Chapter Text
It feels rather like a rock stuck in his boot. Shifting somewhere between his first metatarsal and the calcaneus. That sensation of stepping on something and there’s pain but not quite, moreso there’s just this wrongness, but every time that they’ve stopped so he can tug his boot off to check, there’s nothing there. Really, it’s not like there’s a way for rocks to get in; his boots come up past his knees and they’re not wading through anything.
Occtis tries to avoid the way Julien glares at him for the disruptions to their journey; the way Aranessa purses her lips ever so slightly in a way that reads partially as pity for him, partially as worry for their situation as her eyes dart around, taking in their surroundings; the way Vaelus tilts her head just like Pin does, in a curious manner like she doesn’t understand what the issue is. Why would an immortal elf care about rocks in her shoes? That’s not a problem anyone has ever had before apparently.
No, the problem is that Occtis can just feel the way his bones press against the soles of his boots against the road. Each step, the pressure it places on him, the way everything moves to accommodate the motion, to accommodate the changes in the uneven road.
Thaisha walks beside him, and Occtis gravitates towards her in spite of the fact that the way she looks at him is a horrid combination of the other three: her heavy gaze so full of pity and confusion. But when they walk, she makes a point of taking in deep, measured breaths. She, like him, is remembering to breathe right now. It’s not the same, and Occtis’ bewildered expression the first time he heard her let out an extended exhalation in response to his own just to be met by a soft chuckle tells him that it’s not the same. It can’t quite be called understanding because who could understand this, but it is anyone’s best attempt at it.
In the midst of everyone else acting like he’s something new and unheard of (he is, and a part of him thrills at the novelty of his situation; other parts are less enthused at his situation), Thaisha has stood by and stood up for him. Each time he’s stopped the group for what’s apparently pointless reasons, she has offered him a hand to get back up and told him how she gets rocks stuck in her shoes all the time and she can never find them.
“Consequences of following the Old Path,” she says, and Occtis pretends not to notice the way she turns from him as she did so, eyes distant and looking anywhere but at him, even after making direct eye contact previously during the conversation.
Like the waxing and waning of the moon, the ebb and flow of the tides, the changing of the seasons, whatever other natural processes that Occtis has gotten to experience firsthand with Thaisha as they’ve been travelling — things he never got to experience that way before, living in the city, in his family’s estate, in the Penteveral — they go through this song and dance of their usual closeness and comfort followed by Thaisha pulling away. Occtis will say or do something, and it’s like ice water has been dumped over her, a sudden realisation of what he’s become.
As if she’s not the one who told him it wasn’t his time.
Occtis can’t say that he’s familiar with all the tenants of the Old Path, but he’s picked up enough from travelling with Thaisha. What he is now wouldn’t be welcome, and he has put his friend in a position that she has long straddled: being there for those she cares for and following the path she’s meant to lead.
He knows how she left her family, her kids, behind to go fix this world. There have been a couple of times that she’s spoken of it. How she can’t regret it because she knows she’s doing right. It’s a decision she’s made again and again. Her belief in what she’s doing comes first.
Which has put him in a very precarious situation.
Her family does not go against everything she believes in, they’re just not on the path. Occtis is an anathema to what the Old Path stands for. But here Thaisha is choosing to be with him. She told him to turn his back on the path and come back, and she’s not one for regrets. He doesn’t want to be another person’s regret.
Gently, she places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. Layers of fabric rustle beneath her touch, and through that and the layer of skin that separates him from the world, he can feel her. He can feel the way the acromion presses into the palm of her hand. He can almost feel her warmth through his various layers: beneath the coat, the waistcoat, the shirt, the skin.
Without thinking, Occtis’ head lolls to the side, leaning into Thaisha. They’ve been this close and closer before on their travels. Long, cold nights where they’ve needed to conserve warmth. This isn’t conservation. Occtis presses against his friend deeper and deeper. She is warm. She’s always been kind to him. Comforting. And she is now too. When he’s near her like this, he can almost suck the warmth from her like marrow from a bone.
Thaisha pulls away suddenly. Steps away to the side, the hand that had been resting on his shoulder now clutched in her other hand, held near her chest. Her eyes wide. She is remembering to breathe in this moment too, as she takes pains to keep her breathing calm and steady.
Just as quickly as she leaves, the cold returns and, with it, clarity. “I, I’m sorry!” Eyes wide, showcasing to the world just how unnaturally bright green they are. Everything about him is unnatural, and Occtis can see as much plainly stated on Thaisha’s face.
His panic and worry settle like a blanket of snow. All it is is still. His body undisturbed even when his emotions are. The physical processes are out of the equation, but he still emotes, still furrows his eyebrows and frowns. He can feel the flexion of his vertebrae as he hunches forward. Every conscious choice he can make to express his apologies, he does.
Thaisha was just so warm, and he’s so cold.
She’s quick to assure him. “It’s okay.” She’s remembering to smile too now. Somehow it’s both better and worse than Julien’s glaring.
Over the last few days, Occtis has acquired a number of shadows, but Thaisha is not one of them. Even now, after whatever that was, they walk side-by-side. Like the changing seasons, they’ll chat amiably again soon, she’ll pull him close, hold him tight. Right now it’s like winter. Things are dead and cold. But that means spring is around the corner.