Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For once, it is beautiful out.  

The usually thick and muggy air is thin enough for the normally obscured sky to peek through.

The sun is partially visible.  

And the stench of sewage is wafting downwind of him. 

Yes, a better than average day.  

Well, if Vere ignores the gaping wound that's weeping red down his side and drenching his favorite garments, it certainly would be.

Presently, he is tucked into one of many of Lowtown’s finest, derelict and discreet alleyways.  

Even if it’s not to his tastes, it's well enough respite from the open streets and prying eyes. 

He stifles a grunt as he peels away his once favorite shirt.

Now for a task he is awfully familiar with: assess the damage, pick out debris, and stuff some cloth into it till it stops leaking.  

Rinse and repeat.

Stitching can wait once he finds a finer locale.

He’s toiling away until a set of stray steps catch his attention. They teeter away from the casual bustle of foot traffic towards him. 

He tenses instinctively. His senses blanket the alley, searching for hostile intent, numbers, and possible escape routes. A shadow spreads from his feet and slithers up the alley walls, sitting in attentive wait. His muscles coil, ready for altercation or retreat.  

But his ears perk at a familiar voice.“Vere?” 

The tension in his body releases. His senses pull back.  Iron-coiled muscles unfurl as he adjusts his posture to hide his side.  Fortunately, the minor scrapes on his face barely hint to how egregiously he actually feels.

The shadows from above dissolve away, the only trace of their presence is the echo of a purr.

“The one and only.” He says with an easy grin. He lounges as naturally as he can into the doorframe he’s settled on.  

She hovers warily at the entrance of the alley. 

His smile stretches. 

Looks like their last alley-way meeting was still fresh on her mind.

He watches her examine him.  Her nimble eyes dart from his face down to his arms and even to his purposefully obscured injury before flitting up and resting on his own. 

Her quick appraisal has him wondering, did her brief mention of alchemical studies include medicine?

Lucky for her, he welcomes surprises. 

“Don’t stare too hard. You might hurt yourself.”

She ignores him. Disappointingly, that is her default to his teasing nowadays.

She breaks eye contact to rummage through her bag.

He quirks a curious brow as she produces a small container and deftly tosses it to him.

He snatches it before it can land on his lap. It’s a small glass jar containing a beige cream.  He rolls it between his fingers with interest before a familiar scent hits noise. He scowls at it. 

Even if she means well, he wants nothing to do with that damn doctor.  The container begins to give in his tightening grip before she speaks up.

“It’s something I concocted.” She says hastily.  His pressure on the jar stops, before easing entirely.  The alchemist’s infuriating earnesty made up 90% of her waking hours.  He sighs and palms the jar, reexamining it.

His side itches.

“Learning more as an apprentice then?” He asks, not bitterly.  He still feels heat on his brow, knowing that he was holding something that came from the doctor’s office, but he was genuinely curious. 

Had she decided to settle down under some tutelage or was this simply a stepping stone for her?

She flinches, a flash of discomfort graces her features before disappearing behind a neutral, almost vacant facade.

His expression is schooled, but his tail twitches. What was that?

It was evident that she had some sort of plagued past, all outsiders who brave the journey to Eridia always did. 

How lucky he is to brush on it so easily.

Before he can press, she points to the jar.

“It’ll soothe minor scrapes.” She glances at his hidden, injured side. “And if you pack enough in, it might offer some relief for anything more.”

She turns the street, but before she leaves he calls to her.

“Not going to nurse me yourself?” He asks with a vexing smile. “I thought you had a persistence streak.” 

He recalls that on her first day, she had practically traversed through a third of Lowtown, including the only inhabited section of the wastes, and prodded at five of its infamous residents.  Word of mouth says she had lost an arm before or sometime in between, but who’s checking? 

She half turns, lips tugging into something of a smile.  It doesn’t reach her eyes.  She wiggles a few bandaged fingers at him. 

“Maybe once I’m cured.” She says coyly, but her eyes waver.

He snorts, watching her slip into the crowd. With her departure, shadows reappear on the walls. Several tendrils pull from the mass and reach just up to the entrance of the alley. They begin to sway, almost like they are waving goodbye. 

He watches them with amusement before they fade away.

But that irritating odor, emanating from the jar in his hand, pulls back his attention.

His nose crinkles at the smell: clove, pretentiousness, and something else that pulls behind his eyes and makes him shudder. 

He eyes the container in his hands with distaste before unscrewing the cap. What meets him is  a pleasantly sweet, mild fruit scent. 

Certainly not from the doctor’s brew.  

He dabs some on some minor scrapes, noting a gentle cooling effect. 

Satisfied, he takes a breath before once again, peeling aside his ruined shirt, revealing that nasty gash.  He winces as tepid air brushes against it. Fortunately, the blood had already congealed.

With the last of the cream, he smothers it over the literal pain in his side, tail thrashing at the brush against angry red skin.  

While working in the ointment, her contorted face runs over his thoughts. 

He takes the time to humor some rebounding thoughts.

Maybe, just maybe, he feels a touch of regret for brushing against a sore topic.

…Well, it’s not like admitting that to himself even matters. Very few could prove he ever felt feelings besides contempt and spite anyway.  

He finishes up with a sigh, relieved to find the cream cooling his livid skin and leaving a thankful numbness.

He gazes toward the crowd once more, listening to the patter of foot to uneven cobble. 

She left before he could even offer to even the debt.

But unless it was information about that obstinate tower, she’d try to reject his offers.

“I don’t expect anything when I extend some goodwill.”   She’d say.  The same kind of shit that brute mage would spew, but it was clear their brains were on different sides of the track. 

In fact, that bastard would probably lay out on the tracks just on the prospect of getting railed. 

Pity for her.

Despite popular assumptions, he isn’t one for loose ends.

He’ll find her when he feels like it.

Not like there is a rush, right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------

But it seems like fate wanted this debt to be settled sooner rather than later.

And not even a few days later, she finds him once more.

Well, she runs into him, really.

Normally, it would have been a tremendous treat to finally coax their group’s enigmatic (but actually bearable) alchemist into his room (either for banter or something more).

But the how and why were far from what Vere would have anticipated.

After another mission gone awry (likely due to his still healing side, mind you), he had hoped to slink back to his base, where he could suffer with his wounds and pride in peace, only for their run-in. 

On a standard day, he would slip past then tail her if he felt like it, but being in less-than-optimal condition, not only did he cross paths with her without warning, she surprised him. They had made eye-contact at a crossing.  She then stoically strode up and without hesitation, practically escorted him into his chambers.  

Now, here he was, sitting on his bed. Spending his remaining patience to humor her (purely out of his own curiosity, of course) and to resist wincing as she cleans the gouge in his thigh.

Shadows move in small, unpatterned rivets along the corners of the walls, going unnoticed by his impromptu nurse.

She continues to exceed his expectations. It both excites him as much as it leaves him just the barest bit uneasy.

How she knew which building and exact room he slept in will be sure to sit at the surface of his thoughts for a while.  

But first and foremost, there was something more interesting to ponder. 

“Now, what would lead our favorite alchemist to be so bold?” He practically purrs.  Her gloved hands still for the first time in minutes of entering and imposing on him.

The gloves were new, nice but unassuming at a glance.  Yet with a keen eye, a small familiar set of initials were woven into the trim near the elbows.  

Hilarious.  

The doctor had taken to marking his territory.  He should take a closer look at the rugrat.  He must have stamped them too.

A smile creeps onto his face.

“Normally, I would be thrilled to be treated to such fetching company-” he drawls, his eyes suggestively roam their positions, him languidly seated on his bed, with her kneeling, her hands pressed against his thigh,  “-to whom would take time out of her oh so busy schedule to nurse an insignificant monster back to health-“ She meets his eyes with a scowl, but the flush rising to her cheeks is undeniable.  It eggs him on. His tone thickens, saccharine, just beginning to teeter on foul: “-that she would follow him back to his den without so much of a glance-” he winces. 

The wench had pressed a solution-drenched swab into the gaping hole in his thigh.  

As the pain recedes, the incredulousness of her cheek has him itching with excitement of various sorts.  But he can’t reward her for it, not yet at least.  

He’s about to round on her, eyes dangerously thin and slit before she interrupts, speaking for the first time since they had entered the room.

“Can I not help a friend?” His eyes narrow at her with disdain.  The stinging in his thigh makes him less than eager to rally with such a weak response.  She looks chastened, but to her credit, doesn’t shirk away. She busies her hands by prepping a needle and thread, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Fine. Can I not help a friend of a friend?”

He snorts.  It wasn’t worse, but carelessly waving around that demon’s name certainly wasn’t better.  

So she was avoiding what was bothering her.  Hence her frankly pathetic deflections. 

He taps his chin thoughtfully (and to district himself as needle begins to press into skin).

From what he’s observed, if survival was not vital or intrigue was not distracting, then the alchemist was earnest to her core.  

He had crossed her off as a threat five minutes after their first meeting afterall.  She would not be allowed in his room had he not.  

(But it still tickled him how she knew where he lived.)

Now what could it be? 

A job gone wrong? 

No, she looks no worse for wear and by this point she should already be familiar with Lowtown’s knack for shitty spontaneity and even shittier people.

Has her patience with that white-haired brat finally worn thin? 

Doubtful.  

From what he’s last seen, they had been clinging to her lapels, speaking to her with just slightly less reverence than to that lumbering, white-cloaked eyesore.  

A cursory glance at the waning afternoon light has him grinning in realization. 

“Trouble in paradise then?” There’s a hitch in her movement as she pulls a stitch a too tightly, but her face betrays little. He forces down the urge to wince as he continues to press. “As I said before, shouldn’t you be toiling away at that dingy clinic at this hour?” 

She sighs, disgruntled.  Now he was getting somewhere, just a bit more.  He wasn’t sure if it was the doctor, but he’d never miss the chance to slight him.  

“So what did that doctor do-“

“It’s not his fault.” She interrupts, voice echoing through the room. She even looks startled by the volume of her admittance bouncing off the walls, but something about it steels her and she reluctantly presses on. “It’s… mine.” 

She finishes hesitantly, voice wavering between murmur and dying whisper. 

His ears twitch, his lips slipping into a frown, but his face remains carefully neutral.  The shadows anxiously stir in the corners. 

Her hands continue to stitch his wound almost autonomously as her eyes gloss over, as she drifts into some unseen memory.  He’d be worried if he hadn’t already experienced her adeptness at healing.  

She seems caught between speaking and not.  

He’s careful to keep still.  Not wanting to break her out of her reverie before she has a chance to spill any secrets.  Or to risk worsening his injury while his half-present nurse bite into him with needle and thread.

He even casually tucks his tail behind a pillow to prevent it from swaying about.  

It feels between a second and an hour before she works up the courage or lack of conscience to speak again.

“Before my time here, I was an apprentice, or rather I was led to believe I was one.” Her expression flits over several emotions, too quick for him to pick apart, before hardening. “But- 

Her hands abruptly stop their stitching as she distantly looks at them.  He follows her gaze.  One hand rests on his thigh, keeping the skin taut while the other pinches the needle.  Her thumb and index squeeze the thin metal so tightly, he can hear it creak in the terse silence. 

And just as abruptly they resume their motions, like they never stopped. Her eyes remain transfixed on them.  The shadows lining her eyes stretch deeper than before. 

“Maybe she wanted to make use of the available labor, but her teachings and bare housing were the only redeemable things that I’d give her credit for.” Her lips quiver at the admittance. 

He couldn’t place it what it was, but there was something purposefully missing from her omission.  Before he can think more on it, he’s flinching at the sudden change in her expression.

Her expression twists.  Shame and regret are recognizable within a barrage of emotions that flash over her face. 

“I did not mean to- I had not meant to- I mean, I could not-“ She stumbles, frustrated, unable to speak her mind. 

The whiplash of emotion has him on the edge. He has to force himself not to jump. 

Her hands are shaking as she brings them to her face. Palms push into her eyes as she groans. He had been so preoccupied by watching her unfurl that he did not notice the neatly tied off row of stitches down his thigh. 

Impressive for someone not paying attention.  

He would comment on it, had his rapt attention not been focused on her.  She lightens the pressure on her eyes, dropping them onto her lap.  Her eyes are damp, but her gaze stays glued to his thigh.

“Kuras, is not her,” She stresses, hands clenched, voice torn between letting her regard for the doctor be sullied by the contempt she had for this unknown woman in the same sentence.  “But I-” 

She wavers on her next words.  She had avoided meeting Vere’s eyes this entire time, chatting to his thigh, talking at him rather than to him.  Normally, he’d find that insulting if he wasn’t so enraptured.  He could feel the stress, the need to be as clear and forthright as possible, bleeding from her. “… treated him unfairly.  Reacted very emotionally. He must be so confused...”

She tapers off, expression worn, and sad, like the acknowledgement of it left her drained and defeated.

“Habits are hard to break.”  He says, careful to avoid letting any sympathy [or really pity] bleed into his voice.

“They are.” She agrees, flatly.  

They sit in silence.  She stares blankly at the sheets. He watches the sun sink dangerously low.  

She doesn’t move.  

He sighs internally. 

From the expert treatment of his leg to the information he could glean about her past, at the very least he should offer some advice before shooing her to leave before dark.  

That should be enough. 

Especially, since he was subtracting the costs of barging into his room and forcing pity from him.  

And she certainly cannot come back complaining about it later. Afterall, it is her fault for not being attentive enough to bargain for information from him while she has the chance.

“You don’t have to continue working for him.” He offers.  That has her blinking out of her reverie. She glances at him. Some hue returns to her eyes. She scoffs. Both slightly soured, and humored by the suggestion.

“Then what would you recommend?”  She asks.  Her voice is still thick with emotion, but there’s a familiar snark to coloring her words. He bites back a satisfied smile.

“Well, you can always go back to the oaf.” His distaste is visually apparent, but he wouldn’t deny the mage as a viable option, for her at least.  “Perhaps he’d enlist you to his shabby group. Or you could try to freelance.” He grins, “Perchance, trying your hand at searching the streets, you have a knack for running into interesting people and opportunities afterall.”

She snorts, and shoots him an unamused looked. 

“I don’t like what you might be implying with that last part,” but she eases her brow, “but Leander would be crushed if I tried to find another resource before him.” She says knowingly.

He rolls his eyes.  It is well-known how disgustingly clingy the mage could be with those he gets attached to.  He loathes to acknowledge how he is a part of that bracket.

She exhales. Some tension eases from her shoulders.  Her eyes, while still damp, are less shadowed and focused. His tail swishes from behind its pillow as she rises from her knees. 

“Right.” She clears her throat, willing away the lingering sentiment from her voice, “I shouldn’t be getting in my head about this.” She admits.

“Leaving so soon?” He says playfully, tucking his good leg under him as he leans against the posterboard of his bed.  

“I should clear up things.” She says resolutely, glancing at the steadily darkening sky. 

If she was lucky, Kuras had not noticed she left. 

If Vere was lucky, the doctor had, and is running about Lowtown in a panic over his lost pet.  

He bites back a smile at the thought as she turns back to him.

“Vere,” His ears quirk at his name. “Have a good night, and if you want a free checkup-” 

He narrows his eyes at her.

She flashes him a layered smile, “I could probably come find you.”

He feels his eyes pin as he watches her make it to the door before calling to her.  

She turns back to him under the molding of the room’s entrance.  Faux-curiosity lines her face, but he can see just the slightest bit of wariness in the crookedness of her smile. 

Good. 

So she does still have her senses.

“How do you know where I live?” He asks so sweetly, the sugar in his words begins to ferment.  With his back to the window, the setting sun casts his impressive shadow over the room.  It even looks like it’s moving on its own, stretching from his shadow’s silhouette are nine tendrils that sway like elongated tails, reaching for her feet. 

She instinctively straightens before glancing down the hallway, a leg already out the door.

“Uhm well, I might have so happened to see you enter this building once when I was on a stroll anyway Ineedtoheadoutbeforeitscompletelydarksoooo ….”

She doesn’t quite bolt out of the room, but she does move quickly.  He wasn’t planning on giving chase, but it’s the principle of the thing.  

The shadow’s tendrils give a final wave before slinking back.

He’s about to turn in for the night, but an extra bandage roll and familiar jar of unopened ointment sits primly next to leg.  

Only the shadows know that he smiled as he finished tending to his wound.

Chapter Text

They stretch their neck until a resounding crack echoes through their everything .  They exhale from their nose in relief, displacing the cool, muggy air.  Strands of loose pale hair peel from their brow, only to swing back and restick to their cheeks.  

At least they were relieved of one more thing that night.

The hunter scowls as their tired mind allows their thoughts to drift towards the last few days. 

One extra contract.  Just the one to upend their remaining days of the week.  

They had plans.  

Two days of absolutely not leaving their loft to be exact.  

After some deliberation and a mandated recommendation to rest from a friend- doctor, they had planned to take some time off to indulge in the little things.

Namely, the collection of bits, bobs, and fauna that they had slowly collected during their stay in Eridia. 

But the last few days had been painfully dull. So when the offer of a quick, “easy” contract had rolled onto their doorstep, well, why not why not round off the week with a bit of extra pocket change?

Just a simple, quick hunt , the bastard said, with pay in their hand once the job was done .

What could go wrong?

Everything. 

Every fucking- 

They hiss through their teeth, gritting them as their ankle creaks atop of uneven cobble, spiking white, hot momentary fury through their nerves.

They take a deep breath as they resolutely pace their stride as naturally as they can.  (As still and empty as the alleys seemingly were at this time of night, it would be foolish to show any implication of injury while they were still in the open.)

Simple their ass. They think bitingly, as they resume their brooding.

Last time they were ever taking work from random, unvetted contractors.

Lucky for Mhin, this Soulless had been interesting, otherwise the past three days would have been much more of a slog.

Winding paths that led them in circles, cold trails that ended in nothing, and false ends that led to the mouths of seemingly empty corridors and slightly obscured alleys that gave them a slow, yet thrilling hunt.  

It made their gums itch. Just like when they first arrived in Eridia. 

The anxiety of the dangerous unknown melded with the excitement of something new and fascinating . 

It made them want to scrape up all the pieces -- from Soulless to fauna to even those vile monsters -- and examine them all under the polished microscopic glass they had brought with them.  

It was alarming how intelligent some of these creatures were becoming.  It spelled more trouble for the townspeople, but it meant more work for them, they supposed.   A more cynical Mhin, from a month ago, would have thought more bitterly on servicing the townspeople who harshly disregarded outsiders. Though they suppose time, a doctor, and perhaps a few others , had softened them some. 

But, oh, was the constant backtracking for this extra work tedious .

As if things could ever go smoothly for them , they think with some smoldering irritation.

Unlucky for Mhin , the Bastard tried to lower the agreed amount because they dispatched the Soulless after the deadline.

Normally, they would be amenable to compromise, but they had their reasons this time…

The challenge was fine. The tedium, they would get over eventually, but the audacity of such was going to sit heavily and aggravatingly in their temples for the rest of the night and days after.  

They turn a corner to avoid the touch of moonlight, cascading down the far wall and steps.

They sweep from shadow to shadow, skirting around the creeping light of the occasional lanterns that stand vigil beside entrances or ancient, dilapidated lamp posts, like the people of Lowtown, hardy and too stubborn to fall apart.

Times like these had them selfishly wishing they could exclusively work for Kuras. No bullshit. No deceit. No haggling- (except for when Kuras would occasionally ‘find bonuses’ in whatever work they had done and would slip them extra coin which they would try, in futile attempts, to refuse. It never ended in their favor) and an opportunity to spend a few moments of time with the least aggravating person in town.

Unfortunately, the doctor didn’t offer as much work as the hounds could scrounge up, but that meant working with Leander, who was tolerable enough when he kept his mouth shut, and working with Leander meant going to The Wick. They feel their brows curl downward into a scowl. And going there meant there was a high chance of meeting either or both of those monsters.

They release another breath. 

Once they find what they are looking for, they can finally leave this forsaken city. 

They continue sweeping over cobble and stone as steadily as they can for all of 5 seconds before a traitorous thought bubbles into their mind: 

A commonality that all of their acquaintances shared was a level of unique attractiveness that likely contributed to their success in deals and… whatever the hell else they got up to.

They blink.

Hell, they really needed to rest if their mind was going to point out pointless things for the rest of their trip back.

Fortunately, respite is on the horizon.  

Mentally, they sigh in relief at the approaching sight of a familiar windowsill, jutting out just about waist height, semi-obscured by a menagerie of tall potted plants and wall climbing vegetation.

Few had reason to venture into this alley. Too wide and open to make deals in, yet too narrow for normal foot traffic to want to pass through.

Those who would notice it would see beyond the once white, now sun-tanned sill, worn with age, and spot the places indented with the many hands and feet, bare or covered, that made use of it.  

Mhin rolls their shoulders and glances about in all directions in the alley before placing both hands into slighted recessed, obscured brick handholds.  Testing their grip, they lift themselves experimentally, their legs, one good and one somewhat useless, dangling a few inches above cobble.  They place their good foot onto the windowsill and boost themself upwards.

They clamber up and over jutting brick, sills, and weathered fixtures. Occasionally, wedging the knee of their bad ankle into supports.

As they climb, they reflect on events overall. Despite the headache and swollen ankle (and the elusive Soulless that they had just finished hunting earlier that day), things had been dry as of late.

Though, that was likely because they were busy and hadn’t come across the “regular group’ ” with their often avoidance of the Wick and its constituents.

But that wasn’t counting that other alchemist that Kuras had taken under his wing. 

Mhin had begrudgingly accepted that her continued presence was to become a standard they would have to get used to, but that woman somehow had the habit of appearing when least expected.  

As they reach the top, they leverage their hand on the lip of the roof and pull themself up.

They hadn’t run into her recently.  But that wasn’t a bad thing.  Perhaps they could truly have a peaceful-

“Oh, howdy Mhin.”

So far there have been two kinds of responses that were elicited from Mhin when they interacted with the other outsider:

1) Speak of the devil and she will appear with a bag of their favorite quick-to-sell-out-snacks which she will coyly not share unless they initiate conversation with said devil first.

2) Think of the devil and she may indirectly cause them to fall off the side of a building. 

The latter is something they were tacking onto the list at this very moment to A) to actually make a list, and B) well, they were always one for pessimistic humor, they think, as they feel their knee ankle begin to slip from its wedged perch.

The shock of seeing her has them nearly fly backwards from instinct alone, but the embarrassment of dying in such a pathetic way with a living witness to tell the tale has them gripping the lip of the roof hard enough to carve tiny crescents into the cheap stucco with their fingernails. 

They swing themselves over the side of the roof wall with as much of their usual grace as they can muster, ignoring the curious eyes that track them.

They right themself as quickly as they can, their cape falling forward to conceal the way they shift weight off their bad leg.

They glance at her.  She’s propped herself upright, blinking owlishly at them. 

Scaling walls and nearly falling off of high places always have a recognizable rush that runs through their veins that is manageable with prior expectations, but unexpected surprises (and often they were the ones doing the surprising) is thrice the feeling with none of the preparation. 

They take a deep, steadying breath to calm their nerves, but irritation flares almost reflexively to cover their embarrassment.  A frazzeled: “WhAt aRE You dOINng HEre-” barely leaves their lips before she shoots upright, leaning toward their direction with a hiss and finger to her lips to hush them, before gesturing to the roof below her. 

“Heard the resident can be a bit of a stickler.”

Mhin’s eye twitches, their mouth quirks and their brows pinch together.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” They say, shifting their weight slightly. 

It’s dark out, but so are her eyes.  They wonder if their exhausted and off-kiltered mind is convincing them that the gaze that flickered over them had already concluded everything Mhin had been trying to conceal for the last several hours. 

They inhale through their nose and pocket their paranoia for after they crawl into bed.  She breaks their reverie with a shrug. 

“Don’t want to be tossed off before I can enjoy the show.” She says matter of factly.

They look at her quizzically and then suspiciously. She simply returns to her initial position, lounging with her back flat against the roof with seemingly little care in the world. 

For as far back as they could remember, the back of their mind would itch when something drew in their interest or if something left them feeling anxious.  Like seeing the wings of a fly under a microscopic lens for the first time.  Or when a brown spotted cat once tempted them to follow it into a darkened alley. The first time they were rewarded with a peek at her newly born litter.  The second time, they followed a red-haired cat, but they were chased out of the alley by an unruly drunk. If there was ever a third time…, well, technically there was, but that’s a story for later.

For now, as tired as they were, this damn woman was scratching that same itch.  (As if they didn’t have enough things to overthink about.  Like if Leander smile measured as well as Kuras’s- GODDAMMIT -) 

They resist the urge to physically bash their head into the stucco beneath their feet to chase the intrusive thoughts away.  Instead, they fixate on their current company’s cryptic words. 

They give her another once over. 

Was there some unheard of event planned today?  

Or worse.

Was their group’s latest newcomer picking up a penchant for shenanigans like Kuras? 

Not that Mhin minded the occasional ‘detours’ with the doctor. They were fond of his company.  Though confounding at times, those unexpected intermissions were welcome breaks they, somewhat unwillingly, took from work. But frankly, they could do with more forewarning.

( An exasperated part of them suspected the doctor paced his excursions with them, unable to surprise them as much as he once could, but that’s a doubtful thought. Kuras’s sleeves are long and bountiful so surely the doctor had something in the works. 

They were partially sure the doctor enjoyed shocking them as much as he enjoyed stringing them along on his convoluted pranks.

And a smaller part of them felt reassured by such).

But if she was to start indulging in such events, they would surely be more exhausted, balancing two uniquely spontaneous individuals who would unwittingly or mercilessly drag them about (perhaps that’s why the new-alchemist and doctor paired so well together?)

Fortunately, that could be avoided.  Their services have been in high demand and she wasn’t one for interrupting them during contracts (other than an offer for tea breaks) but regretfully it left less time to spend with pleasant company. 

A self-conscious part of them said it was better that they weren’t around to occupy Kuras’ time.

They shake away those intrusive thoughts.  The exhaustion was derailing their attention.

“What show?” They finally ask, hoping their silence implied disbelief over scatter-brained thoughts.

She points to the sky. Mhin follows her gloved arm (they note the Kuras’s signature stitching and pinch the similar pattern embedded within their own cloak) to the sky and their eyes widen.

Their lips part to mouth a silent ‘oh’.  

Above the pair was a clear night sky, stars sprinkled above them, winking at them in a teasing manner.

Such a sight was rare in this muggy city.  The density of the humid air must have pulled the usual smog to the ground below, turning the streets into the swampy sauna they had trooped through earlier.

They had been watching for days like this, even had a calendar plotted out for tracking daily weather, but it had completely slipped their mind. 

Perhaps they were too busy as of late.

They stir from their reverie of the stars as the noise of crinkling paper catches their ears.  Blue-red eyes jump back to their rooftop company, watching her handle a delicately wrapped paper bag with goodies.

“From Kuras.” She says simply. Mhin glances from the bag then to her then back to the bag.  They stare at it dubiously. Kuras could certainly make gorgeous looking gifts, but when it came to making food… She snorts. “It was gifted to Kuras by one of his generous patrons.” 

Ah yes.  Although Kuras spent the vast majority of his time catering to the people of LowTown, it was easy to forget that he had a dizzying amount of connections that extended beyond the city slums. His reach stretched from the edge of the wastes, through the dankest of slums, eclipsing the illustrious and pretentious inner city. ( It was better to not think about the complexity of his… associates. It was tempting to press him for information, but they wouldn’t dare overstep… )

She pats the notably dusted space beside her.  A bottle of liquor and 2 cups had appeared beside her.  The bag crinkles as it’s shaken coyly in offering.

Their first thought is to shoo her away, but the rumble in their stomach has them begrudgingly taking a seat beside her.  They curse inwardly at not securing a meal after coming all this way. 

She offers them the bag and they slip their thumb and index in, pulling out a butter cookie with a pink flower inlaid on the top.  They give an experimental sniff before biting in.  It’s crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside.  

She’s munching on a cookie herself and already nursing on one of the small cups.  They take the other and sip on it, savoring its warm, earthy spice.

Kuras usually passed edibles Mhin’s way when they crossed paths.  Sometimes they would receive a sack of goods had they spent too many days away without a visit. Nowadays, they often receive a share of them from the woman beside them. 

They sit in silence and watch the sky above them for several moments.

“Rough day?” She asks nonchalantly, eye glancing to their still throbbing ankle.  They feel their brows furrow and pinch, but instead of snapping, they sigh. 

“That’s an understatement.”  They down the rest of the drink.  As they lower their cup, she’s refilling it with one hand and handing them a bandage wrap with the other. They throw back the next cup before setting it down.  A comfortable and familiar warm haze sits on their temples as they begin undoing the laces of their boot, holding their bad leg.  They hiss as they slowly slide their boot off.  

Even with only the moonlight to illuminate them, they can still identify the pulsing purplish-blue-yellow, splotched over paper-pale skin.  They hear a jar be uncapped, the scent of fruit and menthol wafting around them. Wordlessly, they take the offered jar.  She continues to nurse her drink, watching them slather ointment and bind their foot.  Normally, they would detest having an audience watch them like this.  As much as they appreciated Kuras, they preferred to tend to themself. 

But that was the nice thing about alcohol.  It made them care less. 

“This bastard tried to cheat me out of my pay-” but unfortunately it also made them a bit yappy

“-but unsheathing my dagger was enough for him to generously ‘amend’ his decision.”

“Really? I’m sure that pout of yours is what really convinced him.”  Their head snaps over to her.  She’s not looking at them as she nonchalantly sips her drink, but the moonlight betrays the quirk to her lips.  They return to tidying up their ankle. 

“The welp tried to lower the agreed amount. Said it was because I finished the work late.  BUT the intel he had given me was worthless .  All I got was a vague description of a distinct back-marking on its back.  

A fucking spot on it’s back.

He might as well have said it had an extra finger-like spine from how banal of a detail it was,” they say with heat. They tighten the bandage sharply and flinch at the pressure.  A crinkling sounds to their side, in offering. They sigh before taking another cookie and shoving it in their mouth as they loosen the binding to retighten it.  They leave the boot off to let it breathe. “It was a good hunt at least.”  She quirks a brow in question and that’s enough to get them rambling for a time. 

They don’t how long they do, but they rave about their latest hunt.  Both the good and the bad once more.  What they say is a bit of a blur and most of it was slurred out in a slush of words, but they can’t find it in their senses to care.

They swing their hand in excited gestures when they notice the dampness of their wrist cuff.  They look into their ¾ empty cup. They had sloshed some drink over their sleeve.  How many drinks did they have already?

The thought stops as she trails into a story of her own.

It still boggled Mhin over the ridiculous situations she supposedly got into (oft they learned later that at least one from their shared group was somehow there to bear witness to many of her minor to major fuckups despite the absurdity of it all).  They suppose that most of these mishaps were due to her ridiculously unwavering persistence towards certain (yet still undisclosed, not that they could say much about it themselves) goals.  

But it still had them wondering just how she had managed to fuck-up so badly the first time.

She has complained that her first day in Eridia was truly horrendous , but that’s hard to buy when they’ve caught sight of her casually perched on some of the highest spires in Lowtown. 

Another thing was how infuriating it was, at first, to cross paths so often, but the propensity of appearing at unexpected locales and hard to reach places, undetected, both explained and unnerved them as half most of it was chocked up to coincidence.  

But half the time is more than they come to expect from most.

And even if most of these times were coincidental, it concerns them how persistent she is to stick around them.  

But despite their reservations of her interest in them, they suppose it’s reassuring that their initial meeting, when Mhin had dispatched the soulless that had been chasing her, had just been a fluke. 

They take another swig of their cup.

They don’t talk like this very much, nor very often, with anyone. Not even as freely with Kuras. Granted, they don't usually drink with the doctor. Drinking with her is not an unpleasant thing they decide.

The moment peeters into companionable silence.

Until their mind decides they have enough of it and decides to review the last few hours.

When did Mhin start leading the conversation?  Good lord, how long were they talking for?  Who knows.  Not because she’s easy to converse with and comfortable to be around.  It was the cookies, and the cooling breeze on a damp-ass night, and the fascinating light display above them.  Yes, it’s just that.  And the alcohol.  Of course, yes of course. Sure.  Oh gods.  It reminds them of the time it had taken them an hour to realize that they had been non-stop talking about mushrooms and Kuras hadn’t even spoken, simply listened the whole time.  And he had the gall to ask ‘why did you stop talking?’ like they hadn’t burned an hour of his precious time- 

They try not to lapse into overthinking about it (as they normally do) but their thoughts are cut short as she breaks the silence.

“It’s been a while since I’ve viewed the skies like this.”

They blink. Erdia hardly ever has a clear night, but that doesn’t sound like what she’s referring to.

They had meant to ask: “Was the sky harder to view, where you were from?” 

Instead a foot-sprouted from their mouth and released: “Were you restricted from climbing houses? I can hardly imagine anyone being able to stop you.”  Mhin can’t find it in them to care when it gets a nice, hearty chuckle from her. She has a nice laugh. They sigh. They really hope they aren’t saying everything that they’re thinking. They might actually consider not glaring at Ais as much (like she and Kuras’ would prefer) if their drunk-ass mouth stayed shut for once. 

They tune out their unabashed mental ramblings when they hear her laughter die down.

She clears her throat. “I… stayed inside half of my childhood,” she says, eyes never straying, glued, from the sky above them, savoring every possible angle they could land on like the stars could leave on a whim.  “But there was a room I loved sneaking into. It was like an observatory with glass panes that showed off the entire sky.  It was like I had an enormous painting that hung from above and renewed itself with each season.”  Her eyes looked faraway.  Mhin wasn't sure if she was concentrating on a particular set of stars or if she was trying to lose herself among them.  She blinks and her mouth quirks sheepishly, “I often had to pick the lock to that room. Too many delicate things there for me to break when unsupervised in my younger years.”

They fall back into silence, except for the occasional crunch of cookies and brushing away crumbs from shirts and cloaks. 

“So the few times Kuras has mentioned his door being broken into…”

“I’ve gotten better, ok?” She shrugs sheepishly.  “Force of habit.”

Mhin understands now why their friend had looked amused when he had vaguely mentioned repeated acts of minor vandalism that had occurred as of late.  

It had infuriated them at first to learn that their friend’s office had been tampered with multiple times, and they had a prime suspect that they were planning to try catching in the act when they had time , but now knowing this, they could agree on it being a bit funny. 

They feel their lips begin to quirk at the thought, but cut off the expression before it can become a proper smile, flattening their lips into a line and turning their head.  

The chilled air tempers the heat from their flushed cheeks.  They’ve had much more tonight than they had planned. 

But Mhin only notices how cold it is when they notice their companion shiver.  Even without the normally scattered cloud cover, the humidity that hung in the city could be dangerously deceptive to those unfamiliar with it.  They sigh quietly from their nose, frosted air brushing past their eyelashes as they move to stand.  She jostles sluggishly, due to the cold and perhaps the residual liquor, once she notices their movement.  She has a bit of rueful smile on her lips, certainly from realizing how late it had gotten. 

“Heading in for the night?” She asks.

“I would, but I’d need you to move first.”  They reply.  Likely due to the setting weariness, she squinches her eyes at them in question, mouth slightly ajar in confusion.  

“It’s a pretty spacious roof.”  She glances around the perimeter like the solution to her query was around the nonexistent corners of this flat-ass roof.  “You can easily pass around me.”  She meets their eyes again and raises a brow.  “Something special about my spot?”

Mhin is at a crossroads in how to approach their next step.  Voicing them or doing them.  Maybe it’s their over-exhausted brain, how relaxed they are from their casual conversing, or the temptation to finally pull one over on her, but they barely spend 3 seconds thinking it over. 

Without a word, they kick over a latch that they had unlocked hours ago.

It takes her all of 2 seconds to realize that the platform beneath her is shifting and just 1 for her eyes to widen in betrayal as she disappears into the opened void that has taken her space.

The hunter indulges in a quiet bellied laugh, holding their stomach as their body shakes. Wiping away at damp eyes before tossing their boot into the opening after her by gracefully and swiftly sliding in down the ladder with their good leg.

They right themself and snort as they see her still dazedly splayed on the floor.  She had landed on a several inch stack of old rugs and mats, that they often used for quick entries, which had cushioned her ungraceful fall.  (So she can’t be that upset at them). 

She locks eyes with them. A furrowed frown meeting the curling smirk on their face.  She rolls her eyes before tilting her head upwards, her mouth slowly falling agape.

They look up, immediately recognizing why she was so spellbound.

Above them, the ceiling was charted with constellations, carefully drawn with white chalk.  The hatch that they had entered from (and where she had fallen into) sitting in the middle of a chalky, chartered astral map.  Something they had done soon after their arrival to Eridia.  A silly pastime during their sleepless nights. 

“You have your own skylight,.” sShe says with awe.  Much more awe than an illustrated trapdoor ought to inspire, but the emotion on her face has them voicing the correction only internally.  (If they want to stargaze then they’d rather step outside for the full view, but they don’t say that.) 

“When the weather permits,” they say instead, a small smile forming satisfiedly on their lips.

Her eyes roam the ceiling and then fall back towards the gaping entrance in the ceiling, dazzled by one section in particular.  

She murmurs something, tracing an invisible outline with her index. 

Curious, they approach and peer up, through the trapdoor towards the naked sky.

They blink.  Their mind slowly fills in the details after spotting her discovery. They had forgotten why they had charted the ceiling in this specific pattern.  (They had forgotten too much lately).  To match the line up of the celestial bodies for today.

“Aries.  For you.  The tenth day of April,”  she says, her eyes twinkling in delight. 

They turn to her, question on their tongue, but stop short as they scoot away from her.  They had joined her on the mat at some point to gaze through the entrance in the ceiling.  Yet they were somehow on the floor.  Again.

“How.. do you know my birthday?”  They ask.  She shrugs.

“Kuras has a written log.  I think he has a surprise for you tomorrow-” She slaps a hand over her mouth, but deflated regardless. “... Just act surprised, ok?” she finishes, ruefully. 

They blink and turn away and bite their lip.  It’s the liquor they think.  Despite their last drink being a couple hours ago.  It’s making the hunter too loose. 

She idles there for a few seconds more before her head shifts against the rugs under her, eyes begin to dart around the room with open curiosity. 

They blink.  Ah right, this was her first time here.  In fact, no one else besides their landlord on the first day had seen the inside of their room.

Vacantly, they reflect that they would usually bristle at the thought of someone viewing their most personal space, but for some reason they don’t mind it at this moment.  

Alcohol and a good laugh did wonders for their nerves. 

They look around their own room with new eyes.

Simple and utilitarian, but they could admit, there was a lot of charm to the old building.  Aged wooden slats lined the walls, open banisters, a simple desk against the wall with a few notebooks, scattered papers, and a small beaker set.  A lopsided bookshelf with a steady growing collection.  

A mix of dried and fresh plants of various kinds lined the wall shelving.  Minerals and the occasional dried specimen interspersed.  They are an alchemist after all.  While herbology isn’t their specialty it has its uses and can be a pleasant pastime .

They can see that she has something sitting on the tip of her tongue, eager to pass through her lips, but she holds it in. 

They brace themself slightly.

She had a habit of complimenting them at random, when they certainly had done nothing to deserve it.  Though she'd been quick to pick up on their discomfort before, and knows how to rephrase complements or when to change topics.

“I could watch this all night,”  she finally settles on.  They relax as her eyes return to the makeshift skylight above. 

“You have work tomorrow.” Mhin lightly scolds.  Not that they suspect her to skip, but they’d feel wrong to not nag her.  From what they’ve heard, she’s alleviated the burden for Kuras at least somewhat, which is an accomplishment for the ever perfect doctor, and while Mhin may consider her… potentially a friend, they have their priorities. 

“Ah, right,”  she says, disappointment and sheepishness at her declaration only slightly bleeds through. “Well, at least I can enjoy the view on the walk back.”

“Just stay over.” It’s past their lips before they can stop themself.  Their eyes are as wide as hers. They feel themself flush and turn away.

“Are you sure-”

“It’s cold out. It’ll be a pain to walk back.”  They caught themselves before saying ‘walk you back’ because it is late and it would be ridiculous to let her walk back alone, but it’s the only mercy they can give themself.  She’s always been quick to pick up on things like this and thankfully she’s opted not to tease. 

“Oh. Cool.  Did you want to-” 

“I’m busy tomorrow. I’m going to bed,” they say quickly and sharply.  They cringe at their unexpectedly short tone and because they are actually free tomorrow.  The white-lie twists their insides in embarrassment.  They turn away and busy their hands with fluffing the pillows on their bed. 

“Right, right. Do you mind if I continue-?”

“Just close and bolt the hatch before you turn in.”  They manage to say more mildly.  It’s tempting to stay up to make sure that the hatch is properly secured.  Certainly not because discussing  the astral bodies or resume talking about whatnot is enticing, of course. 

Anxious that their awkwardness will keep sleep from them they press their face into their pillow only to wake the next day cocooned in bed, hair tie lost in the sheets and hair a nest, with one less visitor in their room.

Daylight is well on its way through the few windows in their space.  They had slept well into the morning.  Their eyes dart to their room’s main entrance then to the hatch, relieved to see both securely closed.  

The next thing that catches their eye is a familiar bag of half eaten cookies, a spare bandage roll, items for a splint, a small stout jar of familiar smelling balm, and a note.  They sit up and make their way to their desk, swiping their nest of hair behind them. 

On one of their spare sheets of paper reads:

Consider this my share of the ‘rent’ for the night.

P.s. I took a spare key to lock up in case I needed another place to stay (Just kidding! Or am I?)   but really I’m just borrowing it to lock the entrance from the outside.

Probably don't keep them laying out on your desk next time, unless you want me to lock up again~

Will return it to you later at tea :)

A scribble of a gloved hand yoinking a key from a dispositionally drawn table is scrawled at the bottom of the note.

They sigh, before digging into the cookie bag.  

The last thing they remember from last night is her, still laid out on the floor mats, gazing through their roof hatch, watching a drifting painting. 

Her having one of their spares isn’t the worst thing in the world.  On the off chance they lose their own of course. Not to mention that Kuras has one as well.  Actually, they don’t recall how that happened.  He probably obtained one when they were drunk.  That seems to be a trend… Thinking about it, it’s ironic that a lockpicker and a being that could probably command the seas to part (people whom had the least use of keys in general), were the ones holding onto their spares.  It’s a… formality they supposed.  But is it still a formality if they didn’t intentionally give them those keys? 

Ugh, whatever. 

They suppose they should plan to expect an uninvited guest from time to time.  

She better bring snacks. 

--------------------------

The hunter taps their heel once, twice, then thrice against the roof’s tiles before sighing into their cooled cup of elderberry tea.  

She’d normally be here an hour prior to sunset.  It was already half an hour after and the latter was sinking dangerously low, painting the patchwork of wood, brick, and stucco in orange hues.   

They scan over the funneled maze of evening traffic for any familiar figures.  Really they shouldn’t be worrying about a missed meeting.  It’s not like these shared breaks had a strict time or schedule, but they preferred meeting here for potential snack breaks instead of getting drunk on rooftops in the middle of the night like they had two weeks ago- oh, there she is.

They finish their tea and pack away their cup into a covered cranny among the tiles before leaping from their seat.  They begin jogging before building into a run to vault onto the adjacent rooftop, their feet landing with barely a creak as they toe the tiles and brick.  They continue roof-hopping until they make it to a familiar side alley and begin descending down the side wall, half climbing and sliding their way down as they avoid any puddles and make a muted landing less than a dozen feet away from their target.  

She’s moving quickly, but it takes them little effort to catch up. 

“What’s the hurry?”  They ask nonchalantly.  Her step stutters slightly as her head snaps to face them.  They meet her startled eyes, but they mellow into something friendly and relieved, yet a weary urgency rests behind them.

“Oh!  Mhin.  I-uh.  I was just heading back.”  Her eyes flicker over their face, resting on the corner of their lips then back to their eyes before turning sheepish. “Sorry, I missed tea time. I was in a meeting of sorts…” Mhin rolls their eyes as they brush crumbs from their face. 

“Did you have an errand in that direction?”  Their eyes narrow.  Her eyes are even, but her lips quirk.  They spy a couple of red hairs on her cloak and sigh.  No amount of vitriol they or Kuras could say about that fox-bastard could get her to stop interacting with him.  It was tiring, but they supposed that it was a sort of charming and admirable part of her character to brave moments with monsters regardless if it was a waste of her time.  She’s braced for a lecture, but they don’t press.  Those darkening chasms under her eyes buy her a ticket out of it for now... “The clinic is back this way.” Tthey nod behind them. They don’t miss the way she abruptly freezes, then goes sheepish. “Don’t tell me you’re-” 

“Yeah, the Wick.” The dour look on their face has her chuckling. It doesn't do much to clear whatever anxiety is hanging over her, but it’s good to see her brighten up a little.  “I just need a bit of… liquid courage is all.”  Her eyes do not meet theirs at that last part. 

She continues walking and they keep pace.  She fills the rest of the walk with idle chatter that Mhin nods along to.  

With the Wick about a block in sight Mhin decides that’s far enough.  They come to a stop and so does she. 

“I don’t have any business there today-”

“Well, I’m glad you had enough free time for a walk~” She says quickly with a cheeky grin.  They scoff and force down the flush that’s threatening to creep up their cheeks. 

“-just. Don’t stay out too late. Or Kuras will feel the need to come out looking for you.”  They meant it as a simple snipe for her teasing, but the flash of hesitation on her face has them near-fumbling to backtrack.  They don’t get the opportunity because she meets them with resolute eyes paired with a tired smile. 

“I don’t plan on it.”  She turns on her heel and takes the last trek towards the Wet Wick.  They watch her disappear into the awakening bar.   A mix of grimey and day-worn patrons petter in and out of the illuminated establishment like breath from a maw.

They blink and turn down any alley, spotting the tell-tale signs of climbing holds and begin scaling up the building.  

There had been a heaviness weighing down and around her for some time now so it’s hard for Mhin to pinpoint when things begin to feel different.  

Her life had seemed to be pretty consistent up till now.  Once she arrived in Eridia she had spent most of her free time researching… something, but she’s kept whatever that may be close to herself. 

When they reach the top of the building they catch a sight of their reflection in a shallow puddle. 

Though it’s not like they can say much about that themself. 

Other than that, she spends most of her time working with Kuras…

They blink. 

Surely that can’t-.

They look towards the illuminated Wick.  The sky is steadily darkening and the street lights are beginning to glow while the crowds begin to thicken in the Amaryliss district.

They frown.  

At least it seemed like she was finally taking action. 

They bite down the sting of disappointment that she had been agonizing over something by herself for so long, but they suppose they can understand.  Kuras was their friend too.  It might have been awkward to confide in them because of that.  They bristle slightly at the thought of her choosing to talk to Vere- They shackle off their thoughts.

They shouldn't assume.  For all they know, her reasons could be far more complicated than anticipated… They’re interrupted by the scent of something warm and sweet wafting in the air.

Now that’s an idea.  

They weren’t one for… comforting words, but perhaps they could find another way to help.