Restless wanderer, there is a place for everyone in this world,
a place where the heart is calm. Seek that place, and call it your home,
then you shall know peace.
By the time she spotted the familiar oak trees at the bend of the road, they both moved like sleepwalkers. Her body felt numb with exhaustion. Still, she seemed to be better off than the wretched figure following her. He walked with his eyes closed, his movements apathetic, almost unconscious.
A few minutes later he stirred from his stupor as the rhythm of walking was broken, the sound of her steps changing. He opened his eyes and detachedly noticed they had reached a grove of crooked oak trees. Between them a small gravel path winded, ending at the door of a small cottage. The blue-haired girl left the main road and entered the little grove, then paused in front of the door to fumble with a bundle of keys. The rhythm of walking no longer there to distract him he could no longer ignore how utterly and completely exhausted he was. No matter how he fought to stay upright, his abused body simply refused to obey him anymore, and he slowly sank to his knees.
Sylphiel fumbled with the key, her fingers numb from the cold. When she had been younger they had never locked their door - the city guard of Sairaag had kept all bandits away from the area. Now, with the city ravaged, one could never be too careful. She finally managed to unlock the door and opened it. She hesitantly turned to the slumped figure behind her, the thought of intentionally letting him into her home still very disturbing. In the pale glow of her light spell she suddenly noticed the dark stains his footprints had left on the frosty gravel. A quick glance at the feet sticking out from under his cloak told her the cracked old leather of his tattered shoes hadn't endured the long walk too well. She frowned indecisively, she certainly didn't want him to go tracking blood all over her floors. A healing spell could take care of the problem, but in her exhausted state it would be difficult, bordering on painful to take it on. Had it been someone else, she might have considered it, but this was the man who had destroyed her whole life not too long ago, and she certainly didn't owe him any favors. She sighed; in lack of magic, mundane means would have to do.
"Wait here," she said and disappeared, closing the door behind her.
He blinked and looked up as she left. Would she leave him to die on her doorstep, after all he'd gone through? Somehow it wouldn't surprise him; it was just the kind of ironical dish Fate would love to serve him. The parts of the eastern sky visible through the branches of the trees were slowly becoming tinged with the lavender light of dawn.
She probably wasn't away for very long, but it felt like an eternity. When she returned she held some pieces of soft white cloth in her hands. As she gave them to him his puzzlement must have reflected in his face, because she made an awkward gesture.
"For your feet. If you don't get those wounds bandaged they'll get infected."
He looked down at his feet. Indeed, the torn remains of his shoes and the rough gravel of the road had chafed so severely against the skin they were bleeding. Numbed by the cold he hadn't even noticed.
With numb clumsy fingers he managed to get the torn shoes off and tie the cloth into makeshift slippers. The blue-haired girl watched him, an indecisive look on her face. Then she sighed and seemed to make up her mind. She made a hesitant gesture towards the door.
"I guess you'd better come inside..."
The cottage was warm and quiet, a longed for relief from the cold night outside. Sylphiel kneeled in front of the fireplace in the little living room, using ordinary matches to light a fire. She didn't want to use her depleted magic, in case she'd need it later to defend herself. The crackle of the fire she was fiddling with was the only sound in the room. There was no trace of her cat, but that didn't really surprise her. It was a reserved little creature who didn't like strangers, and it usually made itself invisible whenever she got visitors. She glanced over her shoulder at her peculiar guest, who had retreated to a dark corner by the door. Standing still as a shadow among shadows, impassive, unmoving, yet she got a feeling he was watching her through closed eyes. She held her hands out in front her to warm them by the fire. The warmth made her drowsy, but she forced herself to stay alert. To let her guard down, if only for a second, would mean deliberately putting her life at risk.
She stood, reluctantly leaving the pleasant glow. She would have to go upstairs to find some extra sheets, preferably old ones she could throw away later. Having him sleeping on her couch was bad enough, but she certainly didn't want him to sully it with those dirty clothes he wore. There was a faint stale smell clinging to them, like the air of an old tomb. She shuddered in spite of herself, very determined not to speculate any further in the reasons for their bad condition. He remained still as she walked towards the door, but as she passed him he spoke up.
"Water..?"
His voice was merely a dry croak, weary and beseeching. She nodded reluctantly.
"In the kitchen. Come."
She found herself wishing she hadn't been so quick to throw away the teacup she'd given him in the ruins of Sairaag. Now she would have to sacrifice another one. She dug out a rather ugly thing from the deepest corner of the cupboard and filled it water. When she turned to give it to him she was almost certain the look of gratitude on his face was sincere. She gestured towards the simple faucet.
"Help yourself. I'll go get you some blankets."
He nodded and she left the kitchen. He drained his cup and refilled it. Never had he experienced thirst like this before. The cocoon-like throne Eris had let him rest in to finish the copy process had injected water and nutrition straight into his blood system, taking care of waste products the same way. Now he had to learn how to manage on his own, and learn fast. Whatever miracle had restored his body and brought him back to life was apparently still somewhat in progress. He craved lots of water.
The stairs behind him creaked as the girl came back, her arms loaded with blankets, sheets and pillows, one hand still defiantly holding on to the large sword. She was obviously intent on not letting go of that thing as long as he was around. He quickly drained yet another cup of water, then followed her into the living room.
When she was satisfied she had managed to get all of the couch covered with the sheets she straightened. Trying to make a bed while clinging on the Bless Blade was pretty tricky, but she refused to let go of the sword. Dusky morning light had begun to filter in through the windows, it wouldn't be long until sunrise.
"There. I think that's it," she stated briskly and dumped the pile of blankets and a pillow on the couch. He just nodded, uncertain of what to say. She turned to leave, but before she left the room she paused.
"I still can't say I like any of this, but... Well, anyway. Don't touch anything in here."
He bowed his head, direct orders from someone in power he knew how to handle.
"I understand."
She hesitated yet another moment, then left the room. She walked up the little flight of stairs again, the third step creaking as always. The sound was somehow comforting, a confirmation she was back in her own home again. Though even here the air was thick with tension; his presence seemed to fill the house like an ominous, choking mist. She would write a letter to Lina first thing in the morning, asking for her help. She would know what to do. If she sent the message to Seyruun, the court there could send it on to Princess Amelia... And where the princess was, Lina would hopefully be as well.
When she reached her own room she dug through the drawers of her bureau until she found a little brass key. For the first time ever she locked the door to her room before she went to bed, the Bless Blade resting well within reach on the floor. Despite her exhaustion she tossed and turned restlessly for a long time before she managed to fall asleep.
The small fire burned out quickly, leaving only glowing embers to light up the dusky room. He sank down on the couch and leaned his head in his hands. As the heat of the dying fire slowly warmed his cold body the numbness disappeared and the pain it had concealed began to break free. He winced in spite of himself, he felt sore and stiff all through. He grabbed the thick blanket the girl had left on the couch for him and wrapped it around himself. Very soft and warm. Sleeping in a real bed rather than enduring the dream-filled coma of the replenishing process of Eris' copy machine felt odd. Odd, but oh so pleasant. As he sank back against the soft pillows he promised himself he would only rest for a moment. He still needed to contemplate the events of the past day and night in detail, try to understand what had really happened, and why. Also, he really needed to try and come up with some sort of defense plan, no matter how feeble and desperate. Being helpless before the blue-haired girl's magic was extremely unpleasant; if she was anything like Eris she might use her overpower cruelly to get her way. He closed his eyes. Only a short moment of rest...
He woke up with a start as something landed on his chest with a soft thud. In the faint light of dawn he could make out the shape of a furry little animal with large pointed ears and sky-colored eyes glowing in the dusk like his own. It sat down, studying him with great interest. He blinked at it.
"You're a cat, aren't you..?"
The look the creature gave him spoke volumes of what it thought of such an obvious statement.
"Well, do forgive me. I've never met one before. I do seem to recall Rezo liking them, though."
The cat blinked slowly at him, and a crackling, rumbling sound suddenly began emanating from it. He studied it warily.
"Is that a growl, or does it mean you're happy..?" he mused. The creature just gave him another enigmatic, feline wink. He shook his head, he was too tired to worry about the little animal. It seemed harmless enough. He closed his eyes again, only to open them wide as he felt something small and damp touch his nose. The cat studied his face curiously, nose to nose, still making that strange buzzing sound.
"What are... stop that!"
He raised his hand to shoo it away. The cat saw its chance, and instead of withdrawing it slunk under his arm and cuddled up close to him. He blinked down at it. It blinked back. He could have sworn it was grinning. He frowned at it for a little while longer, then he sighed.
"Sure. Fine, if that's what you want... At least you're warm."
The small heap of fur really was nice and warm, and that purring sound strangely soothing. Soon he sank back into the darkness of sleep, his fingers unconsciously stroking the contours of the little animal's ears.
The story idea is mine, obviously, since I doubt anyone else has a weird enough mind to consider something like this. It was all based on a dream I had, actually. Amazing, now you know that too.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
Many heartfelt thanks to Jen for actually encouraging me to write this, to Syrena for beta reading it and telling me it's good (don't hit her), and to Wendy for not smacking me too hard with that fish of hers...
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