Kratos might have found it a little easier to relax if Martel hadn't been half-crystallized.
Well, he supposed, 'half' was a little bit of an overstatement. Really, it wasn't a lot. However, from what the elves had said (or rather, the single elf that would talk to them that was remotely helpful), she didn't have a lot of time to live, since the disease spread faster over time. They had to hurry, not waste time splashing around in hot springs—even if Martel herself had suggested it, on the off chance it would help the group calm down.
"What's wrong, Kratos? You look… annoyed."
Kratos opened his eyes, then raised his eyebrows at Mithos, sitting across the small spring from him with a puzzled look on his youthful face. He was still only nine years old; Kratos consistently had to remind himself that he wasn't actually as mature as he tended to act. Well, in terms of fighting, anyway. He relies on his sister too much outside of battle. "It's your sister that's dying, and you have to ask me what's wrong?"
Mithos's bright countenance dulled and darkened; Kratos saw Yuan shoot him an exasperated look out the corner of his eye, and remembered guiltily that everyone else was just as tense as he was. There was no need for him to make matters worse by bringing it up when they were supposed to be de-stressing. "Sorry," he added inadequately, and dropped his gaze to the steaming water. He hated being helpless.
"So much for relaxing," sighed Yuan after a long pause, settling back and closing his eyes. "I wonder how she's doing, all by herself?" Yuan had, of course, insisted on her taking a separate bath from the rest of them, since she was the sole female. Kratos reluctantly supposed it was only proper, though he doubted he was the only one among the group that was disappointed.
Yuan, after all, was in the process of falling head over heels for Martel (and, like as not, vice versa), and Kratos smiled at his every flush and stammer in her presence, so different from his characteristic coldness. He had no interest in competing for her affections, since Yuan had basically secured them anyway—but that didn't mean he couldn't look.
"You should go check on her," responded Kratos wryly, unable to repress a smirk, as he glanced over at the half-elf beside him. Yuan reddened and looked sharply away from him with an annoyed grumble; Mithos frowned, nonplussed, and opened his mouth to ask a question, but apparently thought better of it.
"That won't be necessary," laughed a mellifluous voice, and the three males sitting in the spring started and glanced up quickly: Martel stood before them, wet towel wrapped snugly around her chest and hanging down to the middle of her thighs, and her green eyes sparkled at their reactions. Kratos (after his eyes had drunk their fill) glanced swiftly at Yuan to find his blue eyes wider than he'd ever seen them, apparently too shocked even to look away. Mithos, meanwhile, smiled widely at his sister's jovial expression.
Kratos lightly punched Yuan's shoulder after a few more seconds of stunned silence, successfully distracting him. "You might want to look away now," he murmured; Yuan, face redder than ever, obeyed with something like a shudder and stared fixedly at a point in the distance.
"Yuan?" asked Mithos, taking a break from beaming at his sister to frown at him.
"He'll be back soon," assured Kratos, and glanced back up at Martel to find that she wasn't there anymore; instead, she was lowering herself gently into the spring, equidistant between Yuan and Mithos (though Mithos scooted up to her and rested his head on her crystallized shoulder affectionately).
Kratos smiled faintly: the fact that Mithos could snuggle up against Martel's ample bosom with no consequences and nary a blush on either side was something to be coveted. Kratos entertained the notion of doing the same himself just to see what would happen, but only for half a second; he shook his head to clear it of the idea. That would be… bad.
Instead, he waved his hand in front of Yuan's face. "Are you still with us?"
"Yeah," responded Yuan absently; his voice sounded faraway and vaguely dreamy. It was hardly a convincing reply.
"Come on. Snap out of it." Kratos sighed and clicked his fingers to accentuate his point: Yuan jumped, but remained focused on that invisible point with determination in his eyes. "Look," hissed Kratos quietly, trying a different tack. "Just be grateful she's wearing the towel. Even if it does cling to her curves," he continued, smiling smugly as Yuan's eyes widened in panic, "and even if it is only secured by that one tiny tuck in front that could be dislodged by the slightes—"
Yuan's hand shot up and covered Kratos's mouth abruptly. There he is…
"What's going on over there?" asked Martel, with humorous suspicion lacing her voice; she shifted a little to put her arm around her lucky little brother. "Kratos, were you whispering sweet nothings in his ear over there? I notice Yuan's looking a little red."
Kratos raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth and scrambling to find an excuse. For someone innocent enough to approach the unicorn, she's pretty good with implications!
"No!" exclaimed Yuan, plainly horrified, but at least he was ready to talk now. "Er, that is, no," the half-elf amended. "That is to say, I'm just… feeling a little… warm." He laughed nervously. "I mean, it's a hot spring. A-aren't you hot, too?" His eyes widened in horror even as the last couple words left his lips. "W-wait, no! Not like—not like that! Warm! I definitely meant to say 'warm'."
"You do seem a little hot, under the collar, at least," laughed Kratos, and Martel giggled as well, though he could have sworn her cheeks were a little pink too. "Well, Mithos, what say we get out now? I've had enough of these hot springs for one day, and it's almost completely dark."
"Aw," whined Mithos, hugging his sister around the waist almost protectively (Kratos smiled furtively to himself at the innocence of the gesture). "But she just got here! Come on. Five more minutes?"
"I think Yuan wants a word with her," replied Kratos, pointedly not looking at his best friend. "If you really want to, we can come back in… let's say, ten minutes or so." He stood up, hand flying automatically up to his towel to ensure it would stay up (weighed down by water, streaming down in rivulets).
"Kratos!" growled Yuan, and he saw ill-concealed panic in his eyes. "What are you doing?!"
"Relax," shot back Kratos in a whisper. "You have to tell her at some point, and now's as good a time as any… but be careful to tell, not show." He gave a quick and pointed glance to Yuan's towel before turning away, feeling a blue glare searing his back. He was sure that if he turned around again, he would see Yuan with a clenched fist and a mouth gaping in outraged fury.
"Fine," mumbled Mithos sullenly, and stood up as well; Kratos placed a firm hand on his shoulder and steered him away from the spring, chuckling to himself. Of course, he had no intention of simply leaving Yuan and Martel alone. He'd set them up; now, he would see what he had wrought.
"You stay here," ordered Kratos after a pause. "Keep out of trouble," he added, as an afterthought. Martel would never forgive him if something terrible happened. Though, what terrible things could happen in a bathhouse, Kratos would never know. Loss of innocence, I suppose?
"Where are you going?" demanded Mithos, frowning indignantly.
"For a walk." Kratos strode back towards the springs without further ado.
"Why can't I come?" the young half-elf continued petulantly, jogging along behind him before stopping to straighten out his towel, which had started falling down with his movement. "I want to go for a walk, too!"
Kratos sighed. At this rate, he'd miss everything. "I think I saw someone I know when we were changing," he lied. "I want to know if it was really them. If I'm not back in ten minutes, I'll be at the spring again, and you can come back too."
"Okay," grumbled Mithos, kicking at the ground sullenly. He was still young enough not to challenge those few he considered his superiors, a fact for which Kratos was extremely grateful. "See you soon," he added as Kratos crept back along the trail towards the springs, darting around to hide in the shadows of evening on a hill overlooking the pools. This way, he could look down at them and hear whatever was being said—which didn't appear to be much.
"Honestly, why are you acting so strange?" Martel asked, shortly after Kratos had settled himself. "What was he saying? Mithos didn't get it either, but then, he's only nine. There are still a lot of things he still doesn't understand."
Yuan only nodded distractedly, glancing all around. Kratos smiled: he might have expected Kratos to come back and eavesdrop, but he wasn't looking very thoroughly. More likely, he was just trying to find something appropriate to do with himself.
"You seem even more stressed than when we came in," Martel tried again, hesitantly. "I'm sorry for saying we should stop here," she added, as though it was her fault. Kratos rolled his eyes; she had a tendency to take the blame for far more than she should. Her first reaction upon their discovering her crystallization had been to apologize, after all. "Would a nice massage help, maybe? They have masseuses here, but you have to pay extra for them."
Kratos suddenly had an idea of what was coming next, and he could hardly wait. How will he react? "Here," she sighed, visibly startling Yuan. "I'll do it for you, instead." Without waiting for a response, justifiably expecting another long and awkward silence from Yuan's direction, she scooted around to sit next to him and promptly raised her hands to his shoulders.
Kratos heard his frantic yelp from all the way up the hill, and could resist no longer: he burst out laughing, knowing as he did so that his cover was blown and it was only a matter of time before Yuan blasted him to bits. I have to get out of here!
"KRATOS AURION, FUCK YOU!"
Yuan roared his name, along with the expletive following, and Kratos got to his feet and sprinted away—too late. The enraged half-elf evidently needed no weapon to shout, "Indignation!": Kratos's eyes widened as he was struck by lightning and, half-paralyzed, he tumbled down the hill, futilely clutching at his towel as it came loose. Finally, he skidded painfully onto the stone next to the spring, lying on his back.
He glanced numbly up with a feeble groan, barely clinging to consciousness; Martel crouched next to him and delicately dragged his towel back over his loins (blushing as she did so, though mirth danced in her eyes). Yuan, meanwhile, stood over him with his hands curled into fists, but his fierce triumph—rather than anger—singed him as much as his lightning had. He had won the day, as far as he was concerned, and Kratos knew he could not expect more punishment from him. He was a fair and honorable man, after all… most of the time, anyway.
"What happened?" cried Mithos, racing forward, and Kratos closed his eyes, laughing weakly and unable to find the words to explain. It had all been worth it, as far as he was concerned. He had managed to catch calm, cool, calculated Yuan flustered, and that wasn't as easy a feat as it seemed. It took Martel Yggdrasill to make him act that way, after all; Kratos had only caught them in the right place at the right time.
And to think he had been the one to start out annoyed.
Maybe this trip to the hot springs was good for relieving stress after all.
((It's fun to write less stoic Kratos! He can't have been like that all the time, after all. Probably got really cynical after millennia of being an angel. The line, "This isn't a field trip, you know," made me think maybe he once had a sense of humor. Lloyd is his son, after all…))