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The Truthless Recluse has known the Sage of Truth for a few years now. It's been enough for the Sage to notice his more…unhealthy habits. The ones he was as ashamed of as he felt deserving of. Yet, the Sage rarely brings them up directly. If anything, he'd mention it in passing. A simple, "how were those starjellies I brought you last week?" Or perhaps, "I've read that eucalyptus can assist in sleep, would you like some for your bed area?"
Always little words that showed he knew about his habits, yet preferred not to confront them directly. The Recluse often thought about: why? Yet, no answer has come.
No matter, today the Sage of Truth had promised a visit. It seems that he does that nearly every free day he has now. Of course, the Recluse has become rather…accustomed to them; and truthfully had began to enjoy them. A distraction, perhaps.
As if the Sage had somehow heard his thoughts, a knock sounds from the base of the tower. It's quick in tempo, just as a Sage usually knocks. Following an oddly familiar routine, the Recluse stands and walks down the stairs to greet the scholar.
The stairs creak beneath his feet as he travels the long staircase down to the base of his tower. He has since memorized the alarming amount of steps that have given out before, careful to step over them. Once he inevitably makes it to the bottom, he cracks the door open, just enough to see the familiar blobs of blue, white, and gold; and while the Recluse cannot see his smile, he could hear it as soon as words leave the Sage's lips.
"Good afternoon, dearest Recluse! May I come in?" The Sage's voice is bubbling with a glee that the Recluse only has heard from him. Without too much of a thought, he steps aside, allowing the floating cookie passage. "Dearest?" the Recluse questions as he closes the door, "that's new."
There is a thoughtful hum from the stairs behind him, "Perhaps, but you enjoy it, no?" The Recluse turns around, staring at him for a moment as if stunned before allowing a sigh to slip out.
"Never in this life," the Recluse answers, following the Sage up the staircase. Yet, despite his rather cold denial, his voice held the smallest shreds of warmth—and the Recluse allowed it.
The Sage rambles about something that holds little meaning to the hermit, but he does not comment on it. The steps creak beneath the Recluse, the Sage remains floating just above them.
"So loud. Truly, my friend. You should replace them soon," the Sage comments, turning around to float backwards and face the Recluse. Though, the hermit can only guess thanks to the soft glow of the Sages souljam and hair.
The Recluse sighs, not giving the Sage a response. However, the next step creaks loudly before actually giving out beneath him.
His heart drops for a brief moment, but just as quickly as the stair beneath him gave out, he realizes he didn't actually fall.
"This is exactly what I expected would happen, I told you that you should get them fixed." Before the Recluse can respond, his body starts…moving? No, not walking, floating forwards.
"You're lucky to have me around, Recluse! Otherwise, you would have fallen straight through… Oh, the crumbs… I can't even imagine..!" The Sage's magic hovers the Recluse just above the stairs, just keeping up with the Sage's pace. The hermit cannot stop the grumbled curses that slip out of his mouth.
"I can walk just fine," he grumbles a bit louder. The Sage chuckles softly, but doesn't respond right away. Instead, he, much to the Recluse's dismay, floats them all the way up into the tower's living space.
The space wasn't nearly this furnished a few years ago. In fact, it only had the bed and kitchenette if you don't include the balcony. The only reason for the bookshelves, sofas, chairs, and much more reliable kitchen is due to the Sage's influences. That same Sage that places him back onto the ground.
However, from how another soft chuckle fills the air, the Recluse can only guess he looks as ticked as he feels. That annoying Sage decides to speak, "Be as mad as you want, but I'm more than certain a few moments of flight is better than falling through your stairs."
The Recluse knew the Sage was right, but he's not to admit such a thing aloud. Instead, the Recluse sighs once more before walking to the kitchen area. "Tea?"
"Of course I do," came a voice from behind him, "may I assist?"
The Recluse pauses, a moment of consideration that he knows the Sage notices. Without answering right away, the Recluse feels around inside of his cabinets, searching for the blueberries, vanilla, and a few other herbs. When a pale, blue hand gives him the dried blueberries—he knows the Sage had taken the consideration as permission.
The Recluse takes the packet, promptly collecting the vanilla and tea herbs on his own accord. "I need not assistance," he says as he fills the kettle with milk.
A thoughtful hum comes in response, a hum that the Recluse has become quite familiar with. What could the Sage possibly be focused on? Despite the question in his mind, he focuses on properly lighting the small stovetop's flame. He hears his cabinets opening and closing. "Sage, what are you doing?" he grumbles, a hint of annoyance and curiosity laced within the question.
"Your cabinets are quite empty, would you like me to bring you more starjellies? They're rather simple to make and since you seem to enjoy them so much…" The Sage's voice seems to muffle for a moment. A guilt knots up quickly in his stomach. Just recently he'd begun to…dump the food the Sage brings. It's not that he is ungrateful for it, it's simply that he doesn't wish to allow himself it. Its presence in his tower is tempting, too tempting.
"That would be rather generous of you, Sage," he replies smoothly, the momentary hesitation barely noticeable. His voice does not waver, even though the words taste bitter on his tongue. It's not a lie, but the implied acceptance of the offer is enough. It doesn't help to hear the smile in the Sage's voice again.
"Consider it done then! I'll get some fresh ones for you soon," the Sage pauses.
The Sage's presence is lingering behind him. It's like he can feel it, the scholar's eyes on him observing his movements. The Recluse glances back at him, "is there something wrong?"
The Sage does not respond at first, instead, he walks his fingers down the Recluse's arm—eventually resting on the Recluse's hand. "Hmm… you're shaking," the Sage states aloud. His voice is laced with concern and the hint of knowing the hermit hates to hear. The Recluse can feel the knot tighten.
He pulls his hand to his chest, "I suppose it's the weather," he says slowly, "Perhaps I should add a fireplace to this tower soon…" The words hang there for a moment. The Recluse focuses on the tea kettle, awaiting the milk's boiling.
The Sage pulls back, "the weather, right! You must be cold with not only the winds, but eventual snow up here. I'll help with the fireplace next visit!" His voice is uplifting, and truly helps the Recluse relax. Just before the kettle whistles, he takes it off the heat.
"Add a touch of vanilla to my cup, will you? I've grown quite fond of it as of late…" The Sage chuckles as the Recluse sharply glares at him.
"It's bad for you. You shouldn't be eating things other than blueberry," the Recluse says quietly. Though, he adds a sprinkle of the grounded vanilla to the Sage's cup anyway… And while the Sage isn't looking, he adds the smallest sprinkle of the grounded blueberry to his own cup. He'd…also grown a bit fond of it as of late.
The Sage hums in acknowledgment to the Recluse's words, but doesn't comment on them. Instead, he uses his magic to make the cups float. He's smiling, and the Recluse can tell, "since I know you refuse to use your own magic, I thought I'd help you out. After all, it's what a good guest does!"
The Recluse follows him to the small seating area. Two chairs, a small table between them. All of which are a mix of blacks, blues, and golds—the Recluse's choice, even if he never wanted them in the first place.
Briefly, the Recluse glances towards his staff's stand, but does not reach to take it. Not that it would be of much use at the moment. Both he and the Sage take a seat.
Only in the years he has known Sage had he began drinking tea once more. He had forgotten how fond he was of it. The Truthless Recluse feels his guest's gaze once again—watching him as he takes small sips of his cup. "Did you sleep well last night, my friend? The winds were quite strong down in the town last night, I cannot even imagine how it was here!"
Of course. Perhaps the circles beneath his eyes were darker today, or maybe he seemed more fatigued. He hasn't slept well last night. In fact, he hadn't slept at all. He instead lay in his bed, finding himself lost in many painful thoughts. "I slept alright, I assure you…" the lie rolls off his tongue without a second thought. A habit that has somehow remained through millennia. The knot of guilt in his stomach tightens.
How many weeks has this gone on? Months has this gone on? Will the Sage ever directly confront the Recluse on these habits? More importantly, why hasn't he? To make it worse, the Sage sounded genuinely pleased, joyful even, at the the confirmation. It makes the Recluse feel a bit better, having him happy. Even if it was all a lie.
It is not unlike of him to lie, yet these ones… These ones to his—no, the Sage felt like poison in his mouth. The Sage was talking, a gleeful ramble only to ever be interrupted by a brief sip of tea. He realized now that he never caught what the Sage had said a moment ago, only that he was happy.
"Oh, and I do doubt that I've shared! Recently, I've been researching on the origins of orchids. Your staff is truly one of a kind! While your own existence is not well documented, your staff is something I've yet to find a copy of anywhere! I'd love for you to offer some insight as to how it was created, but, I also know you are not one to share such information-" the Sage chattered away. His voice and cadence truly made his words become a soothing white noise.
The Recluse never was one to engage in the Sage's rambling. Though, the both of them did not mind such. The hermit looks down at his hands, when had he emptied his teacup? Perhaps that lack of sleep has caught up to him again. He quietly places the teacup down and instead tries to focus on the Sage's words. Specifically comprehending them.
He feels it now, the sense of exhaustion crawling throughout his dough. The way the world seems to have a sense of distance from him. The sleepiness that lingers behind his eyelids. An odd, sleepy tingling in his limbs, how every action feels so much more taxing than it would normally. Of course this must happen in the presence of the Sage.
The aforementioned Sage seems not to have noticed just yet considering that the rambling is still reaching his ears. Though following along is becoming much harder. He squeezes the cloth of his icings, pinches his dough, truly anything to stay properly awake.
His efforts are not fruitful, however, as he feels himself begin to sway just a bit. A bit is just enough for the Sage to notice, however, and the rambling stops. What replaces it is a concerned voice, "Recluse? Are you alright?"
Said Recluse blinks. Once. Twice. Before nodding slowly. "Yes… I am fine," is all he says. However, those words are not enough for the Sage. Before he knows it, the other cookie is at his side. The continuous swaying is making the hermit feel even more exhausted and dizzy. Why must this happen now…?
"Oh, goodness! You've no need to lie to a Sage of Truth, my Recluse! Now, are you unwell?" Truthless Recluse is aware of a hand on his forehead. The other cookie is no doubt checking for a non-existent fever. The hermit sighs before gently pushing the other back.
"No. I'm fine. I am just slightly tired, I suppose…" he says rather quietly. Every part of him would prefer to say he's alright once again and then usher the Sage out. However, he knows that would be of no use. He looks rather exhausted at the moment already, and the scholar is not one to back down so easily.
The small huff from the other is the only warning he gets before he's suddenly pulled into standing. We sways for a moment before the Sage steadies him. He quickly glares in the scholar's direction. "You- Sage. Why did you-?"
Before he can say more, he registers he is now being ushered straight to his bed. "Because, dear Recluse! You're not ill, but you're clearly extremely exhausted! You need to sleep, silly."
Hearing that makes the hermit's stomach knot. It's the same feeling he had when the very same Sage insisted he eat. Though, the idea of sleeping—of what his mind might conjure up if he does rest—makes him even more reluctant. Fear is a strong motivator. "No. Sage, I don't need to be treated like a child. I am well. I've no need for rest."
Much to his dismay, the Sage does not stop, and instead tosses the already dizzy recluse onto the bed. He nearly yelps before truly glaring at the cookie before him.
"I'm not treating you like a child!! And yes, you do need rest! You're swaying and seem barely aware of the world around you! I do not want to hear anymore of your lies, I know you didn't sleep last night. So, you must sleep now," the Sage cheerfully replies. The Recluse grumbles in response, incredibly annoyed. Yet, also guilty. This clearly has made the Sage aware he lies about his condition, and will no doubt make him question his answers in the future…
The Sage is not very gentle as he pushes Recluse down and against the pillows. Even though the landing is cushioned, he is not happy about it. Apparently, he's very visibly unhappy given how the Sage suddenly stops entirely.
Powder blue hands cup his cheeks. The gentle pressure makes the build up of water in his eyes slip out. Ah, he began tearing up. Pathetic. "Sage."
His voice is met with a soft sigh, the hands leave his cheeks. Instead, his blond hair is carefully brushed away from his face. Even though part of it slips right back into place.
"My dearest Recluse, please forgive me. I overstepped. I should not have been so forceful when there is certainly more to this than what you tell me," the scholar says a bit more quietly. The Sage's warm hand wraps around his. He can feel the magic running through the other's dough, and it's comforting in a way. He certainly feels a bit more awake now, the other's rambling earlier must have relaxed him enough to feel the exhaustion…
He nods slowly, still getting used to the soft side of the Sage who comes out rather often now. "It's… Yes, you shouldn't have. But I'm alright…" a deep sigh, "I'd rather not sleep right now."
His voice is quieter than he'd like, his eyes remaining on his hand resting in the gentle hold of the Sage's. His words were met with a hum of pensive acknowledgement from the scholar. Said scholar floats over to sit directly beside him on the bed. The bed with pillows, blankets, and sheets all supplied by the Sage. He doesn't deserve all of this.
When he feels the other beside him, he can only lean himself against his side. The scholar squeezes the other's hand lightly. "If you'd rather not sleep, perhaps you can simply rest? And no, before you say anything, they are not the same! I can…read a book while you sit against me! That can work, hm~?"
It is the Recluse's turn to respond with a hum. Though, he does not pull away. As the Sage pulls out a book from his other realm with his free hand, the Recluse assumes his hum was taken as an agreement. Which, is not far off.
The two are quiet for a while. The Truthless Recluse listens to the idle sounds of each page the other turns, the way his breath is steady and calm. If he wasn't thinking so much, he likely would have fallen asleep rather quickly. Instead, he sighs, "I'm sorry."
That makes the Sage's breathing pause. The scholar shifts to likely glance at him, "and why might that be, my dear?" The voice is patient yet clearly very confused. It makes the Recluse feel more guilty than he already does. The Sage must have truly believed him.
"I…I toss the food you bring me. And I…I lie to you about it so often. I'm sorry," he mumbles. He feels the knots in his stomach tighten further. The guilt makes his nausea so awful, he feels as though he might vomit right there.
He freezes entirely when his words are met with a soft, airy chuckle. "Oh, I know! I've known since the second time you'd done it, hehe.~ I just was waiting until you were ready to say it. Thank you for the apologies! Though, I don't need them."
Just like that, he returns to his book. This leaves the Recluse stunned, his unseeing eyes glancing up at the blob of blues that is likely the Sage's face. "You…knew? Then why is it you did not tell me? Or confront me?" he immediately questions.
His query is met with a tap on his head with the Sage's book. "Because, dear Recluse, there would be no use in it. If I did, you'd deny it and would very likely continue doing so. If I waited, I'd be able to see just how long you'd keep it to yourself, and when—if—you'd share," the blob of blues shifts—likely a smile, "and since you decided to do so now, it would mean I have successfully made myself a big enough place in your heart to have you feeling guilty~!"
That response is rewarded with a huff. Annoying Sage. "…You're lucky I'm comfortable." He grumbles, staying put against the Sage. Another soft giggle comes from the scholar.
"I am, aren't I? Now stop worrying about apologies, silly," the Sage cheerfully says. The sound of pages turning slowly returns to the otherwise quiet tower. In fact, since no animals or even bugs dare to visit the Peak, the only other sound would be the wind against the windows.
The Truthless Recluse takes a deep breath. The atmosphere is beyond soothing for a cookie as tired as he. That and he is warm against his Sage. He feels those slight tingles of magic on his hand still, vaguely aware of the other tracing small circles onto his dough.
His chest feels so much lighter, his thoughts quieter, and his eyelids so much heavier. Perhaps it was how he leaned further into the Sage, or maybe it was the way his breathing slowed. Either way, something caused the Sage to slip his book back into his other realm.
It makes Recluse shift, a bit more aware due to the notifying magical energy lingering from the other's portal. He reacts with a quiet, questioning hum. To which is responded with a very gentle shushing.
The pillows feel very soft beneath him as he feels himself be guided down from his comfortable and warm seat against his Sage. It truthfully makes his face contort in discomfort. It elicits a chuckle from the cookie in question, and a few soothing words he himself could not comprehend. Though they do calm him, somehow. Witches, he is exhausted…
Blankets are pulled out from beneath him and draped over his body. There's a weight, and a warmth, slipping in beside him not long after. He forces his eyes open wider to have a peek at the blue blobs now lying right beside him.
He grumbles, "Why're you in m' bed..?" He hadn't realized how slurred his speech had become, but he's not realized a lot of things. A powder blue hand reaches out to poke his cheek, eliciting a huff from the robed cookie.
"Because you seemed so grumpy when I moved you away, silly. I'm just ensuring you stay comfortable, of course~!" his Sage replies. The hermit is able to comprehend his words much better in the moment, and he slowly nods. Despite his comprehension, his head still feels cloudy.
"Okay," he accepts, "just…quiet…" He pulls his Sage closer to him, close enough to feel the warmth and that slight buzz from the other's magic. The little giggles that escape the Sage make the sleepy cookie feel oddly peaceful.
The scent of blueberry fills his senses, though it's not overpowering. He relaxes further into it, especially once arms wrap around him and hands begin tracing patterns on his back.
Earlier, he did not want to sleep, no. Truthfully, he was afraid. Both afraid and believing he was undeserving of any sort of respite. Yet here, surrounded by warmth and care, he feels as though there is no option other than closing his eyes and drifting into the most serene of sleeps.
His breathing slows as he drifts off, his mind quiet of the painful thoughts that usually plague him before—and during—sleep. In the arms of his Sage, he slips into slumber. Warm, content, and comfortable for the first time in a very long while.
Perhaps one day it can be like this all the time.