Pyra is soaked.
Rain spills from the heavens like water through a sieve, smothering the land in a sodden blanket. They've been trudging through the downpour for hours - the lack of shelter available in the unpopulated fields they've been wading through forces them to keep going - and they are all cold, wet, and utterly exhausted.
"I have never been more grateful to see civilisation in my life," Mythra moans as the bright lights of a town rise in the distance.
Pyra shivers, having long given up on using her flames as a makeshift heater. She may not be weakened by water to the same extent as a typical fire Blade, but it still puts out the fire she creates. "Not much further now."
"So is the plan to just dive for the inn?" Malos asks. He has the best protection from the weather, given that his armour covers almost his entire body, but the hair that usually sticks up is flat on his head, and water is sliding down his face like a river. It all comes together to create the impression of a rather grumpy housecat that's undergoing an impromptu bathing session.
Rex, who has manipulated his salvager suit so that it's almost fully on and has kept his arms wrapped around himself in a poor grasp for warmth, nods vigorously. "Please."
They make quick time after that conversation, the promise of an escape from the relentless rain invigorating their steps and hastening their pace. Their first steps across the threshold of the town invite a sigh of relief, and they immediately set their sights on finding the inn.
Few are out in the rain, choosing the smart option of tucking themselves into the comfort and security of the indoors. Those that are insane enough to be outside are dashing from cover to cover, racing to be able to return to the warmth. Pyra cannot help but envy them for knowing where they are going and being able to race straight there.
Mythra brushes a hand through her sodden hair, pulling it away from where it's firmly stuck to her face. "Any ideas on the inn?"
"How about we just…" Rex makes a weak gesture to their right, head bowed beneath the weight of the rain. "...walk that way and hope for the best?"
"Can't be any worse than sticking around here to get drenched," Malos mutters, already heading off in the indicated direction.
"We're already drenched; it doesn't make much difference at this point," Mythra grumbles, jogging to catch up with him.
Pyra falls into step with Rex as they follow. Their companions are having a quiet conversation, the words whipped away by the wind before they can reach Pyra's ears.
Hunching over to shield from the rain - despite the literal hours they've spent walking proving it an ineffective strategy - Rex says, "It'll be good to get in from the rain."
Pyra smiles at him. "It'll be nice to sleep in an actual bed again."
"That's true," Rex laughs, wiping a hand over his eyes as if to clear them of rain. He's blinking through the water again almost instantly. "I've missed having a proper pillow. Oh, and a mattress that isn't a rock."
"We haven't had good luck with our campsites, have we?" Pyra muses. Campsites was too kind, really - random, semi-flat areas of land was more appropriate. They hadn't been able to find a pre-established camp for the past few nights, which had led to a lot of arguments and improvisation and an incredible amount of complaining. "At least tonight we-"
"I know you."
The voice cuts sharp through both sets of conversations, surprising Pyra into silence. A man - Urayan, middle-aged, well-built, knife tucked into his belt - stands stock-still as the rain assaults his unmoving form, staring wide-eyed at Mythra.
"That core crystal," he says slowly. "You're the Aegis."
"You got a problem with that?" Mythra asks, attempting a hair flip that only succeeds in flinging its sodden contents at Malos' face (Malos, for his part, barely blinks).
The man takes a step back. "You're the Aegis."
"Yes, we've established that," Mythra says. "Anything new to add, or…?"
"You're the Aegis," the man says yet again, and Pyra notes his hand drifting to his weapon. She moves instinctively, even as she feels Rex tense beside her and murmur a warning.
"Why don't we talk about this, instead of doing something rash?" she smiles through her discomfort, placing a steadying hand on Mythra's arm - she can almost feel the intensity of her counterpart's glare, and she definitely does not want this situation to escalate.
His eyes flicker down to Pyra's own core crystal, and she has to fight the urge to curl a hand over it protectively. "I had heard there were more than one of you bastards," he chokes through trembling lips as his fingers tighten on the hilt of his knife. "You destructive assholes, you- you murderous-"
"That's enough."
Before Pyra can blink, Malos is in front of her, looming threateningly over the Urayan. "Leave them alone."
Mythra leans around Malos' comparatively-larger frame. "What's your problem with us?"
"They killed Vandham!"
Pyra recoils, stunned, and senses Mythra do the same beside her. "I'm sorry?" her other half exclaims, and the confusion in her tone is evident.
"But that wasn't even them!" Rex cuts in, jerking forward to stand at Pyra's side. "That was… oh."
Oh, indeed. Pyra cannot help but shift her gaze to Malos, who still stands, unmoving, between them and the Urayan.
He smirks with what Pyra thinks is a tinge of sadness. "Oh, yeah, that was me."
Solemnity wraps itself around them. Mythra ducks her head, arms snaking around her torso, and Pyra lets her own gaze drop. She knows what they are both thinking: that they are, at least, partially responsible for Vandham's death. If Mythra hadn't been so afraid - if Pyra hadn't rushed ahead alone - if they'd been better-
No. They've been trying to think more positively since their death and subsequent rebirth. She can almost hear Rex chiding her for her thoughts. Pyra's elbow finds its way into Mythra's side in a poor attempt to convey positivity - although, based on the glare Mythra shoots her, it doesn't seem to work.
"It wasn't entirely Malos," Rex tries to argue. "It was-"
"Nope," Malos cuts across. "Completely me."
"Does it matter?" the Urayan snarls, knife fully unsheathed and eyes darting from one Aegis to the next. "You Aegises are all the same!"
Malos sighs, deep and weary, and begins to lift his hand. "Okay, that's it."
The purple beginning to envelop that hand catches Pyra's eye, and she says, "Malos, no."
Malos hesitates, hand wavering in the air, and the purple fades. Pyra barely has time to sigh in relief before that same hand is securely wrapped around the Urayan's neck.
"They had nothing to do with the death of your precious Vandham," Malos growls. "It was all me. So leave my sisters out of this."
Mythra moves as if to rejoin the conflict, already opening her mouth to fling out a stinging barb - consisting of what, exactly, Pyra isn't so sure. She panics for the briefest of moments, then tightens her grip on Mythra's arm.
"Don't," she says softly as Mythra shoots her an incredulous look.
"I can fight my own battles," Mythra hisses. "We can fight our own battles. We don't need Malos to fight for us."
"I know," Pyra says, "but trust me. Let him do this." She wraps her free hand around Rex's wrist for good measure, giving him a glance that she hopes conveys her desire for him, too, to not get involved. Rex seems distinctly uncomfortable, with both the situation and with the concept of doing nothing to resolve it, but he nods his understanding regardless.
Pyra is curious. Perhaps dangerously so, given that the Urayan is still clutching his knife, and that Malos free hand is curled into an angry ball at his side - she is pretty sure he is moments away from snapping. If that happens she will intervene, but for now, she is content to let Malos handle this.
He was defending them. That was a rare enough occurrence for Pyra to want to let him continue.
"You bastard," the man spits. "You crazy fucking bastard."
"That's me," Malos says, far too cheerfully. "Now I'm going to release you, and you're going to walk away without saying another word."
"Or what?"
Malos' free hand snaps up, ripping the knife out of the Urayan's grasp and flinging it away. "Or I may not be able to resist the urge to shove my sword through your chest."
"Should we stop him?" Rex wonders quietly, making no move to intervene.
"Let him be," Pyra responds. She's relatively sure that Malos won't go through with his threat.
Although the longer this goes on, the less sure she becomes.
At some point, Mythra had worked herself out of Pyra's vice-grip and wandered over to the discarded knife. She's returning now, studying the weapon as she walks. "Nice," she judges as she reaches Pyra and Rex, and she tucks it into her belt.
"Mythra, no!" Pyra hisses under her breath, gaze flitting between Malos and Mythra, and she is hit with the sudden awareness that she is practically babysitting her fellow Aegises. Her only comfort is that Rex looks just as appalled as Pyra is.
Mythra waves a dismissive hand. "Eh, he won't miss it." She traces a finger along the edge of the hilt, eyes glazing as she disappears into her own thoughts, and Pyra realises: Mythra needs a distraction from her guilt.
Aegises had a nasty habit of blaming themselves for nearly everything, Pyra has learnt, regardless of how much guilt they actually deserved to bear.
She doesn't comment further on the knife.
"So?" Malos hums, fingers digging further into the neck of his captive, intimidation and quiet fury rolling off him in waves. "You'll leave them alone, yes?"
The man writhes in his iron grip. "You fucking-"
"What the hell is going on here."
Five turn in perfect synchrony to face the newcomer. Mythra tenses beside Pyra, fingers tightening on the hilt of the knife as she recognises the newcomer.
Malos doesn't relinquish his grip. "Hey there! Long time, no see. This one of yours?"
Minoth, the lines on his face somehow more pronounced than the last time they saw him, weariness painted clearly in his too-old eyes, grimaces. "You could say that. Hello, Malos. Mythra, Pyra, Rex."
He nods to each of them in turn, and they respond with greetings ranging from an uncertain hi (Rex) to a weak wave (Pyra). Even the simple act of bobbing his head seems to wear the man out.
"S-sir!" the man croaks. "Vandham- he-"
"I know, kid," Minoth sighs. "Malos, do you think you could find it within your cold, dead heart to release him?"
Malos tilts his head as if considering. "Oh, I don't know," he says, "but for you, old man, I suppose." With that, he finally lets go, leaving the man to stagger backwards, hand rushing protectively to his throat.
At this point, Pyra remembers her own grip on Rex and releases him. He doesn't seem to notice.
Once he gets his breath back, the Urayan stumbles over to Minoth, placing himself defensively between the two former Blades of Amalthus. Minoth nudges him aside with a weak elbow. "Go home, kid. I can handle this."
The man seems hesitant to leave, eyes darting between Malos and Minoth, but as the Flesh Eater gestures and gives him a look that clearly says just go already he submits, retreating into the rain like a phantom in the night, and he is gone as suddenly as he arrived.
Minoth fixes a glare at Malos. "I don't appreciate you attacking him," he says. Turning on Rex, Pyra and Mythra, he adds, "And I don't appreciate you three not stopping him."
"He threatened my sisters," Malos says with a crack of his knuckles. "I wasn't going to let that pass."
Pyra smiles guiltily. "Malos isn't easily stopped."
Minoth seems to want to question Malos' side of things, raising an eyebrow at the affectionate term, but he holds his tongue. "Whatever - it's done now. I suppose you all should come with me."
"We should?" Rex says, bemused.
"Would you rather stay out here in the rain?" Minoth responds, tilting his head back as if embracing the downpour. Pyra had begun to forget about the weather, but having it brought up again reminds her just how cold and wet she is, and she shivers morosely.
Moving forward, Mythra asks, "Isn't is bad for your health to be out here?"
Clothes clinging tight to his frail form, hair flat against his soaked head, breaths coming harsh and unnatural, Minoth laughs. "Oh, absolutely. Iona's going to kill me when I get back - if the rain doesn't get me first, that is."
He turns to leave, but only manages one step before stumbling. Pyra darts to his side to support him, and Rex quickly joins her. Minoth loops his arms over their shoulders with a bitter thanks.
"So," Minoth drawls with the least possible amount of enthusiasm, "care to explain how you're alive when I was reliably informed-" he shoots a glare at Rex- "that you were very, very dead?"
"Oh, you know how it is," Malos laughs from beside them as he matches their speed. "Magically coming back to life seems to be the norm for me."
"He has done it twice now," Pyra concurs.
Mythra skips ahead of them, twisting to walk backwards. She gives that up as her back knocks into the post of a stall and nearly sends the structure toppling down. "To be fair, he didn't actually die the first time. Just came close."
"Well," Minoth says, directing his glare at Malos, and that glare is not at all diminished by him needing Pyra and Rex's support to walk. "As long as you don't start threatening my granddaughter again, I suppose I can put up with you."
"I can make no promises," Malos says solemnly.
"He'll leave her alone," Rex translates. "How is Iona, anyway?"
Minoth's expression screams he better not, but he doesn't voice his concerns (or, more accurately, his threats). "Better," he answers instead. "Still not right, but better. She's smiling a lot more than she was, which is a start."
Through the rain, Malos' confused frown catches Pyra's eye, and he mouths, what's wrong with her?
Vandham, she mouths back. You, she refrains from adding.
"That's good," Rex is answering for them all. "Is she still helping out in the theatre?"
Minoth shakes his head, splashing both Pyra and Rex in the process. She supposes they'd be more annoyed if they weren't already too soaked for it to matter. "Oh no, we left that behind when we moved out here." At the assortment of surprised looks the statement earns him he continues, "Iona's idea - there's a better ether flow here, and no crazy driver to hide from anymore."
Malos nods approvingly at that assessment of Amalthus. Minoth ignores him.
"A few of my troupe insisted on following and setting up a new theatre, but that's still in progress. Some of Vandham's lot declared I needed protection and help and all that crap and came along too, like the kid you ran into earlier."
"You've got quite the loyal crew, haven't you?" Mythra says thoughtfully. "You're very popular."
"A lot of people just need an escape from the brutality of the world," Minoth says, sending a pointed glare at Malos."I offered that." Shuffling out of Pyra and Rex's support, he adds, "This is it."
He's stopped in front of a small house, nondescript, blending neatly into the maze of identical buildings. Yanking the door open, Minoth gestures them inside, but concedes with a laugh as Mythra shoves him over the threshold first.
The interior is just as comfortable as the aura the exterior exudes. A tight corridor stretches from the doorway, branching off into various rooms that Pyra is sure are just as small. Warm wooden floors give the house a homely feel, although-
"We're dripping on your floor," Mythra notes as they squeeze in after Minoth.
"So am I," he laughs, purposefully ignoring the way it trails into a cough. "I don't think I have the right to complain."
"Grandpa!"
The five twist in the tight space to see a dry Iona (and yes, okay, Pyra is jealous) barreling down the corridor towards them. "Where have you been? I was so worried!"
"I'm fine, Iona," Minoth laughs again, and this time the ensuing cough is more violent. He waves her concern off with a single hand - all his coughing fit can spare. "Just a bit wet, that's all."
"You're soaked," she hisses, rushing to support him. "You're supposed to be looking after yourself!"
Minoth gently pushes her away. "A bit of rain won't kill me."
"That's not what you said earlier," Mythra mutters to herself, clearly not intending to be overheard.
Iona's head snaps up, and the haze of concern that had her ignoring the (very thankful to be out of the rain) quartet of guests falls away. "Oh! Hi Mr Rex, Miss Pyra, Miss Mythra, M-"
Oh dear. Her eyes go wide, mouth falling open as she jerks back.
Pyra races into her role of damage control. "Hi Iona, how have you been?" She steps in front of Malos, who, still maintaining his grumpy cat persona, is not helping the situation at all.
Iona tries to respond but all that comes out is a panicked squeak.
Groaning, Malos shunts Pyra aside and crouches down. "Hey, kid. I'm nice now, apparently, so you don't have to worry about me killing any more of the people you care about."
"Good to know I'm safe," Minoth drawls, dropping a comforting hand on Iona's shoulder. The girl looks up at him, clearly not happy but seemingly accepting defeat as she snatches up the hand and drags her grandfather into one of the side rooms.
"Good job, Malos," Mythra says, glaring at her fellow Aegis. "You handled that perfectly."
"Shut up," Malos replies, returning the glare with equal ferocity. "I tried."
Rex gestures in the direction Iona escaped in. "Should we follow?"
Shrugging helplessly, Pyra says, "Unless you want to drip on this one section of floor for the entire night, I'd say so."
Rolling his eyes at their hesitance, Malos moves to follow their hosts. Mythra dives to grab him and yank him back, moving ahead to access the room first.
They enter to find Minoth on a sofa, encased in a swathe of blankets so snuggly wrapped around him that Pyra has to wonder if he can even breathe. Iona is perched on the arm of the sofa beside him.
"We don't have any more blankets," she says with minimal emotion. "Sorry."
Mythra leans casually into Malos chest as if seeking warmth from him. Malos stares down at the top of her head, features twisted in slight perplexion. "That's okay, don't worry about it."
Pyra steps forward and wraps herself around Malos' arm. "We'll be fine," she agrees.
"Speak for yourself," Malos grumbles under his breath, leaning into both Pyra and Mythra. "I'm freezing."
The water they've been steadily depositing on the floor as they moved through the house is forming into a puddle at their feet. Soon enough it'll flood the house, if it continues in this manner. Rex edges closer to his Blades. Taking pity on him, Pyra frees an arm and stretches it out, allowing flames to spring to life in her palm. Moaning in relief, her three companions all lean towards it. "There we go."
"I was cooking," Iona says suddenly, shifting to look down at her grandfather. "I should probably…"
"Go," Minoth replies, the words muffled by the cloth covering his mouth. When Iona sends a panicked glance in Malos' direction he adds, "I survived the walk back here without him killing me. I'll be fine. Go, before the house gets burnt down."
With one last look back, Iona disappears out the door, and the three Aegises and their driver are once again left alone with Minoth.
The old man shifts beneath his mountain of blankets. "Why don't you go help her? She could do with the company."
"Are you sure?" Rex asks,
"Yeah, sure- well, no, except you, Malos, I want to talk to you." When they all hesitate, their shared concern painted evidently on their faces, he frees a hand from the blankets and pats the sofa. "Come. Sit."
After a moment's pause Malos wriggles his way out of Pyra's grasp and pushes Mythra back upright, shooing them away as he settles beside Minoth. "Go on, follow the kid."
Pyra is still hesitant, as, by the look on her face, is Mythra, but Rex makes the decision for them by linking his arms with theirs and pulling them out the room.
"Be good!" Mythra calls back as they leave.
"Still no promises!" is Malos' helpful reply.
Iona barely raises her head from its lowered position over a pot she's stirring as they come in. "Grandpa sent you away?"
"Told us you could do with the help," Mythra confirms, joining her at the pot. "What'cha making?"
"No," Rex says, pulling Mythra away. "You stay away from the food." When Mythra sends him an injured look he defends himself by saying, "I've heard the stories."
Pouting, Mythra relents and backs off. Pyra pats her on the shoulder sympathetically.
Iona giggles, finally lifting her head and taking them in, and she freezes mid-stir. "Is it just you three?"
"Yes, is that a problem?" Pyra asks, despite knowing that yes, of course it is.
"You left Grandpa alone with him?"
"He asked us to," Mythra says casually, rooting through a cupboard - Pyra doesn't want to imagine what for. "And Malos really is okay now."
"That doesn't justify what he did," Rex hastens to add, "and we can't ask you to forgive him or anything, but you can trust that he won't hurt you or your grandfather."
Pyra positions herself at the doorway. Just in case, she tells herself, but she does trust Malos, and the true reason is that she is a terrible person and wants to eavesdrop.
"I gotta admit," Malos is saying, his voice drifting through the corridor to Pyra, "I'd have expected you to be in there doing the cooking."
Minoth laughs dryly in response. "Do I look strong enough to cook? It got to the point where Iona was begging me to teach her how to do it instead."
"She's a good kid," Malos admits. Pyra cannot deny her surprise to hear such a statement from Malos - Mr Notoriously-Terrible-With-All-People-Let-Alone-Children.
"A good, traumatised kid," Minoth agrees, and Pyra can only imagine the glare he's shooting Malos (and the way the blanket cocoon hardly weakens its intensity). "I think having a distraction helped."
"I fucked her up, didn't I."
"You certainly did her no favours," is Minoth's damning agreement, and Pyra winces. "She was very fond of Vandham. She lived in Garfont, originally, before she came to live with me. Never forgot what Vandham did for her, though."
Malos hums, clearly considering his words, and Pyra lets her focus shift to Iona. The girl is laughing as she bats Mythra away with her wooden spoon, but the tension has not left her. It is evident in the tightness of her shoulders, the trace of discomfort in her laughter, the quick glances she fires at the doorway in regular bursts.
It seems a little cruel, now that they've done it and cannot change their decisions, to have brought the man that hurt this child into her home, where she should be allowed to feel safe, not be stuck rotting in fear of losing another person dear to her.
The sound of Minoth hacking up a lung draws her attention back to the conversation happening down the hall.
"This Vandham seems like he was important to a lot of people," Malos says once the coughing subsides.
"He was," Minoth replies. "He did a lot of good. Decided to help Rex and his lot after knowing them for about five minutes, and ended up giving his life for them. He saved Architect-knows how many people and asked for nothing in return.
"You took a good man from the world," he finishes, tone sombre, and they fall silent.
One of Pyra's greatest regrets - and there are admittedly quite a few of those - is the loss of Vandham. In such a short span of time he had fallen so naturally into their little group, become someone dear to them, and his death had been a harsh blow to the already-struggling Pyra and Mythra and, of course, Rex.
He truly was a good man - one of a rare sort, that gave and gave and never asked for anything in return, who improved so many lives for the simple reason that he could.
Sometimes Pyra feels guilty for not thinking of him more when he sacrificed everything for them.
"Did you-" Malos interrupts the silence, but breaks off before he can get anywhere. "Amalthus - what was it like to be his Blade?"
Minoth scoffs, the singular sound conveying an eternity of disgust, anger and hate. "Ahh, Amalthus. Our dear shared friend. You know he's the reason I have this, right?"
Pyra can only assume he's referring to his core crystal, tainted red with the weight of Amalthus' greed. Malos does not respond verbally.
"I couldn't refuse," Minoth says. "He was my driver, and I, merely his Blade. His tool, to do as he wished. I let him fuck me over, twist my body into something unrecognisable, ruin me. I agreed, and when he had no more use for me he tossed me aside to deal with my new condition on my own."
"He didn't keep you around to test the effects?" Malos asks, the surprise clear in his tone. "That's what he did with Mikhail. I thought he'd have done the same with you."
"Oh yes, Mikhail. I'm not sure whether to thank you or hit you for what you did to that kid," Minoth replies. "But that's beside the point. Amalthus did keep me around at first, but I grew angrier and less co-operative, and I guess he realised it was more effort than it was worth and released me into the world."
Malos mutters, "Bastard," and Minoth's laughter serves as his agreement.
"Despite what he did to me," the Flesh Eater continues, "I think it saved me, in the long run. It severed my ties to him, freed me from his destructive thoughts and controlling nature. I got to live.
"You've taken a lot from me." Pyra can almost hear the centuries of suffering behind that simple sentence. "Friends, both in my life as Minoth and as Cole. Vandham, Milton, Hugo, and so many more-"
"Who the hell are they?"
"-but-" the glare Minoth is directing at Malos is almost tangible- "as much as I'd like to, I cannot fully blame you for them. I get what it's like to be Amalthus' Blade, in a way few others can. I understand how he can twist a person's mind.
"I had an escape from him," Minoth finishes. "You didn't."
"You can add this sofa to that list of things I've taken from you," is Malos' wholly inadequate response, and Pyra cannot help but roll her eyes. "I don't think it's salvageable, given that we've been sitting on it while soaking wet."
The sofa squeaks as one or both of them shuffle their weight. "It wasn't comfortable anyway. I think I can forgive you for that one."
Another squeak. "Oh, yeah, one more thing," Minoth persists. "Using Iona as bait? Bad. Fully blaming you and your friends for that one. Do not do that again."
"I wasn't planning to, but I'll keep that in mind," Malos sighs. After a long moment, long enough for Pyra to think the conversation is over, he adds a quiet, "I'm sorry."
Minoth's stunned "You what," (that trails, inevitably, into a mass of coughs) sums up Pyra's own reaction quite nicely.
She is not a gambler, but Pyra would bet money on Malos refusing to meet Minoth's gaze at this moment. "For Vandham," he expands. "Using your kid. For the others you mentioned, although I won't pretend to remember them."
"Damn," Minoth murmurs in a low voice. "You have changed."
"Thank Rex and my sisters," Malos sighs in response. "They're very determined to make me better than I am."
Malos is already better than he believes, if you ask Pyra (and no-one has; she's eavesdropping, she shouldn't have an opinion). No-one prompted that apology. He gave it willingly. That, Pyra would say, is a sign that he doesn't need Pyra or Mythra or Rex nagging him constantly. He just needs (and needed all along) a driver who isn't a complete ass. Minoth, as she has just discovered, can relate.
"Hey, Pyra, what do you think?"
Pyra jolts, zoning out of her musings and back into the scene in front of her. Three sets of eyes are focused on her, awaiting an answer, and Pyra doesn't even know the question. "Um, yes?" she tries, and is rewarded with three identical grins.
"Great!" Iona cheers. "Let's take this through."
She snatches at the food that, at some point, has transferred from the pot to a number of plates, and leaves through the door with it. Mythra and Rex follow suit,
"I have no idea what I just agreed to," Pyra confesses to Rex as he passes her a plate. He only laughs and walks away without enlightening her.
When she returns to the living room Iona has flopped onto the sofa's arm again, leaning possessively into her grandfather and glaring at Malos' lap (distinctly refusing to meet his eyes, Pyra notes). Mythra settles herself between Amalthus' former Blades while Rex makes do leaning on the back of the sofa behind Mythra. Pyra joins her driver, settling her free hand on Malos' shoulder in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. She thinks Malos leans into the touch, just a little.
"Oh, we're definitely going to need a new sofa after this," Minoth grins as Iona tugs his blankets higher. "A new, dry sofa."
Pyra still does not feel remotely dry, despite the sheer volume of rainwater she's spilt into Minoth's house, and yet she doesn't feel too guilty about making the sofa worse.
On said sofa, Minoth writhes his way out of two of his blankets, ignoring Iona's protests as he does so, and passes one back to Rex and the other to Mythra. "There, that should help you warm up a bit." Before he retreats back into his blanket fort he darts out a hand and plucks the forgotten knife out of Mythra's belt. "And I'll return this to its rightful owner."
Mythra grumbles but does not fight, pressing herself into Malos' side and draping their blanket over them. Rex wraps the other over himself and Pyra, and Pyra gladly drags it tighter, leaning into the warmth her driver provides.
As Iona and Minoth fall into conversation (one punctuated by Iona's uncomfortable glances in Malos' direction, but a conversation nonetheless), Pyra looses an arm from her shared blanket and returns it to Malos' shoulder. Bending to place her head next to his, she whispers, "You did well."
"You have got to stop eavesdropping on me," is the muttered reply, and Pyra can only laugh in return.