The scent of the toli'fale had always been one that piqued Kyle's interest, and made each time he walked into what was called his home away from home a surreal experience. The stark stench of cloves and lemongrass tended to float about from the backroom apothecary, mingling strangely with the musty aroma of parchments passed down throughout the ages of the fater'talei. It was always a moment that made him recoil upon his first step as it did everyone else who crossed the threshold, regardless of how many times a day he'd wander in and out of its massive allowances.
Today was no different, his nose scrunching and fingers clenching around his satchel as he seeped through the wall of the massive collaboration of oak trees, hollowed and strung together through magic to make a monstrosity of foliage. His head turned cautiously, looking for others lingering about and catching a blonde head flittering around on an upper balcony. He grumbled under his breath, tip-toeing his way towards the back to have to avoid contact with the other. Grego'ri was not one he cared to communicate with if he could escape it. Kyle held his bag firm against his hip to prevent it slamming against his leg, hurrying across the way as the other scoured about for his tomes.
His wings flittered to move him across the floor quicker towards a back wall, nearly slapping his hand against it in his haste and seeping through just as he heard a greeting coming from the upper floor. He made it into his destination and sighed in relief, scratching at his hair and seeing two pairs of hazel eyes watching him in surprise. A blonde he was always fine with seeing broke into a smile, giving him a shaky wave. "Hey, Kyle."
"Hey," he greeted with a nod. "Sorry I didn't like… knock."
He waved him off. "Don't worry about it, Man. Better you than a killer or somethin', right?"
A small smirk crept up his lips. Tweek had always been like that. Always had a telltale twitch that racked through him in sporadic intervals. Wide hazelnut eyes seemed to be forever trapped in a state of shock and worry. But, Kyle thought, it suited him. Never witnessed anything more violent than Kyle losing his temper at someone or a fateri coming to him with a scraped knee, but somehow always managed to think there was trouble afoot just beyond his wall. Personally, Kyle blamed Stan for his tales of training. Though, he knew well enough that he definitely had some part in the paranoia. His own stories of the outside world certainly didn't aide Tweek in his breathing exercises.
But that was what was so wonderful about his position within their tribe. Getting to be the reclusive apothecary more than suited his nervous friend's needs. Not to mention, Kyle always had someone on hand for when he got too excitable outside their mountain and came to him with a sheepish grin and a large cut on his arm from not paying attention. Tweek didn't judge his adventures, knowing that Kyle got what he needed for his potions and was never burdened by his requests. In fact, Kyle had come to him asking if he could assist in foraging, so long as a mutual secretive understanding was met. Kyle knew the prospect of Tweek hiding something weighed on him a bit, but that's what this room was for. For him and his other assistant to discuss, get their feelings on the subject out in the open and relieve the tension that Kyle happened to bring about with his riveting tales.
Kyle stood from the wall, making way towards the two and placing his books on the table, looking at a curly headed brunette and giving her a smile. "Hey, Becca."
She grinned back shakily, giving a nervous wave of her fingers and a faint blush riding on the edge of prominent cheekbones at his appearance. "H-hey. Did you… did you find it?"
He nodded, moving to dig in his satchel and clicking his tongue. "Not a whole lot. I think some aikopia might've raided the shrub." She shook her head in disappointment and he smirked a bit at the expression. "Maybe they needed them, too," he commented, pulling a long, polished box from its hold and setting it atop the table. His fingers delicately undid the twine wrapping he'd secured it with mere twenty minutes ago, moving the lid off and to the side to reveal branches of pastel green branches bursting with half-inch needles. Kyle hummed, reaching in and pulling out the eight full sprigs he'd managed to salvage from the shrub and handing them to a beaming Becca.
She took them from his hands with a gentle grace, trembling fingers dancing over the prickles of the needles and nibbling on her bottom lip. She glanced up at him shyly through a lock of stray hair and smiled. "Th-thank you, Kyle."
"No problem," he shrugged, plopping down in what the three of them had designated as his seat and snagging his book and quill from his bag, flipping to a fresh page and readying his ink. She smiled knowingly, laying one of the branches down on the table for him to study while she borrowed Tweek's mortar, pulling off needles two at a time to let them fall into the sculpted clay bowl.
Kyle licked over his lips as he sat back, propping the book at an angle on the corner of the table, barely coating the end of his quill in ink to begin his sketching lines. "So. What's this guy for?" Kyle asked as he worked, keeping his eyes flittering between his subject and parchment.
"It's an inialet." She shrugged. "We want to give some to the foragers to plant around the berry bushes, so the lena'pae will leave them be."
"Ah," he nodded, sketching out a rough multitude of needles as she handed the bowl over to Tweek, settling down in her chair and starting to separate more spikes and buds into wooden containers. Kyle pursed his lips a bit in concentration as his wrist swooped across the page. "What about you?" he flickered his eyes up to his twitchy friend.
Tweek gulped as he started to crush the supply Becca handed him. "I-I'm trying to find something for the treagi to use. You know… so they smell more like outside and the… y-ya know… don't track them."
"Aidarkeri?" Kyle said without the slightest hesitation, never deviating from his art. "Makes sense. Stan said he feels like at least one of them may be getting closer to their training grounds. They're all a little on edge."
The apothecary shivered, eyes darting about, as though unknown lurkers lingered within his walls. "Kyle, shhhhh."
He paused, looking up at him and quirking his brow. "What? It's not like it's forbidden to mention them."
Becca gnawed on her lip, glancing at him sympathetically. "I-I mean… no… but it's not a g-good idea."
"Oh, you two need to calm down," he waved off their concern before re-dunking his quill. "You can't discuss the solution without first addressing the problem," he reminded them, making broader strokes along his page. "Speaking of problems, where's your brother?" he glanced up at Becca for a moment.
"H-he's out with Grego'ri looking for books on animals again."
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Doesn't he know enough about animals?" he drawled. "Maybe he should redirect his focus onto something more productive."
Tweek paused his work, blinking at him. "More productive than food?"
"We have lena'pae," he reminded them. "Fuckin' eat it every damn night. Plus, the berries are ripe for the season, I think we're all covered food-wise."
Becca smirked in the slightest, continuing her sorting and shaking her head. "You hate lena'pae."
"I don't hate it, I'm just sick of it every night," he rolled his eyes. "And let's be real, Mark doesn't research any animal but them."
She shrugged a bit, eyes falling back downward, overwhelmed by the prolonged eye contact between them. "Well… they're the most abundant," she mumbled.
Kyle sighed through his nose, looking down at his sketched branch and tucking curls behind his ear. Kyle couldn't exactly insult Mark on his focus, he supposed. Considering how he himself hadn't budged from his own studies except in the chores he took on to avoid suspicion. But he figured that there was much more to learn in the species he was researching than there was about fucking deer. But he supposed it didn't really matter. Everyone was more than happy with Mark's research, finding their most likely hiding places for the hunters to track them down and figuring out what foods to plant to lure them out. Their tribe was small, but they still all had to eat.
The ponds scattered throughout within the scope of their home didn't provide nearly enough fish, the kiantri worried that destroying their population would upset nature's balance, that Mellicia would not look kindly upon them for decimating their livelihood in such a way. Only once a year, towards the tail end of the sweltering season, were they permitted to fish. For the Nai'lan no talei, their time to thank the earth for its sustenance, when creatures of the soil were protected and revered for four days before life returned to its normal flow. Fateri were taught the gifts of nature, their parents and older siblings emphasizing to them time and again what was so important about it all, learning the proper way to pay respects to Leiata'nea and her worldly blessings.
Kyle despised the festival to an extent, the last few years being pulled up with the kiantri during his kana'fale services and given a bird one of the hunters had managed to trap alive and bring home. Kyle would have to stand beside him, shifting his weight and eyes darting about in embarrassment, with the winged creature perched on his hand and eating seeds from his palm. It would be perfectly content being held by him when before, it'd been squawking to be let back out into the fresh air. A demonstration of balance, the kiantri had told the congregation time and again. An embodiment of nature and faterianea meshing together, cooperating in quiet, calmed harmony.
Kyle would always catch Stan fighting to hold in his laughter from his seat, Ike usually nearby rolling his eyes as their parents beamed at him with such a boisterous pride. He hated being the spectacle, but it was to be expected, he supposed. In a way, it protected him. Kyle had a feeling that the kiantri did such demonstrations on purpose, his personal way of showing their tribe "look, I know he's a little odd and he worries all of you but he serves his purpose on the outside". Whether or not that was true, Kyle wasn't entirely sure, but it was something to hold onto, and probably kept more hearsay about him from spreading around. At least… maybe temporarily.
It was at least long enough for him to avoid the nonstop lectures of his youth by the elderly faterian, always having to slip around their gatherings and zip out of the mountain in an attempt to avoid their gossiping ways. And, more importantly, the first time Tweek and Becca had paid witness to his 'feat', it'd been more than enough to convince them to let him in on their projects. They were the perfect excuse, getting him out into the open air but still benefitting his people as much as their way's constraining lifestyle would allow. He couldn't make the potions, and he couldn't grow their home's foliage. Technically, he wasn't supposed to do anything but get their plants and take whatever notes they dictated. But neither of them were comfortable spouting off what Kyle should do, and they were more than happy to let him sketch and forge his own notes, answering whatever questions he felt were necessary for the archives. Kyle had questioned how so few and undetailed notes existed upon his entrance into their world, the two of them only able to hypothesize that everything had been word-of-mouth from master and apprentice for so long they just never bothered to document their activities. They had the physical descriptions of their plants, colors and size alone. It was no wonder the foragers had so often messed up their errands.
Kyle had found that system to be nothing short of ludicrous. After all, he claimed, what if they ran into a situation where their own apprentices weren't born? That the next in line would wait a few generations before making themselves known to the tribe and no one would know just how to do their job without their guidance. The two of them had pondered over that before wholeheartedly agreeing, their nervous tendencies getting the better of them and launching them into a paranoia of being the last of their kind until Kyle spent hours convincing them that he only brought it up as a remote possibility. Either way, he'd managed to drag the both of them to the kiantri to present his idea, the two of them just nodding in agreement and hiding behind his back, overwhelmed being in the private presence of one so revered. Neither of them could quite comprehend just how it was Kyle spoke with such respect, but such a firm tone that read "I'm doing this whether you permit me to or not. This meeting is merely a formality."
But, Kyle had proven to be quite an asset to both of their lines of work. Becca was more than grateful for his swiftness in gathering the plants and seeds she required, Tweek beyond glad that his potions finally had notes. The trepidation of screwing up his remedies was lessened substantially at long last. Besides, it was nice to hear Kyle's stories of the outside world, despite how his vivid details could strike a bit of a gut-wrenching chord within their nerves. He'd promised them that so long as they kept his stories and his sketches to themselves, he'd keep their duties running at peak form as much as he could with the limited assistance he could offer. A more than fair agreement, they believed.
A short knock rapped on the outer wall, Kyle's head whipping around and gripping his book, hiding his diagram from the view of the entranceway. Becca waited for him to nod before clearing her throat, calling out a simple, "Yes?"
They watched two forms seeping through the wall, Kyle letting out a long breath of relief at Mark and Grego'ri stepping into the room, allowing his book to fall back open and continuing his sketching, not giving them another ounce of his attention from his work. Grego'ri looked at him and shook his head a bit, plastering on a hint of a smug grin. "Well, hello, Kylenove'ia."
"Hi," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He cringed a bit as he felt him walking behind him, staring at his sketch as he worked. Kyle's face lit, embarrassment and a feeling of judgment wafting over him.
"You know, you could always take those talents elsewhere," Grego'ri commented, missing Kyle's shoulders sinking and the slight glares from the others in the room. "They must be of better use elsewhere."
"For the last time," Kyle said through his teeth, quill scratching away its multitude of needles, "we don't do that."
He scoffed, putting a stack of books on the table beside of him and shaking out his hands of their indentations from the hardened covers. "Which is a waste. Why not utilize what you can do?"
Kyle sighed, shaking his head a bit as he continued to draw. Considering his and Grego'ri's philosophies were so similar, he figured that maybe he should get along with him a tad better than he did. But then again, a pompous attitude was not something that set well on Kyle, and a proclamation that his methods were superior to his tribe's way of life made him defensive. Agreeing or not, he didn't have to take such insults, Grego'ri hadn't earned them. He hadn't grown up here, hadn't been bathed in the ways of the fater'talei. No, he'd come in only two seasons prior, a rogue fairy from a tribe of travelers. He'd been sent to learn of the ways of the ilanti'nal taleinar, the dirt dwellers as they were so insultingly referred to as by the outsider. Kyle both envied and loathed him. He was a faterian free to come and go as he pleased. If he wanted to leave and never come back, he was more than welcome to, in fact encouraged by their secretive populous. But, Kyle couldn't help but wonder how he would be were he in Grego'ri's position. He had to assume he'd at least fucking respect the culture of the tribes he finagled into, not consistently question their ways and claim his own to be so much more 'practical'.
But, what did he know? Perhaps to another tribe, he'd be just as arrogant and never even know it. He gnawed on his lip a bit, wondering if he came off as too judgmental of Kenny the day prior. He'd questioned his religion of all things after all… Kyle's heart sank. Well, shit. Maybe he was more like the outsider than he thought. Kenny hadn't seemed insulted by his question, but Kyle could certainly put Grego'ri right in his own place, hearing that smug, arrogant tone boasting that his way was the only correct way. His quill drooped in his fingers, shoulders sinking. He'd have to be sure to apologize for his behavior. He didn't need someone like Kenny getting the impression that they were all like that.
He glanced over at Mark sliding into a seat beside his sister, eyes locked down on his tome and barely muttering more than a 'hello' to the room. Kyle shook his head. The two of them were the only ones trapped in their nederi, and Mark was more than content with doing nothing but reading and speaking to others of his findings. Kyle just couldn't grasp the concept, how he could be so all right with merely reading about the lena'pae, and not going to see one alive for himself. Kyle had tried on multiple occasions to get him to accompany him outside, to feed a lena'pae from his palm, to watch them graze in a meadow or drink from a creek. But no. No, he was just fine with going off of Kyle's stories and whatever information he found within the toli'fale.
"Mar'kena and I found the tomes you were searching for, Kylenove'ia," Grego'ri claimed, sliding the top half of his stack towards him.
Kyle blinked, placing down his sketchbook and gripping the four large books from him, turning their worn covers to look at the faded, painted titles along the spines. "I never… told you what books I was looking for," he said, eyes casting a skeptic side-winding gaze and heart pounding erratically.
"No, but Mar'kena remembered you had written down what you were looking for and he saw you scouring about a few weeks ago before you got called away." He plopped down into the seat beside him, leaning back and crossing his legs, taupe wings fluttering behind him. "So we found your notes out there, figured out what your little code words meant, and found what you needed." Kyle gulped. Well. They weren't wrong about what he'd been looking for… but he sure as fuck didn't want anyone to know that these were the books he was taking from the toli'fale. It could spell absolute disaster for him.
"H-how did you figure out my notes?" he narrowed his eyes a bit.
Grego'ri smirked, giving him a simple shrug. "Not too many tomes out there with that combination of lettering for their titles. If you want to keep it secret, perhaps you should do something other than mere abbreviations."
Kyle straightened up, scowl forming faster than he could keep up with. "Or maybe, just maybe, you should stay out of my notes!"
"I told you he'd be upset," Mark commented, not taking his eyes from his text. "I told him not to, Kyle."
He turned his attention back to the boisterous man beside of him. "Next time, listen to someone who lives here instead of snoopin' around," he snarled.
Grego'ri blinked. "Kyleno-"
"Kyle," he cut him off with a bite. "You're not my ritavi. Knock it off."
He leaned his head back, sighing dramatically. "Fine. Kyle," he drawled. "I truly believed you would appreciate me going out of my way to assist you."
"I didn't need your assistance; I just ran out of time before I had to go do something and I've been catching up on other work. I think I know my way around the toli'fale better than you."
He smiled, "Are you sure about that? I mean, I even sleep here. You seem to only come in when the mood strikes."
Tweek and Becca looked at each other with jaws hanging agape at his brashness, watching as fury steadily stacked onto Kyle's infamously short temper. "K-Kyle?" Becca stood up from her seat, timidly reaching across the table and putting a hand on his tremoring shoulder. "Kyle, just… just ignore him."
Grego'ri looked at her, brow cocked high. "Ignore what? Perhaps if he spent more time here, since he's so adamant on his duties or whatever he calls them, he'd already be onto this project," he picked up one of the tomes and twisted it a bit in his hand, deep, dark eyes sweeping back to Kyle's gritting teeth. "Given… you reading about this subject matter isn't the brightest of notions for an ilanti'nal taleinar, is it?"
Kyle's eyes lit with rage at the term, fist flying before he could stop it and slamming against Grego'ri's eye, sending him falling back in his chair with a shocked yelp and sprawling onto the floor. Kyle got to his feet, throbbing fist shaking from beside him and breaths seeping through gnashed teeth. His wings snapped behind him, adrenaline readying them for a quick maneuver should he need it. "Fucking call us that again, you piece of shit! See where it fucking gets you!" he shouted, the other three watching him in horror, Tweek drawing back his fragile glass bottles in a quickened panic out of the possible war path.
Grego'ri stumbled back onto his feet, rubbing at his eye and wincing before glancing up to sneer at his shorter opponent. "Well. Your temper certainly fits your upbringing."
"Pretty rich coming from a fucking filthy vagrant," he sneered. "Why don't you go home- oh wait," he drawled. "You don't have one."
He reached down, grabbing Kyle's fallen tome and passing it from hand to hand, clicking his tongue in the slightest. "At least my people respect me," he said, voice going cold. "I was sent here because I can so easily figure out other tribes' ways and learn. And my people love that about me. What about you, Kylenove'ia?" he elongated his name, voice dripping with foul intent and watching him shake. "You know, you're the height of rumors out in your little village," he smirked. "But they're not saying nice things." He turned to the observers, still wide-eyed and silent at the war taking place in the cramped room. "Remind me, just what is it that they call him?" he prodded.
"Grego'ri, s-stop," Tweek tried to deepen his voice, failing and ending in an awkward, nervous squeak.
"Oh right," he scoffed. "Kylenavi. Right?"
Kyle's eyes fell, upper lip twitching, trying to form itself into a full-on snarl. Years of that nickname had followed him around, stuck on him since he was sixteen, when he'd hit one of the treagi for insulting his brother. It'd spread throughout the village, the entire tribe seeming to come to a consensus that it was the best thing to call him. He'd attacked a soldier, one of their saviors, after all. He was nothing but a vengeful fire, he was a danger that would scorch before he would heal. They'd dubbed him as such because he was unpredictable. Because he was wild. Because they believed he would burn their village to the ground if they didn't get him under control.
The day the moniker had sprung was the day the kiantri took a special interest in him, the day he'd brought him to the kana'fale for his first private discussion of his behavior. That was the first time he'd been told the story of Tetima, how the kiantri worried for him that he held too much of her cocky, surefire nature. That it would be his downfall. It was the first time he'd been told he needed to learn to control himself, get her spirit pushed down and make room for another to take stronger hold over him. He'd been sent home with the lessons of Kilpae, told to adhere more to her ways, in the manner that faterianea were supposed to do. Her twin was meant to only be used in situations where it called for bravery and stubbornness; she wasn't supposed to be who one leaned on for the majority of their lifetime. Kyle had been beyond confused, thought that any embodiment was seen as prosperous.
How very sorely mistaken he apparently had been.
"Grego'ri, now that's enough," Mark spoke up, giving Kyle a pitiable look before shaking his head at his associate. The three watching the show were some of the few who despised that nickname almost as much as Kyle did, knowing that it was beyond ridiculous. Well, from their limited understanding of what he did with his studies, they felt as such.
Kyle could definitely relate the sobriquet to key points of his hidden work, though.
Grego'ri watched as Kyle reached forward, snatching his tome from his hand and beginning to repack his bag in silence, crossing his arms and tutting his tongue. "You actually believe what you're doing is beneficial. Don't you?"
"More beneficial than invading others' culture and insulting them," he muttered.
Becca's brow furrowed. "Of course what h-he's doing is beneficial! T-Tweek and I would be seasons behind without him!"
"Not the studies I was referring to," Grego'ri murmured, watching Kyle with caution as his spine stiffened, pausing with another book halfway to his satchel. Green eyes flickered up in warning, another smirk crawling onto Grego'ri's lips. "Even Tetima would be ashamed of what you're doing."
Kyle growled, dashing forward with a quick snap of his wings, rearing back his book wielding hand and smacking him in the side of the head with it before he could raise his arm to defend himself. Kyle watched him stumbling back with a pained groan, chest heaving and entire body trembling. "Fuck off!" he screamed, the others flinching from the volume, moving in closer towards one another as Grego'ri found his bearings. He scowled, finally hitting the edge of his smarmy patience as he made way for him, Kyle planting himself into his stance and waiting, ready to pounce.
Grego'ri yipped as the back of his tunic was grabbed and he was ripped back, looking up to find Stan glaring at him. "Knock it off. Both of you," he said, voice booming with a rare authority.
Kyle slackened, knuckles going white around his book, "He fucking started it!"
"He always starts it," he rolled his eyes, shoving Grego'ri aside and shaking his head at his naichi. "Back off, you homeless piece of shit," he sneered before looking back at Kyle's shaking form and sighing. He walked over towards him and grabbed his bag, looking for any of Kyle's other belongings before snaring his wrist and leading him out to seep through the wall, to get that nice thick separation between him and the source of his anxiety. He led him towards the middle of the toli'fale, Kyle's head hanging in shame as he brought them to a stop far out of earshot of the apothecary and at last released his wrist. Kyle brought it back towards himself before taking his bag from Stan's hold, still refusing to meet his gaze.
"Kyle," Stan flicked his forehead. "Dude. Stop getting into fights with him."
"He started it," he repeated, holding his book protectively against his chest, fingertips drumming along the cover.
He nodded, "I know. He's a shithead. Hopefully he'll be gone soon. But you can't keep fighting him, Dude. He's gonna fucking say something and who knows what other kind of rumors'll start about you!"
His shoulders dropped, eyes finally raising to meet Stan's and teeth grinding against his lip. "Does it really matter at this point?" he ventured. "What else can they say about me? Even he hears all that shit, and he's an outsider no one wants to talk to…" he trailed off with a heavy sigh. "I don't know why he gets me so fucking angry."
"Because you don't like arrogant assholes," he shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is you punching him every time he gives you an opening."
"Not like he doesn't deserve it," he muttered.
"I'm not arguing that," Stan held up his hands a bit. "If it weren't for my stupid oath, I probably would've decked him by now, too… but, people expect that crap from me. Not from you."
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Yes. I fucking know. 'I'm a man of the paper, not one of war'," he mocked before slinking again. "I just don't like being questioned on my intentions."
"I know," Stan smiled a bit crookedly, patting his shoulder. He wasn't very fond of people questioning Kyle either, knowing his best friend well enough to know that something detrimental was never his main goal. There was no anarchist mission here, only curiosity. Nothing damaging about that.
Kyle tucked hair behind his ear, finally straightening up a bit and clearing his throat. "So. Why're you here?"
"You asshole, I knew you'd forget," he rolled his eyes with a smirk. "You promised to help me study."
"Right, right," he nodded, shoving his tome down into his bag, careful to not let Stan see the words scribed on the cover. "Sorry. He kind of threw me off."
Stan nodded back, cocking his head at his full bag. "So whatcha readin'?" he asked.
Kyle paused, gulping and looking up at his friend, breath hitching as he fought for the right thing to say. Looking at his best friend who was caught between returning the sentiment of brothers before anything else and staying rooted in his duty. At the man who was supposed to keep Kyle's secret project away from anyone outside the treagi. Who was supposed to bring them to the kiantri immediately should word of their involvement become known. Who didn't know what Kyle was doing. "Um just… more… plant stuff," he smiled awkwardly.
Stan very slowly cocked his brow at the unusual tone. "Plant stuff?"
"Stupid notes on ya know… flowers. Mushrooms. Trees," he shrugged. "Boring boring stuff. Nothing special."
He looked between the bag and him again, skepticism ringing through his stare at Kyle shifting his weight and cheeks turning hues. "Why are you acting so weird if it's just… plant stuff?" He paused in realization, smirking and leaning down towards him, dropping his voice into a murmur. "More aikopia shit, isn't it?" he teased, knowing Kyle wouldn't want any passerby to hear such scandal.
Kyle coughed out a chuckle, that blush growing brighter and his chest twisting more violently, wrenching hard enough to make him nauseated as he forced himself to meet his decibel level and keep his voice steadied out. "Y-yeah. Ya got me. Aikopia stuff day and night for me, you know how I am."
"I do," he snorted in amusement, standing back up straight and jerking his head towards the side of the room. "I got my books and stuff. You good to help or…?"
"Yeah," he nodded a little too enthusiastically, just beyond glad to get away from the topic prior. "Let's uh… let's go," he motioned for Stan to lead the way, smiling back shakily at his friend's beaming, grateful grin before he turned to walk towards his table, Kyle sheepishly on his heels.
Thin fingers clutched around the strap of his satchel, looking towards the wall to the apothecary and gulping again. Grego'ri knew. He fucking knew. He was in so much trouble if he let word get out, he'd be punished somehow, someway. Problem was, he had no idea how severe it could possibly be, he could very likely be putting his entire livelihood on the line. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting down a looming anxiety attack at the notion. The outsider had to keep his damn mouth shut. He obviously knew how much trouble Kyle could get into… he just had to hope that it meant something to the man he'd just hit in the damn face. Twice.
He and Stan sat at a far table, Stan muttering to himself as he shuffled through disorganized papers looking for his notes he needed assistance with. Kyle watched him, eyes blank as worry continued to pummel him into a meek shell. He just had to hope. Had to hope Grego'ri would respect his intellectual endeavors. Hope that he would keep his mouth shut and let him continue his work.
Hope that all he'd been working towards wouldn't be for naught.
