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Fireplace cracked. Isaak and Hyoga were in bed. Aquarius drank from his mug at the table next to a flickering lantern.
Siberia’s winds were harsher than usual that year. Due to excessive storms and dwindling supplies, Aquarius cancelled much of their outdoor training. He instead lectured his disciples on metaphysics, mathematics, and global history; today’s lessons included practicing their handwriting and critical thinking. Isaak and Hyoga studied well, each finding their own methods of conquering their struggles.
He welcomed their academic focus and enthusiasm. He hadn’t planned alternatives if they were rebellious with cabin fever.
When he tested their knowledge, Camus took note of each disciple’s eccentricities. Isaak was blithe and visionary. Hyoga was morose and sensible. Both were tinged with the exuberance of youth. Aquarius smiled against his logical judgments. It wouldn’t last, they rationalized. Yet they failed to chill the happiness he felt overseeing their progress in their second year as a trio.
Camus wrote in his log: 33 more minutes of sunlight compared to yesterday.
Their calendar was out of date, and their clock broke during the last storm. Camus improvised by calculating the approximate times of each sunrise and sunset based on his years of training. By his estimate, they would receive supplies in two more days. If the weather permitted their delivery from Kohoutek.
Spring was near. Outdoor training should resume again. He must prepare his disciples for the transition with thorough indoor exercises.
Aquarius was writing and reviewing his lesson plans when a golden flash of cosmo rippled outside. Camus hummed. His guest came earlier this year. He rose from his seat and reached for the box next to his boots. Throwing on his fur hood parka and locking the door, Camus narrowed his eyes in the frigid winds. No snow falling, only a deep cold under countless stars. It was a half moon that night.
The golden cosmo landed at the usual spot. Camus exhaled. He tucked the box close to his ribs and shut his eyes. Guiding himself with cosmo, he ran through the plains at light speed. He slid to stop on a glacier surface, walking now to the cavern overlooking ice cliffs. Inside, the campfire was lit. Golden headgear rested beside it.
“I’m impressed. You’ve gotten faster at finding me.”
Aquarius humphed as the Gold Saint approached him. He let the box thump on the ground.
“I’ve practiced.”
“From the two times before?”
“I have good memories of your visits. A welcome break.”
“Hmm, what an honor. Grateful to have left an impact.”
He linked his hand to the armored hand next to him.
“Milo.”
Scorpio looked at him. Aquarius smiled at him.
“I missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
They lightly bumped foreheads, sharing a breath and a smile together. Even in this cold, his dulled senses were calmed by Scorpio’s scent. Their eyes met as they pulled away, and they sat by the campfire side by side.
Huddling against the cold, they went through the usuals. Global sightings, improvements in training, technique refinements, events in Sanctuary. Milo asked about his disciples, chuckling now and then when Camus voiced his joys and disparagings for being a mentor. He was responsible and mature to do it, yet it did limit his freedom for taking missions. Unlike Milo, who embraced any trial to his Gold Cloth.
Milo smirked.
“I wonder how your disciples would feel if they knew their mentor vents like someone his age.”
“I’m certain they would not believe you even if you told them. They would want proof.”
“A shame for them to miss this honor. Perhaps I should wake them for you.”
“Please, no. It took hours for them to sleep before you arrived. Leave them be.”
A quiet chuckle from Scorpio. He reached underneath his mantle and tapped Camus’s shoulder with a heavy tome. The blue-haired youth accepted it, wobbling at its unexpected weight. He glanced at the cover: Cold Weather Survival.
“Since it concerned you when we last talked.”
Thumbing through the first passages revealed information he hadn’t known before. Perfect for the forest training for self-sufficiency he wished to perform later this year. His disciples needed this information if they were ever lost without aid. Or if something happened to him.
Camus bowed his head.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah.”
Dark blue eyes blinked. Milo smirked like usual, he sat at ease. Scorpio said what he felt without pretense. Yet there was a faint flicker in his voice. A tick of something a bit off with that reply.
Camus whirled onto his knees and slid in front of Milo, his back to the campfire. He lightly tugged on violet hair, his fingers looping with the mane.
“Is there anything else?”
“Oh, an invitation?”
“An inquiry.”
Milo smirked. He grabbed a bundle of blue hair. He kissed his treasure. Scorpio inhaled. Blue eyes burned to dark blue.
“Nothing springs to mind.”
Aquarius humphed and leaned closer. His fingertips twirled with violet hair. His warmth teased along Milo’s chest. His lips were inches away from Milo’s, their breaths puffing clouds in the night. An armored hand rested along his lower back.
“Nothing at all?”
“Yeah.”
Camus hummed. The offbeat note was hidden well this time. Perhaps he was being too direct now for Milo’s comfort.
He knew the cues. Aside from the wavering in his voice, there were the slow drumming fingers and the increased number of blinks. Scorpio had something on his mind, and he wasn’t going to talk about it. Prying further would lead to harsher rebukes or complete withdrawal. Milo probably wasn’t aware of his actions yet. The pattern was an unmistakable constant in the years they’ve known each other.
Very well. Camus would respect that wish. He had something he wanted done too that night.
“You won’t mind if I indulge you?”
Aquarius reached over and opened the box he brought. He whirled the crimson fabric within it, draping it over Milo’s shoulders. With the brushing of his fingers, he flattened away the ripples and tipped the hood over Milo’s head. Camus mused. The crimson cloak looked better than he thought it would. It was worth bartering his week’s meal for it.
Only Milo’s lips shined into his view. They smiled back at him.
“Camus...”
“I’m glad this covers you well, even when you’re in your Cloth. Do you feel warmer now?”
Scorpio flipped the hood back. His eyes softened.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
They smiled at one another. Camus adjusted the golden chain on the cloak, minding the link in front and gently untangling stubborn strands of Milo’s hair. The tundra winds swirled around them in the cavern. As he worked, Camus felt a tug along his head. Oh, now his hair was stuck. Milo chuckled softly as he looped blue hair away from the chain.
“How popular you are. It doesn’t want to leave you.”
“Indeed. The cloak wants to be attached to quality.”
They fiddled with hair and the chain. Milo grabbed his hand.
“Do you want to know?”
“If you want to tell.”
Milo humphed. Lacing their fingers together, Scorpio described a mission he had earlier that day between worlds. He was ordered to eradicate an evil god residing within a young girl. The young girl had a sister who protected her. Such love and devotion burning in those red eyes. He stayed his hand. Something he hadn’t done before. He told them to fight against their fates and left.
“I just doomed us all by giving into those eyes.”
“You could have. But do you truly believe that?”
“...As a Saint, that sementality is futile in our duties. You know that.”
“I’m not asking you as a Saint. Did you want me to scold you?”
Aquarius caressed Scorpio’s cheek. A beat of shared breaths. He smiled.
“You acted as you. That’s what I enjoy and love about you.”
Milo gaped, a slight coloring of his cheeks.
“Camus, there is something else I want to do tonight.”
His hand was grabbed and pulled. Blue hair twirled up and left to cascade away from the gold chain. Armored arms drew him closer, his back pressed against a metal chest. Milo buried his nose into Camus’s fur hood, his breath tickling his ear.
“Let me warm you for a time. Before dawn hits.”
His cheeks colored. Ordinarily, he’d make a quip about how he was used to the cold. Or that Milo was using him as a warmth conductor. When Milo inhaled deeply into his hair, he refrained. Who knew when they would see each other again? Camus relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes.
“Gladly.”
He’d savor every second.