalk board. It made him dizzy and nauseous in a way that seemed he could only fight off by focusing on the flowers he stood beside.

"Lily, hey." He chuckled in a slightly delirious manner as he carded the petals of a begonia through the tips of his fingers. Brushing along the gentle pinks seemed to have an effect akin to what Lily thought could be a snake charmer hypnotising serpents. The flowers seemed to turn to meet his touch, like cats preening for attention. Albeit a bit slower.

Lily suddenly regretted not bringing Bertie with her. She had decided that given that the police were on much higher alert than normal: a young woman transporting a wounded young man without a license, while probably low on their list of things to worry about; was still something she didn't want to chance.

But seeing Rhys gently grope at the flowers, she began to doubt her capabilities at escorting a failing body to a place of safety.

"Can you stop touching up the flowers please?" Lily groaned from the side of her mouth, as she continued to offer awkward smiles at the people who looked confusingly at the incredibly sweaty young man as they walked by.

"They hurt without roots, ya know. Not just the pain. The loneliness cuts far deeper than any set of clippers."

"You're doing great sweetie, but you need to leave the flowers alone."

Lily carefully took Rhys by the hand with her own, causing him to wince at the sudden turning of his arm. He hissed through his teeth at the pain, but thankfully to Lily: it seemed to bring some form of focus as he bolstered himself and took stronger steps. Lily lead him down the nearest alleyway, immediately being met by the stale scent of old food and stagnant water. But as far as alley's go, she had expected worse.

Rhys leaned his shoulders against the cool stone of the wall, a gentle sigh escaping from his chest as he relished the touch against his feverish body. Lily lifted the apron from Rhys' shoulder, noting how his fingers twitched as if lacking the strength to catch it as she let it fall to the ground, where it landed with a small squelch into a puddle.

The entire upper right half of his shirt had been clouded with a red that seemed bright even in the low light of the alleyway. The wound still glistened in it's sticky bloodiness as it peeked beneath the ragged slit of his shirt.

A deep seated worry flashed across her features as she scrunched her expression and pursed her lips. It was followed by a moment of impossibility as her lip trembled ever so slightly at the sheer force of how hurriedly her heart sunk when looking upon Rhys' face once again. The face that so often held the gentle and welcoming smile of a man, was sickly and distracted. His eyes rolled lazy beneath eyelids that continued in their fight to remain open.

She slipped her fingers into the small gap in the clothing that barely covered the wound, the fabric so soaked through it immediately wet her fingers. Lily gripped and yanked hard at the fabric, pulling apart the shirt, and revealing the taught, muscular chest of Rhys. She watched the entrancing rhythm of his chest as it rose and fell with laboured breaths. The layer of sweat that had lain itself across the delicate and blood-flecked skin, caused his torso to glisten as if kissed with intoxicating starlight, before it disappeared below a bloodstained waistband.

Her heart fluttered painfully in her chest, each one a knife at her ribcage, as she inspected the wound closer.

"Rhys. Rhys, listen to me" She began, reaching her hands up to and cradling his head between them in an attempt to keep it upright while calling him to focus on her and her voice "You need to do something."

"Too many people... Too risky." He groaned, the words barely able to escape his lips from the breaths that did did their best to suck down as much air as they could.

Lily gave searching looks down both ways of the alleyway. One led to a dead end, inhabited by a large metallic bin as it joined onto another building, and the other led to the street that still swelled with traffic as people made their way home from work.

Unconsciousness loomed it's heavy spectre over Rhys. Lily was no doctor, but she knew that sleeping with an unattended wound was never a good idea, and she was determined not to lose this battle.

She shifted her weight to the side, leaning somewhat against the same wall as Rhys as she pulled him closer. Suddenly aware that she was in no way strong enough to drag Rhys to somewhere more solitary. Rhys grumbled against the pain as he slumped closer to Lily's hold and against her chest, blocking as much of his form from view of the street as she could.

Lily hushed softly, hoping that Rhys was too out of it to notice the quiet state of panic she was in, as she placed a calming hand on the back of his head. Her breath hitched within her throat, as she carefully moved it a way to find that it too, came away bloody.

Panic began to pulse through Lily, as the realisation of how much trouble Rhys was in began to bore its way through her very core, making her feel rooted to the ground as if anchored by her shoulder blades.

"Rhys... Rhys. You've got to do something." She begged again with a whisper, her voice cracking ever so slightly as the weight of his body slumped even more, pushing against her in a manner that caused her legs to wobble unsteadily.

"People." He slurred against her chest with a tired drawl.

"You're fine. I'm blocking the view, okay. You're fine."

"No—"

"Rhys Percival Edwards if you do not do the thing right now, I will knock your teeth so far down your throat the only way you can eat those greasy Soft Bean burgers you love so much; is by sitting on them. Now do something!" Lily reprimanded, her voice stern as it bounced nerve wrenchingly loud against the brick walls. She was met by unwavering silence.

The silence persisted and for a moment: Lily feared that Rhys had collapsed completely as he remained perfectly still. But then she couldn't help but notice the subtle and sudden pick up of the wind, as it tickled down the nape of her exposed neck, teasing at the rebellious strands of her hair and funnelled somewhat down to Rhys.

She felt Rhys' hand, using her blouse to slowly crawl up wards as it shakily reached to the wound at his shoulder with a closed fist, as if clutching something within the palm.

Rhys reached deep inside himself. Pulling on the quiet, the gentle shimmering light he felt within that seemed to unfurl like a flower in bloom at the sight of dawn. The smell of the wild fields drenched in the summer rays, passed by his nose, and caused a smile to dance upon his lips with a painless shiver down his spine. He heard the voice. Whispering from the trees in the manner of protesting wood, snapping twigs, and bowing branches. It's words unknowable, patient and wise. It was deep, far too deep for any mortal throat to speak. But its unknowable words and barrelling voice spoke of only one thing. Home.

When Rhys opened his closed fist, a light of emerald green shone bright within his palm. A gentle, pale, smoke coiled from beneath his closed eyelids; and he pressed the light against the knife wound, feeling the sudden breath of life pulse within his body.

He gasped from the sudden shock, buckling his hips and arching his back, as if suddenly being splashed with ice cold water. He began to feel the ripped flesh and the torn muscle begin to knit itself back together. A gentle coat of verdant green moss encapsulated the wound like a scab, as he found himself leaning his shoulders against the brick wall once again, and Lily could not tear her eyes away. Their came a quiet clicking, which he caused him to grimace in discomfort, as his ribs began to snap back into place. The fractures mending within seconds as they joined back together. Rhys' head began to clear as if the wind came and blew away the clouds, his head healing.

The small patch of moss that had formed over the knife wound, crumbled away in gentle sediments to reveal unblemished skin as Rhys braced himself against his knees with heavy breaths.

He offered a tired, yet cheerful, smile at Lily who looked at Rhys with a grin of relief while resting one of her hands on her hip.

"You got blood all over my blouse."

"You ruined my shirt."

A/N: And there we got to see a bit more of Rhys' power. What do you guys think? Have any ideas as to what he could be yet?

Anyway, thank you for reading!