Chapter Text
Warmth blushed on the Drifter’s face from the sun gleaming through the window
His stark, black eyes open and squint as he peers back into consciousness. The smell of something smoky and robust floats along lazily, traveling through the air with the sound of dishes clinking together.
He stretches, his undershirt sleeves sliding a bit down his arms. He yawns and realizes his scarf is missing, along with his helmet, though for once he isn’t too worried about it. The Drifter looks over to the kitchen and sees the Guardian stirring something next to a press that looked older than the both of them combined. His helmet is not on yet, as well, but he has already donned the rest of his armor.
After getting up and taking a couple steps, he notices his companion awakening and sets the spoon down.
“Ah,” he says, “you’re up.”
The Drifter says nothing, still not quite awake from his deep slumber.
“I made coffee,” he waves an empty cup, “would you like some?”
He thinks for a second before nodding and sitting down at the small table. The chair creaks under him, the edged wood catching a bit on his skirt. The Drifter stares dazed at the wall.
“I took off your mask, I hope you don’t mind.” The Guardian seems suddenly next to him, setting down the two steaming cups. “It didn’t look comfortable to sleep in, and I assume you don’t need it anymore… “
“It’s fine,” the Drifter says, taking a sip to try and hide his discomfort. He’s been traveling alone so long, speaking to people on a regular basis put him at a certain unease.
There’s a tension in the air as they both look down at the tabletop.
The Guardian looks back up at the Drifter. “You’re welcome to stay, if you want,” his fingers fidget around the handle of his mug, “but you should let me know soon, so I can work something out with the bed situation."
The other warrior continued staring at the table for couple seconds. He’d never considered either staying or leaving, he didn’t think he’d be alive to even make the decision.
The land was was dangerous and ravaged by past wars and fanatic oppression. If a normal person went to the wrong place, they would surely perish. It was a distorted world, but it also carried kindness. It had beautiful landscapes and was plentiful in natural resources, along with a kind village with people who knew him somewhat and cared. This country was broken, but still good, with all the potential to be better.
Besides, what other person could possibly understand the obstacles he’s faced aside from his companion, who was inflicted with the same fate by the same executioner?
The Guardian almost says something further, but the Drifter answers before he has the chance.
“I think that would be nice,” he says.
“Oh, that’s good, I think,” his fidgeting stops, “but are you sure? You don’t seem to be the type who settles.”
He hadn’t thought about that either, but his choice is already made. “I think… I’ve had enough adventure for a lifetime, or at least for now,” the Drifter looks the Guardian in the eye with a calm smile, “besides, this place could use the help. I’m sure it would keep me busy.”
The Guardian tries to keep a neutral expression, but anyone would still be able to tell he was delighted. He lifts up his cup.
“To new beginnings?”
His new roommate’s cup clinks together with it.
“To new beginnings.”