Good god October already and the year keeps giving us more and more of…whatever this is. I've lost all notion of time, signed myself up for a Big Bang and am considering splurging a good amount of my savings on a cat tree. Thank goodness for Lindsay Ellis and Netflix at least.
Raw dryness burning Nino's throat roused her so early that not even the barest threads of watery grey pre-dawn light breached the window's threshold. The trip to the water pump would be a cold one. She worried over which rag to use as a shawl, as none of them were thick enough to protect her from the chill. But the warmth beneath her, firm and unyielding and pleasant, made her jolt up in surprise.
He's alive! Nino gasped.
The tell-tale sound of constant, even breathing brought a fresh round of tears streaking down her cheeks in stinging trails. But then the feeling of dried blood became apparent—crusty, itchy, coarse awfulness that rubbed and chafed in all the worst ways against her already dirty skin. Nino fought the urge to retch but could not contain a disgusted squirm. The movement disturbed the young man, a whispery groan twisting his mouth into a pained bow.
"Ack! I'm so so so sorry, I didn't mean to do that! I'm sorry! I–I didn't hurt you, did I? Oh, I must have, I'm sorry!" Nino immediately began to fuss. Just his luck, to be plucked from death's threshold but then subjected to a careless girl's manhandling! Her hands hovered uncertainly over the young man as she carefully manoeuvred herself off him. The indecency! The thoughtlessness!
Another groan, louder, accompanied the listless roll of his head. Nino noticed the barest hint of a tongue swiping almost tentatively between dry, cracked lips.
Nino jumped to a stand. "I–I'll go get you some water, don't worry," she promised, throwing on the nearest rag before bracing herself for the early morning.
Dew glimmered on the grass; though the weather had been sunny as of late, the air promised humidity in the future, a coy hint of a sultry summer to come. Quite the contrast to the freezing cold Nino shivered her way through as she sprinted to the pump. Her chapped hands closed over the iron lever and she forced her rapidly numbing limbs to work the pump to life. Thankfully, it took little effort for water to spout into the waiting bucket, and Nino was mindful to not splash as she ran-walked back into the kitchen.
She was suddenly struck by a far-off memory of Brendan smiling as a younger Nino frolicked, barefoot, in the grass. She told him how she enjoyed its pretty shine on the lawn, and how nice it felt beneath her feet, and wouldn't it be lovely if they could string together some beads of dew for a necklace, or some earrings, or maybe even a ring?
'I'll be sure to find you something even prettier than dew,' he had promised.
Nino could not begrudge water for simply existing, but feeling it soak into the thin soles of her shoes only reinforced the melancholy longing for her father.
The heat from the banked fire was a welcome relief from the chill. Her charge (could she call him that?) scarcely stirred at the loud thunk of the bucket being set down, and though Nino was relieved that the noise did little to disturb him, it spoke to his condition. He would live, but he needed careful supervision to see him through. She would never forgive herself if he succumbed to an infection that developed under her watch. And once he woke, she would definitely ask for his name.
But wait…the law of the Fang. Sacrifice the wounded to salvage the strong.
Nino paused. The Fang was built around the principle of using its strength to save the downtrodden from the abuses of the nobility. Mercy, however, was not something so easily extended towards members who could no longer pull their weight. 'It's obviously not an easy decision to make, Nino, but remember this: our mission comes first. Sometimes we have to cut our losses to make that happen,' Brendan's words echoed in her head.
But that begged the question: why would Sonia charge her with saving this young man? Was he so important that flying in the face of Fang law was deemed necessary? If so, why subject him to such rough treatment before, practically throwing him to Nino as if he were trash to be disposed of? What happened to wound him this badly? Did the others know about the situation? What about—
Oh, if only Linus and Lloyd were here…they'd know what to do, not stupid me! Nino sniffled. She could never dream of lifting a finger against anyone. Killing a measly chicken for supper was hard enough, but being caught violating Fang law would only prove just how useless she was. Sonia's actions were excusable as Brendan's successor, and she surely had a very good reason for them, which is why Nino could not afford to ruin this for everyone. Even so, a reassuring word from Linus and Lloyd would be of great comfort at the moment.
Shaking her head, Nino fetched a small cup and dipped it into the bucket, sitting down by the youth's side. She took great care to move his head to face her. No, having him drink lying down would only choke him, she decided. So Nino gingerly rolled him onto his side, looped her hands through his arms, and pulled him up to rest against her. She tipped his head slightly back and pressed the cup to his lips.
"Drink up, that's it…you need lots of water and rest to get better."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Nino gave him more and he took it greedily, to her utter relief. A gusty sigh escaped him after a fifth cup of water, and Nino, sensing he was done, laid him back down on the nest of rags.
"There you go. That must feel much better, right? If you need anything else, let me know, okay?"
A faint snore was his reply, but Nino felt as though the weight in her stomach was beginning to finally ease up. She spared him one last glance as she readied the kitchen for the enormous breakfast the hungover Fang was sure to want.
Two loaves of bread, twenty boiled eggs, two jars of fruit preserves, three kettles of coffee, and an enormous leg of mutton later, Nino staggered back to the kitchen to clean the dirtied cutlery and plates and cloth napkins. Goodness. Cooking for the Fang was no easy feat, and while she missed Linus and Lloyd, she was secretly glad that they were not there to contribute with their own appetites. Afterwards meant checking the guest rooms to see if they were suitable enough for the other members. Then cleaning the house. If she had enough time, then she could try to draw up a list and ask for permission to go to St. Gallen. Market day had scarcely been only two days prior and already the unexpected company threatened to deplete their stores of food. Having no one but herself to take care of the household chores was so very very taxing…
At least he's doing better. Nino looked away from the wash basin to the boy's prone figure, sleeping peacefully by the fire. His skin had turned from a ghastly bloodless grey to a healthy olive, and her clumsy stitching thankfully did not pull against the rise and fall of his chest. Even if the question of food was looking a bit dire at the moment, she hoped he would wake soon to eat, even if it would only be a small nibble.
I wonder what he likes…I don't think I can give him anything more complicated than bread or some porridge, but once he's strong enough to sit up on his own, maybe some fried eggs? Eggs are also nice on porridge. I can make him a nice big bowl and add eggs, and then maybe some berries for dessert. What about drinking? We've got clean water but milk goes better with porridge. But what if he doesn't like any of that? I don't have any more chicken to use for soup—oh, his eyes are a really nice colour.
Nino blinked.
The boy blinked back.
Startled, Nino jumped, thoroughly embarrassed at having been caught staring. Sudsy water splashed violently as the movement threatened to upset the basin and its fragile contents, though she was much too surprised to pay attention. Not when the youth had finally awoken!
"H-hello," she said a little breathlessly. "You're finally awake! Thank goodness…"
"You…I know you…" he muttered.
Ignoring the wet floor, Nino rushed to him, patting down his stitches with a critical once-over. "You–you do?"
"What are you doing?"
"Huh?"
Piercing red eyes—the colour of fresh blood, a ripe apple's skin, exotic Ostian velvet—peered into hers intently. Too closely. It was as if he was trying to root something out from within her deepest secrets, and Nino almost shrank back from such intensity. "Have you forgotten the law of the Fang? 'Sacrifice the wounded to salvage the strong.'"
"That's not…"
"You should have obeyed the law: killed me, and then fled. Yet you didn't. Why?"
The last thing Nino expected was to have her charge, still recovering from near-fatal injuries, reproach her from his sick-bed. Did he welcome the prospect of death? Or was this merely devotion to the Fang's code, as befitting any self-respecting member? But then how would that explain Sonia's instructions?
"W-well," she began to say. "Sonia brought you here, actually."
"You should have killed me all the same."
Nino should have, but could she?
When dealing with chickens, or buying meat from a butcher, Nino did it with the understanding that it meant food, sustenance to keep oneself alive and nourished. But what did it mean to slay a human? No one ate people (as far as she knew). People…well, people lived with one another. A flock of chickens coexisting did not register the same way that a village or a town or a city did, to Nino's understanding; chickens did not have doctors who worked to heal others. They did not have bakeries to share bread and pastries with others, churches to pray together in, or grow flowers in gardens for the sole purpose of enjoying them. Father said that the Fang was for the people and by the people. Surely that was enough to justify such transgressions?
"I couldn't just…let a comrade die," was all Nino could muster in the end.
His scrutiny rivalled Sonia's, a comparison she hated to make, but it was apt. Nino quailed at the thought of his scolding matching Mother's, cursing herself yet again for allowing heedless impulsivity to get the better of her. Father would be so disappointed as well. What would Linus and Lloyd say if—no, once they found out?
To her relief, the young man merely sighed. "You're a fool. This is only a scratch." But his mutter was half-hearted, and she detected no hostility in those intriguing eyes of his.
Nino offered a wobbly smile. "What's your name?"
"…Jaffar."
"W-well Jaffar, I'm Nino! It's nice to finally meet you."
Nino. Nino. Nino. Jaffar mulled over the name. Rolled it around his mind's tongue in a secret approximation of speech, tentatively practicing at saying it aloud. He would have to soon enough.
She—Nino certainly had little difficulty in using his own name. Constantly, in fact. A sort of dam seemed to have broken within her and swept away her initial shyness, revealing a talkativeness Jaffar was completely unused to in, well, anyone. She chattered about anything and everything: the dishes and cutlery she finished washing after fussing over his wounds, going back to some more fussing; explaining the outside noises as the animals kept on the property (when did someone like Sonia accept to live near poultry and goats? Sonia hated animals), and the list of chores she had to finish for the day.
"I'll be right back after this, okay? I just gotta serve lunch," Nino said, inordinately cheerful as she balanced trays towering with food.
Jaffar replied with a grunt as he watched her teeter out the door and barely manage to close it with her foot.
Kitchen. Nino said this place was the kitchen. The warm atmosphere, redolent with the scent of cooked food, made his stomach rumble. How utterly inconvenient. Things would be so much easier were he not subjected to the annoyance of human troubles such as eating, sleeping, relieving oneself, and recovering from injury or illness. Master said he was a weapon, after all. Weapons should have no need for such things. But Jaffar was only human, miserably so at that, and he needed to lay low and regain his strength if he was to return to Master's summons soon.
A bubbly pop turned Jaffar's attention to a small pot hanging over the fire, simmering with an oat porridge Nino made for him. How did she find the time for it with the hundreds of other tasks she was burdened with? He saw her scamper out the kitchen to serve the Fang breakfast, tend to the livestock and gardens, clean, and answer Sonia's or Ursula's insistent calls. Were there no others to keep the house? Master had many servants for many sorts of things. Granted, they were merely mindless automatons built to service Master's needs, but they were servants all the same, constantly bustling about to maintain Master's books, wine, wardrobe, and so on and so forth. Jaffar knew Sonia coveted them, but why not employ her vast magicks to make minions of her own?
Then came the shock of seeing Brendan's girl in such a state. The last time Jaffar was sent to Sonia was years ago, when she was still based in Glarus. Brendan Reed, alive and well, made only the barest gestures to acknowledge Jaffar, unhappy with Master's hand creeping steadily closer. He would excuse himself away in an effort to not endure the sight of Sonia's head bowed in deep absorption, greedy for Jaffar's deliverance of Master's word.
That is, unless it came to the girl.
It was by sheer accident that Jaffar found Nino—he always exited out the back to ensure maximum secrecy in his dealings. The house in Glarus gave way to a spacious meadow bursting with flowers in a dizzying array of colours, and the girl he now knew as Nino ran through the thick of it with wild abandon, paying no mind to the large grass stains on her white dress. Then she sat down after tiring and busied herself with making flower crowns.
There was but a single tree to take refuge behind. Surprised at another's presence, pure instinct forced him on the defensive, not allowing himself to relax despite the girl not knowing he was there. Nino was content in her own little world, humming a little nonsense tune as her fingers deftly wove stems together. She would occasionally frown if a flower seemed out of place, or if she decided to use a different colour in a crown, but otherwise the smile on her face never seemed to waver, never truly troubled at all.
Jaffar had been so fascinated.
"She's a sight for sore eyes, isn't she?"
Memory-Brendan stood tall as he watched Jaffar, whose instinct again kicked in to force him up the tree in a giant leap, dagger drawn. Brendan's sons snickered but their father shushed them immediately.
"Father!" Memory-Nino had looked up from her spot in the tall grass, running to the Reeds once she caught sight of them. She hugged Brendan tightly around his middle. "You're back early!"
"That we are, sweetheart. We figured it would be best to come home before starting the next mission. And we can stay longer too, since we've got jobs mostly in the area." Brendan's gaze turned fond, running his fingers through Nino's long, loose hair and then cupping her cheek softly.
"Father, that's great! I really missed you all so much…I've been practicing at cooking so now we can eat together, and maybe we can make a pie tomorrow! I found a lot of berry bushes by the river and they're really really sweet, and I checked that they're not poisonous, because Mother says berries are sometimes pretty dangerous. And we can play with the ball again because I stitched it up! Or maybe we can try to find the wild ponies again, because I saw that they had new foals with them and they were so cute, please can we?"
"Those all sound wonderful. But first thing you ought to do is start small and go wash up with the boys before supper, alright?"
"Yes Father. Oh, who were you talking to before?"
"Just myself. Don't worry about it."
"Okay," Nino giggled. She began to ramble to the brothers over flower crowns and horses and games, shrieking with laughter when one of the boys tossed her up on his shoulders and started to run around.
"Everyone," Brendan sighed. "Go inside now."
"Yes Father," they chorused, trooping inside obediently.
Jaffar dared not move a single muscle. Brendan, satisfied that the children were out of earshot, looked back up at Jaffar—at the stranger intruding upon them, Present-Jaffar had realised. Brendan's eyes had changed, from a relaxed softness reserved for his brood, to a hard, stony coldness. The eyes of a man sizing up an opponent.
"I don't know what Sonia's up to or what your relationship with her is. I won't be able to dig too deep anyways. But if I see you anywhere near my kids again, I won't hesitate to hurt you. My daughter is especially off limits. Understood?" Brendan growled, simply but bluntly.
Jaffar nodded.
"Good. Now scram before I make you leave myself."
Years later, Brendan Reed was dead, Sonia had the run of the Fang, and Jaffar now found himself with said daughter. Jaffar hardly gave himself to musing, but the current circumstances seemed a touch unbelievable. He was almost always at Master's side, but as Sonia's cohort found itself in one mess after another, Master sent him to keep watch over them instead; Sonia disliked him greatly. The last month or so had been spent patrolling the nearby lands and sleeping rough, loathe as Sonia was to admit him in her presence. And yet she required him and the others, given the emergency meeting called.
But who knew enough of the Fang's movements to ambush him and Lana?
Nino's reentry interrupted Jaffar's thoughts. "Everyone's eating now, and I'm sure you must be hungry too! Good thing the porridge is done."
"I'm not hungry," Jaffar said.
The girl's smile faltered ever so slightly. Why did it feel so strange to see? "Oh…b-but…well, maybe you don't feel hungry, but it's still a good idea to eat, you know? You've been hurt and food will help make you feel much better sooner. A healthy body is a working body!"
She raised a salient point. "If you say so."
Beaming, Nino produced a bowl and ladled a generous portion of steaming hot porridge into it, dashing to find a spoon before returning to kneel before Jaffar. "Can you sit up by yourself?"
Jaffar, to his immense frustration, could, but the measly movement took far more energy than necessary, leaving him tired and panting against the hearth's outer wall. Nino frowned and exclaimed sad little platitudes, setting the bowl down to hover anxiously.
"You should take it easy and not move any more than necessary, please." She gnawed her lip. "Don't worry. I'll feed you myself."
"That will just make me more of a burden than I already am."
"N-no, you're not being a burden, not at all. You just need some help and I'm here for it, so please don't say things like that. You're never a burden."
Jaffar grunted, too exhausted to keep arguing, yet not trusting Nino to understand the logic of his situation. It would only go nowhere in the end. He needed to recuperate and await further instructions from Sonia, the current direct line to Master, but every second spent in the girl's company only proved more and more unnerving. Why insist so strongly on looking after him? Did she even know what Brendan's last (and only) words to him were? And, as a member of the Black Fang, why balk at even the thought of upholding one of its most important directives?
"Here, start while it's still hot," Nino wheedled, holding up a spoonful of steaming porridge. "I didn't know if you prefer yours plain or with eggs or herbs or all of those things—oh no, what if you don't even like porridge, what am I even doing—"
"This is fine," Jaffar said.
"O–okay."
She blew slightly on the food and held it up to Jaffar's mouth, bringing the bowl a little ways beneath it to catch any drippings as she watched him closely. Hopefully, even. Why would it matter if he liked it or not? Master and the others never took things such as preferences into account in their dealings with him, and Jaffar never expected them to because it did not matter. Jaffar was but a weapon. Fulfilling human needs was the barest standard necessary to keep him functioning, whereas 'preference' could only ever amount to a trifle at best and a distraction at worst. Master told him as much. Jaffar never had to ponder such a question until today.
The porridge was hot, but did not burn his tongue—rather, it warmed him down to his very toes. He did not know how to describe the following sensation, other than his body doing the talking by leaning towards the emptied spoon as Nino pulled it away.
Her eyebrows rose. "Would you like some more?"
"…Yes."
Nino' smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. In spite of her tattered clothes, dirty skin, and ragged short hair, Jaffar caught a glimpse of the laughing girl that haunted his dreams from so long ago.
Jaffar spoke little: he communicated mostly through grunts or terse movements, but when he did talk, his words were clipped to the point of monotony. Nino did not mind. Jaffar was a very good listener whose close attention soon assuaged her fears of boring him or, worse, annoying him. Ursula made it a frequent point to announce just how grating she found Nino's voice. Jaffar, though obviously bemused at the situation (his chastisement over Fang law notwithstanding), proved to be an exceedingly polite patient. Not that he said his 'pleases' and 'thank yous' out loud.
There was also something so terribly refreshing about keeping his company. Linus and Lloyd leaving for large stretches of time left Nino very very lonely; Jaffar's state, though certainly not ideal, meant someone to simply be with. Sonia and Ursula stressed the importance of her keeping quiet and out of sight unless she was given orders, and working around the house left precious little time to herself. Nino realised that this could possibly mean making her very first friend ever.
Oh, don't go around getting your hopes up like that…how selfish do you have to be anyways, thinking about yourself when you've got someone depending on you! she scolded herself.
Jaffar's wounds seemed to have no traces of any lingering poison, though he could not remember much of the fight nor if his assailants carried poisoned weapons. Nino still looked over the sutures thrice for the tell-tale signs of necrotising tissue, a foul smell, pus or suspicious discharge. She took a bundle of yarrow from the herbal shed to prepare as a poultice but decided against using some of her rags to bind Jaffar's largest gash. He needed proper clean bandages for that, not her sooty cast-offs.
That meant having to ask one of the ladies of the house for access to the medical stores. The herbal supplies were already difficult enough, but some leeway was allowed as Nino gathered and dried a good deal of the ingredients they used for potions and spells. Medicine, however, was jealously guarded in the house. Surely they could spare a single vulnerary for Jaffar? Nino thought as she walked towards the house in search of the women.
"Absolutely not," Ursula guffawed. "Shouldn't you get on to more urgent things, like tonight's supper?"
"It would really help Jaffar, Miss Ursula…" Nino mumbled, eyes downcast in meek submission.
"And why should we waste resources on someone who, according to the Fang's code, should have been left for dead? You know how expensive those things are, and the time involved in making them. Goodness, I don't know how many times I have to keep explaining simple concepts to the cinder-girl…"
"Let her have them," came Sonia's moody mutter from the parlour's largest sofa.
Ursula blanched. Sonia, hunched over a thick book with a silver lorgnette in hand, scoffed at her underling's pause. The head of the household had been strangely reserved since the day before and no one knew what to make of it just yet. Between the newly imposed restrictions, the sudden summons to the house in the first place, and whatever other Fang business running in the background, Nino at least had the sense to keep quiet and not prod any further. Sonia's word was law, but the palpable tension rolling off her cast a certain shade over her previously unflappable airs.
"I'm not going to repeat myself, Ursula." Sonia turned a page without even looking at them. "These are orders from even higher up and we're to honour them. If you don't care to understand then I suppose that means you need to have a refresher."
As Ursula babbled a thousand rapid-fire apologies, Nino curtsied to them both. A relieved smile broke out against her face. "T-thank you very much, Madame Sonia, Miss Ursula."
"If you've such a need for them then go and get them already," Sonia groused in return.
The medicinal cellar lay adjacent to the wines—underground storage kept their more delicate concoctions away from sunlight, insects and pests, and the damp. Bandages were stored at the very forefront of the darkened room. Nino picked those first and packed them into her apron's pouch as she navigated to the back with the help of a candle. Satisfied with the single vulnerary allowed, she marched back up the stairs and out the dining room to the kitchen's familiar brick walls.
"I'm back! Sorry it took so long, but I got you some things for your wounds. You'll be feeling much better in no time!" Nino announced to Jaffar.
"I need to piss," he responded.
"O–oh."
Well, it was only natural for people to have those needs…but he was a young man. Father always stressed that, once she and her brothers hit a certain age, they could no longer share a room, much less be around each other when bathing or using a chamber pot. But Jaffar was in her care. Even sitting up proved to be taxing. Leaving him to his own devices hardly seemed like the fair thing to do given his current state.
As if having read her mind, Jaffar said "leave a bucket or anything else here by my side. I can just roll over to use it."
"But—"
"It's fine. The food helped."
Nino mutely produced a spare bucket and resolutely turned her back to him as she set about cutting the yarrow from before on the table. She tried not to think about the new realisation that she was sharing her space with a boy, busying herself with the poultice; grabbing a pestle and mortar, Nino poured a few thimblefuls of water into the container before grinding the yarrow into a silky paste. Oh, if only Father or her brothers were here, they would prove such a big help for such a confusing situation.
"Oh no!" Nino suddenly gasped.
"What happened?" Jaffar's question went unintentionally ignored.
I totally forgot to visit Father yesterday night! What if something happened to the stone that one time I wasn't there? And now it's getting dark! If I don't get a move on then I won't get supper finished on time, and then everyone else'll be mad, and I'll have to stay up later to fix it and I'll miss Father's visit again and then—
"What happened?" he repeated.
"Sorry, I-I-I wasn't listening, I'm so sorry. I just…Jaffar, please don't be angry with me, but I need to leave your medicine for last, okay? I-I just have a lot to deal with right now…"
Jaffar blinked. The minute gesture seemed oddly out of place on him. "Why would I be angry with you?"
Then she blinked. Why wouldn't you be? Nino did not say.
"UUhhhm…I…I need to get started on the food…" she trailed off nervously, setting the herbs aside to try and drum up a last minute meal. Their pantry would last them through the weekend, but with the new guests over, it would mean at least three or four shopping trips to town instead of the usual weekly one. Twelve people (without Linus and Lloyd!) to a cook was a daunting obstacle ahead. Hopefully Sonia would grant her permission for a larger grocery allowance, but arranging more rides to St. Gallen without interfering with Nino's usual schedule would prove to be difficult. What to do, what to do…
Supper was uneventful and unremarkable, thankfully enough; a small comfort for Nino as she tried to wash the dishes as fast as possible. Jaffar refused more food. Tired or not, missing a night with her father was something she could never allow to happen again, but when she finally made the trip to the hazel tree, Nino suddenly found herself at a loss for words.
"I'm sorry Father…a lot's happened lately…" Nino yawned, afraid that attempting to explain last night's absence would only bring her to tears. Leaning against the tree instead of talking brought some measure of peace. She could imagine her father nodding in stoic understanding. If she pretended hard enough, firm, warm muscles replaced tree bark, as if sitting down with Brendan to enjoy the night together instead of lamenting his absence for the last few years. Oh, if only, if only.
Can't risk falling asleep here though, she sighed, trudging back to the kitchen.
Jaffar lay wide awake. "Where did you go?"
"It's kind of hard to explain right now…" Blinking away stray tears, Nino toed off her badly worn mules and set them by the door. All she wanted was a nice long night of deep, dreamless sleep. Not having to dwell on all her worries even during rest would be ideal.
Bu Jaffar was using her nest at the moment. She was not so heartless as to turn away a convalescent from some measure of comfort, especially not when he still needed treatment. Nino brought out the yarrow paste but hesitated when she saw him coil up tensely. "If it hurts you tell me, alright? It shouldn't sting too much but I don't want to make you feel bad."
"Ah." He blinked. Why did that look so strange on him? "It won't…it won't hurt."
"Still…"
Was this newfound awkwardness due to feeling shy around her? Nino wondered. Maybe being half-clothed was too much exposure for him. Maybe close-quarters with a girl felt inappropriate—Father's warnings came to mind. The situation was no better for her, but Nino had to shrug off her doubts to give him the care he needed, daubing the paste gingerly onto stitched flesh. Jaffar's stomach contracted tellingly at her touch, but soon, his skin relaxed as she finished rubbing the needed dose for the day.
"I'm going to bandage you now to keep the medicine from drying out while you sleep, so I need to lift you a little for that," Nino explained apologetically.
Grunting, Jaffar supported himself on his elbows to allow Nino access to his back. She rolled the bandage over and under deftly and tied it off with a neat bow on his front. Nothing too cumbersome to prevent him from sleeping facedown if he so wished, and Nino patted it in satisfaction. She missed the surprised look on Jaffar's face.
"If you keep it easy like this, then you're sure to heal quick," Nino said, but ended the sentence on a loud yawn. "I ought to get some sleep too. Another big day ahead!"
"Where will you sleep?" Jaffar asked.
"I can just pop myself next to the fire. It's warm there, not so much under the table or on the floor."
"I'm taking your space here. It's placing an undue burden on you."
"Oh Jaffar, you really ought to stop saying that about yourself, you know? It'll be alright. You need it more than I do and it's not like I haven't slept there before, all I gotta do is just get myself some support and presto!" Nino balled her tattered apron under her head and slowly lowered herself onto it, staring up at the roof to maintain a proper position on the precarious little pillow. "That oughta do it."
A short huff was his only reply, but she smiled all the same. It felt as though they were coming to a tentative understanding, perhaps not as gracefully as she would have liked, but the first step was the most important one.
"I went to visit my father, since you asked," Nino whispered softly.
Jaffar's pause stretched out for what seemed an inordinately long time. "He was a very strong man. I have to admit it came as a shock to hear about his death."
"It was a shock. No one saw it coming, but that's the risk of the job anyway…I still really miss him though. Did you know him?"
"…I saw him only once before."
So caught up in the thrill of sustained conversation that Nino easily missed the hesitancy dragging out Jaffar's words for longer than normal, barrelling forth (albeit quietly) with a long-winded summary of Brendan's exploits and praise for him, eager to transmit all his valour to her unwittingly captive audience. Then anecdotes of the Brothers Reed: their brashness, the unbridled gusto with which they wholeheartedly threw themselves into whatever came their way. Glarus, beautiful, sun-drenched Glarus, became the main focus of her stories. How the wind swept through long-tressed grass. Thunder rolling across the sky during the rainy season, or as hoofbeats from horses flying across the plains like the shrieking hawks keeping pace with them. Brendan taught Nino to recognise all sorts of horse patterns on a few excursions: piebald, skewbald, flea-bitten, roan.
The flowers were among her favourites, she confided. Rainbows dazzled the sky whenever they appeared but their fleeting impermanence could not compare to a meadow's palette. There were clovers, and purple thistles whose honey-rich scent beckoned bees to them, cheerful daisies and buttercups creating sunny swathes of yellow and white amongst the grass. Field poppies would brazenly push through the soil in a blaze of red, rubbing elbows with dainty pale blue cranesbills swaying in the breeze. Not even the painters whose stuffy landscapes decorated the house could have ever hoped to capture such brilliance.
"When the sun sets or rises there," Nino whispered to the ceiling, "it looks like the sky is on fire."
"Hrm," Jaffar grunted.
A crack from the chimney reminded her to bank the ashes for tomorrow; restarting even the smallest of embers often proved tiresome, especially with so many additional mouths to feed. The dimmed hearth still provided heat at least. It lessened the discomfort of lying on a hard ledge barely a few inches off the earthen floor. Jaffar's repose mattered more than a single night of backaches, and the better the care, the faster his recovery.
As good as I can give, I guess, Nino sighed wearily. "Sorry about that. I really dumped a bunch of nonsense out the blue, didn't I? Sometimes I forget myself and don't know when to stop, and Madame Sonia and Miss Ursula keep reminding me because it's—oh darn, what's the word—'unseemly.' S-so if you ever catch me rambling, or saying stupid things about flowers and ponies and food you go ahead and tell me to be q-quiet, okay?" You don't need to have me giving you an earful on top of your injuries and—"
"It's fine. I'm just not used to hearing others talk much."
"How come?"
"My missions are silent."
Perhaps that phrasing referred to him simply working alone, or undertaking some of the more dangerous activities the Fang carried out, secretive stuff even Brendan was reluctant to share with her. Whatever the case, Jaffar's tepid assurance heartened Nino.
"I'll be sleeping next to you, so wake me up if you need anything," she said cheerfully, settling back into her pitiful little apron-pillow.
"Alright."
What a day! The pair still could not quite make head nor tail of it; suddenly sharing close quarters with a stranger meant unknown territory to navigate, uncertain and unsure over the newness of their company, and the meaning of the current circumstances. Neither knew what the appropriate course of action was. Neither really felt like going to Sonia over it despite the common link she had between them.
One thing was sure despite no one knowing it at the time: that something, however small and frail, had begun to bloom.
Thanks to discord friends also because after this I uhhhh. What is even on my to do list again hahaha…well at least next chapter is Zephiel's!