Chapter Text
After a long and arduous day of work, the hunter, Vee, and her handler, Alma, were returning home. Their work was far from over, but the coming sandstorm would keep them indoors until morning; a good excuse for rest.
The Seikrets breathed low as they came into the encampment, relieved to be out of the wind and out of harm’s way, if only for the night. Alma shook the sand from her glasses, dismounted from her feathered companion, then stroked the creature’s neck as thanks for its hard work. Her Seikret chittered in response, but her hunter was already walking away. She lodged both her and Vee’s Seikrets for the night without much trouble, but Vee had already disappeared into her tent by the time the task was complete.
Alma offered waves and smiles to the rest of the guild members, most of which who had already retired amidst the storm, then she stepped all the way up to the flap of Vee’s tent.
“May I enter?” Alma asked.
A moment of silence, then Vee spoke, her voice strained. “You may.”
Above and all around the encampment, the sky was billowing and blackening with storm and sand, ravaging the aptly named Windward Plains for yet another night. Beneath the twisting clouds, the inside of Vee’s tent was warm, inviting, and quiet most of all.
Vee was already half-undressed, sitting on her bed with a regretful expression. The lower garments of her uniform had yet to be removed, but most else was tossed aside, save for a binding on her chest. Numerous cuts and even more scars littered her body, and at Alma’s gaze her face washed over with shame, not because her skin was bare, but because it was broken.
“You did well today, hunter,” Alma said. “It’s always a treat seeing you work.”
The hunter was lost for words, unable even to smile. She turned away, obscuring her expression.
“I know what troubles you.” Alma stepped toward the bed, to which the hunter took a sharp breath. She waited a moment at the bedside. Once Vee’s chest fell and her shoulders relaxed, Alma sat down.
“I should not have let you get so close,” Vee admitted.
Alma recalled the events of earlier that day. The hunter was after a Doshaguma, a fanged beast ten times her size, when suddenly the creature caught sight of Alma, who was taking observations nearby. Unusual behavior from any monster, the Doshaguma broke from the hunter actively attacking it, and chased after the passive researcher. Alma’s Seikret pulled her to safety easily enough, but the hunter did not know as much, so she acted recklessly trying to reclaim the beast’s attention. Such a decision is what granted the hunter her newest scar, a long trio of cuts all the way down her back. A healing potion had already reduced them to scars, but Alma suspected the pain was still fresh in her hunter’s mind.
“What happened was no fault of your own,” Alma said, her voice low. “If there is anyplace to shift blame, it is towards me. At times, I prioritize my research over my own safety.” She shifted closer, so she was within arm’s reach of the hunter’s scarred body. “The same way you put my safety over yours.”
“I have to keep you safe,” the hunter said, but her voice quivered as she said it. There was the fear.
“You’re afraid of putting me in danger,” Alma stated.
The hunter lowered her head as confirmation.
Alma smiled warmly, though she knew the hunter could not see. “There is no need to hold shame over such a thing. A hunter without fear is a blade without its handle.” She eyed the trio of claw marks on the hunter’s back. “And if you protect me, then who will protect you?”
“It’s not your job to protect me,” the hunter said.
Alma heard the anger in her voice, but she knew better than to assume it was meant for her. The hunter was prone to temper, but it was a temper as sacred as the weapon she wielded; never to be pointed at another person.
“Then what do you suppose my job is, hunter?” Alma asked. She reached out and placed her fingertips on the hunter’s bare back, brushing lightly over the scar left by the Doshaguma claw. The girl shivered in response.
“You are my handler,” Vee said. “A hunter is a tool. A living weapon. You are an extension of the Guild’s will, the hand that guides that weapon. I am the blade and you are the handle, as you said.”
“Maybe so,” Alma said. “I may grant you permissions to hunt on the Guild’s behalf, but you care for me and protect me of your own accord. You call yourself a living weapon, but you forget that you are living most of all.”
Alma brought forward her other hand and ran it along the hunter’s bindings. She reached underneath, slipped her fingers between skin and fabric, then untied the garment, letting it fall into Vee’s lap. With the hunter’s fully exposed back beneath her fingers, Alma began to trace the length of each and every little scar and imperfection. The hunter’s breath drew unsteady, reduced to gasps and hitched exhales.
“Yes, hunter, you are like a weapon in many ways,” Alma murmured. She caressed the girl’s worn body, delighting with every whimper. “A weapon that has seen battle will see many scars, much like yours.” She kept one hand still while gliding the other all the way down the claw mark, sparking shockwaves up Vee’s spine. “And I may trace a weapon’s surface and know its every detail, as I know yours.” She placed both hands on Vee’s shoulders and leaned in close, making the girl’s back arch in response. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But no weapon in this world surrenders to my touch quite like you do.”
The girl beneath her fingers was tensed up with uncertainty, each breath as fast and sharp as a knife.
“As your handler, it is my duty to care for you. To handle you.” Alma shifted closer, then reached for Vee’s face, turning it to face her. The girl shifted her body in turn, meeting Alma’s gaze with fear in her eyes, but a different fear than before. Alma smiled. “So, hunter, will you let yourself be handled?”
The hunter’s breath shook, as did her body, but she nodded without hesitation. Alma lowered her hands to join with the hunter’s, then shifted even closer until the girl’s knee slid underneath her own.
Alma’s gaze flicked down to the hunter’s lips, then back up to her eyes, colored a deep shade of earthy crimson. She waited there for a moment, leaving the next move to Vee, who opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing.
“Surely you don’t need the Guild’s permission to kiss me, do you, hunter?” Alma asked.
“No,” Vee replied. “Only yours.”
“Then kiss me.”
The hunter leaned forward, her breath finally steadying as the space between them drew shorter. The fear in her eyes was still present, but it was far outweighed by trust now, as a blade trusts its handle. With a final, razor sharp breath, the hunter closed the distance and their lips locked perfectly together, as if made for each other.
They drew apart, then back together again, stopping only to gather breath. Alma savored each taste of her hunter’s lips, and for each time they separated, she was as a scabbard, waiting in beautiful anticipation of her next reunion with her sword. Alma wished it could last forever, wished she could keep her hunter safe in this moment, but as a blade is safe in its sheath, that is not what they are made for.
Alma and her hunter drew apart from their embrace, locking eyes. They had always been close, but a new bond was forged. Before, they were a team, but now they were a pair as well, a matched set. Alma smiled at the thought.
Her hunter spoke. “The sandstorm worsens,” she said, finally breaking from Alma’s piercing gaze. “It is dangerous to venture outside, so you may stay the night if you would like.”
Alma listened for wind, but she knew the severity of the storm was no factor in the hunter’s offer. It was simply an excuse to spend the night together, a fact she tried little to hide.
“Of course.” Alma leaned forward and enveloped her hunter in a warm hug, trailing her fingers up the girl’s bare back. She tucked her head into the girl’s shoulder and breathed in deep. “Please keep me safe from now on.”