“ — that treasure won't steal itself!

        so, you’re setting off to the rubrum hole to find some ‘fallen stars,’ however odd their origin. normal crystals from the cave don’t glow in the dark, while what you’re looking for does.

        well, seems easy enough. you’ve looked for worse before. it’s nothing a master thief can’t find, is it?

        … you won’t sit around to entertain an answer to that.

        it takes little time to prepare and set off, traversing the great white with less difficulty than before - and it takes far less time for keener senses to notice the steps lingering behind you, the stare down your back that tries too hard to hide at the slightest movement and the jingle of glass and fabric behind you. but there’s no seeing your face in reaction, and you move forward, undeterred until you reach your destination.

        “ Well, this is where we part ways. Now, if you'll excuse me - ” if someone wants to follow to the cave, fine. but any further, you think, turning, and -

        … and all your words are for naught.

        ugh, maybe you should’ve passed through a flower field first. that would’ve done the trick earlier.

        “ … If you’ll excuse me, I don’t need a medicine man pretending to be a thief to follow me. Again. ” never mind, the notion of getting in and out was just an impossible dream. lovely.

        alright, so as you said: getting that satchel was nothing. a few trades, a while out evading danger and getting supplies, and now the bag slings round your shoulder, flat save for material laid inside. now, the only task left is to deliver it and leave.

        ugh, this place feels huge. the further you progress, the plainer confusion and exasperation grows on your face. you only need to find wherever certain belongings are and leave it in that pile before taking off, but you can’t do that when you’ve no idea just where – and never mind asking acquaintances when that’ll only tip them off. in the rush of it all, you bump straight into someone, and you skid a few steps back to balance. you utter a half-genuine ‘sorry’ and just as quickly you start to take off – but the feeling of eyes watching continues to linger on you, and you turn around to see who.

        so, after a few glances at the board in the hall, you suppose fulfilling a task would be enough to pass the time you’re here. they’re not terribly dangerous - not most of them, at least - and apparently, those menial chores grant some reward depending on what’s done. in the end, you settle for simple material collection. though you’re not interested in the former of the rewards for venturing to the silvermoss cave, the bandages sure wouldn’t hurt to have.

        surprisingly, finding help isn’t too hard either — a while of asking around and someone offers, and soon enough you find your way at the outskirts of the village. there, you turn to the other, looking him over once before breaking the silence that had lasted.

        “ You’re prepared for this, right? ” it shouldn’t be too far a walk, no, but… “ There are possibly Whistles in the nearby forest. ”

hiyo !! sorry, i totally forgot about replies and all - this is why i need to write down my replies somewhere besides rpthreadtracker lmao. blame my angrily rewritten trial drabble for that mess

  “ 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.

  He looks forward to whatever the future may have in store for him, confidence in the way he walks in and shuts the door behind them.

        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.

  “ 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! )

  “ Th… Thanks, Therion, ” he gets out, unable to actively look back back at his friend for the time. Alfyn takes the first step forward and practically drags Therion behind him, a soft laughter entering his tone. “ We’re almost there…! I’ll try and stop ‘em from lecturing you this once as a proper thank you, got it? ”

        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. ”

        it’s late.

        you’ll probably be accosted to bed by the first stranger who sees you out at night, dressed with a shawl and a scarf and a shirt that still doesn’t seem heavy enough to shrug the night’s colder airs, but you don’t really mind — it would probably be for the best, anyways, before you catch some sort of cold you need to heal. that relies on if anyone will stray this close to the coast to see you, though, particularly under the darkening sky.

        the eyes of a sailor, so people say, rest along this coast. they’re right, seeing as you’ve found quite a few before sitting out in the cold, though it doesn’t really make sense. you don’t quite see any more resemblance than shape, but perhaps that’s the idea. you hold one of the stones up to the dawn, studying the ridges and whatever else is so special about it before hearing footsteps in the thinning snow. it falls to the ground and you turn towards the source, looking up to see a total stranger.

  “ 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.

  “ ‘sides, I got other stuff to worry about right now…! C’mon, I think that’s the Warmhouse over there… ”

        “ 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 —

now that the event’s over and we’re drinking that eidolo(n)ving juice here’s a

starter call !!!!!

  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.

  “ Thanks. I know you don’t wanna go, so… next time, when I get enough herbs to make my own salves again, I’ll patch you up myself, ” Alfyn answers, hoping his tone holds enough promise to dispel the grouchiness in Therion’s own.

        “ 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. ”

  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.

  “ See, I would take you up on that offer, but… I dunno if that thing only scratched us up. We could be afflicted with somethin’ we don’t know and I can’t risk our health over that, ” Alfyn replies, coming to a pause. “ … Sorry to ask ya this when you really don’t wanna go still, but can you at least point out the way to the Warmhouse? ”

        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.

  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? ”

  A sigh. Has he ever met someone more stubborn than Therion? … Well, Ogen exists, so they’re probably on even footing, actually. Wild.

        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. ”

  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.

  Frankly, Alfyn wasn’t willing to find out by waiting around in the open.

        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? ”

  Relief falls over Alfyn with the confirmation that they won’t be ambushed by what should definitely be dead. Then again, maybe necromancy is at work in this type of place: dark beings like this could always have someone lurking behind a curtain to puppeteer them.

  … Thinking about that will only swallow him with guilt. He promptly discards it to the back of his mind to gather gust and slowly be forgotten.

  Alfyn stares at Therion in silence for several moments with his question before a smile pops onto his face. He doesn’t speak, picking up his axe and strapping it onto his back once more before approaching Therion. His hand finds one of his wrists and gives it a gentle squeeze.

  ( Frankly, with the way he’s smiling now with the proximity, it’s rather obvious that there’s an amount of deep frustration hidden within the wrinkles near his closed eyes. )

  “ No, it sure don’t! However, before I even think about comin’ with you to your bunkhouse… we’re findin’ the clinic around these parts and gettin’ fixed up, got it? I’m not takin’ no for an answer either, Therion. ” 

        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? ”

  There’s no answer, leaving any thoughts Therion may have to linger in the air. Alfyn focuses on breathing, calming himself down and keeping his eyes on the Whistle to avoid another injury. His arm stings and his grip is definitely weaker with a way to fix this out of reach, drawing a scowl on his expression.

  What’s an apothecary without his material? The axe weighs heavier in his hands as the moments go by, fingers restlessly tapping the handle. He gets ready when Therion moves to strike, only to… fail. It catches him by surprise and by the time the thief moves out of the way, Alfyn is already running in to cover for the open space.

  He won’t allow anymore injuries to come into place, not while he’s unable to repair any of this himself. If he hadn’t been distracted that one time, maybe they both could have focused better, and–

  Alfyn’s axe is over his shoulder and is brought down in and arc, slashing directly through the Whistle’s neck and sending the head into the snow a few feet behind him. His steps pause behind where the monster had been, spinning the axe and settling it onto the ground before leaning against it.

  He takes a few moments to catch his breath, finally turning a bit to face Therion. A light smile comes onto his face despite the harsh red of his arm sticking out in the corner of his vision.

  “ … It’s dead, right? It ain’t gonna randomly get up when we’re walkin’ away, is it? ”

        it’s over.

        the sky sears ice winds through your skin, but you can look up long enough to see the last remaining attack. you watch as the soul is defeated, every twisted wish it once held scattering to the winds, and relief fills your senses. your dagger sheaths away, whatever mess remaining you resolve to clean later, and the hand that once gripped it falls under the blood and bandages of the opposite arm. your breath shudders, vision glancing from the snow to the other, and your mouth creases in some pained frown in response.

        “ …No, it’s dead. ” not that you’d ever seen one laid bare on the ground, but you’d heard stories round the village enough. “ We can leave it here. Not like there’s any reason to drag it somewhere any longer. ”

        …ah, gods, speaking of which, you’ll have to ask that question, won’t you –

  “ Maybe that’s what you thought it all was, but we ain’t the same person! Talkin’ with you’s always been fun whether you’re bein’ prickly or not. ”

  Alfyn, for all he can do right now, is putting full effort into getting his point across. Think of himself what he may, he’s willing to throw all the credit he can towards Therion to shake up this cycle of rejecting positivity.  

  ( This isn’t the time, he realizes, but sometimes words have to be spoken as soon as they come to mind. )

  He’s shaken by the raise in Therion’s voice, by the strange noise from the Whistle that makes him reel a bit. Alfyn gives a side-eye to the thief, catching the glare and nearly feeling a cold sweat break out on his neck from the intensity. His arm burns from the blistering chill that brushes against the wounds, mind already wandering to figuring out the materials he needs to fix himself and Therion should he need it, and–

  ( He doesn’t even know if the plant life is the same. Godsdamn this is a pain in the… )

  Still, Alfyn charges forth once more, swinging as fast as his body allows. Eventually, one strike tears a chunk out of the Whistle’s chest and he jumps back, dodging another headbutt from the creature.

        “ …Has it. ” if it’s a lie, it’s a damn good one he’s pulling. then again, he’s always like that — always stubborn and hopeful and more trusting than a man his age should ever be — so, perhaps…

        perhaps it’s nothing. you’ll contend with the answers on your own.

        slowly the ringing starts to subside, and the glare begins to fade, and you take the opportunity while you can to swoop a last attack at the whistle as it recovers; you try, ever the prideful that you’ll both have finally done it in, so closely poised to end this mess you dragged the two of you into -

        and perhaps you’re too desperate or flimsy in it, as the next seconds reveal - but gods, your luck has really, really gone down the drain, hasn’t it?

        just as quick as your attempt, the whistle swerves and metal meets the tips of cold stone; instead of hurt, the dagger and crystal merely clang, and the latter sweeps through your forearm instead. anything that alluded to hubris fades fast from the attack: you can’t help but wince and shrink back, vision narrowing and world shaking as the skin and bandages tear apart.

  “ W - Well… ” he responds, stumbling on his words despite how the answer comes easily to mind. “ I’ve got plenty! All the time spent with you and the others made the distance between towns fun and it kept me from gettin’ lonely. Makin’ friendly with everyone made the journey more worth it than it already was! ”

  There’s a ridiculous amount of confidence in his answer, a wave of it practically radiating from Alfyn at this point. The grip on his axe is tighter than before, a fire in his eyes with the way he stares down the Whistle. While he has no means to assist Therion should he be injured right now, he can at least defend him should he be attacked.

  A holler of joy comes out when the other arm is knocked right into the snow, a toothy grin on his face despite the admission of guilt from the other. “ Guess not! ” Alfyn calls, brushing off the mild amount of hurt in him to catch a look at Therion. A mistake, really.

  When he turns to attack the Whistle once again, it’s already on the move. Those crystals look awfully sharp and the noise it produces is nothing to scoff at either. Alfyn feels the tips rake down his arm and he pulls back with blood dripping onto the ground, giving a hiss of pain before swinging the axe to drive it back.

  “ Dammit–! ”

        alfyn falters, and of course you notice. it‘d be easy for him to be telling even a small lie, with you not looking back to him at all as he states it, and you wouldn’t be surprised at the ploy. you huff and roll your eye, making an attempt to ignore the thoughts budded in the back of your head that say otherwise.

        “ You sure about that? I don’t think you can consider petty talk with a thief anything friendly, medicine man. ”

        ( you know you softened there. perhaps it’s all the conviction emanating in all his words, or your guilt, or his subsequent cheer for the moments after, but you don’t really want to think on why while fighting, or ever. )

        the whistle shifts then, moving straight for the other, and your eyesight follows its path— all until for a moment you make eye contact with the other, and a sudden incoming dread kicks your last thoughts to the curb.