Work Text:
Asra hadn't seen much of her today, only traces of where she had been, always catching the traces of her but not a glimpse. The kettle still lingering with heat and the smell of fruity tea in the air, knocking and tapping from beyond the door to her office, maybe light humming. Her office, they rearranged the back storage room of the shop when she expressed her desire to have a place to herself with her own desk and own trinkets scattered about on it.
Asra was quick to please, helping the woman pick out a desk and a chair that would fit and helping to pick up and tidy the million pages of writings she had laying around. They even had to buy a special cabinet to place beside the desk so she could fit all of her notes, drawings, and journals. Quickly that space became her own, an area that reflected her in full, messy, busy, filled with ideas and stories, drawings and pages pinned to the walls surrounding her. The woman never liked the magician to go back there and Asra understood. It was a delicate place that held all of her, every idea and thought, before her memory loss she shared these writings and pictures with him, but now she was secretive, almost like she was ashamed.
Asra did keep all of her old things in a locked chest, stacks of old writing, drawings, notes, notebooks filling most of it. The chest also held art pencils, paint brushes, paint of every kind ranging from cheap to the most expensive kind Asra could find and had gifted her. Asra had treasured these things and tried to keep many of the paintings and drawings of hers hung around the shop but every time she looked at one or even looked at one of her old pencils she would get another headache, crippling her until Asra took the memories away again. So he hid them, only keeping one picture she drew of the both of them with Faust draped around their shoulders with him at all times, enchanted to always stay dry.
Even with her not being able to use her old supplies he had still gifted her new ones, using every holiday and time as an excuse to give her brand new pencils, pens, paints, brushes; all her favorite brands. He did this in the hope of her opening up herself to him again, letting him see her work like she used to before, always boasting and getting excited over every small detail. He never knew how much he would miss her rants on color theory or the best shape for an apple until it was gone and the shop had grown quiet in its absence.
Now he stood outside the door to her office, listening carefully for the tell tale sound of pencil scratching. It had grown quite late, later than usual for her to stay in without telling him. Asra balanced a plate filled with food in one hand as his other rested on the door handle. No matter what traces he had found that day no food had gone from the kitchen, only tea. He knew she had not eaten, this hadn't been the first time it had happened, she always insisted that she forgot when she got caught up in her work, he also knew this wasn't completely true. Many times she just forgot but other times she denied herself food, fasting all day just to eat one small meal before she went to bed or just not at all. After not hearing any writing he slowly opened the door, taking a deep breath before stepping in.
Curled up in her chair she sat, her chair on an angle as she leaned back onto it, her knees near her chest and resting against the desk, paint brush in hand. He almost dropped the plate of food as he gasped, his mind flashing back to a year ago when she sat in the same position but instead of a paint brush in hand she wielded a blade against her own skin, blood flowing from her arms to drip into the floor below. He was quickly brought back to the present by her voice, a soft whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear, "...Asra…"
Gathering himself before he stepped forward, the white haired man came to kneel in front of the small woman, setting the plate down onto the cluttered desk, "... What are you doing there?" His hand came to rest on her knees, wanting to pull her in and hold her close, but he couldn't.
She watched him with unfocused eyes, tracing ever feature and line that adorned his face until her eyes slowly trailed down back to her arm, "I tired of looking at these marks and the scraps of fabric and scarves that covered them made me sick, I knew I just covered up their ugliness, not erasing them as I wished I could. So I decided to turn them into something beautiful, something I could learn from and remember instead of hiding away wishing to erase them." She placed her brush into a mortar and pestle that she then picked back up and held out for Asra to look into, "It's a tradition in many religions of far off regions to adorn a woman in beautiful jewelry and amazing clothes in preparation for their weddings," she spoke softly, setting the mortar and pestle down in her lap before grabbing the brush again and Asra's hand. She began drawing it along the back of his hand, continuing to speak, "they also draw beautiful designs upon their skin with a special paste that lasts for weeks depending on the potency. So, I found different recipes and tested them out till I found the longest lasting one. Combined with a permanence spell I figure I can make them last for months."
The magician was captivated by the girl, drifting even closer to her as she finished a simple heart on his hand, bringing it close to her lips as she mumbled a spell under her breath and placed a kiss onto his knuckles. She dipped the brush back into the paste before starting back on her own design. Asra watched her every movement, "are those… runes?"
She nodded her head once again, "mostly power, strength, protection. Decided that if I was going to have a picture almost permanently on my arms they should also have some practically and use to them.” They sat in silence for a few more minutes as Asra watched his apprentice, heart aching at the familiarly and memories that this peaceful moment brought up.
"...Asra?"
"Yes?" He answered her, snapping out of his thoughts.
"I have a feeling that something bad is about to happen," she started, her eyes shyly meeting his own, "I don't know what it is going to be or when it's going to happen but… every time I touch the cards it's a whisper of warning in the back of my mind and I'm scared."
"Hey-"
"I'm not asking anything big from you, you are leaving again soon for another trip anyway, but can I just ask you to be there for me? I just need someone on my side because I don't know if I'll make the right decisions but I just need someone and you're the only one I can trust, please?"
Asra was shocked, he has never heard this from her before, "I… Yes, I'll be there for you as much as I can"
"Thank you."
Silence enveloped them again, the light from the candle flickering across both of their faces.
“This has to stay on my arm for at least 30 minutes, but I'm going to keep it on for at least an hour to make sure it stains even more, you can go to sleep if you wish, I’ll get back in bed soon. You don’t have to wait for me.” She spoke softly, breaking the magician out of his trance.
“What? No, I would never leave you, you haven't eaten yet anyway, and I highly doubt that you will if I leave.”
That received rolled eyes from her, “if you want me to eat why don’t you feed me yourself?”
“Fine.”
“Wait what?! I was joking!”
Asra just stayed silent, grabbing the plate of food and holding a piece of bread to her lips, being careful not to disturb the heart on the back of his hand. Bashfully she nips the bread as she averts her eyes back to her arm. They continue to sit in silence before she finishes and then moves to sit on the ground beside Asra. Sitting in a comfortable silence until soft snores broke it, turning his head Asra smiled. Her head rested on his shoulder as she slept, the paste still drying on her arms. The white haired magician scooched back to lean against the wall and brought her into his lap, leaning her head against his chest. He watches her for a few minutes, etching this memory into his head, praying that this isn't the last time he is able to hold her like this, before letting his eyes slip shut and welcoming the silence of sleep.