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It was right down the hall; he was sure of it. Not a single bone of doubt existed in his body. His focused, piercing eyes stared as though he could scare it to death with only his gaze. A futile attempt it was, but Chilchuck couldn’t help but burn with hatred.
A damn mimic. He really hates those things. Countless of his own lives had been lost to them; he’d been far too careless in his youth. He refuses to slip up again, thinking that surely, he’s learned his lesson by now.
“Chilchuck?” Laios’ voice rang from the next room over, where they’d all decided to set up camp. Chilchuck wishes he had noticed the mimic before they’d finalized the decision.
“I’m coming. Just double checking for traps,” He calls.
“Ah, thank you!” Marcille’s voice rings through.
Chilchuck sighed. The situation wasn’t the best for them currently, but he did his best to push those worries down before heading back to their campsite.
“Any traps?” Senshi asks from the corner of the room, leaning against the cobblestone wall where he organizes their inventory, cleaning tools and making sure their food supply is sufficient. However, in this case, it is most certainly not.
“No traps,” Chilchuck says, throwing his arms behind his head and intertwining his fingers there. “We should be safe for the night. I didn’t hear any monsters nearby, either.”
Marcille smiles at the news with an exasperated clap of her hands, and Chilchuck does not miss how Laios pouts in the corner of his eye.
“Good to hear,” Senshi continues, wiping a cloth over his Mythril blade. “Ye should wash up now, that is if you still plan on taking first watch tonight,” he sets the blade down and points at Chilchuck with the wooden spoon he picks up.
The half-foot nods in agreeance, suddenly feeling exceptionally dirty as he recalls the last time he bathed. He certainly doesn’t mind going first and moves to gather the things he needs from his pack. A change of clean clothes, a towel, and a bottle of delicately crafted shampoo—courtesy of Marcille.
Beginning his walk to their current source of water, he breathed a sigh of relief upon recognizing that it was just a few rooms down in the opposite direction of the mimic.
.
Moments of peace and serenity surround Chilchuck’s consciousness as he sinks deeper into the water, pleasantly warm and inviting. However, this moment is quickly and rudely interrupted by an awkward shuffling approaching from behind. He remains unalarmed, knowing very well what—or rather who—this mysteriously awkward shuffling belongs to. And that would be Laios.
“Need something?” Chilchuck asks, eyes remaining closed as he speaks to the man behind him. The shuffling stops and he can practically hear how Laios stumbles over his own thoughts.
“No... Senshi said it’s best you don’t go alone. There’s still a possibility it’s unsafe.” Laios fiddles with his thumbs, holding a towel of his own between them.
Whether Senshi actually said that or not, he finds he doesn’t really care, and it’s not like Laios’ statement was totally untrue. It’s always safer to be in pairs, even if it’s not the most desirable.
However, contrary to popular opinion—including his own—Chilchuck doesn’t necessarily mind Laios’ company. Sure, he may be a giant idiot who couldn’t read the room if his life depended on it, and doesn’t always know when to stop talking—or sometimes when to start, but he’s not the worst.
On occasion, when in private just like this, they’d had some good conversations. Good enough that Chilchuck was surprised to hear such emotion leave Laios’ mouth. It’s moments and conversations such as those that showed Chilchuck how much more complex Laios was than he’d initially thought. He'd grown some respect for the man after that.
“You just gonna stand there or are you getting in?” Chilchuck cracks an eye open, leaning his head back to look up at Laios, raising a brow at the man’s flushed face. “What?”
“Nothing, sorry.”
Laios brushes off the pink dusting on his cheeks, walking around the bath and stepping in, sinking into the surrounding warmth with a heavy sigh.
“Rough night?” Chilchuck jokes, a smirk flashing across his face as he watches Laios’ muscles relax and release all the tension from their extraneous day.
Instead of reciprocating the humor, Laios nods truthfully, eyes still closed in bliss. Chilchuck’s smile droops a bit at the confession.
“Oh,” he looks down, unsure of whether Laios wants silence or some kind of comfort. But knowing him, it’s most likely the ladder. “Want to talk about it?”
Laios simply shakes his head. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t already guessed,” he says. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”
Chilchuck wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest if Laios wished to talk about it. Although, he’s not sure if he’d be able to admit that. Given Laios admitted that he’s mostly aware of what the topic might be, he assumes it’s about Falin, something about Laios’ past, or their current situation. He wants to hear what Laios has to say, but doesn’t push it.
“Okay.”
They sit in silence for a while, but Chilchuck finds it hard to relax when Laios is clearly antsy. He tries to distract himself from it by moving to wash his hair with the delicately crafted shampoo, and Laios—thankfully—takes it as his sign to do the same. So, at least they are busying themselves with their own tasks while sitting in an increasingly awkward silence. There is, however, an impulse to break it.
A growling stomach seems to do the trick. Chilchuck turned his head to glance at Laios, who had frozen at the embarrassing demonstration of hunger his body unwillingly displayed. The half-foot frowns, disliking the way his stomach growls in return, as if agreeing it’s hunger.
This brings he and Laios to an awkward point: do they talk about it? It’s the problem no one wanted to voice out loud, possibly fearful of the answer they’d receive.
But the situation has it that, for the past 3 days, the party has been completely absent of any food source. No monsters, empty rations, barren dungeon floors. Their lack of food has been contributing to a great lack of energy within their party members, which has, in kind, been contributing to their lack of progress in their journey. That is, unless Chilchuck admits to the mimic he’d seen in the other room.
“Sorry,” Laios simply says, placing a delicate hand over his stomach, as if to console it into silence.
Chilchuck decides to ignore the inevitable conversation, even if just for a bit longer. He rises from the bath, covering himself with his towel and passing Laios his own to dry off.
“Don’t worry about putting your armor back on for now. I’m taking first watch tonight,” he says, void of eye contact as he begins to dress himself.
“Thanks...” Laios mutters, suddenly feeling the weight of fatigue over his shoulders as he’s tasked with getting out of the warm, soothing water.
Chilchuck looks down, away from Laios as the tall-man finds it in himself to stand and exit the bath, walking away to dress himself in the opposite corner. Chilchuck bites his lip, chewing on it, anxiously debating his next course of action.
Guilt creeps its way up Chilchuck’s spine, and the fire that blooms in his gut ends up getting the better of him.
“Wait,” he says to the figure who was miraculously already dressed and in the doorway. Laios had promptly come to a halt upon Chilchuck’s words, his slightly sunken and tired eyes glancing over. Chilchuck’s heart aches at the sight—rather unexpected. “I think there’s a monster in a nearby room...”
It’s almost comical just how quickly Laios’ face lights up, all the color returning to his skin as if he hadn’t been starving for days.
“Really? Where? Did you just hear it?” He lowers his voice to a whisper, “Should I be quiet?” then back to his normal tone, “Is it big? Dangerous? Small? Loud?” The man rambles on and on, much to Chilchuck’s distaste.
“Laios, enough!”
“Sorry.”
“Listen,” Chilchuck starts, tone serious and low. Laios thankfully catches on to the change in atmosphere, his posture becoming smaller as he directs his full attention to Chilchuck, stepping back into the room. “It’s a mimic. I saw it after we set up camp, and I didn’t want to say anything at first, but...” he scratches the back of his head. “We’d probably be able to eat it.”
Chilchuck looks up, rather reluctantly, unsure what to make of Laios’ blank expression. He waits for an answer, but an answer, Chilchuck isn’t sure if he receives a very clear one. Laios begins to speak, but his eyes gleam in an interesting way, and the half-foot isn’t sure if he’s seen that look in Laios’ eyes before. He doesn’t quite know what to make of it.
“That means a lot, Chilchuck. I’m sure it will mean a lot to the others, too.” Laios’ smile is soft, and so are his eyes. A shiver racks Chilchuck’s spine—not necessarily unpleasant.
“Don’t mention it,” is all Chilchuck says. Uncomfortable silence lingers over them, but Laios makes a move before it becomes too unbearable.
“I’ll put my armor back on, and if you could show me to it, that would be great.”
Chilchuck suddenly draws a blank. “Wait, surely, you can’t be planning on fighting it alone.” He holds out his hands as if to stop him. Laios seems confused, however, tilting his head.
“Yeah? Was that not the plan? I don’t want to wake everyone just for a mimic.”
Chilchuck ignores how Laios’ simple dismissal of the mimic makes him wince.
“They’re more dangerous than you think, Laios. You’re not going in there by yourself, that’s reckless. I’ll go with you.”
At this, something in Laios’ demeanor shifts. It’s more noticeable than before. More drastic.
Laios had a basic understanding of Chilchuck’s distaste for mimics. Never had he learned of or inquired the exact reason as to why. Today, he’d find out.
“Okay! Let’s go, then, it’ll be a good surprise for Senshi, he’s been worried sick about our diet lately,” Laios says as Chilchuck finishes dressing himself, acquiring the rest of his gear and beginning to lead the both of them out of the bathing room and down the hall.
“Yeah, he wouldn’t shut the hell up about it,” Chilchuck grumbled. Laios didn’t seem to hear or notice the snarky comment, seemingly lost in thought. Most likely about the mimic.
A simple shake of his head in disappointment is all Chilchuck offers before stopping in front of a doorway. It’s not too far from camp, but they’ve turned enough corners that sound wouldn’t carry too easily to their party members. They had to be careful.
Chilchuck points to a box in the far corner. “There.”
Laios straightens up but does not step inside. He knows how this goes.
“It’s most likely trapped. I'll disarm them without disrupting it, then you’ll do exactly as I say.”
Laios nods, adopting a more serious expression.
Chilchuck steps carefully into the room, staying on the tips of his toes as he listens for unique or concerning contraptions within the floors or walls. He avoided pressure plates that were sure to be wired to traps within the room. From past experience, Chilchuck is much aware of the kind of traps set up in rooms like these and is sure to disable them as best he can. He starts with the strange puzzles he remembers from last time and now has the assurance that the door won’t shut on either of them.
As he goes about disarming numerous traps and pressure plates, dislodging stones in the walls, Chilchuck became rather immersed in his task, forgetting how the noise of walls moving and wires ticking was rather loud, and caused the mimic to stir. The chest it lays in shakes, the rumbling of wood sending a jolt up Chilchuck’s spine.
“Laios,” Chilchuck whispers, turning toward the tall-man, who still stands in the doorway. “It knows we’re here. We need to stay quiet.” Chilchuck has yet to finish disarming the traps he needs to, and cannot properly instruct Laios to move about the room if the both of them need to stay quiet. There are too many pressure plates and unseen traps to be able to move freely about the room. It’s too dangerous.
The mimic sits in the opposite corner of the room, so there’s still ample distance between them. However, the chest shakes again, this time a little more aggressively, and Chilchuck’s world suddenly feels a whole lot smaller. It hits him rather hard, the knowledge that if they’re not careful and precise with their actions, there could be permanent consequences.
Since their party has been so substantially low on food and nutrients, Marcille is low on mana. She can barely afford to heal wounds or injuries, nonetheless be able to resurrect someone. Chilchuck isn’t entirely sure if Laios is aware of this fact, given that it hadn’t been said out loud, but he could be wrong. He guesses that maybe Laios does, taking in how the tall-man has seemed to be acting extra careful.
Chilchuck’s heart beat a little bit faster at the growing stress of the situation. He racks his brain, almost feeling the gears turn painfully as he struggles to think of a way to communicate with the tall-man. Thinking to no avail, he figures he might just have to do this part on his own.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it, and it feels simple looking back on it. Just flip it over, leave it vulnerable, render it helpless, and strike. He must do the same. Leave it upside down, even for only a few seconds, just to give Laios a window to attack. But what if Laios triggers a trap in that small window of time? There are spikes in the floor and arrows seated in the wall; Laios is too big. He’s sure to be hit.
Chilchuck curses under his breath, reaching the unfortunate conclusion that he has no choice but to do what he hates most: to simply try and see what happens.
He puts his ear to the wall he’s next to, shuddering at the sensation of cold dungeon stone. He doesn’t hear anything that indicates a contraption of sorts, but he can hear subtle vibrations, far and distant, and he assumes that there are traps within the walls adjacent to him. He then turns his focus to the pressure plates around him, a spark of an idea igniting in his brain.
Delicate and careful hands remove the bandages around the soles of his feet. It’s a risk, but it might just do the job.
He tears them up to shreds, sprinkling the scraps he’s created onto different pieces of stone. The material of the bandages is light enough not to trigger anything, but he’ll have to be conscious of their weightlessness.
Chilchuck points to the different stone pieces with bandages on top, showing Laios where they’re located. He makes a gesture of motion, as if pressing down on it, then makes an ‘X’ with his arms, followed by a swipe of his thumb across his neck. Laios nods, providing an assurance of understanding.
Do not step on those stones.
While Chilchuck stands and brainstorms his next action, it appears as though the mimic is impatient. It rattles the chest it inhabits, causing Chilchuck to freeze. He’s confused, as they’ve made no noise and have not disturbed it directly. But somehow, for whatever reason, it knows they’re there. It knows Chilchuck’s there, and time has suddenly run out. Large, sharp, threatening claws emerge from the doors of the chest, and there are a few seconds of quiet, tense, eerie tension before it’s quickly broken.
It lunges.
“Laios! Be ready!” Chilchuck leaps back, careful, precise. “Wait for my signal!”
He’s coordinated in the ways he navigates the room, avoiding plates marked with fabric. Laios has now entered, holding his sword in front of him as he wearily watches where he steps. Chilchuck’s breath hitches as he notices how the mimic ignores Laios, its target already set on him.
The mimic charges and fear overtakes his heart. Remembrance of their situation tugs at his nerves and makes the fear all more real.
It runs, and Chilchuck acts a little too late for his comfort, jumping for the far wall behind the mimic. Claws snap mere inches away from his face. He makes it to the wall, a few more feet between them as the mimic struggles to turn around, but it’s not long before it’s running again. He’s cornered, and it’s a fact he notices quickly.
“Go left!” Chilchuck shouts, and Laios does not need to be told twice, glancing toward the floor before stepping as far left as he can in one stride.
Chilchuck waits, a second, two seconds, not three, and jumps onto the plate next to him, putting all his weight on it before ducking down and protecting his head. Like splinters pulled from a wound, arrows sprout from the wall in the mimic’s direction, but not without skimming Laios’ cheek.
Much to his disappointment, the arrows do nothing but reflect off the wooden chest. The mimic continues charging, completely unaffected. Chilchuck finds himself cornered once more, and Laios sees this clearly. He looks down and steps forward, surprised when the floor pushes down with a click.
The bandages must’ve been scattered by the wind when the arrows shot. That’s not good.
“Laios!”
A useless hand reaches for the tall-man, but spears have already shot from the floor. A cry of pain echoed through the room, but Chilchuck couldn’t see anything past the mimic blocking his view, quickly approaching.
He takes a gamble, leaping as high as he can over the mimic. It runs into the wall as he successfully makes it over, eyes filled with panic glancing over Laios’ pained expression. He’s collapsed to the floor, holding his leg as a large gash on his calf bleeds profusely. The cut is deep, and Laios cannot stand.
Rushing toward him, coordination growing clumsy and his careful movements turning into hazardous ones, he tries to help him, but can’t. It takes almost no time at all before the mimic is right behind him again. He leaps out of the way, activating another trap. He narrowly escapes a bellowing fire that erupts from the wall, but he feels a stinging burn on the back of his arm.
Another glance is spared in Laios’ direction, and his heart skips a painful beat at the way the tall-man's legs tremble. He’s trying to stand, trying to pick up his sword, trying to fight.
With his direction elsewhere, Chilchuck triggers yet another trap by the wall. Damn his carelessness. Damn Laios.
He attempts to get the mimic in front of it. Spears. He can tell by the infrastructure of the wall. His thoughts, however, are jumbled, and feel delayed. He waits until the mimic is close enough before stepping out of the way. The spears shoot out with vigorous force, slicing Chilchuck’s side, sending the mimic flying back, successfully flipping it over.
Laios limps on one leg, using the remaining strength in his body to hoist the sword up into the air and plunge it straight down, right through the meaty flesh. Its muscles flex and its claws pinch in the air aimlessly until finally falling limp. Dead.
Silence. Heavy breaths. Panting. Pain.
Laios’ posture wavers and he falls to his knees, releasing the grip on his sword. Chilchuck rushes over without a second thought, ignoring the crippling pain in his side.
“Are you alright? Hey! Laios?” Chilchuck kneels down, more from his own pain but also to bring Laios’ face to light. He exhales a breath of relief when he sees that Laios’ eyes have not lost their golden hue of life just yet.
“Chil,” he breathes, “You’re okay.”
Chilchuck shakes his head, ignoring how the sentence affected him. Ignoring how Laios had seemingly no concern for himself, and thought only of Chilchuck. Selfless. Selflessly endearing.
He moves to look at Laios’ wound, visibly wincing at the sight. It’s deep, and Laios wouldn’t be able to walk on it until it fully healed, most likely. They’ll have to clean it and stitch it, but it is not fatal.
“You’re okay,” Chilchuck assures him with a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll stitch this up and have Marcille heal it once she’s able.” Laios doesn’t need the assurance, he knows it. But he appreciates it regardless.
Instead, his eyes bring attention to the large red stain growing on the side of Chilchuck’s shirt. It looks bad.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.” Chilchuck dismisses it quickly, not worrying about that right now. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about his failure. About how he’s once again made a mistake that could’ve been fatal, all because he was faced with a damn mimic. “Let’s get you back to camp. Senshi can come back for the mimic and your sword.”
“Kensuke,” Laios corrects.
“Sure," Chilchuck sighs, fondness blooming in his heart. "Let's get out of here. I don't want to spend another second with that thing."
Laios reaches out to Chilchuck’s side again, opening his mouth to speak words of protest, but is cut short by the striking bolt of pain that runs from his leg. His words came out as choked cries of pain. Chilchuck’s heart feels all over the place.
“Come on, you’ll be alright. It’ll be okay.” Chilchuck pulls Laios' arm to hoist it over his shoulders, trying to provide some kind of leverage for Laios to lean on. It doesn’t do much, and quite frankly, it looks ridiculous. A tall-man leaning on a half-foot for support. It’s laughable. Laios appreciates it, though.
Slowly, but surely, the two of them make their way down the hall. Laios is clearly struggling, panting, and almost unable to maintain his balance. Chilchuck’s side aches with the pressure of Laios’ weight.
“You’re gonna be okay,” Chilchuck whispers through Laios’ whimpers and grunts of exertion. “Just a little bit more, you got it.”
It’s a tenderness Laios had never seen from Chilchuck before. Maybe glimpses, a small crack or two in the usual facade, but never quite like this. Never straightforward words. Never such a clear tone of gentleness and caution previously unfounded.
“And look at that, we made it.”
Laios lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He lets go of Chilchuck and falls to the floor—rather dramatic, in Chilchuck’s opinion—exhausted and trying to work with shallow breaths.
“Laios!” Marcille shrieks, rushing over to his side and immediately bombarding him with questions that he couldn’t even begin to muster the answer to. “Why didn’t you guys call for us? That looks really bad, are you okay? This is ridiculous! How reckless were you two being out there to get hurt like this?”
Marcille rambles on, and Chilchuck is unamused. He glances up to meet Senshi’s equally concerned gaze. A sigh leaves his lips.
“Alright!” He shouts, wincing at how it made his side throb. “Let’s focus on getting Laios patched up before we ask questions.” He walks over to his bag as he talks, unpacking his first aid supplies and passing them to Marcille.
“...Is there danger nearby? Should we be careful?” Marcille asks, quietly directing Laios to give her his leg so she can see the damage up close.
“No. Laios and I were attacked by a mimic, he killed it. It’s in a room down the hall.” Chilchuck kneels beside Marcille, hands hovering over Laios’ body. The poor guy looks as pale as ever. He hasn’t said much since he made sure Chilchuck was okay. His brows furrow.
If he were to guess, the blood loss must’ve taken a toll on him. It was a deep wound, and he was almost sure the bone could be seen.
Senshi and Marcille begin to converse, and Chilchuck is grateful for the opportunity. He leans down close to Laios’ face.
“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, a heartbeat of relief pumping blood through his veins when Laios looks at him, a weak smile tugging at his lips.
“...I’m okay. Thank you, Chil. For helping me.”
Chilchuck pulls away, not saying anything in return. He instead places an assuring hand on top of Laios’, even if only for a brief moment.
“I can stitch the wound, I have experience,” Chilchuck says, motioning for Marcille to move over. “If you have anything to help for the pain, it’d be best to use it. Until you have enough mana, Laios will have to deal with it. He’s already lost a lot of blood, so it’s not ideal.”
Senshi stands and walks to the doorway. “I can go grab the mimic for ‘ye. We can make a meal out of it and get some strength back into all of ‘ya.”
“Thank you, Senshi. All the traps should be disabled, but be careful.”
Senshi hums an acknowledgment, leaving the room.
Methodic fingers get to work. Thread through skin, calculated movements, assuring touches, and hushed whispers of encouragement for Laios’ ears only. Marcille makes a tea of herbs, claiming they have healing properties. She ushers for Laios to drink, and he’s thankful.
“So, you guys found a mimic?”
“I did,” Chilchuck corrects. “I didn’t want to say anything. Initially, that was. I ended up with the thought we could use it for food. I didn’t expect it to happen this way.”
“It sure looks like a battlefield in there,” Senshi says, reappearing at the doorway with the dead mimic in one hand, Kensuke in the other. “Must’ve been a thoroughly crafted room, with so many traps.”
Chilchuck nods. “The traps wouldn't've been a problem, but something about that mimic...” He grimaces with distaste, directing his attention back to bandaging Laios’ now-stitched leg.
The conversation doesn’t go further than that. Chilchuck hears the clanking of pans and the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board, hard mimic shell splintering into bits.
“You think this is enough?” Senshi asks from behind him.
Chilchuck turns his head a little too fast, and his whole word spins. He barely catches himself from falling backward, and it takes embarrassingly long for him to reorient himself. Damn. Maybe he should stitch up his own wound soon.
“...Yeah... Yeah, it’s plenty,” he says, a little distant, but conscious enough to see the large plate of mimic waiting to be boiled.
“Chilchuck,” says a small voice from under him. Chilchuck turns back around—slower, this time—and meets Laios’ large eyes. Those golden eyes move lower, and Chilchuck suppresses a gasp of surprise as a large hand presses onto his side. It’s gentle, but firm. His first instinct is to retract from the touch, but it’s a stark reminder of his pain, and a shockingly comfortable gesture of care.
“I’ll take care of it... Just, focus on yourself right now.”
Laios is clearly unhappy with that answer but removes his hand. Chilchuck catches the red painted on his palm.
“How much blood have you lost by now?” Laios asks, not waiting for an answer. “You lecture me for recklessness but partake in it yourself. Let me see.”
Chilchuck spares an anxious glance to Marcille and Senshi on the other side of the room, but they’re so absorbed in chatting and cooking that they don’t pay much attention to him and Laios. So, he slowly lifts his shirt, just enough for his wound to be visible.
“Lay down,” Laios says suddenly. “I’ll get Marcille.”
“What? No!” He whispers a shout. “She has limited mana; I won’t waste it on a petty cut. It was reckless of me to be in the way of that trap anyway.”
“Blaming yourself isn’t going to heal it, either.” Laios’ eyes are stern. Chilchuck isn’t used to the sight, or the guilt it puts on his shoulders. “Mistakes happen. I don’t think any less of you.”
Oh. That puts a lump in Chilchuck’s throat.
“...Okay.” Chilchuck moves back, laying down on his opposite side so Laios has easier access to his wound. “Have you ever done stitches before?”
There’s a moment of silence.
“I’m sure it can’t be that hard.”
“Oh, Gods.”
“I’ll figure it out! You just stick this in there... and then thread the needle...”
“Ow! Don’t do it like that- Give it!”
“Sorry!”
“Look at how I do it.”
“Okay... I think I got it.”
“Do you?”
“Only one way to find out?”
The rest of it goes about as smoothly as it can with Laios. Chilchuck was gritting his teeth in pain the whole time, sure, but it was done. Honestly, it was a side of Laios previously unseen.
At one point, when Chilchuck was biting his glove and flinching with every stitch, Laios stopped, just for a brief moment. During this moment, he placed the warmth of his palm over his side, gentle, but there. It was quick, it was small, but it was such tenderness Chilchuck didn’t expect. Tenderness that made his heart ache.
Then, before he knew it, the stitches were done. Laios helped him wrap bandages around his torso, placing that palm over the spots of blood that seeped through. Chilchuck finds himself starting to mind less and less.
By the time they’ve finished tending to both of their injuries, the mimic has been boiled and prepared for them all. This time, Chilchuck willingly lends his lockpicking tools to be used for easier consumption. It’s a gesture that surprises them all, but Laios extends a smile of thanks.
They eat in relative silence, but Marcille conjures up some decent small talk between them. They fall into a conversation of their favorite seasons, and what they’re often like where each of them comes from.
An occasional chuckle makes Chilchuck wince, cringing into his side. Laios notices his discomfort, and places that goddamned wonderful and caring hand on his thigh. It’s for a brief second but provides all the comfort Chilchuck needs. He’s almost ashamed.
“Thanks, Laios. For helping me get stitched up and everything,” Chilchuck says, looking up at him.
Laios smiles warmly. “Don’t worry about it, it’s my pleasure. I like taking care of the people I care about.”
“Well, thanks.”
“Thank you, Chil. You’re the one that got us out of there in one piece.”
“Barely.”
“Come on, don’t blame yourself like that. I... I know you aren’t too fond of mimics. I don’t know what might’ve happened to you in the past, but I can tell it wasn’t the best. So, it means a lot. Thank you.”
Chilchuck goes quiet at that. It’s not like he really expected Laios to read the room to that extent, and to understand his discomfort with mimics. Even though he made it pretty obvious. It still made his stomach flutter.
“...Don’t mention it.”
And so, they eat. Chilchuck decides he’s starting to enjoy the taste a little more. By the end of the night, Marcille gathers enough mana to be able to heal the two of them. Laios is healed first since his ability to walk was hindered by his injury. Chilchuck was second, and he relished in the way his pain dissolved into a dull buzz, similar to the warmth Laios had so generously placed upon it, even if just for a brief moment.