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Z.W.E.I. is a mercenary. A daunting job to be sure. Z.W.E.I. could still remember the stories that were told to him in the monastery he grew in. The pastors read to him about the brave men and women that selflessly endangered their lives for the safety of others. It was a necessary occupation, but excruciatingly dangerous. As a mere child, it frightened him. But as the world became crueler to him, he started to want the title.
It was a want to be appreciated. With his differences, kindness seemed to be a scarcity. Z.W.E.I. always exhibited goodwill, even to the snooty nobles that treated him like a tainted mutt. Many scoffed at just his scruffy appearance, and the subsequent rumors that followed him. He made sure to smile and speak softly to those he helped, and when they shared the same kindness it reminded him of why he is proud to call himself a mercenary.
Z.W.E.I. felt at his worst when he could not be helpful. And at the moment, he was in a very unfavorable situation. Viola, his monotonous traveling companion, lay nauseously in her bed. The early afternoon sunlight shined into the room of the sickly fortuneteller. She has been bedridden for three days. What began with a bad fever, then became violent vomiting and cold chills.
Viola stiffly shifted into a more comfortable sitting position, supporting her upper body with her right arm. Her face was red and flushed as opposed to its usual pale complexion. Her eyes look down to her companion's feet, the lids of her eyes are noticeably heavy. Seemingly, she sat herself up in an effort to stay awake.
Z.W.E.I. could tell she oughta be asleep soon.
He lifted himself from his wooden chair sat across from her bed. She needed her rest, and he needed to do drill duty, it was best he left. Even if he did want to stay and take care of her, he also desperately wanted to talk to her. It was hard enough to keep a conversation with Viola normally. Asking to have a conversation with a sick Viola, would be practically impossible Z.W.E.I thought.
So he made his way to the door beside the bed of her small cobblestone room in the Schwarzwind citadel and turned to her in a last attempt of assistance. "Can I get you anything?" He asked, furrowing his brows upwards.
"Water please," she responded breathily, not moving her sight and continuing to stare at his waiting feet.
Slowly stepping out of the room, Z.W.E.I. nodded to her. Truthfully, he had expected a simple 'no'. He was pleasantly surprised to be able to help, even with something as mundane as this. So he quickly made his way through the corridors and to the canteen.
Z.W.E.I. figured it was food poisoning. The day before Viola first grew unwell the two had just arrived back to the citadel from traveling. When it was known they would be traveling for long, the pair brought non-perishable foods to carry. But those only lasted for so long. Evidently, supply would run out. When that happened, the pair had to turn to the local eateries for food.
The place they settled to eat at was what looked like a run-down shack. Its age had taken its toll as the visible moss grew up the sides of its stone. They didn't have a choice, it was all the small poverty-stricken village had. The shack advertised itself as both an inn and eatery. Yes, the place felt poor in quality, but the next village was hours away, and both parties were neer starving.
In retrospect, maybe they should have just traveled a little longer to the next village.
The werewolf soon re-entered Viola's room, now holding a small cup of water in his left hand. He passed her the cup with a gentle smile, determined to have her do the same. She gratefully took the cup, avoiding making eye contact with him.
She stole a glance at Z.W.E.I. noticing his displeased expression. "...Thank you." She said, forcing herself to make eye contact. Her garnet-red eyes softened at his own.
Z.W.E.I. took the response. Viola always had trouble expressing gratitude. It was irritating to him because it was the only thing he wanted from her. The pair have traveled together enough to know their partner's personality well. It was their unique powers that made them congenial, but their personalities always left something to be desired.
The two often disagreed with each other's views. Z.W.E.I. didn't believe in things like fate, He loathed the concept of everyone having some overarching goal that needs fulfillment. Or worst, predestined failure. To him, goals should be made on their own. People needed to have control of their lives, after all. Viola would politely disagree. Implying that one's fate wavers on the person's nature. Whatever that means.
Z.W.E.I. sat quietly observing his surroundings. The fortuneteller's room was clean as it always was, sparse with the few personal belongings Viola owned. The room was softly lit by the sun's rays. The bright atmosphere was in stark contrast to the room's gloomy occupant. And of cause, the state she was currently in.
Since Viola's been sick her mystical orb has been sadly swaddled in spare cloth and put away on her shelf to keep safe. She's been so weak that even conjuring her orb takes much effort so instead, it sits alone. Oddly, Z.W.E.I. notes that the orb is not glowing its normal blue color when it's set away from her. Nor its purple color, it's not glowing at all. 'Wried.' He thinks.
He looks back to Viola, who has remained quietly drinking from her cup still looking as tired as before. The werewolf's dry mouth was eager for a dialogue, but without fail Viola stared off into nothing looking uninterested in speaking.
Content with that fact, he got up once again and made his way for the door beside her bed. Before being stopped by a gentle hand delicately wrapping around his arm.
Stunned by this action, Z.W.E.I. stepped back to look down at her, hand still placed on the door handle. She continued her grip on his arm as well. He decided not to say anything, he wanted her to speak for once.
"...Can you stay?" is what she said, intently staring up at him. Her eyes sharpened more akin to her healthy expression.
"I should be doing drill duty." He stated. He wasn't lying, he knew better than to lie to Viola. She could effortlessly read someone's intentions. And as Z.W.E.I. watched what he thought looked like disappointment in Viola's harsh eyes, he wished he could do the same at this moment.
He'd be lying if it didn't make him a little pleased to see her visibly search her brain for a response. Her eyes shifted around the room as a way to buy time from responding to Z.W.E.I. Viola never asked for things, because truly she didn't know-how. So she stopped soon after the silence filled the room again. Instead, she quietly nodded to herself looking displeased and looked down at her hands.
Z.W.E.I. bit the side of his bottom lip. It appears she wants him to stay just as much as he does. At least he hopes he's reading that right.
He sighs, "...I said I should be doing drill duty. But I'm sure Siegfried would understand."
This perched her attention back to Z.W.E.I. who was once again sitting on the chair beside her bed, legs comfortably spread wide, a friendly smile on his face as if to welcome her into a conversation. And possibly receive a smile back.
Minutes passed and that uncomfortable silence filled the air along with the dust. Not to mention the growing tension that was building up in Z.W.E.I.
He watched as she painfully clenched at her stomach, alarmingly eyeing the repulsive puke bucket she had to keep beside her bed. The werewolf immediately knew what was going to happen. Rushing to give her the bucket, she took it with both hands and lazily rested her head over the top of it.
She threw up her tiny breakfast of chicken soup broth. The only thing she could digest, somewhat. Z.W.E.I. considerately held her hair back as she retched over the bucket. She was pitiful like this, and Z.W.E.I. felt just as useless.
Ever since the pair started traveling together Z.W.E.I. has felt an imbalance. Viola is a fortune teller, and Z.W.E.I. is a hunted man. Viola could alert him if he were to be attacked. And he is her protector. That never seems to fair to him, Viola is a very skilled fighter too, she can easily protect herself. But now at a time when she needs protection, Z.W.E.I. doesn't know how to help. Nursing was never his strong suit.
Viola hastily lifted her head from the bucket, still breathing heavily. She smacked her lips together, moving her tongue along the inside of her mouth. Z.W.E.I. handed her the cup of water to help rid her mouth of the taste. She didn't dare pass this act of affection, even if it did make her insides flutter in embarrassment.
The embarrassment that Z.W.E.I. would never know as her face stayed flat and emotionless.
As Viola regained herself to sit properly on her bed, Z.W.E.I. slipped the bucket back to the floor beside her and once again sat in his seat. His posture hunched with a sign. He sat in the uncomfortable silence that always seemed to swirl around Viola. Her expression was stoic as she let her head hang dizzily.
The silence made him overthink, that's why he hated it. The lack of discussion made his mind converse on its own. It was ironic to him, one of the reasons he enjoyed Viola's company was the silence. He was used to having people order and demand things out of him, and he was becoming more receptive to that being a new part of the Schwarzwind clan.
But even so, Z.W.E.I. always preferred to travel with Viola because she didn't demand things out of him.
Although she wasn't looking at him, she sensed his tension. Maybe her powers have gotten so natural to her that she no longer needs her orb to read someone. That or, she was learning on her own. She turned her gaze to meet his eyes that were sharply planted at his feet. His elbows pressed to his knees, hands clasped together under his chin. He saw her movement in his blurred vision and looked up.
Viola sat candidly, not a trace of unease which only made him more uncomfortable. She was no different il, still unfeeling.
Z.W.E.I didn't care if she didn't answer, he needed to speak. "...Are you feeling better?"
The question was dull and he knew it. If she was feeling better she wouldn't be in bed still. He only asked because he needed to get something out. The werewolf had never felt so uneasy under her presence.
Something about her peculiar red eyes always makes him vaguely uncomfortable.
Viola stood there, just watching him. It made him feel like the young pup of the pack after being scowled by the alpha, so venerable. How could a woman a whole head shorter than he, make him feel so helpless again?
His nerves kicked him when she broke eye contact with him. Her head looking straight into nothing she pondered. "...I think, I remember a familiar feeling as this..."
Z.W.E.I's eyes shoot up at her words. "You remember being sick before?" he was shocked to hear that she was starting to remember her past, but stayed cautious.
"No. I remember the feeling of someone watching over me as I was weak," she stated, vacantly staring as if trying to recall the memory in her head.
Z.W.E.I. sat in his seat astonished. They had been traveling together for months now, and for said months the fortune teller had not spoken a word of her amnesia. He was happy, relieved that she was starting to remember herself.
In his peripheral, Viola watched his expression. Although both not expressive by any means in comparison to herself, Z.W.E.I. was animated.
"Is that all you remember?" he asked, eyes wide, lips slightly parted leaving his top teeth in Viola's view.
She cringed, only enough for her to notice. "...Yes."
Viola looked down to her hands that clenched around the rim of her blanket. The familiar feeling felt so, amazing. It was the best feeling Viola had ever felt since she had woken up and forgotten everything.
She desperately searched her brain hoping to regain that same feeling but alas she could find nothing.
It hurt. It hurt that living felt meaningless. Viola had tried to assure herself and justify this feeling of emptiness, but now finally feeling a pinch and what could be, she couldn't lose it.
Z.W.E.I. watched her tunnel through different emotions in small movements. Her eyes shifted around the room, she bit at her top lip, and her fingers scratched at her palms. She moved her hand up to scratch at her shoulder causing the slender strap of her white shirt to dangle at her upper arm.
The werewolf hastily got out of his chair and knelt before her bed. He didn't think she was going to throw up, but from what he understood she needed a consolation. He leads head first into this action as truthfully, he didn't know how to help.
He lightly grabbed at her elbows and made eye contact with her. "... It's okay," he reassured, drawing circles on her skin with his thumbs.
Z.W.E.I. remembered his pastors doing this as he cried. The subtle motion distracted him from his thoughts. He'd hoped it would have the same effect on Viola. Instead, it made her ears hidden behind her disheveled grey hair a tint of pink. This action was also familiar to her and it brought back that same warm sensation.
Along with a new sensation.
She stared at him. It felt unusual to be looking down at him, to look down at the way his defined arms delightfully twisted in shape. The light from the sun molded his tan skin to appear golden under their rays. The light softly admitted on his rougher features but also highlighted soft ones that before went unnoticed to her. Dark blue eyes like the deep ocean, if she stared at them for longer she might have fallen in.
She averted her gaze, without moving her head. She moved her eyes at the wall behind him.
"...Can I get you something?" The dark grey-haired man spoke lowly. He perched his head into her view, eyes lullingly to her's.
It wasn't exactly what he wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to bombard her with questions. He thought, she'd responded well to it before so might as well worth trying again. She hesitated, huffing her breath trying to find words.
She sucked her lips to a line and licked the inside soothingly. She let in one more faint breath before responding. "This is enough."
Z.W.E.I. cocked his head in confusion but made effort to keep his expression. "What do you mean?" He asked, now allowing his eyebrows to furrow.
Everything about this contact made Viola's skin feel like it could peel off and hide. But visually, Viola sat as still as a statue. The hand that was clasped around her shoulder had now dropped to Z.W.E.I.'s wrist. Her fingertips were cold, long nails unpleasantly digging into his flash. He paid no mind to the feeling, however, only focusing on a response.
"I," She thought for a moment before continuing. "Your eyes are that of a mother owl's, looming over me. It's familiar, comforting. Please stay..." She calmly stated, almost whispering the last part.
Z.W.E.I. wasn't sure if he was even speaking to his stoic companion at this point. Her red eyes contently placed on his. It was her dear expressionless face that assured him it was her.
'The color in her cheeks is new though' He thought to himself, and signed into a relaxed posture.
"You know... I didn't want to leave either." He added with a smile, attempting to break the build tension.
Maybe Viola was to sick keep her facade, or maybe she didn't care anymore, or ever at all. And maybe, she would forget this entire confrontation the next morning. Z.W.E.I. Didn't care. To him this was confirmation. Confirmation of what, he wasn't quite sure. Nonetheless, it made him happy that he could help.
He stayed knelt at her bed, moving his hands off her elbows to rest on her sheets. If he had moved his site for even a second, he might have missed the sides of her lips slightly tug upwards into a shy smile.
Oblivious to him, he was always helping her.