Tristain was torn. On the tip of his tongue, was a declaration that the streets were not her home any more. That they hadn't been since he pulled her from them. But he couldn't say that - not because he would let her go back to them. But because, while he was renting this house for then to live in for a time, it was not their home. He exhaled and stood up, then walked over to her and gently placed his hand beside hers, tapping her skin once so she knew where he was. She stood and took his hand.

He needed to figure out a task for her, something she could do and not feel worthless. She needed a purpose, he could see that - but what? It was not like he had a business she cou-he froze. What if he did that? He knew Aynur could be dedicated to something, very much so. And she seemed to like learning new things, tied to her desire to know more about the larger world. Why not try to figure out something she could do that would help them both - as a pair, or as a group? She was better at talking than he was. Could she be a spokesperson for him? Help him negotiate contracts? He began turning this over in his head as she guided him back towards the lounge where she had been spending a fair amount of time as of late.

He felt her let go of him as she sat back down in the chair. He watched as she delicately picked up the pile of knitting and deftly began to work with the needles. His eyebrows drifted upwards as her face settled into a determined line, intent on her task of knitting. He winced as his back twinged in pain - standing and moving too much was proving to not be a good idea - but he managed to keep silent, avoiding worrying her any more already.

After several minutes she pulled the needles out of the yarn and handed it to him. “Here. I was planning on making it longer but… Please tell me if it's too short.” she held it out to him in a pale blue, threaded with white, mess, with a serene and heartwarming smile on her face. He paused, staring at it. Slowly, carefully, he took it from her hands, and stretched it out. It was - a scarf? A long, nearly his height, scarf.

“This is.. For me?” He wasn't quite sure what to say to that. Tristain was trying to remember the last time he had gotten a gift that was just a straight, honest gift. “I… I… Thank you, Aynur. Thank you.” His voice choked up a bit. His armor, his weapons. Things he earned through blood, sweat and tears. He couldn't think of anything that was just made for him, because someone wanted him to have it. His hands tightened on the scarf, and he closed his eyes against the surge of emotions that were rising up.

“Thank.. You.” He began wrapping the scarf around his neck, over and over again. The fabric was thick, and immediately was warming up his throat, but he kept going, wrapping it around his lower face. It didn't match anything else he wore - leather, or hard iron, but he didn't care. At all.

“It's not too short? Does it look OK? Did I drop any stitches? Is the yarn itchy?” Her questions continued as she began toying with the needles in her hands. “ah… Were any picked up? I know you picked the color but do you like it? Does it match what you wear? Oh! You're not allergic to any material are you?”

She pushed herself up off the chair and took a single step forward toward him, Tristain caught her with one hand, interlacing his fingers with hers he guided it to the oversized scarf.

“oh.. Oh no it's too big isn't it!? I can redo it. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make something to say thank you and I can't do anything else much these days.”

“Aynur. Stop. I cherish this.” His voice was gentle as he held onto her. He knew that she tended towards and overreaction in events, and that she needed to be reassured that she hadn't messed things up. And she had not. He didn't mind how long the scarf was. “The color is perfectly agreeable, a light icy blue a bit like the edge of the sky as night and day shift. As for the length, it most certainly is not too big. If anything, I would like another of similar length.” He let out a soft chuckle and rested his open palm on top of her head and gave her hair an affectionate rub. “Thank you. I - think a good term would be, that I love this. A handmade gift from my friend.”

Her eyes lit up as see clasped her hands around his. “really? Truly?” she took a step closer. Pressing her head to his chest as she gave a murmur, clearly enjoying the gentle ministrations on her head. He chuckled, the sound muffled by the scarf.

“Yes, truly. I may even ask for another.” his hand continued to stroke her head tenderly. It was growing better day by day - no longer quite the patchy, matted mess it had been when he met her. That had been an adventure - the mats and tangles too much for her to deal with alone, so she had asked him to help wash her hair out more thoroughly. And of course she had no shame in doing it while already naked for her bath - nor remaining naked while he scrubbed out her hair.

“A-another?” She blinked and took a step back - leaving him feeling a bit cold and strangely missing her. “I...I can do that if you want.” She offered Tristain another awkward smile as she turned her gaze to the floor, tugging on her hair. “I mean - I don’t have much to do and knitting is… it’s simple. Theraputic. Even though I am blind, it is something I can do. Oh..but I’m getting distracted. Your back?”

“I am glad you have something you can do, girl.” He breathed out, and quashed that feeling to take her back in his arms. Right. His back. “My back is - I likely need to change the bandages on it, soon. I have already replaced them once, but the wound was rather wide, if thankfully somewhat shallow -” as shallow as an arrowhead getting lodged in your back could be, but he was trying to keep from worrying her, “so it has been bleeding a fair amount.”

“Bleeding?” Aynur said alarmed.

Well… So much for that.

“I ah!” She stepped in again, gripping the sides of the scarf as she fussed over him. It apparently provided her a good handle as she suddenly yanked his head back and forth, rolling it as she fretted. “Doctor! Medic...somewhere. We should, you should go. Please. I know I did not do a very good job. Tristain why did you let me distract you, this is important.” She chided.

“You did a perfectly fine job, Aynur.” He placed one hand on top of hers, trying to stop her from moving his head back and forth. “You removed the arrowhead without worsening the wound, which considering it was barbed, not flat, was quite well done. And as for still bleeding - it is, was, a large wound. They do that. The bandages are doing their job in stopping the bleeding from being too bad. If anything I should not have been stubborn, and woken you up so you could help me change them earlier. But - I wanted you to rest.”

She shook her head with a hint of a smile upon her features. “I.. Still think you should go to the doctor. If you could… WoUld.. Escort me to the inn I'd wait with a - “ she paused and wrinkled her nose. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, wondering if he stank - he hadn't really had a chance to scrub himself.

Aynur took a step closer to him and angled her face up toward his. Tristain leaned back slightly, confused. While Aynur normally liked to be in light contact, she didn't often ctually get fully close unless she was going for a hug - not like this, at least. She snorted softly as she let go of his scarf. “you… smell like breakfast, and warmth...its comforting.”

The mercenary blinked twice as he processed that. It was one of the odder things he had heard, but then again he couldn't exactly say he was upset about it. He knew that Aynur was still nervous a lot of the time, so to know he comforted her was - nice. And of course.. She always said exactly what was on her mind. Even mid sentence. Her mannerisms were weird, but oddly welcomed. He sighed softly.

“Very well. If it will put you at ease, I will take you to the inn then procure the services of a professional.” It was a small set back, and he normally would have just taken the wound in a stride and ignored it, avoiding the cost of the doctor - but he knew he couldn't deny Aynur when she looked up at him with those pale, milky eyes.

For a moment he wondered what color they would have been if he had met her before her injury, if he would have been more resistant or less to her pleading if he had been subjected to the full expression in those eyes. But - if she wasn’t blind, he wouldn't have met her, would he? No - no, he would much prefer never having met her and her not being injured.

Tristain shook his head sharply. “Let me get my coat. Then we will go.”