A Helping Hand [Closed]

[Aegis]

The heat of the afternoon sun beat down on Tristain as he slowly trudged through the streets of the small town, making his way back to the small building he had rented out for himself and Aynur. His gait was stilted and awkward, stumbling and staggering as his boots scuffed up small clouds of dust with every step. Exhaustion clung to him like a thick cloak - clung to him like the soaked fabric that was crusted onto his skin.

His lower back burned, hotter than the sun could have made it. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain surging along his body, and the brown-haired man had long since started grinding his teeth together, hard, to stem the flow of curses. He cursed himself, for a lack of attention at a crucial moment, he cursed the gap in his armor, he cursed the archer who had made the shot. But most of all, he cursed the arrow that was currently buried in his flesh, at just the right spot that he couldn't reach it properly.

He could have ripped it out, easily. But doing so, with the angles he could get on it, would have torn a large chunk of his flesh free as well, and he probably would have bled out long before he could have gotten help. Because even if he could pull the arrow out, there was no way he could get a bandage in place in time. In the end, all he had done was snap the shaft of the arrow short, to try to make the fact that he was injured less obtrusive - he didn't want to draw any undue attention to himself as he made his way back to safety.

The mercenary had been taking care of a small extermination job, to kill off a group of Goblins that had gotten too close to town. Simple enough for him to handle, and if he hadn't gotten overconfident, he would have gotten out of their nest with barely any scratches. Instead, he had gotten distracted, instead, he now walked with a limp as a barbed arrowhead tore into his flesh.

Blood was leaking from the open wound, running down his back and his hip, coursing down his leg in thin, hot rivulets. His sock was soaked, and he could feel his foot squelching in his boot with every step that he took. He wanted nothing more in that moment to already be back at the house, laying down, and ignoring the world as he tried to recover. But he wouldn't be able to, not with the piss-poor place he had been shot. He could not take care of this injury himself.

Which meant he would have to pray that Aynur hadn't gotten tired of waiting for him - it had been far longer for his journey back than he had told her it would be. The injury had added a considerable amount of time to his trip, slowing him down immensely. He would have to hope she was still there, and hope that she could convince one of their neighbors to find a doctor who could come over to tend him.

A deep sense of relief washed over him, as Tristain looked up and realized he had managed to make it to the front door. He fumbled in a belt pouch for the key to the door, and slowly pushed his way inside, his body screaming at him from the weight of the door. “Ay.. Aynur. Are you… here, girl?” His voice rasped out roughly. He couldn't take the darkness of the building as a sign she had left - blind, the girl rarely if ever lit lanterns without him prompting her to.

[Aynur]

“Tristain?”

I called out in response from the chair in the lounging room. It was big, plush...soft and had completely engulfed me whenever I sat in it. It was my favourite place to sit. I felt like I was being held, comforted. I did not wish to go as far as to say loved, but it most definitely evoked strong feelings of coziness within me.

Normally the man would respond as he clattered loudly through the door. This did not happen which alarmed me. I carefully picked up the knitting I had been working on and placed it on the table next to me with a sigh. Now that I had put it down I’d need Tristain to place it in my hands again. I could knit whilst blind, the actions were rythmic, nothing more than a pattern but every time I moved I constantly feared I had unknowingly dropped a stitch, or worse...picked one up.

I shifted carefully off the chair and placed my hand atop it as I used it as a guide. The back of the chair faced the doorway. “Tristain?” I asked again.

“Go..od. You're here. I.. Need your help.” His voice was off. Different from normal. It was rough at the best of times, but this sounded worse, strained. And he used a contraction, which was unusual normally he was so very precise and formal when he spoke. “I’m.. Going to go lay down. Need you to.. Gh.. To get a neighbor to.. Bring a doctor.” I heard an unusual sound - a scraping one, and I realized he had slumped against one of the walls and his armor had rubbed against the wood.

I carefully shuffled toward the sound of him. I could hear his ragged breathing, I knew something was wrong. I felt his presence, he was close...he was… on the floor? I furrowed my brow in confusion as I knelt down to his level and reached out toward him. My hand collided with his nose and mouth. “Doctor? Are you ill?” My hand glided over his sweaty face and down to his shoulder. “Take your armour off so you can move toward the bedroom. I can try to find the neighbour.” He let out a weak chuckle.

“N.. Not ill. Can't move well enough to take it off. Ju..st need to lay down.” He tried to stand up, and made it partway - crashing into me. Something was wrong with him, very wrong. Tristain was normally extremely considerate of me, and when he accidentally ran into me he would always catch me to help me stay stable. Now - now he was the one that came off worse, hitting the wall hard. I heard a groan of pain, a hiss that stretched between teeth.

I struggled to push him off of me. “You’re heavy…” my hand landed on a clasp and I instictively started to undo the buckle. “Here..” I undid it and felt the armour loosen. “Guide my hands to where I need to undo the buckles.” My voice was low, soft. Careful. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I couldn’t see the pain he was in but I could hear it, feel it. The way his ragged breath touched my skin, the way his body shook. There was something seriously wrong and I was doing my best not to panic. He told me to focus on my breathing when I felt overwhelmed… and I was doing just that.

Just breathe.

Breathe and focus on first removing his armour...then…getting him to bed. One hand came up and clasped mine and he helped my figure out where the buckles were. Until he stopped, his arm crooked back but not back all the way. “The..re are a few… On my back. Be careful, please. Arrow. I was.. Stupid.” He pulled himself upright, off of me, and I heard him breathe in sharply.

I shuffled behind him, ignoring the wet feeling upon my hands, I assumed it was sweat. He always came back dripping in it, and I could smell it. My fingers started at his shoulders and carefully traced down the length of his armour. It was cool to the touch with rough edges. I could feel cuts and knicks in the metal and told myself I’d do my best to find him some more protection to thank him for everything he had done for me. I found a buckle on either side of the armour, a little under his armpits. It took a little bit of effort but I managed to pull it off.

Wait…

“Arrow?” I asked, panic finally setting in. Tristain shuffled slightly, and I felt one hand wrap around one of mine for a moment, squeezing it tightly.

“Breathe. Deep. Breaths. I need..you here with me now, Aynur.” He took his hand away, and I heard the him lean against the wall. “Breathe. Please, I need you here.”

“I-I’m here…” I shuffled forward with shaky hands. I wished I hadn't come to the realization that he was greviously wounded. I tried to prop him up against me and he graciously accepted. Leaning forward I could feel his hair tickle the skin on my cheek.

[Aegis]

Tristain was immensely glad that Aynur was still at the house. The dark hall around them was swirling back and forth as he leaned to one side, his hand holding onto the wall for dear life. She was here, which meant that maybe he would be alright from this. He just - needed to lay down. Yes, laying down sounded wonderful to him right now…

Once Aynur was breathing a little more steadily - he did not blame her for being agitated here - he began slowly making his way to his bed chamber. It was a lot easier to move without the main piece of his armor on, that was for sure. Despite that, he still was not very fast at all, stumbling every few steps and forcing himself to need to hang onto the wall to keep from falling over. He didn't know how he managed to reach the proper door without hitting the ground face first but he somehow managed it - he couldn’t quite tell if there had been hands on him during his journey down the hall to the room.

He slumped against the door, and nearly fell over when a slender hand reached around him and opened it. “How far is the bed?” Tristain turned his head in the direction of Aynur’s voice - when had she gotten that close to him? He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision.

“It.. Is roughly three meters into the room, straight ahead.” A full-body shiver ran through him, and Tristain grit his teeth as the motion made the arrowhead in his back quiver. Slowly he began moving forward, step by stumbling step, towards the bed. His knees finally hit the edge of the bed - and he collapsed straight forward, his face buried into the blanket that covered the top of the bed.

Finally, he wasn't moving. Finally, the barbed metal digging into his back stopped moving, sending waves of agony through him. Tristain let out a soft moan of relief as his body relaxed slightly, the first time in many hours - since he had been shot. “Damn.. Thing is in a spot I.. Can’t pull out my..self.” He snarled into the bed.

Even without the armor on, he felt hot and sweaty, though he wasn't filly sure if that was sweat, or blood. Either way - either way, he ached, and in status he wished he never had to experience.

“W-what do I do… Cl-clean it? Remove it?” Tristain blinked a few times, dragging his face up from its resting spot in the blankets. Aynur was near the edge of the bed, wringing her hands nervously. Even now, she was trying to help, when she looked like she wanted to bolt from the room.

“Ayn..ur. Thank you. I won’t.. Force you to help me. I should be o..k long enough for you to get a neighbor, or a doctor. If it isn't too late.” If the sun had already gone down, then it would be that much harder to get anyone to work with her.
He watched as she shrank inward, visibly shaking. Her lips quaked but he noticed her slowly counting under her breath. “let me help. Please.” His brown eyes regarded her for a moment, and then the world tilted, and he let out a gasp of pain.

“o-ok. OK. You need to… Find the arrow, in the small of my back. Pull it out, carefully - it…… it is barbed, not flat, so be slow and patient with it. There should be.. A bottle of water on the bedside table to.. Your left. Rinse the wound once th..e arrowhead is out. Bandages are still.. In the bath chamber. And the kitchen.” Why had he scattered those? Put them in different places? It was hard to think clearly, and he could only answer her questions because asking that had jogged his memory.

[Aynur]

This… Was too much. I felt like he was asking way too much of me. I couldn't see… But I had to try. I wanted so badly to be stronger.

I took a few steps back. Then turned to head towards the kitchen. I knew it was adjacent to the lounge room. I just had to shuffle my way back to my chair. It faced the kitchen… Ok…

Breathe in …. Breathe out….

Tristain needs your help Aynur. You got this.

I felt like my movements were painstakingly slow. He needed me and I could barely navigate the small house. One foot moved in front of the other in slow, unsure footsteps as I made my way first to the chair then to the kitchen. My feet hit cool stone tiles and I knew I had made it to my destination. Tristain said they were in the kitchen...he normally left things on the counter for me so all I had to do was…

My fingers searched the surface of the counter. They landed on an empty knifeblock and I inwardly winced. Tristain made a habit to keep such things away from me, and who could blame him? They danced over a few plates, dirty… then...ah…

My eyes widened as my fingers met with what felt like a soft roll of coarse padding. This must be it. To confirm I touched my own bandages to see if the textures were the same. Tiny ridges and bumps. Yes… this was it.

I made my way back to the bedroom and toward the bed. I winced as my knees knocked against the hardwood frame. It hurt… but I was more worried about Tristain right now.

“Aynur.. You got it?” His breath was tight and strained

“Bandages...y-yeh…” Ah.. I really wanted to sound strong. Confident, instead my voice squeaked out in worried and stuttered mumbles. He sounded worse. I wasn’t sure if I had enough time to go to the bathroom to get a cloth to soak the water in so…

I shoved the bandages between my teeth so I could pull off my shirt. It’d only be for a little while and he was in no position to stress about the odd complexities of decency. I carefully felt around the bedside table till my fingertips pressed against the cool metal of the waterjug. I held it steady with one hand and used the other to submerge my shirt into the water.

“I have the cloth.” I mumbled as I turned back to the bed. I couldn’t see...all the world was to me were blurs of shapes and colours. I couldn’t even differentiate Tristain’s form from the bed. “I don’t...I…”

What was I supposed to do?

I could feel tears stinging my eyes as the feeling of helplessness began to encroach on me, drowning me. I was in over my head. I couldn’t do this...and because of my own ineptitude the one friend I had left was going to die.

“Aynur. Breathe.”

I gasped, gulping in a large breath of cool night air. I hadn’t realized it but I had been hyperventilating. My heart thudded loud against my ears. Right… right… I had to help him.

I carefully crawled onto the bed and straddled his hips. To me...this was incredibly embarrassing and awkward - but I didn’t know what else to do. This was the only way that I’d know where his body was. “T-Tristain? I’m not too heavy am I?”

“I.. No. The arrow… Is ahead of you but not far.”

I ran the cloth over his skin, slowly...carefully. I felt his body twitch at the touch...or maybe the water was too cold? Should I have warmed it up first? I didn’t know… Oh gods I didn’t know what I was supposed to do or how. I found the arrow…

There was a sharp hiss of indrawn breath, and beneath me his body tensed. I quickly drew away and covered my face. I couldn’t see but… but...oh I had hurt him. I made it worse. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to help him? I drew in deep shuddering breaths as I found the arrow again. One hand pressed the cloth tightly against his skin near his wound and the other grasped the...wooden part of the arrow - I wasn’t sure what it was called.

“W-what now?”

“Now. This will be… Painful. You have to.. Pull it out carefully. It is barbed. Try to..to find the angle where it…doesn’t tug the flesh..too much.” I could hear that he was clenching his teeth.

“I-I’m sorry…” I lowered my head and closed my eyes, they stung with tears. I shifted the arrow around, finding the angle that gave the least resistance. I froze when I heard him cry out.

“Just pull it!” He bit out.

I did as he asked, slowly. Carefully.. Oh gods I could feel blood dripping onto my hand and between my fingers… I’m sorry… He would hate me for this surely…

Slowly, and carefully I pulled the arrow out till it was free from his skin and I was holding it in mid-air. I dropped it and it clattered to the floor, bouncing on the wooden surface. My hands fell straight toward his back, fumbling to find his wound. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please..I’m so sorry…” My words were spoken in quick succession between sobs. What did I do?

Why?

“Please don’t hate me Tristain.” The words left my lips in a feeble whisper, words I hadn’t realized I had spoken. So desperate… I was so desperate to help him and I still didn’t know how. Or if it was good enough. All I could do was carefully wipe away the wet sensation of blood.

I had even dropped the bandages. What possible use was a blind girl in a situation like this?

[Aegis]

The pulling had been agony. Even with Aynur trying to twist it around to give the least resistance, it had still torn its way out of his body, and Tristain’s muscles screamed in pain. His back jumped at the slight touch as he heard the arrow hit the ground.

He did have one thought. The pain had washed away the fogginess in his head. He wasn't sure if he appreciated that fact or not, honestly. But it did mean that when fingers pressed against his back, slipping and sliding in the blood, he felt it. It meant that, when hot tears fell against his back, mingling with his blood there, he felt it. That he heard the sobs, and the strangled apologies. The choked plea.

“Ay.. Aynur. Aynur. Girl, breathe. Please. I don’t.. Hate you.” He couldn't move, not really. ButheI tried, arching one arm back to clumsily bump against hers. “I don't.. Hate you. You helped. Can still.. Help. Push the bandages onto the wound.” He wanted to try comforting her, he truly did, but pulling the arrow out had released a fresh wave of blood, and the mercenary was already beginning to feel a bit weak.

“I...dropped them...here…” Tristain felt her press something cool and wet against his back then drape what felt like sleeves around his sides. “H-hold this here and I will find them.” He gave a weak grunt of agreement, and his hands took hold of the thing that she had placed on him. It took him a moment to realize what it was - her shirt. If his blood hadn't been oozing out of his back, he probably would have blushed fiercely.

He felt her slide off his back and to the floor with a small ‘ompf’ she was sniffling as she felt blindly around for the bandages. It didn’t take long for her to find them and claw her way back up to the bed, undoing them she pulled the shirt away and pressed the bandages to his wound. Passing him the end of it. “I-is this right?”

“Yes.” He hissed the word out between clenched teeth as the fabric of the bandages dragged against his wound. “There should be.. A spot that feels wadded up, like cotton shoved into it. That goes over the wound.” Tentatively he felt her move it around, until he let out a short grunt when she got it in the right position.

When she had done that, she slid off of him. Tristain held the bandages in place and sat up, slowly shifting into a sitting position, and tied the bandage tight around his waist so it wouldn't slide out of position. He watched through pain clouded eyes as Aynur fumbled around the room, bumping into the dresser and pulling out one of his shirts. She struggled to put it on. Still sniffling. She had been crying.

“Ay.. Nur. Girl, come here.” He wasn't going to die. With his immediate physical concern abated, he could try to help her with the mental one she was having. He thumped the bed beside him with one hand, swaying slightly as he did so. The mercenary was a bit light headed - OK, very light headed at the moment. But he wasn't dead. The arrow hadn't been poisoned, just barbed, and while it had been in a terrible position for him to get out on his own - an impossible position, really - it hadn't been buried very deep inside of his flesh. He would survive, now that Aynur had gotten the bandage in place.

She shuffled forward slowly with tiny, unsure footsteps. She hit the bed then slowly clamored up onto it and shifted next to him. A shaking hand reached out to lightly land on his knee. Tristain gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and hugged her against his side. “Thank you, Aynur.”

[Aynur]

I jumped when I felt a heavy arm wrap around my shoulders as he pulled me in closer. He himself had leaned against me. His weight bearing down on my form. It confused me. I was certain that he would…

I took a deep shuddering breath as I voiced my thought. “You… Don’t hate me?”

“No. Not in the least. I am grateful. Glad you were here.” His voice was still rough, still weak, but it was beginning to steady-akin to a strong foundation. It was low, and rumbling.

I exhaled slowly. It was a figurative weight off my shoulders. Hearing his voice improve meant I hadn't horribly messed up the procedure. It meant he would be ok. Then there were his words. Whilst slightly forced they sounded sincere. “I am sorry. I should have gotten someone to help I panicked. “

“I do not know, at this point, if that would have been right. No, I think what you did was the best course.” He relaxed his hold on my shoulder, letting me sit back up if I wanted to. “I am honest, Aynur. I am glad you were here to help me.”

“I just followed your instructions. Ah… I... hope you don't mind. The shirt…” He gave a weak laugh.

“No, I do not mind. As far as I know, most men like it when the women in their lives wear their clothes.” His chuckle was strained, but clearly amused.

I didn't get the joke. I wasn’t referring to what I was wearing, but to the blood soaked one I had used to clean his wound. I pursed my lips in a pout. What an odd thing for men to like. I knew he didn't like talking and that he wasn't in a condition to do so… Still the questions kept coming, innocent ones I couldn't help but ask.

“Do you need anything else?” My friend was silent for a few moments, leaning against me slightly as we sat there. Finally he sagged down a bit.

“I… Stay?” He sounded tired.

He was asking me to stay? I shuffled beneath his loose grip. Tristain groaned in protest as I did. “I'm not leaving.” I assured him. He had been there for me, the least I could do was be there for him. I reached up to grasp the arm around my shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “if you need anything just ask.” The man was quiet for a long few moments, and I shifted under his arm nervously when he didn't respond. The silence stretched on, and I turned to try to check his face with my other hand.

The movement was enough to topple him onto me. Down we went, his face bouncing against my collar as his arm got pinned beneath me, with him half-slumped on top of me. There was an unsteady breathing, rattling - and then I realized it wasn't unsteady, but rhythmic in a labored way. Tristain had passed out. On me.

“uh… Uh-Uhm… I'd… Yo-You… Oh-Oh… “

There was little I could do. He was a stocky man. If I pushed hard enough I was sure i could send him toppling to the floor but that would injure him more. How was I supposed to handle this situation?

I let him lay there for a few minutes as I collected my thoughts. It… wasn't that bad. If anything it was comforting. I knew it wasn't intentional but having the gentle weight of another against me was relaxing. I closed my eyes and nestled my face into the crook of his neck.

Was what I was doing wrong? Taking advantage of the situation? Seeking warmth and comfort from a man who wasn't even conscious? The arm around me tightened, and Tristain let out an odd noise that it took me time to realize was content as he shifted, his body slightly straightening out.

“It’s OK… “ I awkwardly mumbled as a hand fell into his hair, gently running through the short tousled strands. “ I'm here.”

I hadn't realized how tired I was myself. Today had been an ordeal. More so for him… and I felt guilty for thinking that I was exhausted. My eyelids felt heavy and I struggled to keep them open.

My movements slowly stilled as I began to fall asleep.

[Aegis]

Tristain felt odd. Comfortable and warm in a way that he was not familiar with. The last thing he clearly remembered was Aynur, and trying to comfort her and calm her back down from her mild panic attack. After that it was a blur. The bed beneath him felt - oddly soft, and supple in a way that was quite frankly weird, yet pleasant to the touch. He blinked once as he realized that his nose was filled with the scent of linen, and a slight hint of floral undertone, and he shot up quickly, utterly mortified.

And then bit back a strangled cry of pain, choking the noise in the back of his throat, as his sudden and harsh motion stretched the injury on his back. He felt a fresh wave of heat, and pain, ripple through him, and an odd pulsating warmth as the edges of the torn flesh throbbed in protest. Tristain took a few shallow, ragged breaths, and his dark brown eyes searched through the darkness to confirm what he thought was the case.

Sure enough, Aynur was laying there, on his blood. The both of them were covered in dried blood - his blood - and she was wearing one of his shirts. He blinked a few times, and watched blankly as she blindly groped in his direction, murmuring sleepily. With the weight off her chest she rolled onto her side giving a soft sigh. He watched her for a moment, an odd feeling in the back of his throat and his chest, then he shook his head sharply and stood up.

The world swayed around him as he stood up, and he winced. The steps he took were gentle and tentative as he tried to keep from aggravating his injury any more. Blood loss had left him light headed, and however long he had been passed out had certainly not been enough for him to make a recovery. The house around him was still dark, but by now he had figured his way around well enough to not need to fumble for one of the lanterns to find his way through.

When he made it through the hall to one of the rooms with a window, he looked outside. The moon was still high in the sky, the inky dark of the night dotted with scintillating points of starlight. He leaned against the windowsill and stared outside as he caught his breath. The mercenary knew he was extremely lucky that Aynur had still been here. She was slowly recovering from what had been done to her - very, very slowly, her trauma had not been a light one. He was still half afraid every time he came back that she would have left, either because she had - just left, out of belief she didn't deserve something good happening to her; or worse.

He let out a slow breath, and made his way to the bathroom. Along the way, he finally picked up one of the lanterns and lit it, the flickering warm light brightening the dark interior of the building. In the bathroom he stopped in front of the mirror and looked at himself in it. A short, bitter laugh escaped trembling lips.

Tristain looked a bit like a gruesome nightmare. Dried, crusted blood clung to his body in random patches, thick and dark in some places, in others light and smeared. The bandages wrapped around his waist were poorly tied - and he did remember doing that, vaguely. They were also ruined with blood at this point, heavy and damp with blood. Tristain set the lantern down on the counter, and slowly, gingerly, peeled the bandages free, hissing in pain as the fabric tugged on the blood that had dried between it and his skin.

Twisting his body carefully, Tristain tried to look at his injury. He could see part of it - red and raw, with blood trickling from the edges. It was a good thing that Aynur couldn't see - even to him, who had seen his share of injuries while working and training with the Danse, this looked nasty. Barbed arrows were brutal weapons. Tristain let out a shallow breath, and dropped the bandages into the sink, and began running water over them. Those would soak and rinse, and he turned to where he had the other bandages. There were some sitting on a low, open shelf - for Aynur, in case she needed some.

He ignored those, instead stumbling to cabinet. He opened it and pulled out other rolls of bandages, along with bundles of cotton. With shaking fingers, he found the anti-septic, and dipped one of the bundles of cotton in it. The mercenary gritted his teeth, and swabbed his wound with it. Despite his attempt to stay quiet, the sharp, stinging pain drew a loud groan of discomfort from him as the burning of the anti-septic hit him. Biting his tongue, he pressed on, cleaning the wound and trying to rebandage it.

[Aynur]

I awoke when the early morning sun hit my skin, warming it. Even though I were blind the light shone brightly through my closed lids. I groaned as I sat up.

“Tristain?”

The night before had not escaped me. When I didn't get a reply I felt blindly around the bed. Parts of it were still damp. Blood? My heart skipped a beat. Oh no. Oh no I had allowed myself to fall asleep when I was meant to be looking after him.

I wrinkled my nose. Something was burning. No...cooking? Wait… Was Tristain cooking? Did that mean he felt better? I sat at the edge of the bed with my hand over my chest feeling my erratic heart. I needed to stop freaking out over the smallest of things.

I knew it was foolish but I could not help myself. Everything was different and I knew nothing. I hated it and I hated myself. But.. I pushed those feelings down. Just like I did every other morning.

I couldn't focus on my own selfish thoughts. I needed to check on Tristain. He was my friend and I may have failed him.

I pushed myself off the bed and made my way into the loungeroom. “Tristain?”

“Aynur. You are awake.” His voice still sounded a bit strained, as he called back to me, but it did sound - steadier. Not as weak. “Do you feel comfortable with placing plates and silverware at the table?” And he was back to talking formally.

I stilled, placing a hand on the back of my familiar chair. I wasn't. I wasn't at all comfortable with it. I wanted to curl up into a ball and…

No… No… DeEp breaths. Deep breaths.

“yeh.” I tried to sound confident but my voice came out quiet and unsure. I grit my teeth and continued forward toward the kitchen.

“Thank you. And - thank you for last night. You.. Likely saved me.” The second part of this was very quiet. “I am.. Sorry I put you through that.”

Plates were in the first cupboard.. I pulled tjen out and turned to the table. It was three steps away from the cupboard.

One…

Two…

Three…

“Oof!” The plates clattered as I bumped against the table. I clumsily put them down and sighed. “You scared me. You made me realize I don't… I
I enjoy your company and don't want you to leave.”

I shuffled around the table till I hit a chair. “But I know that is a reality I have to face one day.” I said as I pulled out the chair and sat in it. I didn't feel confident enough to get the cutlery and I knew he'd understand. There was a silence from the place he was cooking, and by now I knew it meant he was thinking about what he wanted to say - my friend was usually very deliberate about his choice of words. Probably because he didn't like using them.

I heard the drawer where the cutlery was open - the soft jangle of metal giving away which one it was - then footsteps. I felt him beside me, that same solid warmth that had lulled me to sleep last night, and knew he was leaning over me to - yes, there was the clink as he set the fork down. The smell of eggs greeted me as he leaned forward again, setting the food onto the plate directly from the pan - and then he was gone, moving away to his side of the table.

“I suppose. That day though, will only come when you are ready for it. I - am quite happy to have you with me, and have no desire to change that.” His words were slow and steady as he spoke, his voice soft.

I felt him press a fork into my hand. I carefully slid it over to my plate to scoop up the meal. I didn't have the words to tell him that wasn't what I meant. He was spending his hard earned coin on this place. On me. And what had I done this past week? Nothing. He wanted to make a name for himself. He couldn't do that sitting here babysitting me.

I lifted my head to where I thought he sat, and offered him a warm smile. “are… You feeling better? You look… Ererr… Sound better.”

“I am.. In one piece. Sore, and I likely need to change my bandage again. Aynur.” His voice became sterner for a moment. “Aynur. I needed you last night. Without your help, I am almost certain I would have died. You helped me. Do not doubt that.” A sigh. “Please, do not doubt that. I was… Afraid you were gone. And relieved when you were still here. Not just because of my injury.” I almost missed his last words, mumbled under his breath.

I ate in silence. It was easier to concentrate on my meal with him talking to me, setting me at ease. “Where would I go? The streets are my home, and you are my friend. I wouldn't leave you.” I set the fork down on the empty plate and pushed it away from me so I would not knock it down accidently.

What more was there to say? How should I cheer him up? “Oh!” I blinked in realization. “I am making you something. It's almost finished. Did you want to see?”

“I… Yes, please.”

[Aegis]

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.”

[Aynur]

I was thankful that he had listened. I had feared that without my intervention he'd just let it fester. I fumbled blindly in wait for him. I sat myself back down on the plush chair.

My world had been blind for months now. I had gotten used to not seeing things, but - I had also given up. Before it was so much smaller. I knew the coldness of the hard walls. The stench of putrid garbage, and the footsteps of many who passed by. I Had no reason to venture out - away from my hole. There was no reason.

Sometimes, I still wondered if there was any reason, even now.

But then, just as my thoughts drifted down the highway to that cold, lonely place I heard Tristan's footfalls. Padding ever so familiarly, softly, as though a mother were preparing a meal the sounds bought an equal feeling of warmth to me.

“Ready?”

His fingers gently grazed mine as he lead them to the metal of his arm. I paused as I felt the rough material of his shirt. Gone was the familiarity of his upper armour. “Mmm.” I gave him a nod. “Not wearing your chest armour.” I commented as my grip around his arm tightened. The armour was familiar, welcomed. But so was his warmth. I wanted to leech it from him, but I was ever so afraid my cold, thin fingers would scare him away. “Let’s get you the attention you need.”

He laid one of his large hands over mine, holding it in place as he turned and began slowly walking. “No, I am not. Most doctors do not appreciate armoured men coming in. I feel naked without it, but I must if I must.” His fingers tightened on mine.

We left the house, Tristain being careful to lock up and walking slowly. I could tell it wasn’t his usual pace. His step was off kilter, but he was ever mindful of me. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. I always enjoyed the fresh air. I concentrated on the sound of the metal, his footsteps.

“You’re like my clang-clang tin man…” I mused.

“I am your wh… Girl.” He paused, and I couldn't make out the tone of his voice. “I am at least your clang-clang iron man.” He was doing it on purpose, he must be, because now I could hear the amusement in his words.

I laughed, it almost hurt to do so. I wasn’t sure when the last time I earnestly, honestly laughed was. It hurt my chest. It hurt my cheeks and my mouth. My eyes stung… was laughter meant to be like this? I shook my head and drew in a breath. “Don’t trip on my behalf.” I jested as I nudged his side with my elbow.

“There are many things I would do on your behalf. I will remove tripping from that list.” He still sounded amused as he gently took elbow I had just nudged him with, his fingers warm against my skin. “But how about next fall? Can I attribute that to you?”

“I suppose you could.” I felt him take my hand in his and bring it up to his face - and he pressed my fingers to his lips, so I could feel the grin on his face. He quickly let go, hand falling from mine and I pulled away slowly. Confused. What? Was that? I clenched my fingers as I rubbed the soft pads against the palm of my hand. “Tris-” I wanted to ask him what he meant but his words drowned out my barely audible whisper.

“Then I will. ‘Help, I have fallen for Aynur.’ Yes, I think that will work.”

“Fallen for me?” I asked. “I’m...confused…” I felt him stop beside me, and heard him walk in front of me.

“What is it, Aynur?” His voice was softer now, pitched just to reach my ears. “Did I say something wrong? I - apologize if I did, I was trying to continue our jokes and I know I am not very good at them and I let things-”

“Ah- no- I just…” I paused. I didn’t mean to interrupt him. “Tristain.” I began. “That phrasing can be misinterpreted.” I gave him a smile. I knew this was not what he meant. We were friends, had only known each other a few days and whilst his presence brought me a great deal of comfort I did not, could not seek anything more.

There was silence for a long moment, dragging on long enough that a weight began to form in my throat. Then, softly, a sigh, so faint I barely heard it - and his hand clasped mine. “I apologize, Aynur. I did not want to upset you. While it was not the meaning, it is not outside the realm of the possible. I cherish -” he broke off, his normally rough voice almost smoothing out from how softly he was speaking. “You are a fast, dear friend to me. The first to give me a gift that had no ulterior motive, but just because. I..” He broke off, and sighed again.

“We are near the inn. I should.. Let you rest here while I find a doctor.”

The feeling of elation I had felt quickly subsided, being replaced with concern. Worry. Doubt. “Of course.” What more was to be said -

his hand tightened on mine, not painfully but reassuringly. “I have to be in good condition before I try to figure out what my feelings are, Aynur. I know I care about you. For now, I hope that is enough.”

“Eh?” I jolted, turning toward him. “I…” I hadn’t been expecting that. I wanted to be his friend, I didn’t want to upset him or attempt any sort of...romantic relationship. I didn’t think I was capable of such a thing. “That’s more than I deserve.” And it was true. I didn’t deserve any sort of affections. Especially not from him.

We weaved through the tables in the inn as he lead me to the back corner. I preferred it that way.

“Why...this place though?”

He asked as he pulled out a chair for me to sit down. Of course… this place wasn’t exactly kind to me before, and I very much doubted they’d be kind to me now. But to me, it was special.

“Because…” I began as I sat down. “It is where we met.”

He paused beside me, quiet for a moment, before he reached out and squeezed my shoulder tightly with one hand. Finally he let out a slow breath. “If anyone gives you any trouble - and I do mean any, trouble, Aynur - run out in the streets and shout my name. I will come for you.” Tristain’s hand lingered on my shoulder, and I knew he didn't want to leave. Much like me, it seemed he remembered how the matron of this place had treated me before.

“I’ll be fine. Set me up with a warm drink and I can amuse myself for an hour at least just by listening to the people.” I reached out toward thin air and my hand landed on the table. “I promise. I’ll be ok.” And I would be this? This warm place dressed in clean clothes with a belly full of food.

I was the most ok I had been in a very long time.