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“If only he hadn’t left so early, I wouldn’t have to go chasing after him.” Ri’kara muttered softly to herself as she padded quickly down the long, lofty corridor, arms full of parchment covered in her own scribbles and notes.
It was late, moonlight pouring through the windows that lined the wall that ran along her left side, bathing the usually warm, golden architecture in a muted, silvery light. The crystals embedded into each of the pillars cast a cold blue glow, and the Tal’darim shivered slightly.
How eerie. It certainly doesn’t help that it’s empty now…
Mostly empty. Every so often, a guard would appear, nodding their head to her as they patrolled the halls.
With a soft sigh, she looked to her right, counting the doors that appeared at intervals to ground herself. The west wing of the building she was in housed residential chambers for judicators, executors, and other political liaisons. After the attack, she’d been given her own room, though that was in the east wing a few floors down, practically a whole world away for her short legs. Briefly, she thought about giving these papers to Alarak in the morning, the call of her phase-smithing tools resting on her desk suddenly incredibly strong.
“Come on, now, you’re almost there… and maybe you can chat for a bit.” The thought made her smile, that little warm flicker filling her chest. Lately, they’d been spending more time together, and he’d been much more agreeable, particularly when they were alone. It was nice, and it made her job easier.
Finally, she stopped at the last door at the end of the corridor and brushed herself down self-consciously with one hand before reaching up and giving her usual knock. Three swift taps against the metal; that way he knew it was her.
There was a long moment of silence that caused her to frown slightly. That wasn’t normal. Cautiously, she reached up again to repeat the knock—
“Enter.”
The door opened with the soft sound of shifting metal clicking into place, opening into a warmly lit room laid out exactly like hers; a bed against the wall on her right, a desk opposite to the left, a door to a washroom just beside that, and a large window that replaced the outer wall. It opened out onto a balcony usually, though he had already drawn the first set of sheer curtains over it.
Despite the similarities to her own room, there was nothing… personalised here. Alarak’s armour was tucked neatly in the open closet, ready for when needed, and there was parchment on the desk, ink scrawled across it in his own almost illegible handwriting. That was all that would indicate that anyone even existed in this space.
Quietly, Ri’kara stepped far enough into the room that the door closed behind her, and she looked around for him.
“Alarak…?”
“What?”
Her eyes fell on him. Well, his head; his back was turned to her, and he seemed to be sat on the floor, leaning up against the far side of his bed where she couldn’t see the rest of his body.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, Ri’kara.” His voice was a little strained, as though he were in pain, but laced with his usual, ever-sarcastic tone. “What is it you want?”
She stopped, eyes narrowing as the strong, familiar smell of that awful ointment mixed with blood hit her, setting her on edge. “… You left early today and didn’t say a word about why. I didn’t catch you in time to give you my notes, so I brought those, and… I wanted to check on you anyway.”
He turned his head slightly, not quite able to look at her from that angle, but she saw his face soften from its scowl, and he gestured with one stained hand. “… Leave them on the desk.”
“Alright.”
The silence was deafening, her heartbeat quickening as she moved to the neatly kept desk and placed the small stack of parchment on it.
Should I ask? Something seems very wrong…
As if sensing her hesitation, he made a short sound to get her attention, voice becoming stern. “If that is all, leave.”
It brought her enough out of her reverie to shake her head, sighing a little. “No, that isn’t everything… I’m not an idiot. You’re injured; what happened?”
Another silence. She could almost feel the seconds move by, almost able to hear his thoughts, as though he were trying to choose the response that would be most likely to make her drop the topic completely.
“I apologise for causing you concern; I simply required rest and did not feel the need to inform you.”
“That doesn’t confirm my statement or answer my question; I can smell the ointment from here.” She added; “And the blood.”
“I am fine.”
“You could at least try to sound more convincing, Alarak.”
A small, irritated scoff came from where he was sat. She didn’t have to see him to know he was rolling his eyes.
It took another moment, but finally, he cracked. “Fine, Ri’kara, yes; I am injured.” He made a short noise, and there was the soft shuffle of fabric followed by the sound of something dragging itself briefly across the metal floor. Quickly, Ri’kara moved to him, holding her arms out even as he waved her away and got himself comfortable with some difficulty.
Her eyes widened as he adjusted his robes and fixed themselves on the bloody stump of his right leg. On the floor close by lay a prosthetic, styled after his usual armour, also covered in blood. Spider-like pincers sprawled from the opening like some sort of insect.
“I would prefer if you did not stare at it, Ri’kara.”
She felt her face and crest warm with embarrassment as she averted her eyes, instead looking at his own mildly embarrassed, gruff expression. “Sorry, I… Should I summon a healer?”
“No.” Alarak glared at her, but his voice seemed almost panicked for a moment before he calmed himself. “I do not need one.”
“Are you sure? This is… This looks very bad.” Trying to quell her slight panic at the state of it, she put a hand up to her cord and held onto her clasp, finger brushing over the two deep scratches on the tube as she bent to take a better look at the injury. Six puncture wounds in almost perfect formation either side of two straight gashes at the end of the stump.
“I do not need one, Ri’kara. You know I hate repeating myself; it is fine.”
With a sigh, she rolled her eyes, straightening up and crossing her arms over her chest. “No it isn’t. You’re insane.”
That glare was still trained on her, and she let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine, look, I won’t call a healer, but will you at least let me look at it? Frankly, you’ve done a terrible job.”
He tilted his head, glare softening as his eyes narrowed and he looked her over. Thinking. Despite the chilly reception, she noticed the ghost of a knowing smirk pass across them after a brief moment, and he relaxed a little. “I suppose you will not be giving me a choice in the matter?”
She shook her head, giving him a little bit of a smirk of her own; he knew she was right. “No.”
With a sigh, Alarak waved a hand dismissively, getting himself more comfortable. “Fine.”
“Stay right there.”
“Hilarious.”
Ri’kara took the chair from beside his desk, dragging it into the washroom and glaring a little half-heartedly as he began to chuckle at the sight of her.
“Do you need me to lift you?” His voice was dripping with playful sarcasm, a mischievous smile set into his usually harsh features. For a moment, she didn’t quite know how to respond, her crest becoming warm again.
“I can manage.” She placed the chair as close to the sink as she could and climbed onto it to reach the cabinet that was hanging against the wall above it. Usually, in her own room, she kept medical supplies in there.
Hopefully, he has done the same…
Opening it, she sighed a little with relief, finding a small bowl, some bandages, and more of that ointment in a small, black metallic container. She recognised it; foul-smelling stuff for cuts and burns that she used far too much of when she lived on Slayn. Briefly, her back stung with the memory of Uljia covering her in it after Urach had given her a particularly savage beating…
Now is not the time.
She mentally shook herself, finding another black metallic container, a bottle, and pulling it open from its red crystal stopper with a soft pop. The sharp smell of the liquid made her scrunch her face for just a moment as another unbidden memory tried to worm its way out of the little box in her mind; it was what she needed. Taking everything but the ointment, she filled the little bowl with warm water and mixed some of the liquid in with it.
He has no cloth… She looked down at the robes she was wearing and frowned. “I could probably cut a little from my sash…”
Not the best, but it’s clean. I’ll just sew a new hem later…
“What are you looking for?” Alarak had leant forward slightly, enough to look through the open doorway at her. He couldn’t help but chuckle again at the sight of her perched on the chair. “Perhaps you should be taught to levitate; I am sure it would save you the trouble.”
“As though I have the time for lessons; I’m busy babysitting you.”
“Tch, ‘babysitting;’ you enjoy my company.”
She giggled a bit and carefully climbed down from the chair, leaving it where it was and going back out to the main room, holding the bowl out so that he could clean his own bloody hands. “I suppose I might. How about you tell me how… this happened.”
For just a moment after he was done, she hesitated before getting on her knees to take another, closer look at the injury, her face falling into a soft frown.
“I was mildly uncomfortable and was not careful with loosening the top of the prosthetic. It activated a mechanism that keeps it firmly in place.”
Her eyes flickered for a moment to the pincers at the end of the prosthetic and shivered. “It embeds itself into your leg?” Taking her knife from its hidden place in her sash, she cut a square of fabric from the end of it as a rag to use. “The stars forbid you wanting to be comfortable.”
“Yes, that is the idea.”
“And you just have to walk like this for the rest of the day?”
“Yes. Unless I wish to have more of my leg cut off, I have to bear the pain. It is not such a difficult concept to grasp, Ri’kara. It is a punishment.”
The way he said it so matter-of-factly, as though it were the most natural thing in the world... He seemed to notice the way that her face fell, gesturing for her to look at him with his eyes slightly narrowed.
“What?”
As gently as she could, she dipped the rag into the water and began to clean the wounds of all the ointment and residual blood, hesitating as she tried to find what to say. He hadn’t done a very good job at treating himself, either; it was the bare minimum so that it wouldn’t be infected, and even then Ri’kara doubted that wearing the prosthetic again tomorrow would help matters.
No wonder this is all just scarring… “I… You never thought to get this adjusted?”
“Ri’kara, you know as well as I that—" He suddenly tensed up, hissing, and clenching both fists, trying his best not to move away as the mixture stung. She paused as soon as he’d made the sound, wincing slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologise, just get it done.” His voice was one again strained, irritable. “You know as well as I that being augmented among the Tal’darim is a shame only rivalled by not dying in combat.” Another hiss. This time he couldn’t help but twitch out of the way of her hands, taking a moment before relaxing again. “I let one of my supplicants perform maintenance and that is all. As though I deserve to have it ‘adjusted’.”
“But you don’t deserve that; as if you planned to have your leg cut off or bitten off or—”
“Bitten off.” Shrugging and rolling his eyes, he added; “It may not have been planned, but I certainly asked for it.”
The little Tal’darim tilted her head but decided, just then at least, that she was better off continuing her lecture rather than sate her curiosity by asking question. I wonder what led to that happening…
“Either way, if you had just said something, I could have looked at it already and maybe made it more comfortable for you; this thing would have been out by now too. Nobody should be in this amount of pain all the time…” Her eyes passed over the bloody mess again. “It’s barbaric.”
For a moment, he seemed to soften, and then the odd expression was gone, replaced by a smirk. “Aiur has made you soft.”
It was meant as a joke, she knew it, but she instead frowned and caught his eye. “So you keep saying. Maybe Aiur has made me realise this is just cruelty for the sake of it.”
Alarak couldn’t think of a retort, and so it was silent after that, occasionally broken by a pained hiss or two as she properly cleaned the wounds. He was, surprisingly, a cooperative patient, fixing his eyes firmly on the wall behind her and setting his face into a hard frown, barely moving as he became used to the treatment. Once she was done, she sat back, sighing, and idly wringing the scrap of cloth out in the warm water, staining the liquid an even deeper purple. It was almost like ink.
“… This needs to be stitched.” It was more of a mutter to herself, but he still made an annoyed little sound.
“I will not have a healer in here—”
She held up a hand, stopping him. “I know; you’ve made that very clear. I believe I have something that I can use, but it’s in my own room. I could probably bring tools in here to adjust that leg as well…”
“You are aware of how late it is? I will use a bandage—”
“This needs stitching if it’s going to heal properly. For someone who doesn’t want to die, you are terrible at taking care of yourself.”
He rolled his eyes. The look he gave her was barely even stern, almost soft again, like he knew he was going to lose the argument. “Ri’kara.”
“Alarak, please. Let me.”
He said nothing more, looking away and making that dismissive hand motion; the admission of defeat. With a little sigh of relief, she got up and brushed herself down again.
“I’ll be as quick as possible… Take some Terrazine for the pain while I don’t have to breathe it in; I know you keep some hidden in here.”
“Yes, yes.”
Once she was out, she set off running down the empty corridor. Thankfully, glancing at the position of the moon in the sky through the high windows, she could tell that it wasn’t actually as late as Alarak had first thought; she’d be able to get him at least partially comfortable before they really needed to sleep.
Back in her room, she grabbed all the tools she thought she might need from her very messy desk. It was scattered with parchment, stained with ink, and covered in discarded pieces of metal and scraps. The tools themselves were old, degraded in places and worn; she had mostly had them given to her by Anur and Etredar since she had nothing when she arrived on Aiur. It was an honour to even have proper tools to work with in her mind.
I think this should be enough… She tied them together with a red ribbon to make it easier to carry, then got up onto the stool she had made to reach her own washroom cabinet. Thankfully, she still had a suture kit on hand that she could take with her, and she grabbed it, stepping back down from the stool to double-check that she had everything.
“Alright, back we go…”
Knocking on his door again after running all the way back up there, Ri’kara was pleasantly surprised to find he had not, in fact, decided to just bandage it up and be done with it. He was still where she had left him, purple mist still not quite gone from the air. The lingering smell made her head ache slightly at her temples, but it was bearable.
“I’m back.”
“Mm.” Alarak smirked at her, waving a hand in her direction. “You took your time.”
“Oh, hush, I wasn’t that long.” Carefully, she knelt back in front of him, thankful that it hadn’t bled that much more, though she gave it another clean for good measure. “I shouldn’t be too long with this, either.”
“Perhaps we will, by some miracle, get some sleep before the sun rises.”
“You can sleep while I’m doing this if you wish.”
“I am in no need of sleep.” As if to prove a point, he sat back up, rubbing his eyes a little. She couldn’t help but giggle.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
He scoffed, pretending to be offended and placing his hand against his chest. “I happen to be an excellent liar.”
“Mm-hm.” She rolled her eyes and smirked at him, earning a short laugh before he lapsed into silence, watching her begin to work.
Thanks to the Terrazine, he didn’t even flinch as she gently sewed together each wound, cleaning more blood as she went. It was companionable, all things considered, though after a little while, Alarak decided to speak up.
“I assumed you were a… a… What is the word… a phase-smith; you have never said otherwise.” His words were slurring more severely than before; she supposed he had finally fully succumbed to the effects of the gas.
“Yes, I was.” Ri’kara shrugged and smiled a little. “I learned how to at least provide some care from my… ‘Sister’ so that I could treat my wounds while she was fighting in the End War. It isn’t much, but it’ll have to do if you won’t have anyone else look at you.”
“… I would be fine to have you look at my injuries. I trust you; I trust you far more than… whomever else might decide to stick themselves where they are not wanted.”
“At least that’s something… I want to make sure you’re healthy, though I can’t say I’m all that qualified; I’ll learn a little more alongside my levitation lessons, how about that?”
With a short laugh, she looked up at him, expecting a smirk or a laugh in return at her little joke. Instead, she received the full force of the softest look she had ever seen grace his features. They were held like that for what felt like an eternity until she managed to tear her eyes away and focus back on her work.
It’s just the Terrazine, I’m sure.
Even with that thought, it seemed as though she would never stop blushing, the expression seared into her memory, and it didn’t help matters that he said nothing at all for a good few minutes afterwards, leaving her to stew in her own annoying emotions.
“Maybe I—” His words caught as he suddenly broke the silence again, and Ri’kara’s head snapped up, watching his eyes fill with… tears? Vapour lingered as they rolled down his cheeks.
“Alarak, are you—?”
“Maybe I am grateful. Maybe I am too stubborn to admit that I appreciate you and Artanis deeming any of what I have required worth your time. I should… You should receive more praise. Perhaps then you would not constantly point out where you feel yourself to be inept…”
Ri’kara blinked as he made a soft little sob, unsure of how to react to his sudden outburst. As she chose her words, she cut the last of the suture and applied the ointment, frowning a little as the awful smell mixed in with everything else.
I can’t be overwhelmed right now. Focus.
Washing her hands again, she reached for the bandages, beginning to speak. “We… Know that you appreciate it, Alarak. Well, I cannot speak for the Hierarch, but I can… speak for myself, if that makes you feel better. I know.”
He made a small sound, and she patted the bandaged stump of his leg before standing to clean up after herself.
Getting back on the chair, she drained the bloody water into the sink and cleaned the bowl along with her hands. The fabric from her sash was stained beyond saving; that was disposed of, and the suture kit was placed into the cabinet.
Better to have them here, I’m less likely to be injured, at least now.
“I wouldn’t mind more praise, though. Sometimes I think I do a terrible job.” She laughed a little.
Despite her attempt at reassuring him, Alarak was still softly crying. Ri’kara wondered briefly if it was just the Terrazine wearing off; never once had she seen him like this.
“Uhm… Are you alright?” She climbed down, dragging the chair back to its place behind the desk. When he didn’t answer, she walked back to him, bending to try and catch his eye from where he was hunched over. “Alarak.”
That seemed to quiet him, and he unceremoniously wiped his eyes on the back of his hands. “Yes, Ri’kara, I am fine. I am… I would like you to know that I am grateful.”
With a nod, Ri’kara smiled reassuringly and gave his arm a friendly pat. “I promise I know that. I think you just need rest. How much did you have?”
Unexpectedly, he placed his on hand over hers before she could pull away, the tension in his body seeming to disappear with the contact. He nodded slowly, considering her words. “… You may be correct. More than I should be having.”
The way they were almost holding hands made her face and crest warm all over again; his hand completely engulfed hers, and the gesture was surprisingly gentle for whose it was. Her heart felt entirely too big for her chest all of a sudden, fluttering almost painfully against her ribcage.
Hesitating a little, Ri’kara spoke very softly. “I’ll be back to look at the prosthetic in the morning so that you can sleep this off, ok?”
He shook his head. Her words seemed to pull him out of his sad stupor somewhat, and he finally let go to lie back, covering his eyes with his arm again just as she’d found him previously. “No. Do what you must; I trust I will not find your knife at my throat.”
“Of course not.” She nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “Alright.”
Ri’kara sat on the floor, taking a moment to collect herself before pulling the heavy prosthetic towards her to examine the part that was meant to attach to the rest of his body. It was still bloody from the injuries it had caused, the dark purple liquid pooling in two very distinct channels that seemed to be made just for collecting it; it spilled onto her robes as she tipped it downwards. The whole thing was sharp and overall looked incredibly uncomfortable. Two thin strips of metal and those six needles sat behind the mechanical joints, connected to the mechanism that made them spring out to embed themselves into the wearer.
Thankfully, for her at least, this mechanism seemed to be a later edition; something tacked on by a particularly cruel master, no doubt. She glanced over at him and felt… odd. Someone like him being in a similar position to her once upon a time was hard to conceptualise.
With a sigh, she rolled up her robe sleeves and began to work, torching the soldered metal, cutting wires, and slowly extracting the metal spider from the rest of it. Her face scrunched a little in disgust at how poorly the thing was maintained; even without the torture device clinging to it like a tumor the metal was deteriorating from decades, maybe centuries of use.
I’ll make him let me fix it up better tomorrow, this is atrocious. I wonder how I never heard it squeak or protest while we walked.
After testing to make sure that the top of it could tighten properly still, Ri’kara got up quietly, standing the prosthetic next to his bed and grabbing some of the fresh bandages she had left out to lay on the nightstand with a little handwritten note telling him to change his dressings before putting it back on.
For a moment, she looked at him. He seemed to be out cold, chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. She couldn’t help herself, taking a blanket and resting it over him carefully. He didn’t even stir.
Then, as quietly as she could manage, she turned off the lights and left the room. The guards still walking along the corridors glanced at her briefly, but they were so used to her coming and going at all hours that they paid no mind.
The whole thing stuck stubbornly in her head, even after she was back in her room. Seeing him cry was like seeing Ilira cry; she felt odd seeing either of them suddenly so vulnerable.
“It was just the Terrazine, I doubt he was truly upset.”
It was a fine lie; a way to push everything into a box for her subconscious to process. She didn’t want to deal with what any of it may have meant.
“Well, nothing of course. Apart from perhaps drug-fueled chemical spikes. Idiot.”
Continuing to mutter to herself, Ri’kara removed her bloodstained robes, running cold water in the sink of her washroom, mixing it with some powder, and leaving the cloth to soak inside the resulting mixture. The tools were set back on her desk, and she finally turned off the lights, collapsing onto her bed to try and sleep for a few hours.