Chapter Text
Safe to say, Soap was in a bit of a bind.
A literal bind.
The rough ropes were wrapped tightly around his wrists, and he found that no matter how much he wriggled and struggled against them, they weren’t going to budge.
Soap sighed, and stilled. Captured by bandits… The second time in a week, too, which was getting wholly annoying. But, it was the life he signed up for, so he had to deal. With the bounty on his head enough to buy a castle and staff, he knew he would be hot stuff.
Ironic, all things considered.
He huffed and puffed, sighed and groaned, trying his best to get one of the bandit’s attention, hoping they’d get close to try and intimidate him into shutting up.
When none of his quieter tactics worked, he started whistling, and that got one of them to snap pretty quick.
“Shut up back there! Or I’ll cut out your tongue!” He threatened, and Soap let out a dramatic sigh, grinning from his place in the shitty wagon. He went back to whistling soon after, doing it twice as loud, baiting the same angry man into coming back to the wagon.
It worked like a charm, the man soon storming over, threatening Soap with a knife.
“Bounty didn’t say how many pieces we had to return you in,” He threatened, and Soap sighed.
“Who said anything about a bounty?” Soap grinned, his hands alighting with flames to burn the ropes, once free both moving to grab the man’s face, one over his mouth and the other on his throat. Screams would give him away, and the faster he could leave, the better.
Once Soap was sure the head under his hands was sufficiently crispy, he turned to check the small camp they had put together. Would finishing them off and taking their supplies be worth it? The wagon was full of shite, but none of it would be of any use to a man on the run, and the burnt leftovers of the one man proved that they really had nothing worth taking…
He heard a choked sound, and saw the other bandit move to sit up and reach for their weapon, only for a knife to be thrown perfectly into their throat.
Soap stayed ducked behind the wagon, and watched as the knife was pulled back by some force to its owner, at least he assumed since it all but disappeared before his eyes.
He heard a whisper, what sounded like a young girl.
“Is it safe?” She asked, and he heard a deep hum in response, an affirmative.
Soap had to move. He had no idea who these people were, but he didn’t intend to be on the end of one of those fancy knives, nor did he intend to have to harm a child.
Then as he shifted his foot, he heard a softer noise, before hearing that same deep timbre whisper ‘wait’.
Soap ran for it, darting into the woods and only stopping when he breached the opposite end. He was severely out of energy, and he was ready to just walk a bit farther out, find a decent indent in one of the mountainsides or even just find a decent clearing to set up camp with.
That was, until he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He whipped around, and just in time to dodge the knife that was headed straight for him. It thunked into the ground, the blade sinking into the wet earth with ease. He couldn’t see his attacker, probably tucked somewhere in the dense wood. He growled, annoyed at how his evening had turned out.
“Look, I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m not with those arseholes either! I’m finding somewhere else to camp, if you just let me be, I’ll be on my way,” Soap tried to reason, and he heard a deep hum again. Definitely coming from the woods, but he couldn’t pinpoint anywhere exactly. Just… in front of him.
“Why were you with them, then?” The voice asked, and as uneasy as Soap should’ve probably felt, he mostly just felt annoyed.
“They were trying to sell me off, ya git. You gonna let me go? Or are you going to interrogate me some more?” He tried, and the voice hummed again, thinking. God, this guy was starting to get annoying…
“What did you do to that man?” They asked, and Soap sighed.
“What’s it to you? You’ll end up lookin’ like ‘im if I don’t leave, alright?” Soap didn’t mean it as a threat, but he knew it sounded like one.
“You think I’m afraid of a few burns?” The man stepped forward into the clearing, and Soap took a good look at him.
He was covered head to toe in black and brown cloth, all dark enough to easily hide in shadow. His face was covered by a hood and another cloth, obscuring his features. Soap could still tell he was pale, and he moved near silently as he exited his hiding spot in the forest.
A rogue then, and with how he used his knives, one that knew some magic.
“I didn’t mean it as a threat, but I’m no’ a liar, either,” Soap warned, taking a step back, and he felt his anxiety bubble up, a bright ring of orange gathering beneath his feet.
He watched the man still as he noticed the light emitting from the floor, brandishing his knife again. Soap felt his anxiety and adrenaline bubble up more, the light getting brighter, but the ring making no runes or circles. Soap was ready to cast something, but was holding off as best he could.
“I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to leave,” Soap tried, and the stranger just grunted, looking him over once more before tucking his knife back. Soap let out a sigh, the light dimming as he took a few breaths. “I’ll be on my way.” Soap took a slow step back before bolting again, taking off towards the bottom edge of the mountain.
⚔⚔⚔
Simon watched him go, the man in run down clothes running off toward the mountain's edge.
A Bright Wizard…
A what?
A fire mage. He is a runner. A stray… like you.
Simon shook his head. He let the man go. He deserved it, seemed scared if not perpetually angry. And yet…
Follow him.
Why? What good will he do us?
Follow, child.
Simon rolled his eyes, turning back to the forest to tell his traveling group that he was departing. As bad as he felt leaving, he knew they had enough people to be safe. And, whatever Ghost demanded, he got. That was part of the deal.
Simon made it quick, only telling the leader of the party before taking his leave again. Once out of sight, he let his physical form dissipate, a trail of smoke instead leading the way to the base of the mountain.
Being a Departed came with very few perks, but he supposes his speed and natural affinity for the shadow is one of them. He made his way silent as the wind to wherever this mage had decided to make camp.
He ended up spotting light in one of the caves near the bottom of the mountain, making his way over. He let his physical form reconstitute, peeking just inside to see the man curled up and back turned to the fire.
Simon didn’t know what to do now that he was right there. Normally people could feel his presence, or Ghost’s presence, but it seemed he was… either oblivious or ignorant. That was, until Simon saw the fire and the man’s form wisp away, and he quickly turned around, feeling the air behind him move, a lit hand reaching for his head.
He pushed it aside, quickly putting space between the two of them.
“Why did you follow me?” The man asked, and Simon took a minute to take him in again. He couldn’t get over the state of his hair, all of it chopped off in what looked like a hurry, leaving him with hair close to his scalp. He was basically in rags, and Simon found himself pitying him. He couldn’t tell him the real reason he followed him, so he had to come with something fast.
“Didn’t think you could survive on your own. Came to help,” He supplied, and he watched the man scowl.
“I don’t need your help, ya bawbag, nor do I want it.” He replied, hands still lit up in flame, fists now clenched. Simon could very well see that, however he could come up with no better lie under pressure, so the basics of survival would have to do.
“You’re dressed in rags in the middle of the coldest valley on the continent, no amount of fire magic is going to keep you warm enough. That’s not even mentioning any of the native wildlife you’re exposing yourself to—”
“Alright! Point taken, I’m not lookin’ too hot, but I can manage on my own.” Soap argued, and Simon sighed. Soap scoffed at his huffing. “I don’t even know your name, why would I trust you to help me? And weren’t you with another group? What about them?”
Simon stopped at that. He supposes the man was right, they didn’t know each other's names, not since they first caught each other. And now, here Simon was, post-abandoning his traveling party and instead coming to travel with this… stranger.
“I was meant to leave their group a while ago. And my name is… Simon.” He supplied, and Soap looked wary, his hands lit but instead of stanced defensively, they were held near his abdomen. Fighting off the cold.
“Simon, huh?” Soap started, and Simon let his shoulders sag a little. The man had made no move to attack him, and even if he knew fire magic, Simon was no stranger to burns. “I’m… Soap.”
“Soap?”
“Aye, Soap. Don’t ask. If you really hate it you can come up with something else,” He offered, but Simon shook his head.
“If you prefer Soap, Soap it is.” Simon replied, and John squinted at him for a moment before letting his hands go out, the light dimming dramatically. Simon could still see, but Soap’s vision was still adjusting.
“Come on. There’s a small clearing and shelter near the river. If you can make the trek with me, I can get you some warm clothes and a decent meal.” Simon offered. Soap was hugging himself, and Simon sighed before turning, just hoping Soap would follow. He heard silence for a while, and he assumed Soap had decided to stay behind and freeze to death.
But then, he heard a few reluctant steps. Soap trailed behind him, soon catching up and walking next to him.
“So, is this your little shelter? Or is it just an abandoned structure?” Soap asked, and Simon hummed.
“Abandoned. A few of the abandoned buildings are used as safe houses,” Simon explained, and John just nodded along.
“Are we going to be there soon?” Soap asked, and Simon shook his head.
“Another hour of walking. Here,” Simon removed his thick cloak, slipping it onto Soap’s shoulder’s. The man visibly relaxed, his shoulders sagging at the weight of it. “This should keep you warm until we arrive,” Simon kept walking, and Soap nodded.
“Thanks…” He replied, and followed behind the tall man.
⚔⚔⚔
Soap had no idea what was going to happen to him. He had followed Simon all the way out to the shelter by the river, which was decent for the night. He had helped get the fire going, helped cook, and then… Simon just told him to sleep.
“I’ll take watch tonight, since you seem to need the rest. I’ll wake you up tomorrow when the sun’s up.” He supplied, and Soap just… nodded. Simon nodded back, letting the wooden door close. Soap heard his footsteps recede before hearing a chair creak, and he knew that Simon had settled in.
What the hell was going on? Most people who had come across him had wanted to kill him or take him in. And anyone else had been… Soap doesn’t want to remember.
He waited a while, sleep not coming easy, but he heard whispering coming from beyond the door. Simon was whispering. Soap knew it was none of his business, so he stayed in bed…
…
He tried to stay in bed.
Sue him! The mysterious and kind stranger that had swooped in and saved him from frostbite overnight was now whispering in the dark by himself! That was cause enough for concern to Soap, so he made his way to the door, pressing his ear up against it.
“What is your fascination with him?” Soap’s brows knitted together. He was talking about him. The answering voice was… not Simon. It was wispy and cold sounding. What in the…
“I need not explain myself to you. Get him to Price. He will help.”
“He may not even want to go, and I can’t force him to.”
“He will go. Trust me…” The voice faded through the wind, and Simon sighed.
Soap took a breather, waited to be sure of the silence. He crept back into bed, unsure of what he had just heard. He had heard tales from boarding school and from his home that there were a few out there who were… bound to different entities. Was Simon one of them? It certainly sounded like it. Who was his Patron? Would it be rude to ask?
He wasn’t even meant to listen in on that conversation, but he did anyway. To be fair, he was the topic of conversation so maybe he was allowed to listen, but… Whatever. He needed sleep, and the exhaustion was beginning to creep in again, now that whatever Simon was talking to was gone.
Hopefully some sleep would do him some good.
⚔⚔⚔
Soap awoke to the sound of a crackling fire, the sound both comforting and a bitter reminder. He sat up, looking around. He was still in bed, in the small room of the shack by the river. He swung his legs out, looking over on the desk to see a set of clothes.
They looked large, but compared to the thin pieces he had on, they would do wonders for him in the cold. May Light shine on Simon for his generosity. Soap slid into the clothes, feeling warmer by the second now that it wasn’t seeping out of him. He tucked his thin clothes into his pocket, deciding to wash them later and possibly use them for something else. He slid his boots on, making his way out of the small room and into the main one.
“Good morning,” Soap announced his presence, getting a grunt in response. Simon stood over the fire, and Soap took in the delicious smell of cooked fish. “Making breakfast?” Soap teased, and Simon hummed in response. Soap raised an eyebrow at his back, but then watched him reach for a small piece of cloth beside him, pulling it over his face.
Once it was secure, he pulled his hood down, revealing light blonde hair and pointed ears. Soap was taken aback at the absolute beauty of this man. Once he turned around, Soap was met with two different eyes, one light blue and the other a light brown. How he hadn’t noticed before was a mystery to him, but he was entranced now that he had.
“Indeed,” Simon turned back to the pot after an appraising look. “Few more minutes. Sit.” He gestured to the small-ish table, and Soap took a seat, though still a little wary. He watched as Simon turned the fish over on the stone he had balanced atop the fire, watching in rapture as the man handled his proximity to the fire as easy as breathing.
He could’ve made a wonderful mage… No. None of those thoughts, Soap wasn’t doing that anymore. He watched as Simon flipped the fish one more time before sliding it off of the stone and onto a wooden plate, topping it with salt and lemon and another herb before sliding it onto the table. Simon grabbed a kettle, placing it atop the hot stone, boiling water.
“Eat, Soap.” Simon muttered, and Soap frowned a little.
“You not going to?” Soap asked, reaching slowly to the plate, his stomach gurgling loudly in the small space.
“I’ll wait for my tea. You have your fill,” Simon started, eyeing Soap from his place by the fire. He looked like he was debating with himself… with his Patron? Soap wasn’t an idiot, in fact he was at the top of all of his classes at boarding school. He was smart and he was fit and he was— “I have a proposition for you.” Simon interrupted his thoughts, and Soap looked up, now extra wary of the man in front of him.
“A proposition?” Soap repeated, and Simon nodded.
“I’m traveling to meet with a friend. I was going to ask that you come with me. If you’ve run from home, he can take you in, help you get back on your feet. I understand if that isn’t your forte, if you’d rather go it alone out here, but I thought it may be a good opportunity for you.” Simon explained, and Soap was… puzzled. Why was this stranger offering him a place to go? A place to stay?
“What’s the catch?” Soap asked, and Simon looked confused before answering earnestly.
“There is no catch. You’ll be traveling with me, so I’m assuming you’ll be pulling your own weight, but… other than that, the offer is a guide to the next town over and a place to stay there. Forever, if you so decide.” Simon explained it again, and Soap just blinked.
“So there’s no catch? No, ‘if you misbehave we’ll torch you’? Not even a ‘if we decide you’re worthless we’ll throw you back out’?” Soap asked, somewhat half-joking, but Simon could tell that the man was speaking from experience.
“No. Nothing like that.” Simon assured, shaking his head and returning his attention back on the kettle. He poured the water into a cup, waiting a moment before taking a sip. He finally moved to sit on the other end of the small table. “Now, eat. You’ve waited for me, and now I’m here. I suggest you get enough in you to last a good few hours.” Simon gestured to the plate, grabbing a smaller fish for himself before digging into it.
Soap sighed, grabbing a fish and digging in as well. A comfortable silence filled the little shack, and Soap found that he didn’t mind it. It was one of the first gentle and comfortable silences he had experienced in a long time…
And Simon made some pretty good fish.
⚔⚔⚔
The two had finished breakfast and packed up what they needed. Soap had minimal belongings, only really the clothes on his back, so Simon had armed him with a small knife and a hand crossbow. Extras of his that were now too small for his stature. They made good training weapons, and as much fire magic as Soap had, Simon knew it would be better to keep his fire powers to minimum. It made him a target, now both of them a target, and Simon didn’t need him starting a forest fire on accident because another crew of bandits was milling about.
Simon had also loaded him up with a change of warm clothes and an extra cloak. This one fit Soap a bit better since it was an older one, a tad smaller, and it helped hide his frame better. Simon had also packed his own weapons, several knives and a longbow, as well as his own change of clothes when they inevitably ended up wet because of snow or a river crossing.
It was unbearably cold, but the rushing river waters were hard to freeze over completely. The two had made the first stretch of the journey with little incident. They had come by an old campsite, one that was abandoned. They took a moment to sort through the tools and a few bags. Soap had been able to snag a small bag of coin, and Simon had taken a small blade, one that still seemed fairly sharp and new.
They continued on.
“We have a long way to go.” Simon pointed, and Soap nodded, huffing as he tried to keep up with Simon’s pace, both half-climbing their way over a shorter part of the mountain, making their way to a walking bridge.
“Aye, that we do,” Soap panted, taking a moment to rest.
“We have plenty of time for you to tell me what brought you out here,” Simon goaded, and Soap huffed, a short growl coming out of him as he trudged the rest of the way up the mountain side, past Simon.
“Nothing to tell.” Soap grunted, nearly shoving past Simon as he passed.
“You seem pretty angry over nothing,” Simon pointed, and Soap huffed again, turning around to sit on a short stuck out ledge to rest, watching Simon take measured steps to his little perch.
“It’s still too long a story for this hike. Besides, I need all the air I can get out here. Wasn’t made to climb mountains,” Soap joked, trying to change the subject. Simon went with it easily enough.
“Right, you were made to reside in a hill, eating eight meals a day,” Simon joked back, finally making it to Soap’s jut out rock.
“Oi! Callin’ me a hobbit, I’m no’ tha’ short!” Soap protested, appraising Simon’s size and huffing. “You’re a fuckin’ giant is your problem,” He continued, and Simon let out a small chuckle, shaking his head.
“C’mon, we got a bit farther before we hit the top of this plateau.” Simon shrugged, continuing his way up.
Soap took a moment to admire his form. Wide strides, but slow. The back of him, covered in dark pelts and leathers as some moss, stood out starkly against the snowy mountain side. He moved slow enough he almost looked like a rock between steps, and Soap thought that maybe that was his goal. How many people had he run from to learn to blend into his environment like some strange lizard?
“Hurry up, Soap! Can’t wait for you all day down there,” He shouted, not even turning back around to see the Scot still sitting in his place.
“Aye, aye, I’m on my way up!” Soap called back, standing with a sigh and pacing himself the rest of the way like Simon did: wide strides, but slower steps.
He caught up to him in no time.
⚔⚔⚔
They crossed the bridge no problem, the journey up to then peaceful and easy. Simon had been taking the back route, knowing that it was much safer and a bit faster if you knew how to get through it right.
They had decided to make camp after they had made their way down the other side of the mountain, the town still too far out to make it before nightfall. They found a small cave half-way between the top of the smallest slope and the ground, and Simon had quickly decided that it was a good spot. The height of the cave gave them a good vantage of the ground for a good distance, and if they put the fire closer to the back of the cave the light wouldn’t make it to the ground either, and would be barely visible from the top of the slope.
“This is a perfect spot,” Simon started, removing his bag and pelt, laying it down on the stone floor.
“This is a shite spot.” Soap retorted, standing stubbornly as Simon laid out his things.
“What are you talking about? It gives us a perfect vantage point and keeps us hidden from both above and below. If you aren’t worried about the people then be worried about the vultures. They’ll eat you in your sleep,” Simon pointed, and Soap rolled his eyes.
“That’s a tall tale, no vulture is going to—” Soap started, but was cut off by a loud screech from outside, somewhere in the air. It was louder than loud, as if the bird was right next to him.
He jumped, his hands lighting immediately at the first sound of danger, spinning around to try and spot whatever made the noise.
“That’s an eagle-vulture. They’re native to the area, and they eat anything they can see on the mountains. They’re the reason there are so few people who come this way,” Simon explained, and Soap immediately scoffed and let his hands go out, spinning on his heel and storming into the cave to point a finger into Simon’s chest.
“And you didn’t think to tell me that we’d be taking the route that puts us right in their territory?! ‘No catch’ my arse,” Soap grumbled that last part, but Simon heard it anyway.
“Traveling through these parts isn’t a catch, this is a short cut. And if you hadn’t taken forever over that first hill we could’ve been through this section already,” Simon argued, and Soap made a noise of disbelief.
“You cannae be serious,” He started, but Simon just crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering on the shorter man. “That wasn’t a hill, Simon, it was a mountain! You can’t be mad at me for not being able to climb one, you’re lookin’ at someone from the Salt Flats, ya steamin’ idiot,” Soap ranted, and Simon blinked harshly, his arms dropping.
“You traveled all the way from the Flats?” Simon whispered, but Soap cut off his rant as he realized he had let that slip. He sighed, his head dropping a small amount as he nodded.
“Aye, I’m from the Flats…” He confirmed, and Simon shook his head.
“How you’ve survived on your own from there to here I’ll never know, but that’s… by land? No boat, no airship, nothing?” Simon pressed, and Soap shook his head, now feeling a little sheepish.
“Walked, mostly. If I wasn’t walking I was a wagon stowaway,” He explained, and Simon shook his head.
“Glad I found you, then. Price will want to hear all about this,” Simon grumbled, and Soap furrowed his brows.
“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned this Price guy…” He mumbled, but he realized too late that Simon had incredible hearing.
“The second time?” He asked, and Soap looked up and blinked.
“Uh, no?” He tried, giving a nervous grin, failing miserably at being convincing.
“You heard me last night.” Simon stated. Not a question. A statement. Soap swallowed but nodded. He had, and lying about it after being so obviously caught was a bad idea. “You know what I am?” Simon asked, and Soap shook his head.
“Well, I could guess. Probably be wrong though, since my knowledge of pacts like these are limited.” He explained, and Simon nodded.
“That makes two of us,” Simon sighed, and Soap furrowed his brow in concern.
“What, is this your first pact with a patron? No research, no studying? Just… going into this whole magic thing blind?” Soap asked, utterly confused at the lack of self-preservation.
“It was a… spur of the moment thing.” Simon answered, trying his best to shake the memories away. He didn’t need to have any nightmares tonight, he was already exhausted from travel, no need to make it worse.
“Spur of the— and they said I was dangerous with magic, Light, you’re lucky you’re even still alive—” Soap started to rant again, and Simon let it drown in the sounds of the fire he was starting. Soap didn’t need to know that he was technically a dead man walking, that his patron had technically been the luck that kept him alive. He also didn’t need to know that Simon was settled in for a life of dying just to be thrown back into the same body.
“I’ll get us food for the night. Keep the cave warm. Don’t let the vultures in,” Simon teased, making his way out of the cave and down the side of the mountain.
“I still haven’t forgiven you for that!” Soap shouted after him, but Simon just chuckled and shook his head, making his way into the forest.
There were always some leftover traps in the woods, and even if those were empty, Simon knew where the river was. And if the river was empty too, which was highly unlikely, a rabbit or a loose hen would suffice for dinner too.
Simon all but stalked through the woods, his physical form dissipating slightly, smoke tendrilling off of him in waves, the darkness consuming most of him, making him near invisible. He checked the traps. Empty.
He made his way to the river, watching the salmon in the area swim against the current. He would’ve preferred to leave them this time of year, let them do their breeding and come back later, but he needed food, and guaranteeing that any other game out here would be good enough to eat was a gamble he was unwilling to take.
He grabbed one of his arrows, his physical form almost fully dissipating as he hovered over the water, waiting for the right moment to skewer one of the larger fish. The silence of dusk surrounded him, and as soon as a salmon had swam just under his arrow, he brought it down, skewering the fish through the abdomen. It had been a larger one, plenty of meat for the two of them, and he didn’t have enough time to dry any out for the rest of the trip, so he didn’t need to take any more.
He all but slithered back to solid ground, rematerializing in his solid form, the arrow slung over his shoulder, the large fish still stuck on it, now still. He trudged his way back through the woods, picking up to a sprint after hearing a deep growl coming from the mountainside. He turned to smoke, flying up the side of the mountain and reappearing at the cave, spotting Soap sitting quietly by the fire.
He blinked, as if it was another illusion, but then Soap turned around, quickly standing and grabbing the hand crossbow from his pack.
Simon whipped around, feeling the mountain lion swipe its paw through his abdomen, turning to smoke just in time to let it pass through him. He summoned one of his blades, aiming for the throat, instead hitting it in the side of the neck.
The lion roared, taking another two swipes, the second one hitting Simon and slamming him into the cave wall. It all happened in a second, and Soap barely had any time to react.
Soap didn’t register that he had dropped the hand crossbow to cast fireball until the mountain lion was in two pieces, a giant sphere missing from its middle. He slid to Simon’s side, seeing him slumped over against the cave wall, checking immediately for a pulse…
It was faint, but it was there. Why was it so faint? Soap swore the man hadn’t been hit that hard. He dragged the cloaked man back to the fire, hoping to lay him on his pelt for comfort, and let him rest. Soap went back to pick up the dusty salmon, cleaning it off and preparing it for cooking. He had watched Simon do it last time, and even though he hadn’t really given Soap instructions, the Scot found he was more of a visual learner anyway.
Simon had stirred in his sleep fairly soon after being hit like that, and Soap rushed to lay him back down.
“Woah, big guy, give it a rest,” Soap rushed out, voice hushed beneath the crackling of the fire.
“What?” Simon replied, rubbing his head and moving to sit up again. Soap didn’t stop him this time.
“You took a heavy hit there. I’m prepping the fish, it’ll be over the fire soon, and then you can eat,” Soap explained, and Simon groaned, feeling a throbbing in his head again.
Rest a moment, child.
Simon let out a deep breath, and Soap watched the man all but slump for a moment before his eyes opened with startling clarity. He blinked a few times, checking over the rest of him for injuries before nodding once and standing.
“Love of the Light, you recover quickly,” Soap noted, and Simon just nodded, grunting as he popped his back.
“Pros of having a pact.” Simon sighed, letting his arms fall back to his sides.
“What kind of pact did you make with your patron?” Soap asked, genuinely curious, though Simon flinched a little.
“It’s… personal.” Simon settled on, and Soap nodded. It seemed they both had their secrets, and who was Soap to pry? The Scot’s secrets had been out because he had a big mouth, but clearly Simon was close to the opposite. He spoke when he needed to, communicated clearly, yes, but otherwise he wasn’t really one for conversation.
“Aye, alright. How do you think I did with the fish?” Soap asked, and Simon sighed, moving back to look over the Scot’s handiwork. He was pleasantly surprised, seeing that Soap had descaled it very well, removed the guts through the bottom like he had, and had even removed the head at exactly the right spot, not wasting any meat.
“You did good, Johnny,” He praised, and the man blinked before nodding.
“Thanks. Do you want to cook it?” Soap asked, ignoring how hearing the man say ‘Johnny’ like that was a little distracting. Simon looked at Soap and his eyes seemed to crinkle at the corners. Soap thought he was smiling.
“Want me to teach you?” Simon asked, and Soap smiled.
“Absolutely. It came out really good last time,” The Scot admitted, and Simon let out a huff of laughter, shaking his head.
“I’m sure. Here, you have to be gentler with the salmon,” Simon started, and Soap watched and listened intently, Simon going slowly so Soap could see every precise movement. How the fish was segmented, how it was placed atop the cooking stone, when to flip it and how to prevent it from breaking. Soap was enamored how this man knew so much, but he assumed it was because he was from one of the coastal towns on the other edge of the mountain. That would make all of his black clothing incredibly expensive though, considering that black dye is only imported from the Dune Sea.
“Where did you learn all of this?” Soap asked, curious to see if he could get an answer to that.
“Picked it up along my travels.” Simon supplied, albeit unhelpfully. Soap huffed, sitting a little disappointedly as Simon kept cooking.
“Is all you’re going to give me? No specific stories, no epic tales?” He tried, and Simon laughed.
“No. No epic tales, and no specific stories.” Simon replied. He didn’t need to get into his backstory, least of all his… messy history. There was no reason Johnny needed to know, and there was even less reason for him to entertain him.
“Oh, c’mon, there’s gotta be someone interesting under all of that black and brown,” Soap pushed, but Simon just sighed, shaking his head.
“There’s no one interesting. Just another traveler, like yourself,” Simon offered, but Soap scoffed.
“I’d say I’m pretty interesting…” He grumbled, and Simon laughed at that.
“That’s for damn sure. Trekked a few hundred miles from the Salt Flats to give yourself hypothermia and end up another popsicle in the woods,” Simon sighed, and Soap made an offended noise.
“I would not have frozen to death!” He argued, but Simon gave him a disbelieving head tilt.
“Not only that, but you’re a bright wizard. Why would you be out here on your own?” Simon asked, and Soap opened his mouth before stubbornly shutting it.
“I’m not saying anythin’ unless you agree to share as much as I do.” Soap bargained, and Simon took a moment to think.
You could lie.
That’s a terrible idea.
Then tell him the truth.
Simon sighed, hating that Ghost was right.
“Alright. Ask me a simple question, and I’ll give you a simple answer. Then it’s my turn.” Simon agreed, and Soap was nearly beaming. He nearly became a second point of warmth in the little cave.
“Where are you from?” Soap settled on, something simple and easy to answer.
“Was raised in the Dune Sea.” Simon answered, keeping it simple.
“That explains all the dark clothing…” Soap noted, and Simon nodded. “Alright, you gonna ask me a question?”
“Hm. Answer what I asked you before you started this little game,” Simon asked, and Soap sighed.
“Left home. Well, more like… forced out of my home. Parents didn’t want me anyway, shipped me off as soon as they could, was in school for years and years, and then I… I did something stupid. Headmaster burned me for it,” Soap explained, lifting his shirt up to show off the scars on his abdomen. They were shaped like hands. Simon felt a sudden pang of… anger. “And then I left. I didn’t really like it there anyway,” Soap laughed at the tail end, but Simon still felt that terrible roiling in his gut.
“What could you possibly have done…” Simon whispered, taking a step closer to Soap.
“Wha— Ah, I can’t really remember, but I know I deserved it—”
“Deserved to be scarred? Branded? Johnny…” Simon almost sounded pleading, staring down at the Scot who was sitting cross-legged, leant back on his own pelt. It hit him a lot closer to the heart than he had expected.
“Simon, it’s fine—”
“It isn’t. It isn’t fine, no one deserves to be…” Simon started, but he just sighed. He put out his hand, inviting Johnny to put his hand in his. Soap looked wary, but slowly lifted his hand. Simon grabbed it gently, guiding it in front of Soap’s heart. “I promise you, as long as we’re traveling together, I’ll never let someone hurt you like that.” Simon spoke. His tone was soft, but there was a wispiness to it that had Soap a little concerned.
“Simon, you don’t have to—” Soap started, but stopped himself as he noticed that Simon’s eyes had turned an inky black. Soap trailed his gaze to where he felt a soft touch on his wrist, a smoky tendril wrapping gently around his wrist before the end of it drew some sigil on the outside. “What did you just do?” Soap asked, a little worried. Simon shook his head, his eyes clearing of the black.
“I— I don’t know… I’m sorry, I felt a pull and I couldn’t…” Simon removed his hand, almost as if he had been burned, and Soap swallowed.
“Simon—” The Scot touched the sigil, and Simon let out a grunt as he was pulled forward, almost falling on Soap. The Scot let out a breathy laugh.
“What the fuck was that?” Simon asked, leaning over Johnny, pulling himself up again. Instead of answering, Soap let out another laugh, taking a few steps back before touching it and calling Simon’s name again. This time, Simon’s form dispersed, the smoky cloud wisping to the other end of the cave, Johnny laughing again as Simon reappeared in front of him, looking properly annoyed. “You can’t be serious…”
“Oh ho ho, dead serious, Simon. You just bound yourself to me,” Soap had a feral grin on, and Simon was almost regretting his decision, though he didn’t really make it on his own. “Well, it seems we’re stuck together for a while,” Soap joked, and Simon huffed, walking back to the hot stone, flipping the fish.
“Just don’t do it unnecessarily,” Simon started, looking back to see Johnny’s hand hovering over the sigil, looking like a kid caught reaching in the cookie jar. “Just get over here.” Simon sighed, and Soap gave him a sheepish smile before walking back over, taking a seat on his pelt again.
“I can’t believe you just… bound yourself to me. You really didn’t know that you did?” Soap asked, and Simon sighed, shaking his head.
“No… just felt something come over me, felt like I was moving on my own. Had no idea I was using magic until you looked… scared.” Simon answered, and Soap looked apologetic.
“‘M not used to people… being kind to me, especially when it comes to magic. But… I know binding magic is a strong thing. Takes a lot. So, thank you.” Johnny admitted, and Simon looked puzzled.
“For forcing us together? I should be apologizing,” Simon tried, but Soap shook his head.
“Nah, you’re alright. Might come in handy during our travels anyway. C’mon, let’s eat, aye?” Soap offered, and Simon just nodded. He felt bad for forcing that magic upon Johnny…
You didn’t force him.
Sure felt like I did. He didn’t give me any formal consent, and even if he said he was thankful, that doesn’t mean he was being genuine.
You are bound to him. Not the other way around. He can remove it whenever he wants.
Simon felt a little sour at the notion that Soap may not want his bind, but that was quickly washed away. Why would he feel anything for this… stranger?
Just get to Price.
Simon sighed, grabbing the salmon off of the hot stone and wrapping one in cloth, handing it to Soap. He grabbed one for himself, letting the fire simmer, moving to his own pelt. He sat down, eating quietly.
“You alright?” Soap broke the silence. Was he really asking Simon if he was alright?
“I should be asking you,” Simon replied, and Soap rolled his eyes.
“Simon, I’ll be fine. If my burn scars have you this upset I’d hate for you to see the rest,” Soap mumbled, and Simon felt his eye twitch. Soap let out a laugh. “Relax, I’m just fine.” He finished, and Simon sighed.
“I don’t know why…” Simon started, but he just sighed again, taking another bite of fish. Soap let him simmer for a minute, waiting patiently for him to continue. “I don’t know what happened… It was like one second I was myself and the next I wasn’t. But I wasn’t going to hurt you,” It almost sounded like a promise, and Soap gave him a gentle smile. Far gentler than either of them were really prepared for.
“Thank you. Seriously. You’re… one of the first people on my entire trek that have been kind. More than kind. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me—”
“Stop that. I’m not sorry I’m stuck with you. You’ll make a great ally. Just need to hone your skills, get you used to using better weapons,” Simon shrugged, and Soap huffed.
“Could’ve just stopped at the compliment, no need to roast me any more than I’ve been already,” Soap mumbled, and Simon glared.
“No more fire puns,” He ordered, and Soap snickered.
“Fine, fine. As if you have some more entertaining jokes.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Simon’s face was still under the cloth, but Soap could tell he was smiling.
“Want to share?” Soap goaded, and Simon sighed, thinking for a moment.
“What do you call a caster reincarnated as a canine?” Simon asked, and Johnny made a face of confusion before nodding for Simon to continue. “A labracadabrador.” Simon finished, voice monotone and empty, getting a half-stifled laugh of Johnny, hidden under a scowl.
“And you called my puns bad, Lady of the Light, Simon, that was terrible,” Soap shook his head, taking another bite of his fish.
Simon let out a small chuckle, continuing to eat as well.
The sun had set a while ago, the easy company between the two making the end of the day feel short. They laid out on their pelts, staring at the ceiling of the cave, talking into the night. It wasn’t long before in the middle of one of Soap’s tangents, he heard a light snore. Soap let out a soft laugh, laying back down onto his pelt.
“G’night, Simon…” Soap muttered, hand touching his arm. He heard a yelp, Simon dematerializing before reappearing next to Soap on his pelt.
“Johnny…” Simon grumbled, exhaustion still lingering on his limbs.
“Sorry, I didn’t—”
“Just shut up and sleep.” Simon grumbled, tucking closer to Soap. Better to stay warm that way.