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It was a horrible, unlucky, utterly shitty day, Swoksaar decided when he run straight into the area's wild boss while on his way to the city. He managed to kill it after a long battle that took him halfway through the area and into the forest, but it ended with him bleeding from his arms and leg, and to top it all off, being completely out of mana.
He pressed a hand to the largest gash on his arm and sighed heavily. He could probably still make it back home to get Soul Speaker to heal him, but he wasn't so sure he could handle the possibility of meeting someone like Troubling Rain or One Autumn Leaf, who would never ever let him forget getting injured by a mid-level wild boss. He could also make it to the city he was originally making his way towards, but there was no certainty he would be able to find a good Cleric there.
He sighed again, and got up from the ground, leaning on the tree for support. He started to walk and then stopped suddenly, when the realisation hit him that there was another place he could go to. The forest he got chased to was a home to someone who could help him and it was someone who, although might make fun today, would not keep mentioning for the next decade - Vaccaria.
Swoksaar really hoped the Witch was off the not swearing thing or this would be a difficult, difficult visit.
He could smell Vaccaria's hut before he saw it - the witch must have been making some sort of potion or salve, the whole forest around his home smelled like herbs. Swoksaar stumbled over to the door and knocked, leaning on the wall to remain upright.
Vaccaria opened the door quickly, took one look at the bleeding Warlock on his doorstep and clicked his tongue, "What the frack did you do to yourself?"
Still on it then, Swoksaar thought. Wonderful.
"Run into the wild boss. Would you mind terribly patching me up a touch?"
Vaccaria looked him up and down, but stepped aside to let him in. The hut was bigger inside than it looked from the outside, but still crammed full with books, herbs and other questionable dried things everywhere.
"Sit here," Vaccaria said, gathering up things piled up on the chair. "I'll get the medicine."
"Thank you."
Swoksaar has been in Vaccaria's home enough times to not be too interested in looking around, especially as one never quite knew what he would see hanging or drying in a Witch's home. He would never underestimate any Witch but he could not really understand why someone would choose to practice a magic this messy when there was clean, logical sorcery just waiting to be picked up.
Vaccaria returned quickly, arms filled with bandages and little jars. He set it all on the table, then walked off to one of the many bottles piled around, pur bits of a few into a cup and handed it to Swoksaar, "For your mana."
The potion tasted like he should have gone to find a Cleric but Swoksaar drank it without a grimace as Vaccaria took a look at his wounds. Swoksaar tensed, waiting for the burn of the salve in his wounds when he felt his hair getting pulled and Vaccaria cursed.
"Drat, your mothersmucking hair is getting in everything. Do you have something to put it up?"
Swoksaar shook his head, but gathered his hair to the side, wrapping it around his hand so he could easily lift it out of the way, "Is that ok?"
"For now. Fluffin helix, it's so much work."
Swoksaar hummed, but didn't open his mouth. He wasn't sure he would be able to not say a word about what he was thinking and Vaccaria was doing him a favour this time after all.
The favour repeated a few more time after that, so when Swoksaar got injured again while he was clearing a dungeon he did not even consider his options before heading over to the Witch's hut. He knocked twice and then made his way inside, greeted as usual by the thick smell of herbs and Vaccaria muttering "fluffing frack" to himself as something he was making splattered around burning his fingers.
"Sorry to bother you again," Swoksaar said, sitting down in his usual chair. "The dungeon run was a bit tough and I wasn't sure I'd make it to the city."
Vaccaria turned from where he was rummaging in his cupboards, frowning, "You went for a dungeon run alone?"
"It was just a low level one," Swoksaar explained. "I wanted to upgrade Curse of Destruction but I'm missing some of the lower ingredients."
Vaccaria did not say anything more but he was still frowning when he made his way over to Swoksaar. The Warlock looked away from him, not sure why he was sharing so much information anyway, and his eyes fell on the things Vaccaria brought over. Most of it was the usual salves, potions and bandages but there was a roughly carved out stick among them.
Swoksaar reached over and took it, turning it around in his hand. It was about as long as his hand, thinner on one end.
"You've found it?" Vaccaria asked on the side. "Your flippin' hair keeps getting in the way so I made it to keep it out of the way."
"Oh. Thank you."
Vaccaria hummed in response, engrossed in checking the wounds. Swoksaar turned the hairpin in his fingers. It wasn't really beautiful, it was no more than a little stick, a little carved and smoothed out at the edges so it wouldn't get caught or splinter in his hair, but Swoksaar found it hard to put away.
"Alright, let me try to put it up then," Vaccaria said behind him. "Why is it so fluffing long..."
Swoksaar leaned forward to allow Vaccaria to gather all the hair, admiring the hairpin a little more before he had to hand it over. Vaccaria's hand grazed his right shoulder as he took some in, then there was another touch on his left arm and Swoksaar felt a slight tugging at one of the wounds and then-
"Fluffing helix!" Swoksaar yelped, as Vaccaria yanked a strand of hair that has entered one of the wounds at some point, dried blood connecting it to the healing tissue that Vaccaria just brutally separated.
Vaccaria laughed. Swoksaar turned to look at him, not even angry, just surprised at the sudden sound and the little tendril of warmth he felt inside even as his arm still stung. Vaccaria's eyes were shining, little chuckles still escaping even with a hand pressed against his lips.
"I'm sorry," he said, letting his hand down and gathering Swoksaar's hair again. "It's just-"
"Don't mention it," Swoksaar ordered, turning back around. "You're just contagious"
The Witch laughed again, and this time too Swoksaar found himself feeling warm.
Vaccaria was more careful with Swoksaar hair after that. He gathered it carefully strand by strand, brushing his fingers through it to make nothing was stuck together with knots or blood. He was also getting better at putting it up with each visit - it was almost centred on his head and Swoksaar could not feel it slipping inch by inch as Vaccaria worked.
When one day, Vaccaria started to braid his hair, although a little clumsily, Swoksaar found himself wondering if the Witch practised doing hairstyles on his raid team. He was a little unprepared at the weird, uncomfortable sourness in his heart he felt at the thought instead of mirth.
"We should just get Soul Speaker," Troubling Rain repeated again. "Sit down for a bit and I'll go call him here."
"It's fine we're almost here," Swoksaar replied.
"You know the way to his house awfully well," Troubling Rain said. "Why would you come here?"
"He's as good as a cleric," Swoksaar answered, which was both true and not at all the reason he has been coming over to the Witch's house every few days.
Troubling Rain snorted disbelievingly, but thankfully did not say anything more, just banged on the door to the hut. Vaccaria opened the door quickly with a smile that became a little strained when he saw Troubling Rain there. His eyes found Swoksaar right after and he stepped away from the door quickly.
Swoksaar stumbled inside and then put an arm up when TRoubling Rain tried to follow him inside.
"I'll be ok here, you can go deal with the team and the loot," he said. "I'll come back after he patches me up."
"Eight Notes can do it," Troubling Rain protested. "I should stay with you, who knows what he will do."
"One of us should be there," Swoksaar said more sternly. "I'll be alright."
Troubling Rain did not look convinced but in the end left obediently, looking behind him a few times before he made it into the trees and disappeared from view. Swoksaar walked farther into the hut, almost collapsing onto his chair. Vaccaria appeared a moment later with a steaming cup in one hand and, as usual, a pile of things in the other.
"Here, painkiller," he said, handling the cup. "Drink it slowly, it's hot."
"Thank you," Swoksaar murmured taking it from him and bringing it up to his lips.
For once the potion was not absolutely disgusting, but he would drink just about anything if he was told it was a painkiller. He's had much worse injuries but not lately, and being able to handle the pain did not mean one wanted to. Vaccaria's mixture thankfully worked quite quickly, the numbing warmth spreading from his mouth down to his stomach and limbs.
Vaccaria gathered up his hair quickly but carefully, putting it up hastily so he could reach Swoksaar's wounds easily. He worked quickly, before Swoksaar managed to turn his dulled attention to what he was doing, the painkiller's pleasant numbing was soon joined in by the stronger effects of the slaves and compresses he was using to take care of the wounds.
The Witch went away and returned just a moment later with a larger basin, filled with something steaming and slightly herbal. He took the hairpin out of Swoksaar's hair, letting it fall down, then, strand by strand, he started to carefully clean out the blood and dirt from the white locks. The combination of the previous pain, painkiller and the medicine has already left Swoksaar tired and sleepy. The heat of Vaccaria's body behind him and the delicate touch made his eyes close, amd he fell asleep in the safe warmth before he could even say anything.
From then on it became another thing between them - Vaccaria handed the painkiller over and, as Swoksaar drank it, he carefully brushed through his hair and then put it up in increasingly intricate hairstyles. A couple of weeks after he fell asleep during treatment a little basket with some pins and combs joined the pile of things Vaccaria brought out each time Swoksaar was hurt. The basket filled up as visits came and went and Vaccaria's hands grew more clever - rough updos and braids turned more delicate and intricate, connected together in complicated ways.
Swoksaar spent the time it took trying to focus on the taste of the painkiller potion and the sting of his wounds before it started to work, taking his mind of the how close Vaccaria was standing and the little thrills every touch brought. He was not quite sure what the feelings it brought out in him were, and he was not certain yet how to react or proceed so he tried to distract himself, however unsuccessfully.
Once the hair was done to Vaccaria's satisfaction and the entire potion was drunk, the Witch would turn his attention to the wounds. Swoksaar did not even notice they were entirely quiet during the entire hair affair, each engrossed in the process, until Vaccaria started cursing again during treatment. He also did not notice when exactly each of the twisted curses made him smile on the inside, rather than frown.
The silence grew around them again as Vaccaria washed his hands of the salves and medicines and reached for Swoksaar's hair.
The next time Swoksaar came over he wasn't even really injured, there were only some scratches here and there. Vaccaria still brought out a little basket he has started to keep all the things he used on Swoksaar hair in, putting it in front of him as he started to braid the hair on the right side.
Swoksaar tried to keep as motionless as possible, but he still found himself looking for the hairpin Vaccaria made for him at the very beginning and located it at the very bottom of the basket. He found himself feeling a little regretful they had not used it for a while as Vaccaria preferred using the little combs and pins he has gathered for these sessions over the past months. There were perks to using all the other things, he reminded himself. For one thing, the intricate hairstyles Vaccaria started doing took much longer to put up, allowing Swoksaar to feel Vaccaria's warmth just a few inches away from him for longer and longer with each visit as he carefully made sure his hair was out of the way and then equally carefully took it apart again. For another, the increased time in handling hair also meant more touches to Swoksaar's shoulders, neck and sides of his face, all just a tinge longer than what could be passed as accidental. They were the reasons Swoksaar never said a word about what Vaccaria was using or what he was doing, but he couldn't help being a little sorrowful over it anyway.
"Could you pass me one of the pins to keep it up?" Vaccaria asked from behind him.
The Warlock hummed in response and reached over but then hesitated, looking down at the simple hairpin he just got so sentimental over. He caressed it with his thumb twice and then passed it behind him.
"Than- This one? There are better one in there."
"I don't think they are."
Vaccaria said nothing more, just took the hairpin and returned, silently, to his task.
Swoksaar found himself making his way over to Vaccaria's a few days later for now reason at all. He hadn't even realised he was always at least slightly injured with every visit until the Witch greeted him with a quick look and up down and then a furrowed brow when he could not find anything wrong with him.
"I just wanted to see you," Swoksaar blurted out, suddenly finding his mind - his famously quick, strategic mind - completely empty when it came to finding a reason for the unexpected visit.
"Oh. Well, welcome," Vaccaria replied, almost rushing to the table and straightening up a perfectly straight chair Swoksaar always sat in. "Actually I have something for you."
"You don't have to-" Swoksaar began, but wasn't even able to finish his sentence before Vaccaria disappeared in another room.
Swoksaar barely had time to sit down in his seat before Vaccaria was back. He put down a little piece of folded fabric on the table and hurried away again, murmuring something about tea. The Warlock let his gaze follow him - were his ears red? was he ill? - before looking at his gift.
It was just plain white fabric, folded over, something placed carefully inside. Swoksaar reached over to unravel it and found a beautiful piece of ash made into a hairpin - thinned out at one end, the other painstakingly carved to resemble the top of Swoksaar's own Curse of Destruction.
Swoksaar felt his heartbeat speed up. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Vaccaria could hear it from where he was standing across the room. He trailed his fingers over the cravings on the top, perfectly replicating his weapon. It was- It was absolutely beautiful.
A sudden touch to his neck startled him, making him turn to see Vaccaria standing behind him, gathering up his hair.
"Let's use it?" Vaccaria asked.
"Vaccaria, this gift.. It's-"
"It's nothing," the Witch interrupted, reaching over Swoksaar's shoulder to take the hairpin. "Let's see if it will even hold your fluffing hair up."
Swoksaar tightened his grip on the wood, not letting it go, instead lifting his other hand to trace his fingers over Vaccaria's wrist into his palm and tangling their fingers together. Then, turning slightly so he could look up into the Witch's face, he pulled Vaccaria towards him.