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Eli wakes up like he does every other morning, but what he sees on his dresser this morning almost makes him pass right back out.
Why is a knife there-?! Eli doesn’t have one, and no one in their right mind would just leave one there for him!
Oh, he doesn’t even want to touch it… but...
“Poppo,” he whines, realizing he hasn’t seen anything but that, “stop looking.”
Eli hears the owl hoot from her perch in the corner as his vision goes dim, blurry. A bit better, right? Maybe?
He gingerly gets out of bed, trailing his hand along the wrinkled edge of the blanket, reaching out for the wall with his other hand and wincing when a cut on his palm smarts once the newish scab there pulls open. He’ll bandage it up for the matches later today…
Remembering he has to go to the dresser to get his robes, Eli pauses and makes a face.
The odd expression becomes a bit annoyed when he hits his ankle against a chair he doesn’t remember being there.
Just ignore it…
Eli dresses up for the day with little trouble, tying on his blindfold and enjoying the long-awaited absence of sight in its entirety. He holds out his gloved hand, smiling as Poppo settles onto his forearm.
At least he didn’t injure the hand his falconing glove goes on.
Oh, and he should be in time for morning rituals to Fiona!
His vision fills back up with color as he bounces Poppo on his arm a bit, and she moves to his shoulder, nestled up against the side of Eli’s head as he hurries out of his room, leaving the knife and chair behind in the darkness that always swallows the manor in its entirety right before the sun begins to rise.
~
Fiona seems pleased when Eli arrives and clasps her hands, dark nails glinting reddish in the sunlight finally peering above the horizon. They’re in the manor’s garden, the scent of summer roses strong.
“Eli! Sit next to me! Oh, are you alright with the smell of burning herbs today?”
Eli nods. He doesn’t perform rituals, just casts out his wishes to gods that long since stopped replying. Fiona, on the other hand, always seems to be up to something.
He doesn’t mind, though. It’s nice to have a friend who understands things at least… somewhat similar to his.
So they head out, a little ways away from the garden. Both Eli and Fiona have agreed that the bonds to their deities feels stronger when they’re away from spaces which humans have refined into a more... desirable state.
The ground in the woods here is lush green grass. Despite all of his time here, he can’t bring himself to believe that such a thing is natural, even if the trees are as young as they are. Every time he’s ever been in the woods, there’s always been leaves to crunch and underbrush that leaves his clothes covered in burrs and uncovered skin in scratches.
Their steps are almost soundless, and they stop at a small pond. Eli knows there’s no place like the forest back home, so Fiona’s taken it upon herself to decide their spaces for daily prayers.
Despite her gaudy, willowy appearance, Fiona is quite adept outdoors as long as her robes don’t tear.
They sit down, Eli crossing his legs and Fiona sitting on her heels.
The only words spoken for a while come from Fiona, and they are meant not for Eli, but someone neither of them can see.
Eli lets Poppo fly off, though he can tell she’s staying nearby.
He closes his eyes even though he cannot see any less and slows his breathing, attempting to slip into a state of calm amongst the quiet chanting and grassy smoke.
He feels none of the connections he used to, and simply allows his thoughts to come to a standstill in the emptiness instead.
He doesn’t regret what he did to cause this, not really. It helped her for a little bit.
But he still reaches out uselessly to the vacancy and gives up without much effort.
At some point, the talking ceases, and after a while, there’s someone shaking his arm.
“...Eli? Did you fall asleep?!”
Eli’s glad he doesn’t have motion sickness as his vision returns as Poppi circles down to rejoin him. “No? Of course not…”
Fiona snickers. “I’m not too sure. You looked quite asleep.”
“...I’m certain you’ve meditated before,” Eli says slowly, stupidly engaging in whatever banter Fiona initiated.
“Yeah, of course! I’ve meditated lots. Sleep isn’t the same thing!”
“It’s not sleeping,” Eli insists, feeling the pitch of his voice rise a bit with exasperation.
“Hmm, I’ll believe you,” Fiona grins, her tone light, “for now.”
Eli stands up, noting that the sun’s officially risen, and that he and Fiona are probably late to breakfast.
Did he actually fall asleep… they usually don’t take this long--
“Are you actually worried? Of course you weren’t sleeping,” Fiona reassures, tone softening even though the grin’s still evident in her tone. “Even with only, like, two inches of skin showing, you really aren’t that hard to read. Mysterious man who?”
“It’s more than two inches,” Eli corrects. “Didn’t you notice? My hand. I need to bandage it.”
Fiona stands up and starts to walk, leaving Eli to follow her surprisingly brisk pace. “From the match yesterday, right? I still don’t understand how you can cut your hand on a statue.”
“I panicked, okay?” Eli mutters. “Well, actually, I panicked more this morning because there was a knife on my dresser--”
“Was it bloody?!” Fiona interrups.
Eli breaks into a light jog to close the small distance that’s grown between him and Fiona, and his reply is interrupted by light breaths. “No, but it wasn’t a kitchen knife either. I don’t know what I should do with it.”
“No murder mystery,” Fiona sighs. She waves her hand dismissively. “Bummer. I wouldn't worry about it, really. Without a weilder, how’s it gonna hurt you? Poppo’s too smart to go grabbing at it, right?”
“Huh? Of course!” Eli’s almost offended. Poppo’s probably smarter than some of the people here.
...Okay, push away the grinning faces that come to mind.
“I’ll just ask Naib. He’ll probably know, right?”
“Hmm. Out of everyone, yeah, he’s probably the most likely. Unless Baden or Frank do, too?” Fiona taps her chin, but her hand leaves her face to open a back door the manor.
“...Wait, why didn’t we go through the garden?”
“I don’t know,” Fiona says, but the stern face the pair quickly sees says all.
“You took much longer than you said you would,” the woman comments, looking ready to say more but stopping as her gaze lands on Eli.
Fiona had plans?! Eli feels even worse about them taking so long now.
Fiona turns around to join Patricia in staring. It’s a bit amusing since they’re staring at Eli while Eli stares at them through Poppo, but he’s a bit too intimidated to find it all that humorous.
“Can you leave now, Eli? Morning rituals with you are wonderful, but if you cannot tell, Patricia and I are having a bit of a moment.” Fiona crosses her arms, faux exasperation in her eyeroll.
Eli knows better than to try to argue; Fiona’s clearly playing, but he knows she’d still really like to spend some time with her lover--Miss Dorval is Fiona’s lover, Eli is almost certain--and so he takes his leave.
He should probably go bandage his hand now.
~
However, he’d forgotten about breakfast and attempted to make a detour to the kitchen because of it, but that’d gone sour when he learned the cut in his hand was aggravated way too much by holding any utensils, so he’s eating an apple instead of leftover breakfast while making his way to Miss Dyer’s office now.
Poppo keeps trying to take a bite, and Eli keeps trying to wave her face away from his apple as he walks. He’s sure it’s a comical sight, but he’s grown a bit anxious to take care of his cut.
When he enters the medical office, he’s startled to find people are already there that aren’t Emily.
Aesop sits calmly in a chair, hands folded in his lap despite the dark bruise on his face and bloodstained clothes ruining his perfectly grey appearance. Some blood is visible on his lips and chin, Eli notes, as Aesop doesn’t have his mask on, but he nods politely as Eli enters nonetheless.
Andrew’s hugging his knees to his chest instead of lying down on one of the beds, the worn white sheets smeared with mud and blood. He doesn’t acknowledge Eli and only seems to curl further in on himself.
Martha is the only loud noise in the room, and she doesn’t seem to notice Eli’s entrance as she continues to chatter loudly to Emily even though she is… obviously injured.
“I shot Galatea before she could even lay a hand on Miss Woods, Miss Dyer! I was so cool! Your girl’s definitely the best off, I promise! It’s why she’s not here yet. She said she forgot to water some plants last night and really didn’t wanna put it off anymore! And, well, when you’re not that injured, I guess watering flowers--”
Emily clears her throat, naturally rosy face already growing rosier despite her calm tone. “Martha, I’m grateful you took care of Emma for me, but I’m going to have to ask you take a seat. You’re going to get dizzy from blood loss if you don’t.”
“Oh! Yes, ma’am!” Martha beams, and flounces off to hop onto the other bed.
Eli glances at Aesop and Andrew; both seem unsure of what to make of Martha’s bubbly demeanor. The girl’s usually brash and rude, so seeing her so cheerful and agreeable in person always comes as a shock even though it’s common knowledge she’s like a child around Emily.
Emily heads over to Aesop, but she seems to spot Eli from the corner of her eye. She stops and turns to him, speaking from across the room.
“How may I help you, Mister Clark? It’s hard to work with you when you don’t make an appointment or have a match.”
“Actually, Miss Dyer, Clark and Gilman were supposed to do the match instead of me and Kreiss, but neither showed up plus the match was scheduled early, so Carl and Woods needed someone, I guess,” Martha rambles, swinging her legs and creating a few cast-off droplets on the wood floor.
“I do apologize. I injured my hand going against the Sculptor during my last match, and as Fiona and I were absent at the recent match, I suppose my timing is less than desirable. Should I come back later--”
“Martha!” a rough voice calls from outside.
“I-I’m going to just leave,” Andrew mutters to himself, but no one seems to notice that he goes back on his word once he curls onto his side in pain after trying to stand up--or, really, that he spoke at all.
“What?!” Martha yells back, and Aesop makes an irritated face as he places his hands over his ears.
“Why did you do that Lakeside match?!” Naib pauses as he brushes by Eli, but then resumes his quick pace until he’s standing in front of Martha’s bed, arms crossed.
“I was bored,” Martha shrugs. “Woods dungeoned, anyways!”
“You’re covered in blood,” Naib groans, then seems to think better of going on to argue. “Let’s get some bandages and leave Dyer alone.”
“Mister Subedar, I’m not sure you have the medical expertise--” Emily is cut off by Martha.
“No, Miss Dyer, you can trust him! You’re really busy and I don’t wanna bother you too much. We’ll bring you lunch later, okay?”
Emily opens her mouth to speak and is cut off again.
“I’ll help Eli out, too,” Naib offers. “That way, Carl can get a bed too.”
“I…” Aesop purses his lips and decides not to speak. He closes his eyes, as if trying to ignore the sudden bustle of the room.
Emily nervously twirls her syringe in her hands before nodding. “Martha, Mister Clark, please do let me look over you both later. Mister Subedar, thank you for your willingness to help out.”
Naib nods and goes to rummage through her medical cabinets while Martha walks to the door, head high and posture perfect despite still dripping blood.
Some of the people here are probably immortal, Eli thinks.
The bustle of the room has come and gone so quickly Eli hardly even realizes Naib’s standing in front of him and Martha, medical supplies stuffed in the pockets of his torn hood.
“Where to?” he asks. “Also, hello, Eli. Hope missing your match isn’t stressing you out.”
“Galatea’s a beast in Lakeside,” Martha interjects. “Nowhere to run from those statues! Better me than you or Gilman.”
Poppo ruffles her feathers indignantly, but Eli shrugs the comment off. “I apologize that you were injured so severely.”
“Don’t sweat it, you weren’t the one sending rocks flying my way,” Martha snorts, then leans in out of nowhere, all suspicious. Eli steps back. “Unless you secretly did?!”
“Cut it out,” Naib huffs, unceremoniously pushing Martha aside with a hand on her cheek. “Before you bleed out or something because we still haven’t patched you up.”
“Excuse you!” Martha snaps, but seems content with following Naib after yanking his hood up, likely trying and failing to pull it over his eyes.
At least Naib doesn’t walk as fast as Fiona.
~
Martha changed into casual clothes after they stopped by her room, so now that they’re in Naib’s room, which is almost messy despite its barrenness, there’s no overcoats or layers Naib has to mess with while tying up Martha’s bandages.
“How does a hunk of rock even injure you like this?” he asks as he pats on another bandage as the first one becomes stained with blood. “She tape knives to them?”
Oh-- knives!
“Oh, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I do have a question,” Eli says, stepping out from the doorway he’d barely left.
“If it’s about whether you can make it up to me or not, it’s gonna be a hard no. I don’t trust a man with a blindfold to cut up vegetables for Miss Dyer’s lunch, and no way am I giving up a match since that’s the only time I’m allowed to use my gun--”
“Let him talk,” Naib growls playfully, ruffling her unbound hair.
“Stop interrupting me!” Martha returns, turning around to try and ruffle Naib’s hair, but pausing mid-reach with a hiss of pain. “Okay, fine, Eli can speak, I guess.”
Eli clears his throat sheepishly, but he can’t help but smile at the light banter. “I, um, saw a knife on my dresser this morning. I didn’t touch it, but you know a lot about weapons, so I figured you were the best to ask about it.”
“NAIB, DID YOU--”
“MARTHA,” Naib cuts her off sharply, then promptly evens his tone. “Eli, what’d it look like?”
“Um… big?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking someone who can’t see what something looks like,” Martha sighs.
“You wouldn’t complain about a lack of sight if Helena said you looked pretty. Try again,” Naib retorts. “Actually, don’t try again.”
Martha scoffs, face reddening
“What should I do about the knife?” Eli asks again.
Naib looks like he’s contemplating an answer for a bit, but leaves Eli hanging and returns to bandaging Martha.
“You should answer him,” Martha comments passively.
Eli can’t help feeling awkward.
His hand still stings.
“I will. Let me think of an answer.”
Martha snickers. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure you know the answer, Naib.”
“I don’t want a knife in my room, so please,” Eli concurs.
“I left it there so you’d be safe.” Naib seems much too awkward as he grits the words out, and Martha’s giggles are much too obvious even though it’s clear she’s trying to muffle them.
Eli feels his eyebrows crease. “How is a huge knife supposed to make me feel safe?!”
“So you can defend yourself? I’m pretty sure that’s obvious--”
“Y’know,” Martha joins, still giggling, “I’d fear someone siccing an owl on me more than I’d fear a knife.”
“Can you take your knife back, please?” Eli asks helplessly. “I don’t even know how to wield one.”
“I can teach you,” Naib offers, though he doesn’t look at Eli.
“You’re both missing the point by miles!” Martha laughs even more. “Eli, do you know how much Naib likes that knife?! He only lets me hold it if it’s necessary--”
“Martha, are you serious--” Naib pulls his hood up and groans, knuckles paling as the grip on his hood tightens.
“Um? I didn’t mean to cause so much conflict,” Eli muses uneasily, stroking Poppo’s head with his knuckles.
“I-it’s fine. C’mere, let me bandage your hand up.”
Martha grins stupidly and takes a while to ease herself into a standing position, leaving a depression in the blankets for Eli to fill. “You fools have fun. I’m going to sleep for a week once this is all over.”
“Leaving already?” Naib asks, expertly unraveling some bandages from a wad they were folded into. “Thought you’d wanna stay and make more unnecessary commentary.”
“If you feel like letting the idiocy in the air be why I die, sure!”
Naib rolls his eyes and gingerly picks up Eli’s hand, almost like he doesn’t want to touch more skin than he has to. Eli finally decides to not reply to any provoking commentary and tries not to smile at how warm Naib’s hands are.
“Make sure to wash the cut every day, then redo the bandages.” Naib tucks the edge of the bandage in and runs his thumb over the gauze covering Eli’s palm.
“Huuuuh? Where’s my caring medical advice?” Martha teases.
Naib looks at the ceiling, as if asking the expressionless stretch of white if it can even believe Martha’s audacity. “You should already know, right? Plus, you need to staunch the bleeding before you move onto all that anyway.”
“...Acceptable. Five out of ten.”
“Of course it’s acceptable, it’s right. Make sure you rest before you come back.”
Martha waves it off. “Yeah, yeah, I know!”
“...You sure seem desperate for medical advice, considering that you ‘know’.”
“Finally wisening up?”
“Sure, if that’s what you wanna hear,” Naib leans to the side, so he can look past Eli and to Martha, who has one foot out the door.
“Always wanna hear that my friend’s getting smart!”
Naib returns Martha’s grin begrudgingly, and stares at the door for a bit before the smile falls off his face a bit and he looks awkward as he turns back to Eli.
“...So make sure to take care of your hand.”
“I will, don’t worry! Thank you for taking care! Oh, but please come with and pick up your knife. I, um, appreciate the sentiment, though I don’t think it’d be very wise to give me such a thing.”
Naib scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, maybe it was an, um… bad idea... in hindsight. My bad.”
“Oh, but if I had to choose between you leaving the knife and the chair, I’d rather you leave the knife. I almost tripped
over the chair this morning, ahah…”
“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t expect you to fall asleep so fast, and I didn’t want you to wake up because I was being too noisy, dragging around a chair and all.”
They lapse into silence as they start to head towards Eli’s room, and though Eli doesn’t mind, he notices Naib looks rather tense, even once he’s tucked the knife back into his belt.
Naib turns to leave, but Eli reaches out and gently grasps his wrist. “Please don’t feel bad about it, Naib.”
“Huh? I don’t--”
“You seemed a little tense--my bad. But please, if you’re worried at all about the knife or the chair, I didn’t mean to make you sound at fault! I appreciate the sentiment, and it was nice to talk with you before bed.” Eli smiles.
Naib’s face colors marginally; he shrugs, though he clearly tries to sound sincere.
“Well, thank you. That’s… good to know. Also, ignore what Martha said--definitely fill in for her. No way am I letting her right back out there that beat up.”
“Of course! I’ll make sure to keep you from getting that injured as well if we play together.”
“...Nah. Watch out for yourself first, okay?”
“I’ll look after the both of us.” Eli continues talking before Naib can try and argue. “Anyway, let’s meet at the kitchen at about noon. We can make Martha meals for her and Emily, and then we can enjoy lunch together as well?”
“Sounds good,” Naib agrees, tugging his wrist back and wiping invisible dust off the dark bandages on his sleeves. “See you then.”
Eli nods and smiles as Naib heads off, brushing his fingertips over the gauze on his hand.
How nice...