Work Text:
“You got a lot of things there,” Therion ambles toward H’aanit’s looming figure. Beneath her lies an assortment of brushes and combs crafted in different sizes. Calloused fingers dance between a metal fine-toothed comb and a brush with thick bristles.
“Aye. ‘Tis all for Linde,” she speaks with a motherly pride. “She enjoyen when one strokes and grooms her. ‘Tis a mark of pride when she roameth about with a clean coat.”
Linde observes from a distance, stray leaves clinging to her white coat after a day’s play. She swishes her long tail against the dirt, yawning under the afternoon sun.
He’s surprised when H’aanit tosses one of the metal-toothed combs toward him.
“Caren to tryen thy hand?”
Therion catches it, twirling it between his fingers with practiced ease. Worn engravings line the handle, and the comb’s ends are blunt from use.
“Why not,” he lowers himself onto the ground. “Needed a rest day.”
“Then letten us begin,” H’aanit brings her fingers to her mouth and whistles. “Cometh, Linde!”
Linde’s head perks up from the ground - and rests again. Her tail swishes back and forth as she eyes her companion with beady eyes.
“Thou playest thy game again?” she feigns annoyance. Therion hears footsteps crunch against the dirt, followed by a playful growl. He’s fiddling with his bandages when H’aanit returns, hugging a lazy Linde in her arms. The leopard is almost smug as her limbs dangle in the air.
“A big babe, thou art,” she chides as Linde slinks through her loosened grip. Eyeing her new company, Linde curiously sniffs Therion’s boots.
“Now letten us begin,” H’aanit grabs a spare comb from her collection. “Usen the comb thou wieldst to removen loose hairs, liken so.”
While Linde nips at the frayed ends of Therion’s shawl, H’aanit parts a section near Linde’s hind leg. With her right hand, she presses the comb against Linde’s skin and brushes downward. He observes as H’aanit removes the white clumps from the comb’s base and repeats the motions.
“When thou hast finished one part, usen this brush to tidyen her outer coat,” she runs the bristled brush along the surface of Linde’s fur. “I groometh Linde every few sunsets, but ‘tis the season of shedding. She needeth regular brushing to preventen knots in her fur.”
“I see,” Therion’s genuine interest prompts action. “Think I got it now.”
H’aanit nods and rolls an unassuming Linde onto her side, baring fur for Therion’s practice. He follows her steps diligently, checking Linde’s reactions in case he used too much pressure.
“Thou learnen quickly, and showest nary a fear,” H’aanit chimes in.
Therion hums in response. “Seen a lot of scary things in my day - she’s fine.” He almost takes back the statement, hovering as he reaches Linde’s face.
“You sure she doesn’t bite?”
“Aye - usually,” H’aanit notes. “Though I hath receiven her as a cub, she is a wild beast at heart. Should she sensen a threat, hopen thou art not her prey.”
“If I lose a hand, it’s on you,” he shrugs and continues forth.
Linde’s ears perk up when the fool’s bangle brushes against her face.
“Sorry. A bit cold, huh,” Therion murmurs with the reminder. He draws his shackled wrist back, but the leopard paws at the metal. He remains still as she sniffs the bangle - even licks it. A small part of him hopes she understands how he feels about it. H’aanit certainly does.
Linde’s soft purrs coax the shame from his mind as he runs his fingers through her neck fur. When the leopard bares her stomach to Therion, he understands the signal. H’aanit can’t help but chuckle.
“It seemeth that Linde hath taken a liking to thee.”
“Hm,” Therion rubs a purring Linde’s belly with a tenderness few people witness. “When I was younger, I’d hide in the alleys after a theft. There were strays, so I’d feed ‘em what little I’d stolen. We were one and the same - left in the dark to fend for ourselves.”
“Is that so…?” she ponders her words. “Wouldst thou consideren a companion for thyself?”
“Ha,” the sound is automatic. “Can hardly take care of myself, let alone another sack of bones.” He pauses as a latent loneliness rises within his chest. “Wouldn’t say no, though. The cats kept me company even without food. It’s like they knew how I felt.”
Therion rests his shackled wrist against Linde’s body. She peers up at him with lazy eyes, sniffing the metal once more.
“‘Tis the beauty of our animal friends,” H’aanit chimes. “They understandeth thine heart without words. Humans oft speaken with sharp tongues, only to striketh for selfish gain.”
Therion lets out an inward sigh. “You got that right.”
There’s a brief silence between them, save for Linde’s purrs. Not uncomfortable - until H’aanit speaks.
“Thou hast abundant love in thy heart, even if thou opposeth the fact.”
She expects a snide remark, but it never comes. She cannot read Therion’s expression. Confusion? Relief? In daily life, he is as stoic as she, wandering among the group with a bristling air about him. Like prey preparing to strike, he often readies himself against conflict. Has the huntress become the prey?
He stares at her, darts his gaze away, and quickly finds the ground a most interesting sight.
“...You think so?” It’s quiet, even for Therion. There’s no malice, no snark. His tone reveals the rare doubt he trains himself to hide.
“I am not one to offeren praise lightly, but I understand if thou art wary. Heedeth Linde’s behavior; unlike our kind, animals showeth thine affections in truth.”
Therion shifts his gaze toward Linde, who curls against his body like a kitten. His fingers smooth over the fluff of her stomach, then stay there. She relaxes from the touch. A curious warmth enters his guarded heart.
For the first time since meeting Therion, H’aanit notices a smile tug at his lips. Not acting before thievery, not preceding sarcasm, but pure in nature. Her heart fills with pride, truth be told, but also gratitude toward his moment of happiness.
“I shall preparen the evening’s supper - thou art welcome to tendeth to thy personal matters whilst waiting.”
“Mm-hm,” Therion catches half of the words, his hands occupied with Linde’s soft fur. When H’aanit leaves, only he and Linde rest beneath the setting sun.
“H’aanit must spoil you a lot,” he prods at the leopard’s stomach. She flicks her tail in acknowledgment. Stoic as she acts around the others, Therion admires H’aanit’s caring nature. He also admires this newfound companion who doesn’t judge the ensuing burdens he unloads upon her.
“So the strays… sometimes I hid in the alleys just to see ‘em. Sad, huh,” he sighs. Linde hears the drop in his voice and nuzzles her head closer. Limbs stretch outward and rest against Therion’s legs. Though lazy in posture, her eyes give him full attention.
“When I steal from people, I don’t think much of it. Most of ‘em deserved it. But animals never hurt me… I can’t bring ‘em into my mess.” For years, Therion stole for survival. As long as the bangle weighs upon his wrist, he must steal for freedom.
And then what?
“Ugh, what am I doing,” he lies against the dirt with a huff. Linde follows his lead, limbs bent as she rolls toward her new friend.
“Enjoyed storytime with Therion? Don’t get used to it,” affection underlies the jest as he scratches behind Linde’s ears. “You big baby.”
When H’aanit returns to gather everyone for supper, she finds a curled-up Linde with an unmoving Therion as her pillow. His limbs gracelessly sprawl across the dirt beside several fur-filled brushes.
“Therion! Thou hast not moven from thy position?”
“She fell asleep,” Therion muffles from beneath the loaf of leopard. “Didn’t wanna wake her.”
“Oho, so thou dost have a weakness!”
“Shut up,” he spits the wisp of fur from his lips. “And help me out. Think she gained weight again.”
H’aanit rolls her eyes as she gently pushes Linde to the side, allowing him to sneak out. Specks of white fur litter Therion’s shawl and his muscles ache, but he’s otherwise calm. Content, even.
“Oh! Thou looketh lovelier than snowfall in the Frostlands,” she coos and kisses the now-rousing Linde’s head. The leopard purrs and licks her cheeks in return. An amused Therion watches this carefree side of H’aanit, wondering if he may find one within himself.
“I shall treaten thee to spirits as thanks for thine aid,” she addresses as she gathers her supplies.
“Heh. Lookin’ forward to it,” Therion steals a glance at the ambling Linde as she butts her head against his legs. He doesn’t hide the fondness in his eyes.
“If thou seekest to spendeth time with Linde, you needeth only sayest so,“ H’aanit catches on. “She enjoyen thine affections.”
“If I’m not busy… I’d like that.” Looks like the big baby would have to get used to it. The heaviness lifts slightly from his chest.
He would make the time.
“H’aanit.” She halts at the direct statement. Like the others, she’s accustomed to a name in jest. Such was his way of expressing himself.
“Hm?”
“...Thanks.”
The breeze sweeps the sound away, yet the nervous pull of his scarf tells her enough. She returns a warm smile.
“Nay, I thanken thee. For sharing a part of thine heart. ‘Tis a treasure worthy of mine protection.”
That comment flusters Therion to the point of red cheeks, and he pulls the scarf even higher. Since when did she learn how to speak like that?
H’aanit laughs in victory, and the smile tugs at his lips a little more.
If he can open his heart again, he hopes she won’t need to protect it.