Chapter Text
“I don’t want to do this.”
Russel’s petulant whine has seemingly no effect on Astor, who presses his pen a bit harder against the paper but continues writing regardless. He doesn't even glance up at Russel, knowing better than to give him the chance to wield his deadliest weapon- the puppy dog eyes.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to,” Astor decides to answer, rolling his eyes as Russel makes a plaintive noise of complaint in response. Astor finishes scratching out his inquiry, visions dancing at the back of his eyes as Fate hurries to weave together how things are to be placed, and finally risks a glance at Russel. "Besides, you don't even know what we're doing," Astor points out, and Russel's eyes narrow at him.
He takes in the impatient look on Russel’s handsome face with a wry smile on his own, standing and clapping a hand over Russel’s shoulder in mock-condolence. Russel narrows his dark eyes indignantly at the action but Astor cuts him off before he could speak.
“I might take your opinion into consideration if you didn’t just get off bedrest,” he said, tone suspiciously light, and watches Russel’s eyes dart away from his own. Caught. “After doing something incredibly stupid.”
Cowed but defiant to a fault, Russel bites out, “It’s not like I can die, and a few days of bedrest never hurt anybody.” But Astor knows Russel is just as frustrated as Astor himself is at the setback. It’d only been three months since the two had set out on their “journey”, as Russel calls it, and already Astor feels like he’s at the end of his rope.
“Even if you can’t die, you can’t just-!” Astor motions wildly with his hands to rid himself of the frustration, searching for the words. He usually prides himself on his quick wit, but already the feeling of we’re in way, way too deep is bubbling over. His brain aches and it is entirely Russel’s fault.
He composes himself and crosses his arms, scowling. “Just because you can’t die right now doesn’t mean you should be stupid and set us back behind schedule.” Astor doesn't miss the look of irritation that sweeps over Russel’s face at the underlying accusation in his words. He doesn't care; it's already happened and it’s the truth, and Russel is only being stubborn if he can't accept that.
Thus far, Russel has gotten into two situations that a lesser man- no, Astor corrects himself, a man not favored by Fate- would have died in. Both being simply that Russel has thrown himself wholeheartedly into skirmishes with bandits , of all things. He’d gotten cocky after the first bout and Astor almost wishes he’d get run through with a shortsword more often to curb his ego since clearly the initial time it’d just served to piss Russel off.
He doesn't dare admit it out loud, but Astor hates the sight of Russel bleeding and writhing on the ground as Fate strings out his life more than anything. In his mind’s eye he still sees the annoying little four year old he’d been tasked with and grown fond of and Astor very much prefers to keep his nerves rather than have them frayed every time blood is drawn.
He could at least try not to be stupid for once, Astor thinks somewhat bitterly. He channels the thought into the glare he sends Russel’s way and is promptly ignored in favor of reading over what Astor has written. Russel casts Astor a slack-jawed look that hardens into an irritated scowl.
Russel squints and reads carefully. “...Really? You’re hiring babysitters for me?”
Russel holds up the paper and shakes it for emphasis. Astor has drawn it up to look somewhat like an advertisement, though in actuality it won’t be used. Astor just likes to write his thoughts down- more articulate that way, and it helps him focus on what Fate is showing him.
“I wouldn’t have to if you doesn't act like an actual fucking baby,” Astor snipped, and Russel’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click. Astor lets himself smile, thinking over all the images he’d seen as he’d comes to his decision.
“You’ll end up liking them anyway,” he says dismissively and waves his hand for emphasis. “From what I’ve seen, they’re very interesting.”
That at least has Russel perking up. Astor tuts in annoyance when Russel gives the paper another brief once-over before crumpling it and shoving it into one pocket. He is tempted to gripe about the action but elects instead to stretch his hands out in front of him, his shoulders giving a minute pop.
Astor elaborates, “There’s a tavern where we’ll meet two people,” Russel grins, all former traces of irritation now gone, “Two people who are to aid us on this quest.” Astor turns back to the small table he’d been writing on and begins collecting his few belongings, placing them neatly into his bag. He motions for Russel to do the same with his own items.
Now addressing Russel’s back, Astor has the pleasure of watching him stiffen at the next words. “You’re not allowed to drink away all of our money, either. I’ll need to settle wages there.” Russel tosses him a pleading look and Astor waggles his fingers at him, frowning.
“Don’t look at me like that. You know it doesn’t work.”
Most of the time, anyway.
Astor scowls and brushes his hair back, irritated. We’ve been up for two hours and I’ve already lost him in some unfamiliar forest. Perfect. Wonderful. Great.
Astor bites his tongue to keep from spewing the venomous curses he’s thinking, trying to quell his agitation with the fact that, at least, Russel has some knowledge of how to survive without him.
Maybe.
They’d taken to an inn for the night, plotting exactly what they’ll do to gain their future party members. Astor’s connection with Fate is tenuous- one moment, it can tell him as many details as he’d like. The next, it becomes fickle and cat-like, and will give him only the tiniest bits of information to keep Astor on the right track.
He rubs his face again. And then again, for good measure, before he starts actually putting some effort into finding Russel.
Astor stares into the forest on the edge of the path and frowns. He’d seen Russel, moments before, meandering around in this area and looking at all the things he doesn't normally see at home. Little yellow flowers, interspersed randomly with even smaller purple-white blooms, nestle into the grass and creep towards the treeline. Astor can see why Russel would get distracted, but it doesn't make him any less annoyed by it.
He gazes down at the foliage and frowns harder. Since the path they had elected to take is little-known and little-traveled, everything save the road itself is overgrown. No one to tamp it down and tame it. The grass covers the tops of Astor’s boots as he reluctantly steps off the safety of the path and into it. A large bug with even larger hind legs scurries out of his path with a flying leap, its wings so big Astor swears he can hear each individual beat.
I’m going to kill him when I find him. Fate be damned.
The forest isn’t foreboding, moreso annoying. Vines and other such foliage keep trying to trip him up, and Astor grits his teeth. He kicks a particularly persistent bramble to the side. He is glad, now, that he’d grown up alongside grassy meadows and hills and not this . Otherwise he’s sure he’d have abandoned Russel to be lost in them forever, without patience to go and get him every single time he got lost. And Russel has an unpleasant habit of getting lost. Clearly.
Finally, Astor hears something.
Astor squints and looks around, trying to locate where he’d heard the commotion. The sounds pick up in intensity and he lets out a small hum, stepping over a low-growing spiky bush to head that way.
What he finds leaves him unhappy. Incredibly so.
Russel turns his head to him, his cheek pressing into the dirt, and he offers Astor a shit-eating grin. Like he isn’t pinned under someone, a blade pressing tightly to his throat.
“Astor! Would you mind helping me explain to- what’s your name?”
“Shut up! ” the girl on top of him snarls, pressing forward ever closer. The sharp edge of the blade disappears under Russel’s chin, and his eyes widen a little. Astor can’t tell if that’s fear there or surprise, but he wouldn’t be shocked if it was either.
“Can I really not leave you alone for five minutes?!”