hale and hearty!

“Uh…. I wasn’t careful when I was handling some equipment is all.” She felt stupid saying that, because to her this seemed like a rookie mistake. Then again, she’s never had to pay the price to injuring herself until now, so maybe this was a long overdue karmic event.

There was a morbid curiosity in observing the red spread on the cloth. She’s never had the opportunity to have to heal like a regular human, so even though she found this an inconvenience, it was somewhat of an important life experience. One she was sure she wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for this… scenery change.

“Thank you, and uh… sorry for the mess.” She did find it awkward to have to inconvenience someone else to take care of her, though. Even if that was their job.

  A common enough injury, really. There were multiple times back in Clearbrook where Zeph or himself were called to patch up a wound when someone mishandled tools. Alfyn hums, rifling through the drawers and pulling out gauze and heading back to Veloce. " It's nothin' to be ashamed of. All you gotta do is pay attention more next time so it doesn't happen again. "

  He gives a light frown as the blood continues to spread, giving a light huff of determination and rolling up his sleeves properly. " No need to apologize! Save it for if you do this again after I patch ya up, " Alfyn answers, tone taking a joking lilt. He unscrews the top of the disinfectant, scooping a bit of it into his fingers and removing the cloth to spread it on the wound. 

Not only was the arrival to this place a shock because of the implications of her wish to get here, but the profound lack of magic. Whereas the lands she came from seemed to overflow with all sorts of magic, this one was eerily quiet. Dead to the ears of a Carciphona. So this was what it was like to not hear souls, she had marveled. 

Unfortunately, she was reminded very quickly that also meant she needed to be more careful. No longer was she Veloce Visrin, powerful sorceress who had magic at her beckoning, impervious to all wounds…

“Sorry, but… I could use a hand.” Blearily she walked into the Warmhouse, holding a bunch of rags that was quickly becoming dyed in red. Oh, human mortality. 

( @genuinepath )

  Alfyn's felt his time in the Warmhouse has been rather... mundane. Not to say that's a negative aspect, certainly not; the less people he has to care for, the healthier they must be! Then again, there are the stubborn type who do not seek help (Therion comes to mind) and try and care for their illnesses and wounds themselves. Maybe he could start doing bunkhouse visits-- 

  Regardless, he's busy sorting out supplies and studying them for the time being. The lack of familiarity is discouraging, but taking the chance to rummage around should make it all easier. The apothecary only perks up when he hears another voice, turning around to check out the visitor. The state of the woman sends him into action, hopping out of his seat and scurrying over. " Shucks, miss, what happened? "

       sure, her side was incredibly cold right now, but sleeping on the snow? actually quite comfortable. very cold, but comfortable. though really, it’s just her lack of sleep that’s talking. normally she’d enjoy a very warm and soft bed, but apparently her body will take what it can get.

    though, the slight movement rouses her from her slumber, ayano groggily opening her eyes. she doesn’t entirely register the situation, the only thought running through her mind being mere commentary on how cold her surroundings are. she still isn’t used to being wrapped in a cold environment, expecting to be met with searing heat, though the lack thereof seems to bring reminders of how she’s out of the daze.

    ❝ ah… i fell asleep… ❞ she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes. the brunette doesn’t realize she’s being held in the arms of a stranger until her gaze raises, and it’s only then that her eyes widen. “oh! i—” she blinks, looking around. did he find her asleep out in the middle of no where? how embarrassing! 

    “i’m sorry. did i worry you…? i was just a little tired, mister, but i’m okay… er, despite the circumstances.” well, being found passed out definitely wasn’t convincing, now was it? 

  Referring to his current state of emotions as something as basic as 'worry' is an understatement. If not for his hands being occupied with keeping Ayano close so she gets additional warmth, Alfyn's certain he would be fidgeting greatly while deciding what he ought to do here. The Warmhouse shouldn't be far, but taking her there without permission would only come off as rude, wouldn't it?

  Not that he shouldn't do what's for the best, possibly, but doing that to a child would only weigh heavily on his heart. Her ability to still react fine despite the chill puts him at ease a touch, offering a slight laugh. 

        oh, well — at least he has enough sensibility and reliability to agree and end the discussions on a better note. you’d prepared to keep arguing your point, but it seems you don’t, his last comment and the shocks of how sudden and pleasantly he says it aside. “ I won’t need it, ” you grumble out, with finality enough to make sure he gets the message – even if you aren’t as well-off and healthy as you should be to make it.

        he seems to also understand in part the problem in his reasoning, though as stubborn he is, of course it isn’t really taken in full. “ Maybe you meant you could in Orsterra, but said hunter isn’t exactly here at present. And either way, you still need the supplies in the first place for shelter or food. ”

        you’d take time to wonder how he can live with an ideology like that, even when this village runs on all but golden leaves, but your head freezes up instead. granted, his answer to your inquiries is a better idea than you would’ve supposed, especially with the ridiculousness of two satchels in tow, but…

        oh, nevermind, you’re being pushed right in. you stumble along as you enter, feeling eyes turn to the door as you do, and your injury seems ever the more noticeable, this is all a uncomfortable, confusing mess, and… granted, you’re not sure just how to think about any of it. you came into this with your pride surprised and at threat, and came out with all other emotion wounded and thrown in the fray. maybe you should’ve expected it, seeing familiar faces in this white waste, but there’d been a hope — feeling more against the idea than for.

        important. the thought still lingers in your head. you glance to the other and then away. he couldn’t have known what he was saying. even if he did, there’s no telling whether he was lying or not, the possibility of either weighing heavy in your heart. but the notion that you could hold good and weighty significance to anyone else, even in spite of that — it edges out like a pleasant idea, as if you almost want to selfishly attribute it with yourself.

@genuinepath

       well. here’s the thing about being in a world where you can’t die for what feels like forever. first off, it really does feel like forever, even if it’s only been a couple of years prior to entering. secondly… well, the things a human needs isn’t necessary anymore. sleep? food? after living in solitude for a lengthy amount of time, those sort of things tend to be almost forgotten.

    which… well, it can provide some problems. of course, ayano feels exhaustion and hunger upon coming to eidolon. she eats and sleeps, but only a slight amount. seems like closing her eyes brings a few undesirable images to mind, so she finds she can’t rest for long periods. it didn’t seem to be a problem at first, but… considering she’s currently collapsed in the snow, a little ways outside of the village, one could say it’s definitely a predicament.

    ❝ … ❞ she seems to sigh in her rest, body curling in on itself just a tad. it seems she’s fallen only recently, but still. what are the odds some stranger would wander on by, huh?

  There's nothing like exploring new territory in order to become familiar with the lay of the land. Alfyn whistles as he wanders, mind drifting to the topic of if he ought to invest in warmer clothes, what he needs to do to work properly in the Warmhouse with more experienced hands, and similar thoughts. All of it drops when he spots something in the snow, coming to a halt. 

  He can't quite make out what the shape is from this distance and, thus, reacts the way anyone else would when the first encounter with the unknown in this place was a Whistle: by drawing his axe. Alfyn drops into a crouch, hesitantly moving towards the collapsed figure before gasping when what the thing is registers.

        you don’t get this. you don’t get any of it at all.

        “ …No? That’d make people want to reiterate them even more. ” what kind of logic is that? maybe it’s a bit reasonable, considering your track record, but it doesn’t stop the bitter feeling in your mouth at the thought of it. “ I only meant I don’t want to keep hearing the same lectures all over again. I remember exactly what they’ve told me, and I don’t need to hear it again to pound it in. ”

        does it? does it really not? perhaps your status matters none to alfyn, when his creed seems to be to heal anyone he meets regardless, but for others — for others, their concern is saved away for those who they feel actually need it, who deserve so much more mercy than you do now. and he’s right about it, all the pointlessness and the claims against your word, but you push past the acidity in your head and try to pretend like it doesn’t exist. “ …Sure. Fine. But I won’t be messing up next time. ”

        to his arguments, you’re almost tempted to groan. “ Plenty of… what? Their health isn’t going to suddenly mean you have food and shelter to keep you healthy. ” gods, how frustrating — you can’t begin to comprehend how hypocritical this man can get, or whatever conclusions and ideas he’s conjured so quickly in his head. that being said — “ How are you even – both of them? You’ve done just fine with his, right? ” maybe it’d do better for his organization, but the idea of him with two satchels seems… awful, to put it lightly.

        …and second-hand flustering on your end. to think he’d care so much about it, when it’s only a satchel you’d trade off from someone else –

        your hand starts to lose grip at the same time you hear sniffles, and you turn upwards, looking up – only to see a reaction you entirely didn’t expect. your hand lets go abruptly, and it scratches near one of the old scars on your skin instead.

        ( agh, gods, aeber, someone – help you from screwing up again, since it’s all you seem now to do! how are you meant to care like this — how are you meant to respond to any of this at all, even, if you can’t even get your point right across once? )

        “ …It’s nothing. ” it’s the last thing you say before you’re pulled off your feet again, stumbling before you can catch up. the warmhouse is ridiculously close now, a place you realize as you near it that you hadn’t expected to reenter again, but…

        “ I don’t know if you’ll manage to convince them, but… thanks. ”

        but, just this once, even if you can’t really understand all of what’s happening, maybe it’ll turn out fine.

  “ All right, all right, I guess that makes some sorta sense… ” Alfyn gives, some variety of a teasing smile on his lips as he lets the topic drop towards an ending. “ Since you remember all of it and you’re gonna listen from now on, there ain’t a point to driving it into your skull anymore. I’ll leave you to it, Therion. ”

  A light laugh, comfortable and warm. “ Gotcha. I’m only a stone’s throw away should you need anything, so don’t hesitate to ask for help when you really need it, ” he responds, a jab at Therion’s general reluctance to go to anyone. Hey, at least Alfyn knows his behavior somewhat well; he can keep his eyes on the man without too much trouble, hopefully.

  “ W - Well, I… ” Therion has a point and he knows it. Allowing all treatment for free doesn’t do him any material favors in the slightest. Back in Clearbrook, this wasn’t much of a problem; as one of the resident apothecaries, food wasn’t too difficult to come by whether out of the kindness of his neighbor’s hearts or otherwise. Living there meant no need to pay for any extra shelter, a hard lesson to learn when on the road. “ I can always hunt with H’aanit or pitch a tent! There’s plenty of ways to live life without money in my coin pouch. The struggle’s there sometimes, sure, and I didn’t much like relyin’ on everyone else to pay for the rooms at the inns when we traveled, but changing my ways in the middle of all of that… I don’t think I could’ve done it. ”

  ( His inspiration would never accept a monetary gift and neither will Alfyn. )

  Fingers go around his chin in thought for a brief moment before a purpose for dual-wielding satchels comes to mind. “ One can be for my raw materials and the other can be for all the salves I’ve completed! It’ll be less messy than what I’ve got so far and, besides… ” a brief pause, “ Zeph and you are both real important  to me, so I don’t wanna choose one of your satchels over the other. ”

  The trip to the Warmhouse winds down and ends, the building radiating a sense of relaxation for Alfyn. One hand grips the handle of the door and he opens it, hand drifting away from Therion’s wrist only to place it against the small of his back and gently pushing him into the entrance.

  “ It ain’t anything to thank me for, ” he mumbles, feeling the red finally ebb from his face.

  Despite how rough their encounter was… Alfyn can’t help but mentally mark all of today’s moments as a collective positive.

        “ Of course it didn’t. But you recovered from those, and I’ll recover from this when it’s not accompanied by lessons I’ve already learned. ” yes, you should’ve been more careful, whatever they’d want to tell you about with your injuries old and new - but that’s a once and done lecture you got years ago. this time, there were just… complications that messed up the steps in that lecture, to put it lightly.

        a glance lifts up towards alfyn, making eye contact for a moment; and so just as quickly it falls. why he bothers, ever, you… still don’t really get; no amount of naïveté will ever, should ever give him the time to care for your own well-being. you don’t think either that if you asked you’d get an honest truth. “ Your concern would be cute if it weren’t for a thief. Quick tip, medicine man: evasion and speed are good for more than just robbery. ”

        though, even with that, you’ll admit you’ve been thrown out of the count for a bit: no more irrational fights or travels, on purpose or not. here it seems it’d only wind up in yet another reprimand over bandages, anyways, so the result would be unfavorable.

        sorry, soft? caring? no, and your hand shoves up your scarf, that’s really not what you intended there, shit – “ It’s just the bare minimum. You’ve taken care of me and other strangers before and you’re offering it again. You deserve something after healing hundreds of patients for free. ” your voice muffles, and you keep looking down and at the road ahead, never aiming to look back. “ It really won’t take long. You can replace it when you find his. ”

        the shake in his hand and his voice is obvious. there’s not much you can do, you realize, but you know you didn’t intend for that – and gods curse you if you won’t try to help, even if you go back on your thoughts. but, how —

        after some hesitation, your hand slips, reaching to his index finger, and for that moment, it doesn’t let go. ( you just hope a nod for his observation is a response enough. )

  “ So… what you’re saying is that you’re gonna keep getting injured out of spite ‘cause you get lectured? Is that it? ” Alfyn inquires, raising an eyebrow. He truly wants to doubt Therion isn’t implying that and he can pass this off in jest, but… who knows. He’s done some stupid things out of the will of rebellion in the past, so perhaps being hard on Therion for this would be a little too hypocritical for his own tastes.

  In turn to the thief’s words, Alfyn lets out a sharp huff. “ It don’t matter that you’re a thief, Therion! That isn’t the point in all of this. I’ve watched ya enough when we’re fighting to know you can put your money where your mouth is, but… I’m still gonna be concerned one way or another ‘cause you can be powerful and still mess up and get maimed, ” Alfyn retorts, making a valiant attempt for only some of his frustrations to come through.

  He stifles a laugh when Therion hides his face. He hadn’t meant to possibly embarrass the man, but he’s never been one to censor his true feelings when it comes to complimenting others. “ I get plenty from knowin’ everyone is healthy again! I don’t think I’d do too well knowing someone bought any sort of item for my sake, ” he starts before gasping. “ No, absolutely not! What’s the point of going through the effort to purchase one for me then? If you… If you get me a satchel anyhow, I’m gonna use it even when I get Zeph’s back. I’ll use both of ‘em. ”

  Alfyn’s moderately startled by the shift in their hands, pausing his steps to look down. His gaze flickers between Therion and where they’re linked for a few moments before sniffling. The apothecary promptly turns away, scrubbing at his rapidly reddening face until he finds the ability to speak again.

  ( Gods be damned if he cries over the satchel in front of Therion; he needs to retain some dignity here! )

It doesn’t take much work here to become swept up by the routine. Perhaps Alfyn had been right – perhaps she really had been cut out for being an apothecary. Of course, it wasn’t the name they gave such work here, but… it was difficult not to think of her friend each day, when she came into work like this. Some days… some days–

She turns around at the sound of the door opening, her mouth slightly open – the greeting for whatever visitor it would be halted as her eyes take in the would-be stranger. It was not so. Even as the chill seeps in through the open door, she wonders if she is not dreaming. She claps her hands against her cheeks, squeezing her eyes shut, as if to slap some sense into herself – but when she opens them again, it was real.

“Alfyn.” His name comes out as a breath, a sigh of relief – something with more weight than he would ever understand. Hands lowered, she clasps them around his, holding them tight. Warm and strong as ever. “It really is you! Why, of course you would end up here – this place, I mean. Not the village itself. Therion showed up here covered in blood, I’ll have you know – though Primrose was the first I met. Have you come across them both?”

She stops to breathe, her heart pounding. Perhaps her eyes are wet – perhaps it’s a trick of the light. “Wh-where are my manners… do sit down, Alfyn. There’s a moment to breathe now, thankfully… it’s been busy as of late.”

  For some moments, Alfyn’s entirely quiet and allowing Ophilia to take the reins on the budding conversation. An extra wave of warmth passes over him when she holds his hands, joy blooming right out of his chest and shining in the slight reddening of his cheeks. Missing one of his companions so deeply and being welcomed back so easily…

  It’s not a feeling he would like to forget anytime soon.

  There’s a flash of confusion on his face regarding her first words past his name, though it’s washed away upon mentioning two of their past party members. Alfyn swings their joined hands, expression brightening at his recalled encounters. “ Sure have! I met Therion outside and I saw Primrose over at that tavern this village has. Didn’t really expect to see anyone, so I’m real overjoyed to know I ain’t alone, ” he nearly sings.

  Alfyn… seems to catch the mistiness of Ophilia’s eyes and, before he brings himself to settle into a seat, he drops the cleric’s hands and throws his arms around her. The hug is gentle enough, Alfyn resting his cheek on the smaller’s head and stays there. With less distance, the better for a conversation that means catching up on what they each have missed during their time apart.

  “ Seems like everything’s happenin’ a lot around here. Shucks, my timing’s usually better than this, ” Alfyn comments with a chuckle. “ What’ve you been up to all this time, Ophilia? I ain’t heard much from anyone before gettin’ here and I guess I was starting to get a little concerned. Everyone’s got their own travels, so I can’t expect much correspondence, but-- ”

After everything that had happened recently, Primrose was happy things were ever-so quieter. It would be a lie to say things had gone back to normal, but being able to work again… Still, it didn’t mean her days were easier. She had to work harder to amaze during her performances, and harder still to serve everyone when she worked the counter. With the outbreak of monsters just recently, it was natural that the villagers wanted to get their mind off of the dangers lurking just outside the borders of the village.

Primrose had been cleaning a glass when she was surprised by an old friend.

“Alfyn?” She was almost taken aback—almost. Primrose smiled, and took a few seconds to look at him. He didn’t look distressed, as opposed to Ophilia when she had met her, and he wasn’t injured, as opposed to when she met Therion just a little while ago.

“I should have expected you to turn up at the Crystal if you appeared in the Great White.”

  Alfyn takes the second to drop back into his stool when Primrose speaks his name, gripping the edge of the countertop to avoid hitting the floor when his weight puts it on two legs. Pulling himself forward, he rests his elbows and plops his head onto his palms and gives the brightest grin he can manage to his friend.

  A laugh, giving a nod. “ Who would I be if I didn’t come to check on the tavern? If I’ll be here for a while, I gotta make sure the drink’s good before I go into other options, ” Alfyn muses, eyeing the glass in her hand before his gaze drift to  the space behind Primrose.

  To meet with old party members once more, to all find a new goal yet still finding a way to cross paths… his attention turns to Primrose again, smile softer.

        “ Ha, ha, how funny. ” alfyn’s laughter nor response helps your pride or your voice any, even if it’s all in good intent. “ I’ve known how to keep myself healthy for years, thanks. Only need to hear it once if at all. ”

        it’s not that you can say it’s not… helpful, though, at least now. you’re not used to having this care so close by, or even having to acknowledge it — not even when what should be one of the so-professed ‘best’ healers is holding you by the wrist now. 

        “ Yeah. They’ve been around the village for more than a week now. ” perhaps it casts you in a worse light, but when you’re on your way to a smaller sort of the hells, things can’t get much better from here, anyhow. “ I told you, I was fine. The scout who decided to turn into the ice wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t. ”

        you can feel your wrist squeezed tight for a moment, his hand pushing bone closer together and returning before you can utter a word. it’s not long after that you hear something close to a compromise and hope it’s true, even when it’s to take a while. despite the answer coming quick to your head, you hesitate. “ …Thanks. ” 

        you pause for a moment, and that silence is catalyzing enough; a thought on the edge of your tongue finally falls after.

        “ …Hey.” agh, just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean you needed to be so harsh still, does it? your tone slips and cracks somewhat, unused to the incoming phrases. “ Did… you need another one? ”

        saying you hadn’t noticed would be undercutting your skills — and his own words now confirm it. it should be impossible to catch such an apothecary without the tools of his own trade, so anything would’ve be suspicious about the line. “ I could help, if you wanted. With – getting it. It wouldn’t take long to trade for one. ”

        another pause. ugh, knowing him, he’ll probably deny, but – “ … You’re the one offering to actually help. It’d be the least I could do. ”

  “ I thought I’d only need to hear all the old wives tales about the dangers of wanderin’ late at night once, but that didn’t stop me from gettin’ sick a few times, now did it? ” Alfyn replies, throwing a glance down to Therion.

  People are stubborn, he’s learned. Recovering from an illness once already gives the person a sense of invulnerability, leading to them doing the same action again and only realizing they’ve made a mistake their second run through hell. Therion, for all of his ways, certainly doesn’t feel different.

  The whole situation of those monsters being around for so long makes a pit form in Alfyn’s stomach and it shows on his face. To face off with those again, for those claws they swiftly removed as a threat to find their way into someone’s flesh--

  It worries him immensely, what with how his injuries sting against the chill in the air.

  “ … I’m glad you were there, but… ” he begins, slowly cutting himself off as he drifts back into thought. No, no, stop thinking on it; Therion’s fine and here, the Warmhouse isn’t too far, and he’s certain the thief won’t get himself into such trouble anymore. Alfyn can only pray this second round of fisticuffs with the Whistle put an end to all of this for at least a few months before Therion gets into it with some other malicious creature.

  The expression of gratitude makes him positively beam in spite of the current thoughts swirling at the forefront of his mind. There’s no response other than another squeeze of the affectionate sort, Alfyn continuing to move towards the Warmhouse.

  Therion breaking the silence takes him by surprise and instantly steals his attention, Alfyn staring at him when he continues to speak. Something in his chest tightens, though it’s far from painful; in fact, it’s comforting and the sunny smile dissipates into something infinitely warmer and more fond.

  “ … I really appreciate the offer, Therion. Makes my heart soft knowin’ you care enough to do something like that for me, ” Alfyn comments, giving a hum. “ It ain’t like I did much to deserve help here, though. I… guess I lost it myself when I got here. I gotta find it myself or… at least, get a temporary replacement on my own. Wouldn’t be fair to Zeph or you otherwise. ”

  He’s a bit shaky for a second.

        you hate to admit it, but all of this is almost contagious, never mind the fact that it’s easier to sneak up on you when you’re both connected by the wrist. really, if this all didn’t weigh so heavily in your mind, and if alfyn weren’t laughing at all the flaws in your excuse, you could’ve probably fallen to a genuine laugh.

        “ It is not – ” ( yes, it is, but you refuse to say that– ) “ because of that, it’s because they’re incessant nags about all  of this – ” ( you’re gesturing at your wound and your arms and basically everything about you, which is a stretch and a lie– ) “ and I don’t need to hear them talk about it again. ” there’s a lot of flaws in all of that, but pride does take the best of you at every worst turn, and you refuse to even answer that last comment.

        you almost wonder if its worth running your hand through your hair at this point, and snagging or tugging at it for even seconds in the failure of all of this. at this point, it seems like little if anything at all will change the other’s mind, and grasping at straws starts to feel pointless. “ Since last time I had to go for being injured by the same thing, and wasn’t affected except for that, I‘m sure neither of us has anything but these to manage. ” but you’re not the apothecary here, or the cleric, so it’s anyone’s word over yours at this point. the last question lingers in your head still, and you close your eyes, deliberating for a second before making another note to never try any of this again with the other if you can’t escape this sort of harm.

        “ …It’s this way. ” you sigh, trying to gesture towards the direction. “ It’s not a long walk from here. Isn’t that great for the both of us. ”

  A hearty laugh at Therion’s continued excuses to hideaway from the Warmhouse. It really does feel like one of the children back home making up excuses for why a fishing pole now is in two, or why a vase has fallen to pieces on the floor. There’s nothing malicious in his response, Alfyn only finding it humorous in the end that a thief of all types would try and avoid being yelled at.

  Better that than getting thrown into gaol for a crime, he thinks.

  “ It’s only ‘cause they care, Therion. Anyone that works to keep people healthy and lectures you about stayin’ like that are the best types of healers, ” he muses. There’ve been times when Zeph got mad at him for falling ill over something silly, like recklessly standing around in the cold waiting for something or getting bitten by some bug. Not that Alfyn hasn’t returned the favor, he certainly has more times than he can count, probably.

  Letting Therion off the hook of getting properly checked up by people that likely know more about what they encountered is, naturally, not an option. “ … Wait, last time? Egads, Therion, you already got into a brawl with one of those?! Jeez… ” Alfyn frets, sounding every bit as worried as he feels. The grip on the other’s wrist tightens briefly, thoughts drifting to all the ‘ifs’ that this situation gave rise to before shaking his head of them and loosening the hold.

  No point in worrying about the past, he supposes. Neither of them were in mortal danger anymore and getting patched up is only a short walk further. Worrying himself until he’s sick won’t do anyone any good, so Alfyn sucks in a breath and exhales it slowly.

  “ This place has my name if you just flip it ‘round and change a letter… it’s kinda fittin’, ” Alfyn muses, stepping inside the greenhouse. He lets out a low whistle at the sight, expression immediately lighting up with how the colors shine past the dreary color scheme of Eidolon. Nostalgia rolls over him like a tide and he finds himself crouching to observe each leaf and plant that he can, fingers lightly roaming leaves.

  Aside from the Warmhouse, Alfyn’s deemed the Glassgreen as one of his favorite places in this village. The vibrance reminds him of Clearbrook, the way the flora around him always was delicately taken care of when he came by or treated with respect when put in medicine.

  … Really, is there any chance he can live in here? A hammock should be enough, right?

        oh, perfect — now he’s practically ignoring half the things you say! what’s left of your smile of before fades, distaste for the outcome of events in nigh full force.

        really, being chained like this, especially to a human being, or to an apothecary who won’t leave you alone, is… again, like so many things today, exhausting. you’ve only had the last one off for a week or two, not much longer, so even this temporary assignment is irritating.

        “ I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already dealt with one trip, and I’m sure the people working there won’t permit that. ” or, in more specific terms, one of them, if this news travels. “ And that is exactly why I’d like to avoid the Warmhouse, thank you. ”

       ignore the fact that you knowingly sound like a child trying to persuade him, but you’re both nearing the village now and you’d really hate the incoming results. “ I’d loathe to see what happens in a few minutes, so here’s this: if I don’t have to go to the Warmhouse, I’ll let you do that anywhere but that. Does that work? Do I have to change the parameters to get that one request? ”

  It all clicks into place when Therion speaks again and, for the life of him, it’s incredibly difficult to stifle his laughter behind his free hand. His shoulders are shaking and that surely reaches his companion with how they’re currently connected.

  “ What I’m gettin’ is that… you got injured before, went to them, and now you’re bein’ lily-livered about going back because you don’t wanna get lectured, ” Alfyn guesses, snickering his way through most of the assumption. “ You’re a strange one sometimes, Therion. ”

  Nothing stops his stride towards the Warmhouse, however, thief still in tow behind him. The village comes into sight and Alfyn feels his shoulders relax somewhat, safety coiling around them with the approach. There’s a contemplative hum as he consider Therion’s offer, though he cuts it off rather abruptly with a shake of his head.

        it’s lamentable to say you notice the pause and abruptness that follows, your wrist slipping just slight before alfyn really reacts again. darn — and to think you were this close, whatever the reason was for his delay.

        ( maybe you should figure just what caused it, just in case something like this happens again, but…

        no, you’ve probably got better things to do. )

        his words are so… how are you supposed to describe it? at the very least, his reasoning and explanation is ridiculous – which seems to stem from everything else that makes him who you’re talking to, unfortunately – so you can’t help but throw another retort. “ And all of this you’re doing, ” and you gesture again, pulling your arm again and pointing around, “ is.. well, exactly what being shackled is. ”

        you’re ready to shrug another comment off before your arm and legs move without you meaning to, and the words lilt with surprise. “ Hey, what are you– you know, I can handle fine without resolving a few health concerns, really. Aren’t you the one who you should worry about instead? ”

        granted, as much as you like to snark, he’s right about one thing: staying here would be a mistake for the both of you. it’s with the sorry knowledge of that and your cobbled sense of navigation that you follow along to the village, eye shifting to watch for any rare danger on the way and to tug if he strays too far off.

  C’mon, Alfyn, focus! Gettin’ all glassy-eyed about something right now ain’t really in anyone’s best interest, but ‘specially yours!

  With whatever thoughts he was having dispelled, and Alfyn gives a small scoff and a roll of his eyes. His grip doesn’t falter as Therion makes his attempt to prove his point to which the apothecary... promptly shrugs off. Someone isn’t having it today! “ Guess you’re gonna have to get used to it ‘til we get there. ”

  He doesn’t want to say he distrusts the other because, at a base level, he fully believes he can believe in him. However, letting him wander off with the injuries sustained because he wants to be stubborn isn’t something he can allow here. Taking his words with a pinch of salt is all he can think to do for the time being.

  ( Alfyn hopes Therion can forgive him for any doubts that may show. )

  There’s not much indication that he listens to the thief’s attempts to brush off the matter, though he does take the time to acknowledge and answer him. Dead silence would only make all of this more awkward, something Alfyn desperately wishes to avoid for both of their sakes.

  “ You might be fine with it, but I ain’t, so you’re gonna have to deal with it. I’ll even take care of you myself when we get there if you don’t want a bigger stranger patchin’ you up, ” Alfyn offers. “ I’m not too worried about my condition, but I’m also not the guy tryin’ to get out of a check-up now am I? ”

        oh, you really don’t like where this is going. you don’t really acknowledge that just watching alfyn move is ground for a shortsighted mistake, not until you realize that he’s completely stopped talking and then until you’re too late to react.

        yeah, that is not a friendly squeeze at all, actually, never call the guy medicine man when you get yourself injured and want to avoid having to heal yourself again–

        alright, that’s it. you’re putting back up a smile in return, even though you both know how utterly misguiding both of yours are. “ Great. You know, Alfyn, I know exactly where that is! How about you stop shackling me with this, ” and you try to raise your wrist, half to escape and half to emphasize a point, “ So that we can do just that? ”

        ( gods, the bunkhouse would’ve been nothing compared to this. now you’re late, crossing your fingers, and hoping so much that your bluff can work before you get pushed in, you really are. )

  Alfyn stares down at Therion and his smile, the way he raises his arm to show off his grip on his wrist, and… immediately becomes distracted. His expression is blank while he drifts to thoughts, snapping back with an actually gentle squeeze of his hand.

  “ You ain’t shackled. If you could get around fine with that fool’s bangle you had, then I can follow ya to the clinic and makin’ sure you don’t take off. As your party’s medicine man, ” he begins, “ it’s kinda my job to make sure you’re healthy. ”

  There’s a clear determination in his voice before tilting his head back in the direction of the village (at least, he thinks it’s that way). He even begins walking, pulling Therion along behind him. “ I don’t really wanna see you get injured by another one a’ those things if we stand around too much, so we gotta get movin’. ”

  Really, after those two hits on Therion and the wound on his own arm, he isn’t sure if they could take another Whistle unless all of their blows landed perfectly.