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Thanks so much to CitrusChickadee (Haha, there's no way Cyrus doesn't get carried away studying late into the night and end up having to run on zero sleep half of the time XD) and Guest (Thank you! I thought Prim's darkness magic would make for a really neat image if she used it while dancing :) for reviewing! I hope you continue to read and enjoy!

And with that, on with the tale!

Relevant Events: Alfyn's Chapter Three

5. Seeking Solace

Therion sat cross-legged on a bed in one of Saintsbridge Inn's rooms, absentmindedly slicing up an apple he had nicked from a fruit vender outside. Unlike the inns some other towns he and his traveling companions had visited, this particular inn did not have four-bed rooms available, so they had been forced to pair up in four separate two-bed rooms rather than simply divide their party in half on a basis of gender. As a result, Therion found himself rooming with Alfyn, who had been incessantly pacing back and forth across the center of the room for the better part of an hour now.

It was making Therion nervous just watching him.

When the thief could finally take the tension no longer, he heaved a long-suffering sigh and picked up one of the smaller apple slices he had made. As the apothecary passed by his bed once more, Therion flicked the apple slice in his direction, hitting him squarely on the forehead with it. The makeshift projectile wasn't nearly large enough to actually hurt, but it certainly served to catch Alfyn's attention at last.

"If there's something you want to talk about, then talk," Therion deadpanned as Alfyn glanced bewilderedly in his direction. "You're just about driving me insane with all that pacing."

"O-Oh, well…" Alfyn ran a hand through his disheveled hair, squirming uncomfortably under Therion's gaze. "Sorry about that, Therion, I just…I've kinda been thinkin' about somethin'..."

Therion arched an eyebrow. "That much is obvious. What is it?"

"Well, I…I just…" The apothecary exhaled heavily, sinking down onto his own bed, across from Therion. He placed his head in his hands, slightly muffling his voice when he next spoke. "I guess I'm just…wonderin' how you all do it."

"It?"

"I mean…" Alfyn lifted his head a bit, but didn't quite meet the thief's eyes. "You, and Prim, and Olberic…shucks, even Cyrus. You've all killed somebody at some point or another…the professor killed that man in the sewers and you killed Gareth just recently. Olberic fought huge battles, so of course he's taken lives, and Primrose is on a whole quest for revenge. I just…I don't understand how you all keep on goin', knowin' that you've got blood on your hands…"

Therion's visible eye narrowed, studying Alfyn for several long moments before he finally spoke. "...Miguel sealed his own fate," he said bluntly, returning his gaze to his apple. "You might have done him in, in the end, but from the looks of things, he had it coming for a long time before you even met him. Besides…it's not like you killed him for no reason."

"I know, I know…" Alfyn mumbled, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "He was dangerous, and a criminal - er, no offense, Therion - and he deserved what he got, but…I dunno, I guess I just wish that I didn't have to be the one to do it, you know…? I'm an apothecary…I'm not supposed to take lives, I'm supposed to save them."

The thief frowned, finally straightening up and looking fully at the other man. Alfyn's face, normally so bright and unburdened, was contorted in anguish, and he was far twitchier than Therion had ever seen him. A heavy shadow lay across his eyes, causing the apothecary to appear very unlike his usual self. In fact, nearly everything about him in his current state looked…wrong.

"...but you did, Alfyn," Therion said quietly, careful to avoid letting any of his usual biting sarcasm slip into his tone. "You did save a life. If you hadn't killed Miguel, then I think we both know what he would have eventually done to that poor kid if he wasn't given his ransom. That man…he wasn't the sort of person you could reason with. You did what you had to in order to keep the kid safe, that's all. Take solace in that, if nothing else."

Alfyn bit his lip, eyeing Therion uncertainly. "I…I know that, logically. But…shucks, I can't stop thinkin' about it. It makes my stomach turn…and I don't think I have any herbs for this sort of sickness…"

Therion thought for a moment, then glanced down at the apple slices on the bed beside him. "...here. Catch." He tossed another bit of the apple in Alfyn's direction, though this time, the apothecary caught it instead of simply letting it smack him in the head.

"Uh…" Alfyn blinked. "...what's this for?"

The thief shrugged. "Eat it."

"...why?"

"Just do it, medicine man. It's not like it's poisoned or anything."

"Didn't I just get done tellin' you that I felt nauseous…?"

Therion flashed the apothecary a dull look. "It's a magic apple," he deadpanned, completely straight-faced. "Eat one slice, and it'll cure you of any ailment in seconds, one hundred percent guaranteed."

Now it was Alfyn's turn to give a flat stare. "...that's not a real thing."

"Prove me wrong, then," the thief replied with another shrug.

Alfyn sighed deeply, but acquiesced, popping the apple slice into his mouth. Once he had eaten it, he waited a few seconds, then spread his arms and gave Therion a look. "Nothin' happened," he pointed out.

Therion chuckled slightly, reclining on his bed and twirling his apple juice-coated knife. "Sure, but you're distracted now, aren't you? Enough to calm you down a bit?"

The apothecary blinked. He looked over at Therion, then down at his hands, which no longer shook quite as badly as they had before. When he lifted his gaze to stare at Therion once again, all the thief offered him in return was a knowing smirk.

"...you're surprisingly good at that," Alfyn said finally, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Mhm, well…I'm not so good at comfort," Therion admitted. "But distraction? Misdirection? Any half-decent thief would consider that sort of thing child's play." He frowned. "I…know I'm not going to be able to make you feel any better about this whole Miguel situation. You're too soft-hearted for that sort of thing to go away any time soon. But…the least I can do is try to keep you from dwelling on it so much, right?"

It took a bit longer than it might have normally, but a small smile gradually came to spread across Alfyn's face. "I…s'pose so." He chuckled. "You know, Therion…you're actually a pretty nice guy when you want to be."

The thief grimaced, looking away. "Ugh, don't say that," he grumbled. "I've got a reputation to uphold."

"Heh…well, in any case, I really do appreciate it." Alfyn took a deep breath, rubbing at his temples. "I think I've got a lot more thinkin' to do, but…thanks for tryin' to make me feel better. Means a lot, you know?"

"Whatever you say." Therion closed his eyes, folding his hands behind his head. "Can't have you moping around forever, can we?"

"Of course not," Alfyn laughed quietly. "That's your job."

Therion tensed and scowled, opening his one visible eye into a slit just wide enough to shoot a glare in Alfyn's direction, but at the sight of the apothecary's tentative smile, his expression softened. The thief did not quite smile in return, but he did close his eye and settle back into a more relaxed position once more. He still had no doubt in his mind that Alfyn would continue to beat himself up over recent events, but at the very least, he seemed to be feeling marginally better. And if all it took to accomplish that was some casual distraction and tolerance of some playful jabs thrown his way, then it was a price Therion would not soon refuse to pay.

"Tch…damn right it is. Now go to sleep. I'm sure the others'll be more than happy to throw a comfort-fest for you in the morning."

"Oh boy, you've got a point…and what about you? Do you plan on joinin' in on that?"

"If the mood strikes. Though the way I see it, I've already done my part."

"Heh…true enough. Thanks, Therion. You're a good friend."

"Don't mention it."

See you guys next week for Tale 6: Break Away!