Note: The way that classes are promoted in this story are more realistic (becoming better at fighting, going through promotions/knighting ceremonies, etc.) than the game suggests (the magical girl spinning as a golden light envelops them lol). Also, Henry's sorcerer design is a combination of his Sorcerer Sprite in Awakening, his normal sprites in Heroes, and the Sorcerer outfit in his Cipher card.
The original goal of the mission was to stop the bandits, and recover all of the stolen treasure. Anna and Gaius brought back some of the goods with them from the whole escapade (Anna more so than Gaius, because his sack had more sand than gold in it by the time they recovered his unconscious body), but an excavation team was still needed to recover the rest of it. As the first member to recover from the incident in full, Miriel told all of this to Robin, and more. Her notes were a little bit more sloppy and incomplete than they usually were, but she managed to get everything across—from the bandits to the Risen dragon and giant spider, all the way down to the explosives wired in the walls.
She mentioned that everyone was exceedingly heroic and helpful. Gaius and Henry especially stood out, and she accredited Henry's quick thinking as a large part of their success. "And as Maribelle told me in passing, Gaius saved her life a multitude of times. But everyone was wonderful and efficient during this operation, believe me when I say so." Her words rung true, although she didn't mention them just to receive blatant praise from the tactician. She truly felt that it was their combined strength that allowed them to leave that hellish experience as they did.
Ultimately, Robin was equally pleased and worried with the outcome of their endeavors, so they assured Miriel that everything would be taken into account. They also mentioned that Miriel and the others would be allowed a short period of respite to fully recover from the incident itself. "You can even help yourself to some of the spoils," Robin added on, while twirling a strand of white hair around their index finger—habitually, but thoughtfully so. "We distributed almost all of it back to the rightful owners, but there was a lot left unclaimed. To be honest, I think that many of those towns just wanted to reward us, somehow, so they let us keep more than we deserve. I wish we could refuse them, but we need the money more than they could possibly imagine." They sighed at the realization, almost shameful at how honest they were with the current financial situation. "But to sum up, there is a bit of breathing room in our coffers, so if you or the others need a bit of gold to fluff up your pockets, I wouldn't mind if you rewarded yourselves that way, too."
It's what you deserve after surviving that disaster, to begin with, they thought but didn't say. Regardless, Miriel seemed absolutely elated at the opportunity. "Of course, I will happily accept some part of it as a means to fund some of my more costly experiments. But I will also be sure to seek your guidance, because I am thinking of pursuing a more sagely path, as I am sure you are aware." A small smile crossed her face, and she truly looked pleased at this new development.
"Thank you, Robin. And please don't be so harsh on yourself. Low self-esteem affects all manner of things, including decision-making, perception of one's image and others' images therein, and not to mention stationary health." A moment of realization came, and Miriel quickly cut in to say: "I believe the common phrase is no pain, no gain. And although I cannot speak for my allies on the matter, I am quite sure that no one holds any animosity towards you for making an executive decision when you did. So please be mindful of that."
It was a measly yet overly-complicated attempt at trying to comfort the strategist, but it was accepted, anyway. Robin laughed in spite of themselves. "I appreciate it, Miriel. Why don't you go enjoy yourself for a bit, then? We were getting ready to move camp up north, but that's being held off for obvious reasons. Until then, you can...well, I said this already, didn't I?" Miriel understood at once, and gave a polite wave goodbye before excusing herself from Robin's domain.
When she disappeared behind the tent flaps, Robin let out a deep sigh. They hated using something as shallow as money and treasures to alleviate such grand suffering, and they knew very well that this couldn't compensate for the struggles they just went through. But this was war, they were dealing with, and certainly the others could stand to tolerate this misstep on their end. Hopefully they could bear with Robin, and forgive them in what they believe to be one of their more heavier mistakes in all their time involved in this campaign.
They certainly hoped so, at least. They carried this hope on their shoulders in a slight slouch, one that got better with time as more and more of the afflicted Shepherds recovered. But until all of them were fully healed, they would still hold the cross of guilt over their back, and feel unsatisfied with their decision on the matter. With the way Gaius was recovering, however, they feared that true resolution would take a long time to happen.
If it ever happened, in the first place.
.
.
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Henry awoke to the smell of rum and licorice. He was not fond of those aromas in particular, and severely hoped that the medics didn't have to spike him up with alcohol and perform an amputation, or something. It was silly to think that, though—especially if there were curses to feel no pain that he could cast to help himself. And it would be even more sillier once he realized there were things called "sedatives" in this world, too.
Oh, he wanted his hands on some of those drugs. They were more magical than anything he could conjure, for they could actually erase agony in all its essence. Healing staves and similar mechanisms calmed the injuries and prevented death, but the lasting remnants of pain and misery would linger within the afflicted. Henry always hated, hated, hated pain and now he never had to feel that ever again. He just needed to get some of the sedative supplies out from under the noses of the medics.
Henry opened his eyes in excitement, not realizing he was still on a bedroll and not realizing he should probably stay still. His back was to the cot (which felt soft and comfy, actually) and his front faced the ceiling—the top of the tent, actually. It was therapeutic to watch the material ripple in the wind, and even more calming to feel the wind itself rush into the infirmary, cooling off Henry's sweaty forehead and allowing him to truly breathe.
"Henry? Are you awake?" It was Libra. Henry didn't mind the monk's presence, but he was definitely more used to see Maribelle or Lissa. He obliquely wondered where they were, but then remembered that they were also badly injured from the incident, and resting in similar tents as he was. He sighed quietly, and tried to sit up on his own.
Libra was quick to act, however, and used a firm but soft hand to stay Henry's movements. They shook their head side to side, and eased up when Henry fell back to his original position. Then he smiled. "I'm glad to see that you're finally awake. It took you a few days."
"Really? That long?" He was genuinely surprised, but he undermined the emotion by smiling widely as he always did. Libra seemed rather unaffected by this strange behavior—maybe he'd seen worse at his confessionals, after all—and returned the gesture with a smile of equal brightness. Henry was humored by the fact that Libra's smile, for some reason, was just as soulless as his own.
Intriguing.
"Well, it's refreshing to know that you find that too long of a recovery period...some find it too short and try to stay longer than they should. Naga help them," Libra muttered, holding a smooth hand to his chest in a sign of prayer. "But, you are the one I am most worried about right now, Henry. I must let you know that while you were resting, you recited some rather strange words in your sleep."
"Oh, I have a bad habit of sleep-talking after I take a beating." The words came out so automatically that he didn't think twice to mask them. Instead, he kept going. "I used to talk in my sleep a lot as a kid, haha. Those were some days, alright..." the look on his face could have been forlorn if his grin wasn't there. But it was, and the ends of such a disparate expression made Libra uneasy.
He shifted weight from one foot to his other, and tried to be unfazed even though he knew a little bit more about Henry than he wanted to. "I, um..."
"But I don't do it as much anymore!" Henry cut in, as if trying to make up for his oversharing just now. "Instead I think I'm the one beating others around. Anyway, am I good to go? Why do I still have to lie down?"
"That," Libra explained, "is because I don't want you to get a head rush from trying to jump out of bed. You can rise, of course, but I'd prefer if you take it slowly." Libra motioned for Henry to start sitting up, and used careful hands to facilitate the process as he did. "That's it, you have it."
"Ah, look at that! I feel as right as rain!" Henry chuckled. "Thanks, Libra. That must have been a big burden, fixing up my bloody body like that~"
The priest laughed softly, and pulled up a chair to better converse with the patient in front of him. He gave a soft touch to the other's shoulder; a show of solidarity. "Henry, I will always do my best for the Shepherds. It is my calling, after all. But it was certainly not a burden. It was a challenge, I'll admit, but nothing I wouldn't do thrice over."
"Aw~" Henry cooed, interlocking his own hands together in a lovey-dovey expression. "You're so sweet~ You should pull out that charm with Robin, sometime! They'd love it."
At the prospect of the tactician in question, the monk seemed to grow sheepish as a light scarlet hue filled his face entirely. He glanced wayward. "Oh, please. I am not charming in the least, and Robin of all people shouldn't have to see such a...display."
"Hee hee!" Henry's whole body shook with quiet but tame laughter. "You're funny. But I do feel better, really." He stretched his arms to show this, and giggled in satisfaction as his bones cracked loudly. "Can I go now?"
"Well, you don't seem worse for wear, so I've no reason to keep you here any longer." Libra stood up, and helped Henry stand to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but fell over entirely when he looked down and saw that his outfit looked nearly unrecognizable. It wasn't covered in the grime, guts, and gore like usual. Instead, the violet hues of his outfit were more prominent than before, and the white, gold, and black embellishing were shiny and clean.
Someone washed his clothes! Someone rinsed the blood away before he had a chance to see the crimson fluids stain the water. He was almost disheartened by this, but kept this secret disappointment hidden as he got up on his own accord—shooing away Libra's helpful hands in the process. "Sorry, guess I was shocked at, uh, how okay I look. I was a mess before I got here," he recalled, thinking of the gashes and lashes he had received. It was a far cry from his currently pristine state, such that he felt the need to address it. "I'm squeaky clean now!"
"Don't apologize, the shock is perfectly normal after a long recovery period." Libra agreed, and helped to lead the boy outside the medic tent. The breeze picked up again and greeted the two of them as they stepped into the fray. The Shepherds' camp was busy and hectic like it had always been, especially with the clamor of sorting out the newly-replenished treasury, and the noise of life comforted Henry. In that single night of labor and terror, he grew to miss this mundane scenery. He stretched himself onto his heels and took it all in a deep, single, grateful breath.
"Ahh," he said. "What a nice day! I feel so good, I think I'll visit Ricken or Gaius. And then get some of that good stuff you're keeping for yourself." His voice quieted to hide his malicious intent to steal the drugs as he faced Libra with an all-too-fake innocent smile. But then he got to thinking genuinely about his comrades, so he asked: "Hey, Libra? Do you know where Ricken is? Or where Gaius is? I want to play~"
"Ricken was at the mess hall last I heard," he said. "And as for Gaius...well, he hasn't—"
"He hasn't what? Died yet?" Henry tilted his head ever so slightly, not bothered by his own sudden interruption, or the look of surprise that crossed Libra's face.
Libra blinked, but then continued on to say: "No, he hasn't woken up yet. He's taking the longest and hardest to recover. I suspect it's due to his head injury," Libra answered honestly, voice overcome with a deep tranquility. "I'm sure you know it better than I do, but he was struck in the head by a small boulder during the incident. I can't even think about what that must be like."
Henry froze up suddenly, but released his tense shoulders in the same instant. This momentary lapse in composure was noted by Libra, but Henry continued as if nothing had happened. "Oh, that's too bad. Well, nothing we can do about it right now! I'll go find Ricken in the meantime. See you around~"
A thoughtful pause ensued, before a softer smile appeared on his face. "Or not~" Henry practically sang as he skipped by Libra, thin legs prancing about like a performer's pair of stilts. He laughed at himself again, and continued on the path that would take him to Ricken.
While he did so, he thought desperately about Gaius, and this time he couldn't even pretend that he didn't care about him. This time, he was taken by surprise about how much he seemed to care, as a single name—which he had grown used to repeating inwardly by this point—resounded in his head like a deathly mantra.
But if it was truly like death, then he would undeniably, undoubtedly, unabashedly become so used to it that it would become nothing short of an obsession.
.
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.
Ricken and Henry reunited in the mess hall. The air filled with bliss as they were genuinely happy to see each other again. As they caught up with each other, Henry learned that Ricken had awoken much earlier in the week, only taking a day and a half to fully recover from the pain of it all. He looked as if he never went out on that excursion in the first place, and that was annoying and relieving in a simultaneous fashion. Henry didn't hold it against him, however, because he preferred that Ricken be in high spirits and good health than not.
Presently, Henry trailed a long finger around the rim of his water glass in a rather calm manner. He listened to Ricken talk about something, and tried to be genuinely interested in the topic at hand, even though his mind ended up wandering farther and farther away.
"Have you spoken to Robin?" Ricken suddenly posed a question, not missing a beat as he scrutinized the other's face for a veritable expression—something that wasn't a smile, for once. But he was disappointed as Henry beamed at him just like he always did.
"Not yet. Why?" The words were few and economical, and quite unlike the person that spoke them. Perhaps there was some healing still left to be had for Henry, after all. Ricken thought about this possibility, but decided to leave it alone as he picked up where he left off.
"Well, Robin said that we actually helped a lot, and that most of the treasure we got belongs to the Shepherds, now." Ricken took another bite of his food before continuing. "They said we can take what we'd like. It's cool that they'd say that, so I'd definitely take them up on it. I mean, I wouldn't, because my family is still pretty well off—I sent them a small share already—so, uh…"
"Do you want me to take the rest your share?" Henry asked, holding his chin in one of his hands as he leaned forward on the table. He smiled widely at the thought of it, and did something he had rarely ever done before.
He opened one eye, and kept the other closed in a charming way. He winked. But Ricken had only seen Henry's eyes once in the past, despite their close friendship, and to see one of them appear before him suddenly was breathtaking. Today, the color was a brighter, paler shade of blue, and he vaguely wondered if the changing hues of the irises were dependent on Henry's mood, like one of those rings that the vendors sold to kids.
Although Henry's eyes were far prettier than any piece of jewelry Ricken had seen, and he wasn't even exaggerating when he said that.
It took a few seconds to process what was even happening, but Ricken quickly found himself again. "U-Uh, yeah! Yeah, that's what I was going to say. I don't need much, if at all. Maybe just enough to buy some better spellbooks. And, wow, your eyes are really blue today, Henry!"
"Really? They were rainbow-colored yesterday." He beamed at the thought of his own corny joke, but kept the one eye open, still. "Kidding! You know it's just a curse, right? I cast it on myself by accident a long time ago. I still don't know how to reverse this one."
"It's pretty," Ricken declared, reassuring Henry that this misfired spell was actually doing him good. He was a little bit jealous of it, since he had plain old brown eyes, but there was a certain pride that he still upheld himself with, and it showed when he sat up straighter and changed the subject. "But I asked if you talked with Robin yet because I was thinking of getting their help in becoming stronger. I'm one hundred percent sure that I'm ready to reach the next level. I heard rumors that Miriel's studying to be a sage, and that doesn't sound too bad at all!"
"That'd be cool." Henry grinned widely as he closed his eyes again, sitting upright himself to match Ricken's punctual movements. Ricken almost seemed disappointed when the pretty blue disappeared behind a closed eyelid, but Henry kept talking, anyway. "Sages are better at offensive magic, and they're good at healing too, aren't they? You would even wear pretty clothes like the late exalt used to!"
"You're right about the spells, but now I just feel bad. I forgot about that," Ricken admitted guiltily. "I forgot that Emmeryn is—"
"Was." Henry corrected, much to Ricken's dismay. He seemed unfazed by his own words as he resumed tracing the water glass with his finger. "She's dead now, Ricken. Dropped like a fly in the land of Grima. I wonder if her body was turned into a Risen, now that I think about it?"
"Crivens, Henry!" Ricken hissed at his friend, knocking him lightly in the side of his head with restrained anger. "Don't talk about her like that! Someone could hear you."
"Oopsies," Henry said, not sounding apologetic in the least. But his words weren't filled with true malice, only simple truths as he recited facts that everyone else already knew. "Trust me, no one's gonna hear us. They're sitting so far away from us right now! They probably pity us for dealing with all those bandits~ But they don't even know that the bandits were the easiest part."
"You think so?"
"Yeah, the hardest part was when we almost died." A pointed finger stopped tracing the rim, and instead pushed the glass over in its entirety. It clattered against the surface, but didn't shatter. The water spilled out, thought, and leaked through the holes in the shabby table.
"Henry!" Ricken cried out, moving to the side of the bench where the water was absent. After securing his dryness, he shot the other an accusing glare. "What was that for?"
"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, smile morphing into something more smirk-like. "I guess I'm antsy. If we're gonna see Robin, I can tell them about how good at dark magic I am~ And then they can talk about making me into a super cool sorcerer where I'll go down in history as something silly. Which do you think is better, 'Henry the Wicked' or 'Henry the Black Heart'? Be honest."
"Neither," Ricken decided. "I think Henry the Wild, Henry the Eccentric, Henry the Pure Soul works better. The other ones are way too...typical."
"Oh, those are nice!" Henry agreed. "I think the third one is too personal to make public, though. I want my pure soul and heart to be my hidden charm."
"You're a dolt," he said jovially, reaching across the table to pinch Henry's cheek. "Listen, since you're so good at wasting time, you should come with me to see Robin. Why don't we make those hidden charms come to light?" A smile crossed Ricken's face, one that mirrored the grin plastered on Henry's visage. Maybe his cheeriness was starting to infect those around him. It was hard to tell, but Henry didn't deny it either way.
"That sounds fun," he supplied, reaching forward to pinch Ricken's cheek in a counterattack. "Last one there's a rotten Risen!"
They nearly tripped over each other, shoving their plates and glasses into the dirty bin on the way out. Ricken stepped on Henry's cloak and Henry cast a simple spell to throw Ricken's ridiculously large hat off to the side. They laughed at one another in childish delight, dodging and ducking around other Shepherds that eyed their juvenile display with discerning eyes. Those looks were ignored, though, because the two boys knew that they deserved a little play in the middle of all this war.
By the time they reached Robin's tent, they were hyper and silly with their own energy, and almost knocked the poor tactician off their feet in a swarm of mischief. Robin managed to stay upright, though, and even commanded their attention as they strategically stuck their foot out into their path of rampage. They both tripped over it, naturally, and fell over on their faces—laughing madly despite the sudden fall they took. Their excitement died down eventually, and they looked up at Robin with curious eyes.
"I'm guessing that you two had something important to tell me? You're moving faster than an Arcwind on a stormy day." A wry grin appeared on their face without fail, matching the other two magic users in good hearted tomfoolery.
The other two appreciated that sentiment, but quickly got to the business they wanted to discuss, in the first place. "Robin," Ricken addressed. "We wanted to talk about some battle options. I personally think that it'd be good if we were more than simple mages, y'know? Especially me—I can't be helpful if I don't get stronger!" He suddenly got serious, and scrambled to his feet as he tried to match the strategist in height. He failed easily, but still held on to his pride.
"So you want to be stronger?" Robin gawked. "You know that you don't need my approval for that! But if you're struggling about which path to take, that's where I come in." They eyed Henry, as well. "And you, Henry? Do you also need some help with this?"
"Not really," he admitted. "I already know that I want to be a sorcerer. I mean, I've been casting spells and learning dark magic my whole life for that exact reason. I tagged along with Ricken because I was bored and didn't want to be alone while I'm on vacation."
"A much deserved break is hardly the same thing as a full-blown vacation," Robin pointed out. "But it's relaxing and dulling all the same. I see where you're coming from and I'll help you along in any way I can. Before you can worry about what new spells to start learning, though, we have to go through the most important part of any class change."
"And what would that be?" Ricken tilted his head, something that Henry copied with great ease. They looked toward Robin with differing yet equally curious expressions. "What's more important than learning the new stuff?"
"Obviously, there's something way more important than learning the skills. Before any of that, whenever you want to make a change..." Robin moved toward the wardrobe and chests situated in the back corner of the room—something that neither Henry or Ricken noticed until now. Robin unlocked the mechanisms and watched with sparkly eyes as the objects opened before them. Ricken and Henry peered over their shoulders to see what it was they were looking at.
It was clothes, clothes, and more clothes. There were cloaks, capes, petticoats, and corsets. There were smallclothes, dresses, and gowns, too. It was almost as if a whole tailor's shop was kept inside of those chests, and it was more amazing than any parlor trick magic that either of them could have come up with. Robin's eyes sparkled again with the light of creative opportunity. They turned around, and placed one hand on either Ricken and Henry's shoulder. There was a look of inexplicable hunger in their eyes, but it wasn't a usual thirst they were trying to slake.
"Whenever you want to make a change—" they said slowly and tantalizingly— "you have to start with your outfit."
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The costume change had taken hours to go through, much to their dismay. Robin seemed utterly obsessed with this small, unexpected hobby of theirs, and by the time they finished their work it was already the next day. Henry and Ricken fell asleep—the former deciding not to cast an insomnia curse for obvious reasons—on the floor of Robin's tent. They laid upon bundles of silk and satin, that which separated them from the pure dirt underneath. While this impromptu slumber was inappropriate of soldiers, the obsessive makeover and clothing coordination was equally inappropriate, so Robin forgave them easily.
They simply left the outfits at their disposal, placing them upon the bedrolls with ease. Then they moved their belongings from their tent, and made it known that their previous tent was no longer theirs. Frederick had this knowledge passed on like wildfire, and soon enough no one approached the tent that was once Robin's. As a result, Henry and Ricken were able to sleep soundly without disruptions. And while they slept easily enough during their recovery period, this was the first time that they really felt like sleep was refreshing, so they stayed unconscious without fault.
The next day had passed already, and the two boys realized they spent the past day or so in Robin's tent having done nothing else but lie upon the ground. As they stood up from their slumber, their gazes locked onto the clothes that were left behind for them on the bedroll. The sheer, silky garments left for him were rather superfluous, but Henry thought it was too silly to pass up. Ricken, on the other hand, felt overwhelmed with awe as he laid eyes on his outfit. It was colorful, regal, and far too lovely for someone like him. But he accepted it all anyway, and gave a knowing look to Henry.
"These are really nice, don't you think?"
"Yeah, sure! It's so silly though! At least the material is thin~" Henry showed off the sheer garments to Ricken, who turned a very slight, almost unnoticeable shade of pink. It wasn't comparable to Tharja's personal clothing choice, for instance, but the way that Plegian clothes were so revealing in general was rather shocking to someone as modest as him. Still, he tried not to judge Henry too badly for it as he pulled his hands away from the fabric.
"Right, it sure is. You're gonna have a miserable time when we go north, though." Ricken assented, looking more worried than boastful. He browsed through his robes and held them close to his chest. "I'm gonna go back to my tent and change! I think I have a sash that goes well with this outfit."
"Oh no!" Henry gasped. "Robin got to you, too! Don't tell me you're going to ramble on about color theory and which season is in and—"
"Of course not!" Ricken interrupted him before he could continue with the ridicule. "I just thought it would be a nice addition, okay? It'll be perfect and now that I have the perfect outfit to be a sage, I can start learning the higher-up spells, too!" A big smile replaced his current expression, and his genuine excitement was refreshing to see. "I'm so happy, now that all my hard work is paying off."
"Good for you, buddy," Henry agreed, giving a thumbs up all the while. "Then, you'd better get going! I have sheer silk and black magic to attend to!" He playfully shooed the other away, but was successful as Ricken's own eagerness caught up with him, and soon enough, the boy was bounding through camp in order to reach his own quarters. Seeing his funny silhouette in the distance made Henry laugh as he closed the tent flaps behind him.
He held onto the new sorcerer's garb, and stared at it with a rather blank expression. Maybe he was happy about this whole arrangement, but it was certainly a different happiness he felt than the one he gained from seeing blood or Risen limbs. It was also different from the happiness he surmised when he got revenge on hurtful enemies, or did his best to help his allies in battle. There was some sort of pride within him right now, as he realized the years of training to reach this moment have finally bore fruit. To think that it took hundreds of near-death experiences to get here was rather bittersweet, but he didn't really know the proper emotions involved in any of these revelations.
So he stuck to what he did best—smiling. A big smile appeared as he stripped from his dusty dark mage regalia, and slipped into the pristine sorcerer's apparel, instead. The thin cloth brushed past his honeyed skin, and folded in places where his lanky physique betrayed him. But overall, it was a good fit. It was also different from the usual sorcerer's garb that he had seen some of his fellow Plegians wear before. It kept some of his favorite things from his previous outfit—the golden eyes of Grima on the high collar, the yellow bangles on his wrist, the decorative sash around his waist—and combined them with the new robes, which were purple and dark blue in color. The cloak was longer and trimmed in gold, too, while a separate ribbon extended from the garment that bore another eye of Grima on the front side. The torso section of the clothing was sheerer and more transparent than his last outfit, and several golden plaits were woven into the silk itself.
The totality of it seemed sillier, fancier, and more superfluous than he expected. The personal flourishes were certainly Robin's doing, and Henry couldn't say that he liked them better or worse for it. It was nice to have familiarity within his personage, though, and he self-consciously drifted in front of the mirror that Robin left there, so as to see himself in full length.
He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that he actually liked the new style he was wearing. It screamed "Plegian!" in a loud voice, but it also sang a soft tune of "Henry~", as well. He pulled at the gold fixtures, readjusted the silk sashes, and affixed his assortment of rings and bangles on his fingers, wrists, and ankles. The whole time he had his eyes wide open, contrary to his usual behavior of keeping them closed. He murmured things underneath his breath, and constantly kept looking back to the reflection he saw in the mirror.
A monster ogled itself in wonder. The smile wasn't there for once, and Henry felt like he had temporarily forgotten the motion in its entirety. Instead, his lips were caught in an expressionless angle, eyes stayed as blank as his face, even when he noticed it. He faltered and became stuck in a wrinkle of time. Things seemed to come to a halt as he pondered himself in this way, irises shifting slightly in color (they were just as blue as Ricken said they were, much to his chagrin) due to a curse that he described earlier, and was actually real. He wished his younger self wasn't so inaccurate when it came to slinging spells back then, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He just watched as the palest of blue tints start to darken, slowly shifting into indigo, until they morphed into that color altogether.
He was lost in time and was perpetually stuck looking at his own stupid, insipid, indigo eyes. There wasn't anything to look past that, however, and his mind raced with everything and nothing at once. Cold and hot cancelled each other out, and his body felt empty with this sensation. He felt like he charmed himself with a spell somehow, because no matter what he did he could not look away from his reflected image. He couldn't stir up hot anger or cool resolve within him, nor could he get his mind to think of anything—and nothing.
He wanted to strike the mirror until the glass shards splintered him in the eyes, but he couldn't will his arms to move. He wanted to bang his forehead against the glass until he cracked it open, but remained motionless as he was. It was infuriating, but there wasn't enough passion in his shriveled heart to form outward anger. He just simmered and simmered in his own emotive rot, hands shaking at the sight of himself and nothing else.
Henry was sort of lucky, though. He was so lost in his own mind that he didn't hear someone slip into his tent, letting the flaps fly open with the ardent wind. Light, almost silent footsteps were audible behind him, but he paid no attention to that. The only time he registered another presence in his head was when he felt a cool, orotund voice speak into the room.
"You clean up nicely, Junior."
The sorcerer blinked once, twice—then looked through the mirror to see the reflection of Gaius standing behind him. He seemed to be staring at Henry though the mirror as well, and he wore a look surprise that didn't match his suave sentiments just now. Was it because he was properly seeing Henry's eyes for the first time? Did he expect Henry to have blood red irises to match his disposition? Or black holes for sclera that didn't reflect anything but a monstrosity? Was he appalled or secretly pleased by the indigo shades that the Plegian's irises had taken on? Henry couldn't tell, as he spent most of his mental energy trying to create a spark within himself again—pushing down a mental rock that would hopefully get rolling soon enough.
He turned around in a large flourish, and presented his usually branded smile. It was too late to obscure his eyes from Gaius, so he settled on narrowing them to appear sinister in the least way possible. He laughed to cover it all up, but the sound was far more monotonous than he would like it to be. "Is that a compliment I'm hearing, Honeybuns? That's not like you."
"It's the only one you'll get from me," he insisted, contrasting his bitter words with a rather friendly smile. "Don't be mistaken, though. I thought this was Bubbles' tent, y'see..."
"It hasn't been Robin's tent for a few days. You're just as slow as ever!" Henry taunted, knowing that Gaius' actual speed was nothing to sneeze at. But it was natural to want to start up some vicious banter between them—just like the good old times. Yet, for some reason, Henry didn't feel as motivated to do so. He was probably suffering from the same curse that made him stare at himself for moments on end. The memory of staring into his own eyes haunted him, and an involuntary shiver climbed up his back.
Gaius didn't notice this, though, and kept talking in an equally taunting voice. "Don't blame me for that, I just woke up and I guess no one bothered to give me the memo." He appeared to be genuinely disconcerted at this fact, yet he turned on his heels to exit the tent in its entirety. Before Gaius left, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Henry's uncertain eyes with his own. Then he spoke to him in a cool, neutral, almost pleasant voice.
"See you 'round, Junior."
Within seconds, he was gone, and Henry was left feeling like he had been ambushed just now. He finally closed his eyes all the way, and forced that grin of his to extend as far as it would go. His voice wobbled with an unknown excitement, and he called out after the thief, despite knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear him at all.
"See you around, Gaius!"