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“Of all the insufferable, idiotic, arrogant little shites I could have been stuck with-!” Each insult that Yhen’a growled was punctuated with a strike of his hatchet, and he finally flung it to the side and wiped at his brow, staring up at the tree above him. So far, for all the work he’d done, he had a basket full of La Noscean oranges to show for it- and why? On account, he thought acidly, of one red-haired, odd-eyed, know-it-all Seeker!, who couldn’t possibly be more irritating with his constant prattling about Allag and the Crystal Tower and whatever other nonsense-…
Heaving a sigh, Yhen’a dropped to the ground and crossed his legs, gazing at the basket of oranges. As it happened, said Seeker was extremely fond of these- and after being forbidden to accompany him further into the Tower, G’raha Tia had pouted like a kit and then disappeared. Who knew where he’d gone- Yhen’a certainly didn’t- but he also knew that this was something G’raha had truly wanted… arrogant and irritating as he was. That viewpoint, the Keeper thought irritably, had nothing at all to do with his own biases- everyone else thought so as well. Upon coming to that realization, he’d then begun to feel just a little bad- many of the researchers avoided him unless they had no choice, and G’raha spent most of his time alone. That seemed to suit him fine, seeing as how he stayed up at all hours reading from books in languages nobody nowadays could speak, but Yhen’a caught him glancing toward the center of the camp sometimes and then turning away with an unreadable expression.
Damn.
Despite thinking him a brat, Yhen’a didn’t like to see anyone feeling left out- and if anyone did, it would have been G’raha Tia. The Seeker shrouded himself in theatrics and dramatics, preferring to stick to his musty old tomes and scrolls unless there was an opportunity to annoy someone- the aethersand incident came to mind first, and Yhen’a scowled a little. Still, still, the Keeper had grown somewhat fond of him if only because he understood the man’s singular drive toward finding out the truth of his origins. Having grown up an orphan himself, abandoned and left to the mercy of the Shroud, Yhen’a was found by a group of huntresses and taken in. The young woman who had become his mother, Yhen, was very kind, and he loved her- but still, still, he wanted to know where he’d really come from. He couldn’t begrudge G’raha the same opportunity, and thus tempted to defy Rammbroes for his sake, Yhen’a had hoped to lure him out of wherever he’d gone with the oranges.
Rising and brushing himself off, Yhen’a wove strands of aether effortlessly around himself, one second in La Noscea and the next in Mor Dhona, basket in hand. Nobody paid much attention to his comings and goings, either so in awe of him that they didn’t know what to say to him or simply confused as to why an illiterate Keeper was hanging around- his mother hadn’t been able to read, nor had his aunts, and what use had they for it deep in the Shroud? Their language was highly tonal and relied on various sounds, and that couldn’t be written- not without a great deal of trouble. Yhen’a spoke common only thanks to the Echo, or at least he assumed that was why, he’d not really listened when it was explained to him. He was the sort of man who just went along with the current, finding that far easier than struggling against it, at least when it came to him. As the Warrior of Light, all he did was struggle against the current, and he was about to do so again, he thought with a slight roll of his eyes.
He trotted down to where the tent he shared with G’raha was- it had been the only open tent when he’d arrived, and thus he’d found himself with a bunkmate. Annoying as he could be, Yhen’a had grown fond of G’raha, thus the effort and the oranges- and, he thought with a sly glance over his shoulder, perhaps a few bells of mischief. G’raha could be no safer with anyone else, and Yhen’a wasn’t against the idea of skirting the rules when it suited him… and he knew, he knew the Seeker was dying to comb through more of the Tower than they’d seen as yet. He peered into the tent, and though he wasn’t surprised when he found it empty, he was a little vexed. He flicked his ears and turned to look out over Silvertear Lake, humming softly to himself. An idea came to mind, then, and he smiled to himself and headed toward the Tower, tail swaying cheerfully behind him. Where else would he seek refuge other than the place he’d been forbidden? Yhen’a wasn’t someone who’d ever liked being told no, and it seemed G’raha was perhaps no different.
The winding path was a bit treacherous, but Yhen’a was sure-footed and balanced easily as he hopped from one crystalline rock to the next, making sure he didn’t jostle the arrows out of the quiver on his back. Another thing they had in common- archery- though that didn’t really come as a surprise, seeing as to their heritage. Yhen’a had learned the way of the bow as soon as he could reliably draw one, and thus it was with that he felt most comfortable. He’d become a bard during his travels, being as good with a harp as he was with the bow, and he was constantly humming or singing softly to himself. He’d figured that would annoy his studious bunkmate, but instead he often found one red ear perked in his direction even as its owner focused on whatever it was that he was reading. After all of this, he was beginning to think he’d perhaps done G’raha a disservice, and so once he hit the bottom of the path, he sighed to himself and shrugged one shoulder. He’d give him a chance, then- a real one. He’d decided that before going to fetch the oranges.
Finding G’raha turned out to be easier than he’d thought it might be, to his relief. Yhen’a saw a tuft of red fur sticking out from behind one of the pillars off to the side of the entrance, and so he put the basket behind his back and casually wandered over to him. Tucked into one of the many depressions in the Tower was the missing Seeker, ears deep in a book- again. As usual. Yhen’a waited patiently for him to look up, and when he didn’t, he sighed and nudged his foot with his own. “Hey.”
G’raha glanced up at him and tilted his head a little. “What?” he asked.
Yhen’a smiled. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said, “seeing as how you’ve been hiding all day.” He reached back into the basket with his other hand, then neatly flipped an orange over his shoulder and caught it- G’raha wasn’t the only one who could engage in theatrics as it suited him- then offered it as his smile widened. “Here.”
Mismatched eyes widened in surprise as G’raha looked at the orange, and he slowly reached out and took it before peering up at him. “Thank you,” he said, though he sounded perhaps a bit… confused? Uncertain? Yhen’a’s ears flicked a little- he wasn’t sure. “I’d figured you had already begun your foray into the Tower by now.”
“Not yet.” Yhen’a grinned and crouched down in front of him, and when G’raha shifted to make room, he tucked himself into the alcove and sat by him, resting the basket on his legs. “That’ll be next, and you’re coming with me.”
G’raha’s full lips parted in surprise, and he looked from the basket to Yhen’a as though he wasn’t sure which one he believed less. “You’d let me-?”
Yhen’a grinned lazily and took an orange. “You did tell Rammbroes you don’t answer to him,” he pointed out. “I don’t answer to anyone but Menphina. … an’ seeing as how She isn’t leaning down to scold me, I think we’re in the clear.” He glanced at G’raha out of the corner of his eyes, ears lifting a bit. “… unless you’re afraid?”
“I’m not!” G’raha was indignant, and Yhen’a laughed- the Seeker sputtered a little, then harrumphed and set his book aside to focus on the orange… or rather, the basket of them. “Are you planning on staying long enough that we’ll need all of these?”
“No,” Yhen’a said, then paused and shrugged. “Well, I guess I don’t know. I just… thought you’d like ‘em, that’s all.” Arrogant and insufferable G’raha may have been at times- at present he was no different from anyone else, the armor of education and knowledge and self-righteousness having fallen away.
G’raha looked from the orange he held to the basket, then back at Yhen’a. “Oh,” he finally said, his cheeks turning pink. “Well- I do, so thank you.” He smiled as he easily peeled the orange he held, and after peeling a section away and popping it into his mouth, he sighed in pleasure. “Ahh, it’s perfectly ripe- the market must have just restocked!” He wrinkled his nose. “The last ones I got were almost bitter.”
“Oh- yeah, they must’ve,” Yhen’a said, taking one and carefully clawing it open so as not to spray himself. He wasn’t about to tell G’raha he’d gone off personally to gather them- it was enough that he had, in his mind. “I dunno, they smelled really good, and I figured you’d run out.”
“A few days ago.” G’raha grinned sheepishly, swallowing the bite he’d taken while Yhen’a spoke. “I could eat far more of these than any man should, I fear… I’d get sick if I truly let myself indulge.” He tipped his head curiously. “When are we going into the Tower?”
Yhen’a shrugged. “When do you want to go?” he asked, popping a section of orange into his mouth. He had nowhere pressing to be otherwise, and G’raha was the one hot to get in and have a look around. G’raha looked surprised again, and Yhen’a grinned- unable to resist, he reached up and lightly flicked one of his ears with the tip of his finger. “It’s a good thing nobody else is around to see you looking so baffled.”
G’raha pinned his ears and gave him a half-hearted glare, but he smiled hesitantly all the same and lifted them again a few seconds later. “I- were it up to me, we’d have already gone in.”
“Well, then, what’re we waiting for?” Yhen’a stood up and stretched, then grinned down at G’raha and held his hand out. “We can finish these on the way.”
Carefully, G’raha set the basket aside and took his hand, letting the bard haul him up. Yhen’a wasn’t particularly tall, but G’raha was downright petite in comparison, and he had to tip his chin to look up at him. “Then let’s go,” he said eagerly- and, after swiftly leaning up to peck him on the cheek, tugged him toward the entrance of the Labyrinth.
Yhen’a blinked, startled, then laughed and followed along. “Hey, let me finish my orange!” he protested, but he didn’t care either way- it was surprisingly good to see G’raha looking so happy. Who knew but that something as small as a basket of oranges could entirely change a man’s outlook- and it certainly made the whole trip worthwhile.