#misella

Across the campfire came uproarious laughter, one that Kanata could say he was getting used to by now.

“Heh, I know that look!” Vicious’ own plate was sitting somewhere in the darkness, having already devoured his share. Now he was currently taking long sips from a bottle, the label peeling off, indicative of its cheapness. “I bet you’re bummed that my recipe outshines your pork miso soup disaster.”

Kanata blinked. The smoke from the campfire made his eyelids heavy, along with the chill of the night breeze. Even so, he could still see the man sitting casually on the forest floor, booze bottle in hand, unmindful of his black clothes getting scuffed in dirt. Vicious’ grin was as bright as the sliver of the moon hanging in the sky.

“Oh, no it’s not that!” Kanata paused, scratching at his neck. “I mean…I am still surprised you can cook.”

“What, you think I’m just some low-life boozing idiot? That all I do is steal and drink all day?”

Kanata considered his answer. “I’m not sure if that’s a serious question?”

“You literally stole all of this food and that alcohol from the nearby town.” Misella’s tone turned harsh, setting her plate neatly on her lap so she could glare at Vicious even more. The previous soft, dancing light in her eyes had turned dark and simmering. “Every day, you make us fall more into your wretched criminal lifestyle.”

“Look, it was either that or watch you keep eating grass, which was really starting to get sad.” Vicious bent his long legs to finally stand, stretching an arm behind his head. “You should instead praise me for saving you two from starvation!”

“Quiet,” Misella quickly countered. She glared at Vicious even more—and Kanata thought he could see the embers from the campfire start to hover in the air around her. “You’re ruining all of our appetites. Expected as always from you.”

“Pft, no I’m not! Look! You ate every last bite!” Vicious pointed the end of his bottle towards Misella’s lap and the plate balanced on it. “I saw you lick that thing clean!”

“I just need all the nutrition I can get, or I might collapse when you take us down the wrong mountain again.”

Their argument continued on, most of it filled with snickers from Vicious while Misella continued to comment on his dark and evil influence. It was actually going a lot better than usual, as Kanata was sure a tree would have erupted in flames by this point.

He couldn’t help but soak himself into the sounds of their voices, into the pleasantly cool breeze around them, and the flickering light of the slowly dying campfire. His Sin-marked hand was placed against the grass, the bandages still tightly wound to avoid any suspecting eyes, even out here within the darkness of the forest…

He realized something then.

“I haven’t…thought about it for hours now,” he said out loud to himself.

“Eh?” Vicious turned to Kanata, stopping in his teasing of Misella. “Since when do you mumble?”

“He’s most likely tired of you,” Misella helpfully explained. “So as I said, go off into the wilderness and don’t come back until the morning, so we can finally get some sleep.”

“W-wait! It’s fine, I was just…” Kanata smiled up at them both, their forms embraced by the warm flames. “I was just really happy to listen to you two talking like friends.”

Vicious raised an eyebrow at Kanata, then looked at the bottle he still held. “Did you get into my booze stash? Because you sound drunk as hell right now.” Still, he shrugged, turning away and ready to take a deep drink. “Maybe I should have stolen a bottle for you too!”

“Oh… I’m not drunk?” Kanata wondered if drunkenness and happiness could really be the same. Then he felt a hand on his forehead. “Misella?”

Her touch was nice and made his heart flutter, but she was also looking at him like he’d grown two heads, which kind of soured the sensation.

“Are you sick, Kanata? Vicious must have infected you… making you confused with reality.” She then looked to the empty plate, narrowed her eyes, and turned to Vicious. Her hand slipped from Kanata’s face. “It’s food poisoning. Of course.”

“But you’re alright though—”

By then, Misella was already pointing a finger at Vicious, completely nonchalant in her action as she tried to set the ends of his hair aflame.

“WHOA HEY!” Vicious jumped, patting out the little sparks around his collar. “At least give a warning! You just made me spill my booze!”

“It’s punishment. For a criminal. There’s nothing wrong with what I did. I could’ve made it worse.”

Then both their voices filled the air again—with luckily no more attempts at immolation. Vicious was pouting, depressed at his lack of alcohol while Misella merely appeared bored. She’d got her revenge, and wouldn’t pursue more for tonight except for small comments to counter those of the Great Transgressor’s.

It was another welcome distraction for Kanata. He remained quiet, watching them, a small, if sad smile lifting his lips.

I hadn’t thought about Father until now… Not about the discovery, the betrayal, and the blood on his hands.

Ever since leaving Dalchia, such a scene had kept replaying in his head over and over, never letting him rest. The guilt had been eating him alive.

Yet, just now as he ate dinner made by the man who saved him, as his skin still felt the lingering warmth of Misella’s hand, such a scene had left his head for a little while.

Where would I be without them? Vicious with his bravado, Misella with her concern. He continued watching them argue with a light to their voices. The breeze shifted the branches of nearby trees, and the grass against his hand was soft.