Archive of Our Own ^beta

Something was bothering their resident Apothecary.

Everyone could tell how Alfyn carried himself after their battle with Vanessa Hysel. He had left the battle looking relatively the same for the most part, roughed up just like everyone else who had fought alongside him, with wounds littering his body, but the same. But there was still a difference; however, no one commented on it, not knowing when would be the best time to ask questions if they had them. And once everything was taken care of there, they’d agreed to settle in Goldshore’s inn for two nights, glad to be safe and far away from the luminescent caves. But before the Apothecary could relax, he was torn on who he should treat first, but the choice was made for him when everyone suggested he treat the rest of the town. He mumbled a ‘thank you’ before scurrying into town while the others remained in the inn, diligently waiting for Alfyn to finish his work. 

Exhausted, the Apothecary returned to the inn, his face a little red with eyes to match, but he smiled at them, centering all his attention on the team’s biggest wounds first, concocting and applying salves to them, wrapping them in bandages to ensure they wouldn’t get infected. But everyone couldn’t help but also notice how Alfyn’s shoulders remained slumped as he mixed the ingredients needed, his posture lacking the enthusiasm that had made the team understand how much passion Alfyn had for his craft. But now he looked distant, attentive to each individual’s treatment, but his eyes and mind were most definitely elsewhere. Sometimes they would hear him suck in a breath as if he had caught himself nodding off -- they wouldn’t fault him for doing so since they knew he’d be drained; at other times, they could hear him mumble a soft curse, looking over to find that the man’s hands were trembling as if it were cold. The large room they’d paid for was warm, and with those standing around huddled together as they waited to be treated, and with the others engaging in soft conversation around the room, it brought even more needed warmth after leaving the chilling caves. But Alfyn didn’t seem to be affected by the temperature, shivering all the same as though he’d cast an ice spell on himself. Cyrus had randomly offered to mix for him with the excuse that he’d like to try his hand in learning how to make medicine in the same fashion, but Alfyn, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, declined, not before telling him that he’d teach him another time. The words sounded uncertain from his mouth, but the team chose not to say anything about the odd tone in his voice.

And then, panting softly from possible overexertion and concentration, Alfyn wiped his brow and flashed the team another wobbly smile, declaring that he was done and that they would recover posthaste. Of course, he was questioned about his own injuries, to which he responded that he was going to take care of them as soon as he restocked his ingredients. A lot of his resources were used up today, only realizing that he didn’t have enough for himself. There was a brief thought of just half healing himself with what was left so he could rest, but he decided against it, not keen on risking infection or feeling sore the next morning. Alfyn couldn’t tell who it was that asked if he wanted to stay back and have someone else go get the supplies for him — possibly Tressa — but again, he declined the offer, saying that he could use the fresh air anyway. With that, he hobbled out, his shoulders falling lower once the door to the large room they occupied closed behind him.

He sighed, trudging down the stairs and withholding his groans of pain, managing a smile when he saw the innkeeper before he walked out and basked in the briny atmosphere, breathing in the sea breeze. It wasn’t as overwhelming as when he first entered town, but it still stung his lungs a bit. Regardless, he wanted to get what he needed, treat his pains, and rest for the night. It was only then he realized how dark it had gotten since they had returned, the moon beginning its rounds and shining a pale, shimmery light that made the shores below glisten. All sense of time had been lost on him it seemed, but it all created a mind numbing peace that Alfyn could’ve sworn he had dozed off as he waited for the shopkeeper to gather his goods. He couldn’t even remember walking up to the shopkeeper and asking for what he needed, his body running on autopilot. Blinking heavily, he at least remembered to thank them, and slowly trekked back to the inn, missing how the shopkeeper stared at him with something akin to concern.

The Apothecary halted his movements, exhaling a heavy sigh. He was nowhere close to the inn now, even though it wasn’t that far away to begin with. It seemed he had walked in the complete opposite direction of the inn, having traveled down the steps to the sandy shore instead. How he mustered the energy to have done that without himself noticing, Alfyn didn’t know, but he was certain that he couldn’t gather the same amount of energy to take another step now. It was a sign that he should treat his wounds immediately, but with exhaustion creeping in, and his thoughts weighing him down, he took the chance to recollect himself. No one was walking the streets, the town easing into a quiet doze like he had done a few minutes ago, but his mind was still restless, brewing with the events that had transpired that afternoon. They churned violently in his mind, a stark contrast to the rolling, easygoing waves his weary eyes wandered over.

Medicine was never meant to harm others. Being an Apothecary meant treating others of their ills and aches so that they can feel better and new. To Alfyn, this concept was simple to understand, and it didn’t take being an apothecary to understand that either, but he didn’t think that someone could take the essence of the profession and skew it in such a twisted way. But he was wrong — such had been proven after the conversation he had with Hysel before they fought.

It was a fight between two very distinct philosophies, and he was relieved that he was able to prove his point, showing that leaves should never be prioritized over another person’s health. He remained strong throughout the ordeal and did what he had to do, but something about how Hysel talked about riches and profit made Alfyn burn inside continuously, the feeling persisting in waves well after they had left. It angered him to no end knowing that she treated her patients like lab rats — like bits of worthless garbage, never taking into consideration how those patients felt in the slightest, throwing them away once she saw no more purpose for them. It was nauseating and vile, so Alfyn shook his head free from the shackles of the thought, a subtle budding headache forming from the forced movement. But even with doing so, it didn’t help entirely. The process of mixing ingredients now felt foreign — unnatural, even. It faintly reminded him of how it felt when he was concocting medicine for the first time, messing up and going through heaps of trial and error in order to make the right things. But this time, it felt much different than those younger days. It was like he was creating something else, something that wouldn’t provide healing… something that would hurt someone. It didn’t feel as though the hands mixing were his own, and it worried him whenever they would start to shake, fearing he would mix the wrong things by accident. Even with the townspeople cheering into the growing evening, it did little to alleviate the discomfort that danced underneath his skin. The thoughts sent a nervous energy flowing throughout Alfyn’s systems, making him feel jittery and sensitive to everything.

“Hey,” a voice called out from the shadows, startling the Apothecary out of his already prickly skin, almost yelping. It jump started his body with a flicker of energy to swivel around, every muscle protesting but ultimately relaxing when he recognized the white hair and tattered purple clothes alongside the bandages he had wrapped for the man a time or so ago. Alfyn sighed.

“Oh, it’s just you, Therion,” Alfyn mumbled back with a chuckle, sighing again out of relief that it wasn’t someone suspicious. The man across from him raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“‘Just you?’ Thought I’d get a little more of a greeting,” the purple clad man said, although not unkindly. Alfyn let himself release another chuckle, some tension leaving his bones in the process.

“Good…” Alfyn paused, taking in the moon with confusion before looking back at Therion, “night to ya then?” he said instead, hoisting his bag strap further up on his shoulder. “Why’re you out here?”

Therion brushed a strand of hair out of his face and looked at the Apothecary, his eyes concentrated on Alfyn’s ragged form, studying him. It was the scrutinizing gaze that made Alfyn feel more exposed and open than he thought possible. He wasn’t in the mood to be read. “Not a crime to walk around last I heard. And no, I’m not stealing anything if you were worried about that.”

“Heh, I see. And I wasn’t,” Alfyn responded simply, fidgeting. He flashed a small smile. “Well, thanks for checkin’ up on me! It’s appreciated, but I was ‘bout to head back. These bruises are really hurtin’ now.”

“I could tell, anyone could. But, do tell me how just standing around out here is gonna help? The inn was literally next door. You could’ve walked straight back in when you were done.”

“Ah…” Alfyn muttered, not sure of what to say. Usually he was more aware of the Thief’s whereabouts, having grown accustomed to his antics more than anyone out of the group, meeting him first giving him that advantage, but he must’ve been so out of it to not have noticed anyone watching him. “I… am in a bit of pain, so don’t mind me taking a breather every once an’ a while?” he said, jesting, not making much sense. He, too, agreed about the distance and that he really shouldn’t be sea gazing, but that was the best excuse he had.

“It also doesn’t take a genius to see that it isn’t just the wounds bothering you,” Therion said slowly as though he were testing his words. “You’re not much of an open book like other people are, but it’s been crystal to everyone that you’ve been off.”

Alfyn, once again, didn’t know what to say to that. He was usually good at keeping to himself, always choosing to stick to the brighter side of things anyway. If anything did bother him, he would be all smiles a little while after once he got his groove back. But now, the thoughts that plagued him persisted, so much so that the rest of the team were concerned, possibly worried. Maybe it was partly due to the fatigue that he hadn’t noticed that either, but at this point, he elected to keep his mouth shut, not keen on revealing more of his troubles.

“What’s up with you?” Therion asked, tapping his foot, though not from impatience. The movement made the sand shuffle underneath the Thief’s feet.

“Nothing’s… nothing’s wrong with me. It’s mighty rude to just start accusin’ people of things,” Alfyn awkwardly laughed, not understanding why he would be trying to cover himself up when all his emotions were blatantly laid out on the table. From cover to cover, every detail of his current story was readable and obvious. 

“Bullshit,” Therion stated bluntly. “Ever since Hysel—”

Alfyn’s breathing hitched unexpectedly, causing Therion to stop halfway. His eyebrows furrowed together, his hair covering up most of his expression — not that Alfyn could see it, for he had chosen to find an interest in the grains of sand that covered his shoes.

“So it is about her, isn’t it?”

The Apothecary glanced back up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Heh… I guess you could say that.”

Therion sighed. “What about her then? We taught her a lesson, she’s gonna be convicted, and she won’t be poisoning anyone for leaves, so what’s the problem?”

Whether it was due to the way Therion addressed the matter in such a straightforward manner, Alfyn didn’t know, but it made him flinch violently, rearing back from the Thief as if he had stolen from him. Therion uncrossed his arms, unfazed by the reaction, but a small flicker of concern crossed his eyes.

“It’s not… just that,” Alfyn breathed, feeling his eyes prick with water. Therion hummed in thought.

“What else is there?”

Letting the salty air burn his lungs as he inhaled and exhaled, Alfyn played with a loose thread on his apothecary bag. “It’s just not somethin’ I’m necessarily used to, ya know?” he admitted in a low whisper. 

“What do you mean?”

“As in not used to someone like her in my profession. Someone who’s just… cruel and… merciless . It’s considered a ‘caring’ profession for a reason…”

Therion snorted. “Have you met me? You have a Thief in the party. I could easily steal all your valuables and be on my way to Noblecourt to start looking for those stupid stones. Not exactly the nicest person either, and the others haven’t really warmed up to me yet.”

Alfyn couldn’t help but laugh himself. It was a reserved sound, but it broke him into a genuine smile after flashing fake ones and frowning all day. “Aw, you’re none of those things an’ you wouldn’t do that to us. It’ll take time for some of the others, yeah, but you’re a good person who wouldn’t steal from his friends and friends to be.”

Eyes widening, Therion looked elsewhere, a little flustered by the statement. “ Friends ? Hah, as if you guys are my friends…”

Alfyn didn’t take his words to heart, smiling knowingly. “Whatever ya say.”

Therion cleared his throat, wanting to stray off of the current topic of discussion. “ Anyway , this isn’t about me, this is about you,” he huffed. “I get she’s a wicked person, sure, but she’s doing her time. And you proved your point that your philosophy isn’t encased in shit like hers.”

Therion’s words were believable, Alfyn knew this, but the lingering intrusions his mind kept providing made him think otherwise. He released a shuddering breath. “But what if… what if I start thinkin’ like that?” Alfyn whispered, gripping his bag strap tighter, trying to find comfort there as his eyes began to flood with more water. Therion strained to hear the words, but it didn’t take long to catch on.

“You think you’ll become like her?”

The Apothecary swallowed thickly, a layer of phlegm covering his vocal cords. “Y-Yeah?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t think—”

“No, l-listen. Here me out, a-alright?” Alfyn interrupted frantically, words flowing up and out of his mouth in a panic, as if a dam had been broken. “L-Like, just the thought of what she did makes me sick to my stomach… but, but then I-I started thinkin’ after the fight and those thoughts have just been runnin’ around in my head. I dunno what spurred it on persay..?”

“Hmm…” Therion hummed. He, too, was at a loss for words, trying to understand, but Alfyn, having already loosened his tongue, let more information leak out into the air, the dizzying panic apparent in his voice.

“E-Everyone needs to make leaves in order to support themselves, but the way she went about it was more than wrong. I… I mean, I do my services for free, since I don’t need any repayment other than makin’ other people feel happy. That’s what I’ve always thought, and that’s not changin’. But w-what if I get desperate and start straying from my philosophy in order to support my needs? What-What if I just lose myself and start doin’ what she did? What if… I become l-like her and just start caring bout the leaves a-a--”

“I’m gonna cut you off there,” Therion interrupted, raising a steady hand up in front of him. “You spiraling isn’t gonna help anyone, especially you.”

Alfyn nodded, taking in an uneven breath in an attempt to calm himself. Therion was right. Panicking wasn’t going to help him quell the thoughts in his head. But despite that, he kept talking. His hands were beginning to sweat, his wounds were throbbing, and he was sure that the small headache that had infiltrated the storm of thoughts had grown past subtle. Breathing was becoming more of a chore than something that was supposed to be natural and the salty air wasn’t doing him any favors. There was something wet trickling down his face, the tears having found their way past his fragile defenses to hold them back.

“W-What if I actually start chargin’ people — chargin’ everyone absurd prices for my salves and tinctures and just-just don’t care about any of it? It felt strange m-mixing the medicine for you all earlier. Like, my h-hands weren’t feelin’ right. Gosh, what if I just stop c-caring —”

“ Alfyn . Alfyn, stop ,” Therion said, sounding a little panicked himself, raising his hands up as if he was trying to tame a frightened animal. “Take a moment to just breathe or something, okay? I don’t need you hyperventilating on me,” the Thief muttered, trying to sound as comforting as possible. “Breathe, alright?” Therion repeated, slow and deliberate. Alfyn jerkily nodded, flexing his hands and wiping them off on his coat. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sea waves crashing together instead of everything else. It grounded him a little, leaving him still shaken up, but at least he could say he wasn’t on the verge of hyperventilating anymore. His breathing wasn’t completely back to normal, but he took the leftover rattling in his lungs as some kind of win. Alfyn averted his gaze to his shoes, focusing on the dirt scuffs at the tops of them. He glanced at the water, watching how it twinkled, the light reflecting off of the surface like skittering stars. And finally, he landed his eyes back on Therion, watching the other man closely, meeting his eyes and seeing how the other waited with a surprising amount of patience for him to sufficiently calm down. Therion eyed him intently, finding the opportunity to speak when he deemed it appropriate to do so.

“Now listen, I’m not… the best at comfort, so you’re gonna have to deal with whatever you can get, got it?” Therion said, enunciating to make sure Alfyn could understand him through his thick sea of worry. When the Apothecary nodded, Therion allowed himself to continue, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“You’re not her, understand? Unlike her, you’re a nice person, sickeningly so. Everyone’s seen how you’ve tended to people, to random strangers who needed a hand, to Ellen. You showed no hesitation in helping her when she got bruised up — same goes with helping her sister. You marched into those caves and confronted Hysel about what she was doing once you figured it all out. You protected and saved these people, even if they were too stupid to realize that they were being duped by an asshole.”

Alfyn remained silent throughout Therion’s spiel, having focused on trying to calm down further in its duration, wiping his face dry with the backs of his hands.

“And, like I was saying before, don’t be ridiculous. No one thinks that you’re gonna start poisoning and hurting us — or anyone for that matter, just to make a few leaves. Your brain just… isn’t wired to stray off in that direction even if you tried, so I’m sorry to say that you’re stuck the way you are.”

At the last part, Alfyn laughed, taking it as a way of Therion trying to lighten the mood in his own weird way. Therion smirked, secretly relieved he was able to do something useful. 

“Shucks…Thank you for the kind words,” Alfyn said, his voice regaining some strength, running a hand underneath his eyes for good measure. He sniffled, a little embarrassed that he had cried twice in front of others in one day. “I don’t know why this bothered me so much.”

Therion shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re someone who cares a shit ton about people. I think seeing someone like that give no regard about what the hell they’re doing to others, in your profession no less, may have freaked you out.”

“Heh, freaked out is an understatement,” Alfyn chuckled. “But you… hit everything on the nail.” He admitted that he felt a little better now that everything wasn’t bubbling uncontrollably in his head like an angry flask. “It’s still concernin’, ya know? Worrisome… Frightening, even. I don’t ever wanna be like that.”

“Yeah, understandable. But you’re not and won’t be like her, and I’m sure everyone else will agree with me. I think that you realizing that you don’t want to be like her is more than enough evidence of you staying true to your philosophy. Besides, you’re-you’re whatever Tressa started calling you.”

Alfyn felt a pure laugh bubble out of his chest, sounding hale and hearty, even though his body was still battered. “A ‘Walkin’ Sun?’”

Therion hummed, coughing out of embarrassment. “Yeah. That . Whatever the hell that means.”

“Ha ha— ugh ,” Alfyn started, coughing into his hand, teetering where he stood. The sand beneath his feet started to feel especially loose now, no longer stable and grounding like a few moments ago.

“Okay, yeah. You need to fix yourself up now. Those wounds aren’t gonna treat themselves.”

“Ah-hah… you’re right there. I just hope I don’t fall asleep in the process,” Alfyn grinned wearily. “But again, thank you, Therion. I needed the upliftin’.”

Therion crossed his arms again, looking sideways to the sea. “No need to thank me. Just don’t expect me to do this often.”

The Apothecary chuckled. “Contrary to what ya think, I think you do a fine job raisin’ spirits.”

“The others would probably be better at this. I only know how to steal things, not console people.”

“Don’t discredit yourself, yeah? You’re more than just a thief,” Alfyn said, smiling, eyes shining in the moonlight. “You’re also someone who cares a lot about people.”

“ Ugh . I don’t want Tressa calling me what she calls you ,” Therion muttered, a hint of disgust in his tone, but Alfyn, once again, could see he didn’t necessarily mean it.

“They’ll warm up to ya, trust me,” Alfyn reassured. Therion stared at him, a little confused.

“Again, this still isn’t about me,” Therion muttered.

“I know. But who says that care has to be one-sided?”

The Thief didn’t say anything for a moment, either due to not knowing what to say or because he chose not to. He eventually sighed. “Sure..? But enough of this. Let’s get back now.”

“Alright, alright,” Alfyn said, finally moving his feet. He struggled a bit, but Therion sighed again before helping the Apothecary up the cobblestone steps. It was a slow, awkward shuffle, Alfyn’s exhaustion delaying them, but they eventually made it. After requesting a short break, Alfyn glanced at Therion curiously.

“Mind if I ask ya a question?”

Therion shot him a glance. “What is it?”

“Why’re you really out here?”

“What? You really thought I was out stealing something, huh? I wasn’t and there isn’t anyone out here to steal from if I chose to,” Therion retorted, moderately offended considering everything. Alfyn shook his head gently, not wanting to agitate the headache he had.

“No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, was somethin’ on your mind?” Alfyn asked. The Thief’s body stiffened.

“Not really,” Therion said, side-eying where they had just came from. “Felt too cramped in the room. Wanted to stretch my legs. Then I found you on the shore like an idiot and thought I’d bring you back inside like the reasonable person I am. Now here we are.”

Alfyn smiled at the consideration. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“ Yes , very sure. This really isn’t the time to be asking twenty questions.”

Despite this, Alfyn, through all his weariness, felt the need to return the reassurance to someone else. He knew he should be making way back to the inn, but he thought this was important too. Therion wasn’t the most open of people, but even in the dark of the night, it wasn’t difficult to see that the man was thinking something over.

“I—”

“You’re not gonna stop asking until I say something, right? So I’ll just say this: yeah, something’s bothering me, and no, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The Apothecary furrowed his eyebrows, ignoring his hurts to focus on someone else who was harboring their pain. A tonic may not be able to effectively help currently, but a bit of small talk could relieve some of the other man’s worries if he gave it a chance.

“I wouldn’t want ya stewing over your troubles.”

“I’m not… stewing over anything. Give it a rest, alright? Just let me get you back inside so you can stop limping everywhere.”

Alfyn sighed, not feeling the greatest about being unable to help when he knew he could possibly do something. Of course he didn’t want to push the man, but it wasn’t the first time he had seen something of a troubled look cross Therion’s face from time to time as they journeyed onward, picking up new companions along the way. No one bothered to ask the Thief questions, not directly anyway. Ophelia and Olberic would often try, opening up small talk that went somewhere sometimes, but whenever the smallest bit of leeway was made into talking about what was on his mind, Therion would deflect and change the subject. H’annit was only curious half of the time, but respected Therion’s privacy. Cyrus tried talking to him in a scholarly way, to which Therion entertained him, but the Thief was aware enough to not reveal anything. Primrose, still being new to the team, didn’t interact much with him and even Tressa tried ‘haggling’ her way to answers a couple times, whatever that meant, but Therion pointedly ignored her attempts. With all their efforts, most of the time the final result would be him leaving to wander the area and do whatever it was someone like Therion did. But Alfyn still wanted to try in the most respectful approach possible that wouldn’t be prying or invading the other man’s privacy. 

“I may not know your entire story yet, regardless of whether or not you wanna reveal that to us, but all I want to say is that you have us helpin’ you out in any way we possibly can in your quest. I… know that bangle bothers ya,” Alfyn said, pausing as he saw Therion instinctively grip his wrist that wore the reminder of his failure, “but it doesn’t define who you are—”

“Um, it kind of does,” Therion interrupted, the words bursting out of his mouth before he could react properly. “It literally does. A thief isn’t supposed to get caught, but I did like a dumbass. Defeats the purpose of my chosen… walk of life,” he said, sighing heavily. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, wondering what he should say now that he’d spilled so much in such a few words. “I don’t have much other than this, and if I can’t do that then…”

“Now it’s my turn to stop you there,” Alfyn chuckled lightly, forcing Therion to look up. It seemed as though the Thief hadn’t realized that he had looked down to begin with. “No spiralin’ on my watch, you hear?”

Therion rolled his eyes, but he stared at the Apothecary with some form of expectancy, resuming the tapping of his foot.

“That bangle of yours may not be the most—” Alfyn said, only to be interrupted by his coughing again.

“You can save this pick-me-up speech for another time you know,” Therion tried, but Alfyn shook his head, wanting to get his point across now.

“N-No, you see,” Alfyn restarted, “that bangle isn’t the prettiest thing, an’ it’s got some bitterness attached to it, but like I said: you aren’t alone in your adventure, just like how I’m not alone in mine. No one on the team is — not anymore. You’re more than the thief you brand yourself as, and you’re more than that bangle on your wrist. You , too, are a caring person deep down past all the barriers you’ve been building before we met you. You’re not just ‘someone on his own’ anymore. You’re someone who’s gained friends along the way, ones that you can at least confide in whenever you feel as though you need to and or have to.”

At this, Therion briefly wondered what had happened to have the tables turn so quickly. It was the second time as of recently, the first being the whole ‘manor fiasco,’ that he had been blindsided, this time by a simple act of kindness, but it was enough to make him feel nervous and strange. Now he felt too open and vulnerable, the natural instinct of wanting to flee infiltrating his body, but within that weirdness, there was a spark of warmth. He wasn’t sure he could trust it, but the feeling remained there even after having the other’s words marinate in the air for some time. Alfyn, now through half-lidded eyes, watched him patiently, an equally warm smile on his face.

“Just…” Therion began, choosing his words carefully, still unsure how he should respond or if he should be responding, “just because you’re the ‘I’m gonna make everyone feel better’ guy, doesn’t mean that you have to help me …” 

With a small snort, Alfyn waved him off, branding his words as ridiculous. “I saw someone in a bind, an’ I helped him out. Simple as that,” he said, repeating the same words that were spoken to him several years ago. Therion didn’t say anything, oddly quiet, even for him, but his posture loosened, not as guarded as before. After a time, the Apothecary considered Therion’s silence as an answer in itself, chuckling as he raised himself to stand up a little taller. 

“Help me over there, yeah?” Alfyn requested softly, coughing, Therion stumbling a bit to assist him to the inn.

And finally, they were walking up the stairs to the shared room, the rest of the team gasping at Alfyn’s state. With a raise of his hand, Alfyn reassured them that he was alright, setting to work on his treatment. Numerous times the others offered to help him, but he was almost done with everything, smiling to himself when the mixing process didn’t feel so strange anymore. His hands still shook often, but at least he could say that it was due to tiredness this time. He applied the salves, bandaged them, and slumped in the chair he was sitting in. Alfyn knew he should’ve put away his materials, but his eyes were rapidly slipping close, no longer able to stave off his exhaustion. With a healthy dose of medicine flowing through his veins, the Apothecary slumped further in the wooden chair, eyes shutting as he drifted off. The team glanced at Therion, questions apparent on their lips, but the Thief held up his hands, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t do anything to him. He’s fine whether you trust me or not,” the white haired man said bluntly, take a seat on the end of one of the beds furthest away from everyone. No one said anything, mulling over the Thief’s words until Olberic broke the tension in the room by gingerly lifting the Apothecary into his arms, depositing the younger man in one of the beds. Alfyn instinctively flipped on his side once his body made contact with the soft sheets underneath him, curling inward and falling into a deeper sleep. Someone had tugged off his boots and put away his supplies, placing them next to his bed so that he didn’t think he had misplaced them. H’annit turned to Therion, curiosity igniting in her eyes. Seeing the blatant question in them, Therion sighed.

“I saw him on the shore and brought him back. Satisfied?” the Thief said. A beat of silence reigned over them, prompting Therion to begrudgingly elaborate. “We talked, and now he’s fine and dandy. Look, I’m tired, so I’m gonna go to bed,” he cut off abruptly, flopping back, kicking off his shoes and turning so that his back faced them. Shuffling resumed around the room, and soon, the lights were cut out, the sound of rustling sheets filling the void. Then all was moderately quiet, small conversation filtering through here and there until steady breathing replaced them. Therion looked over his shoulder, watching the rest of the party sleep soundly. He flipped onto his back, staring up at the wooden supports of the ceiling. The moonlight that came in through one of the windows made the wood look mystical somehow. Entranced for a while, he drifted his attention toward the team.

To Therion, it was still weird, traveling with so many new people, not used to the company after such a long, long time of doing everything solo. It didn’t feel right, finding himself questioning the warmth from earlier and why it continued to linger. He’d let it stay there, confused on what to do with it. It wasn’t like it he could cast it aside like all the other times he had whenever someone showed the smallest ounce of sympathy and kindness.

Sighing, he raised the bangled wrist into the air, the metal shining in the moonlight in a dull way. Thoughts of failure crept back into his mind, roaring to be heard and adamant in wanting to remind him of how much of a screw up he was. But then, he thought over what their resident Apothecary said to him, how the bangle didn’t define him and how he was much more than what the piece of unsightly jewelry depicted him as. It was a strange concept, but Therion couldn’t help but think it over and find some form of reassurance, the words retaliating against the storms that would often frequent his mind.  

With another sigh, Alfyn was also a strange person, as were all the others, but for some reason, Therion didn’t seem to mind all too much, even if he had a hard time opening up. He rolled back onto his side, shutting his eyes and curling inward, putting forth the effort to focus on the small bit of warmth in his chest for a change. It was too different, and perhaps a little bit frightening, but he continued his efforts anyway, wanting to relish what it felt like to be hopeful for once. 

* * *

The Sun brought a chorus of birds singing their tunes of early morning, light pouring in from the windows within every home. Quiet hustling and bustling joined the birdsong, everyone rising up to begin their daily routines. Alfyn shifted, blearily blinking through the film of sleep covering his eyes. There was a soreness in his hands, his head pulsing with a dull ache that made him groan. His body ached with the previous day’s events so instead of getting up, he burrowed underneath the bed’s covers, sniffling. Belatedly, he noticed he was the only one left in the room, the realization making him curious as to where everyone had gone. His question was partially answered when the doorknob creaked and turned, Therion appearing in the doorway. Not paying mind, or simply not noticing, the Thief closed the door and sauntered to his bed on the far side of the room, a crisp red apple in hand. 

“Good mornin’” Alfyn greeted softly, breaking the silence, startling Therion, his apple momentarily airborne. He catched it swiftly, turning his head to the voice.

“ Morning ,” Therion responded in his normal annoyed tone. He took a bite out of the apple, the crunch sounding louder in the mostly empty room.

“Where’re—” Alfyn croaked, a little confused. Clearing his throat, he made a second attempt at speaking. “Where’re the others?”

Therion halted his eating. “Tressa’s probably looking for stuff to buy. Ophelia, H’annit, and Cyrus went to take Linde out on a walk. Primrose and Olberic went to the stores to check out the weapons,” he said, resuming his eating. Alfyn hummed.

“I-I see,” he said. Therion, finishing his apple, tossed the core into a nearby trash bin.

“You sound weird.”

“Pardon?” Alfyn said, but once again, it came out as a croak. “O-Oh. You’re right.” Miraculously, there was a pitcher of water on a small table next to his bed. Reluctantly getting up, he muffled a wince and poured himself a glass. Despite it being lukewarm, it coats his throat enough to quench his thirst and partially remove the scratiness there.

“Better?”

Therion squints his eyes at him, studying him like yesterday. “Decent.”

“Hmm, that’s good…” Alfyn said, lying back down on the bed, wincing. “But I think I went a lil overboard yesterday. Everything’s… really achy.” 

“You went untreated for almost half the day. How did you think you would feel?” Therion quipped dryly. Alfyn laughed quietly, closing his eyes, his eyelids feeling heavier than usual.

“You’ve gotta point there,” Alfyn mumbled. “But I don’t wanna take up anyone’s time.”

“The room’s paid for another day, so it’s fine.”

Alfyn hummed, remembering their arrangement. “Alright. But say, how come you’re not out there like everyone else? It would beat stayin’ in here.”

Therion pointed a finger to the trash bin. “I got an apple, so I did go somewhere.”

“I know, I know, but—”

“It’s early. Even thieves want to relax, you know,” Therion said. Alfyn sighed, not out of frustration, but simply due to weariness.

“O-Okay,” the Apothecary said, closing his eyes, the weight of physical and mental exhaustion letting him sink deeper into his bed. But something prodded his mind, making him halt his plans on returning to sleep. Instead, he opened his eyes halfway and stared at the other man.

“How’re you?”

Therion huffed in response. “You’re very talkative for someone who feels like shit.”

“Heh… But I’d still like an answer to my question, if ya don’t mind.”

“I do mind. Why are you so keen on knowing?”

“Jus’ curious.”

To Alfyn, through his persistent haze, he could see Therion was thinking over the question for a longer amount of time than what the question should have warranted. The Thief opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled a short breath.

“I’m doing… alright,” Therion answered normally, although he was hesitant in tone and guarded, but it was obvious that he didn’t have a clear cut answer himself, deciding to just settle on one that was both vague and enough for the moment now. Alfyn hummed along.

“Gotcha,” the Apothecary mused aloud, coughing quietly, slipping his eyes back closed. “Well, if ya need anything, I’m here. Just need to say the word.”

Therion stared after him incredulously. “What part of ‘ alright ’ don’t you understand?”

Alfyn shrugged, the motion taking more out of him than he would’ve liked. “I understand quite well, but I’m just sayin’.”

“Hmpf,” Therion said, crossing his arms, choosing not to say anything. He had thought that Alfyn had fallen asleep, but a quiet mumble broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Something’s botherin’ you…”

“We’re not doing twenty questions again,” Therion said, immediately shutting down the conversation — at least he thought he had, until Alfyn decided to speak.

“Is it from what I said yesterday?” Judging from the silence, Alfyn deduced that it was. “I see…”

“No, you don’t. There’s nothing to see . How can you? Your eyes are closed,” Therion tried, trying to cover up whatever it was he was choosing not to talk about. Alfyn was surprised that his eyes had even closed, not noticing. He pried them back open.

“Now they’re open,” Alfyn laughed, smiling dopely.

Therion rolled his eyes, not amused. “But seriously. Leave it alone.”

And so Alfyn didn’t say anything, exhaustion taking the reins and allowing him to doze off. Therion watched him for a moment before he settled his eyes on the trash bin where his apple core lay. He sighed, thinking through his plans for the days ahead. They would make way to Noblecourt once Alfyn was feeling up to it, but he couldn’t help but think that he was going into everything unprepared. He was still immensely annoyed that he got pulled into this situation, not that he could be completely upset since it was his fault, but it was still annoying. Another sigh left his mouth as he settled further back in the bed, letting the pillows absorb some of the weight from his shoulders. Noblecourt was a good distance away from Goldshore, so it would give him some time to think and prepare. He decided he would treat it like any other thieving mission he’s done in the past, but something about this one made it feel different. Therion sighed for the third time, not understanding why he felt more unprepared compared to everything else he’d done. There was a headache growing from trying to figure out everything, which made him contemplate whether or not he should leave the inn again to clear his head.

“Sighin’ up a storm there.”

“ Shit !” Therion yelped, whipping his head up to face the voice. “What the hell ? You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I was, but I kept hearin’ some sound. Thought I’d investigate,” Alfyn responded, somehow looking more tired than before.

“You heard nothing,” Therion muttered, relaxing back into his bed.

“I sure enough did. So what’s botherin’ you?” Alfyn whispered before clearing his throat.

“ Nothing ! Nothing is bothering me, so why don’t you go back to sleep and stop asking me questions!” Therion all but shouted. Unfazed by the small outburst, Alfyn blinked slowly, sucking in a breath.

“Are you nervous?”

Therion glared at him. “What?”

“Are you nervous?” the Apothecary repeated himself, blinking heavily. “About your quest, I mean.”

“No, I’m not,” Therion said through his gritted.

“Then why’re you sighing?”

“Can’t someone sigh without being interrogated ? There’s nothing bothering me about my mission.”

“You seem nervous…” Alfyn expressed in a sad tone.

“I’m not—” Therion said, cutting himself off. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when there’s a chance I can do somethin’,” Alfyn reiterated. Therion inwardly groaned, remaining silent. “If it is about the quest, you’re not goin’ into it alone, in case you needed a reminder,” he said. The Thief still didn’t say anything, until he sighed again, on guard and resolute in not talking about his concerns. But his mouth had other plans.

“It’s… not that,” Therion begrudgingly admitted. “It’s…”

“Different, I reckon?” Alfyn answered for him, causing Therion to start as if the Apothecary had said something offensive.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“But it probably feels a bit different?” Alfyn asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Your mission.”

“I… Sure, it’s different . It’s not everyday you get swept into some pompous family’s personal request,” Therion tried, making light of the situation while trying to avoid it all together.

“Not what I’m gettin’ at,” Alfyn said, shaking his head.

“Then just what are you getting at?” Therion asked, irritation leaking into his voice. Alfyn pushed himself up with some effort, trying to focus.

“I hope I’m not overstepping any boundaries—”

“You’ve overstepped plenty in these past few hours,” the Thief said, but it didn’t have a true bite to it.

Alfyn shook his head and tried again. “But it has somethin’ to do with that bangle again, yeah?”

Therion pinched the bridge of his nose. “ Sure .”

“Well, like I also said yesterday, that doesn’t define you,” Alfyn said, pointing a wobbly finger at the iron bangle. Therion tucked away his wrist, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, alright? The whole ‘it doesn’t define me’ stuff. But when the lady of a manor and her annoying ass butler are expecting you to suddenly be the greatest thief they’ve ever seen and get their stones back after they’ve branded you a failure , it all starts feeling weird and confusing,” Therion muttered, letting the words fall loosely from his lips. The room grew silent, natural ambience filling the quiet. Alfyn simply hummed.

“I think for one,” the Apothecary said, sitting up some with a grunt, “that you’re probably seeing yourself as not capable of doin’ the job because of what that bangle personally means to you.”

Therion remained silent again, fiddling with a thread from his clothing. If he dared, he would’ve said Alfyn hit ‘on the nail.’

“And, even though I find you much more than just a thief, I think you’re capable of following through with their request… But there’s somethin’ else to it, isn’t there?”

Mutely, Therion found himself nodding slowly, internally berating himself for not being able to control his body.

“Mind if I ask what it is?”

Exhaling harshly, Therion shook his head, feeling a bout of frustration rise up into his chest. “Obviously I don’t know what it is. If I did know, I wouldn’t be having this conversation with you.”

The Apothecary propped himself up further so that he was properly sitting up. He panted a little but then turned all his attention toward the troubled Thief. There was a loose band of silence that wrapped itself around the conversation, one that added to the discomfort Therion was already feeling. The Thief’s hands wrung together in his lap, twiddling with the frayed tassels of his garb. But then Alfyn hummed as if he understood the reasoning behind everything that seemed to be bothering the other.

“Pardon if I’m wrong about this, but does this… possibly have to do with you actually helping someone else out?” Alfyn asked before sputtering out an apology. “I-I didn’t mean that in a weird way or anything! I meant—”

Therion held up a hand. “I got what you meant. But… I haven’t considered that before.”

It had always been for himself, with the exception of a certain time. Everything he had stolen was used to benefit himself and never for anyone else. And, with all considered, excluding helping the others with their respective quests, it was the first time that he was given something like this to do. He was essentially being asked to steal something that held a high importance to a family. He could easily just steal all of their heirlooms, disband from the group, and be all on his own again, but he found himself not wanting to do that.

“You’ve been thievin’ for good,” Alfyn mumbled, staring at Therion with droopy eyes. “I think that’s what feels different. An’ I think you’ve been feelin’ that way for a while.”

Therion twitched, not knowing what to do with the statement, but he supposed Alfyn was right in a way.

“You’ve been helpin’ us along, mind you. And, even though your mission is to also get the bangle off, you’re helpin’ someone out in the process — thievin’ for good,” Alfyn said, repeating his words. Therion stared at him, expression blank while the inside of his mind warred on in bewilderment and fear.

Thieves weren’t supposed to be helpful. Thieves were typically seen as wicked people, no good filthy people who didn’t care. But here he was, caring somewhat. He wasn’t bursting with it, but it was there just like the warmth from yesterday, which was still flickering dimly inside.

“Not all thieves are bad people, ya know,” Alfyn said, smiling. Therion huffed, turning away to stare at the wall.

“How? You have no proof.”

“I do. He’s right in front of me,” the Apothecary chuckled. “Not all thieves are bad people, an’ it’s never been a bad thing to do some good.”

With those words, Therion felt a bit more of the strange warmth returning. Once again, he didn’t know where to place it or how to handle it, the feeling making his skin feel sensitive to the touch. Unbeknownst to him, Alfyn smiled and slipped back down into his bed, sighing softly when his body relaxed.

“Wake me if ya need anything,” Alfyn mumbled through sleepy lips, shutting his eyes and returning to sleep, no longer able to stay awake. Therion glanced back over when he could hear the soft snores filling the room, staring at Alfyn with something akin to wonder.

Twice, in such a short span of time, had Therion been subjected to such unadulterated compassion and earnest concern. Sure, the rest of the party cared about his well being, but because he made it difficult to be approached, it wasn’t as if they could get very far with it if they had wanted. Before then, the only bouts of closeness he dabbled in were in the forms of conversations that he would have with the tavern keepers and miscellaneous people to get information on who to steal from next. But Alfyn was able to make a small dent in his barricade — the interaction not coming to him as easy as opposed to those in his ‘trade,’ but it managed to lift a bit of weight off of his chest. He breathed, eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

His skin still tingled with uncertainty from the onslaught of feelings. Focusing on them for too long made him want to cast them far away from his person. And he still couldn’t fully grasp the whole concept of being a ‘thief for good,’ like what Alfyn had said. He viewed himself as the outcast who didn’t seem like he could ever be understood, but once again, he found himself hoping, hoping that there really was more to him than just what everyone else sees him as.

And when the rest of the party returned from their respective excursions, the warmth still remained, even when a few suspicions were raised in regard to Alfyn’s wellbeing. He waved them off, telling them that the Apothecary was fine and resting well. Soon after, they busied themselves with conversation, Tressa quietly, but excitedly, talking about what she found, Cyrus amusedly following along through her spiel with his own comments. Olberic and Primrose inspected the new wares they bought, contemplating on whether or not they should return some of them, while Ophelia petted Linde, the snow leopard purring contently. H’annit overlooked the two with a smile before her gaze shifted to Therion, eyes twinkling with something that the Thief couldn’t understand. With a huff, he turned away, missing how H’annit shook her head fondly and returned to the scene beside her. When everyone was fully occupied, Therion looked back, letting his eyes survey the collective scene in front of him. The storms that took residence inside his head whenever he glanced at the bangle were quieter, at least for the moment. Instead, the idle chatter from the team invaded his mind, something he found himself not really minding too much either. He closed his eyes, suddenly weary from all the feelings and thinking. Not bothering to lay on his side, he drifted off, laying on his back so that he was easily visible, the warmth in his chest still flickering about in case he had forgotten it was there.

If hoping led to more moments like this, Therion distantly thought as he floated further into the hands of sleep, then maybe doing more of the action wouldn’t be so much of a bad thing. Rather, maybe he could try ‘hoping for good’ instead.

It was still all too different, and now much more frightening, but regardless, he wanted to begin putting in some effort, wanting to know what it felt like to try again for once.