Chapter Text
The wheels to the carriage Grian and Scar were in creaked every now and then as it went over a nasty bump in the path. A day ago, the two had received yet another letter from the guild. Only this one was the one Grian had hoped he would never see—that the guild would somehow forget about so Scar wouldn’t have to give his years away. Unfortunately, the world didn’t work like that. Which lead the two to riding in a carriage, made by Scar’s magic to specially guide them through the woods, to their destination. Enchanted to be able to fit through the trees, regardless of how dense the forest becomes.
They sat on opposite sides of the carriage, each with their own small bag of personal belongings, for when they needed to spend the night. Scar in his usual colors, if wearing a fancier robe, with more intricate detailing along the hem. And Grian having used glamor to make himself look as though he was wearing a red suit with gold buttons, a red tie, and white undershirt. Any avian aspects to be hidden as soon as they got close enough to their destination. He had tried to hide them earlier, when they had first started their journey to their destination given in the letter. However, Scar had gotten upset, saying that Grian shouldn't have to hide any part of himself when he was in his company.
He didn’t quite understand why Scar would say such a thing; however, he did not know the truth about the way Grian had been made to look. Having since cut that part of himself off and hidden it far away, deep within himself where no one could ever find it. So, he said nothing, instead deciding to simply try again once they got close enough that Scar wouldn’t be able to complain. Instead, staring out the window, watching the trees and plant life as they passed it by. Occasionally, it would look almost as though the trees themselves were moving out of the way of the carriage. It reminded him of what he had heard of the magic of forest elves.
How they could bend the very forest to their every whim. How they were connected to the trees—could feel the life and pain of the forest like it was their own, and how they could hear the voices of the trees, if they listened hard enough. Grian had met a forest elf once. They had been the quieter type, keeping their cards close to their chest. Only revealing their true emotions which they kept hidden by a kind smile though small, micro expressions. If memory served right, some of the decorations he had seen in the elf’s home followed the same sort of pattern he had seen in some of Scar’s rugs, and he briefly wondered if Scar had also met or traded with a forest elf over the years.
The carriage rocked as the ground changed, occasionally getting jarred when the odd root stuck out and was hit by one of their wheels. However, it never bounced around too much and Grian remained unphased. He simply continued watching out the window, watching as they passed by great spruce trees which towered over them. He noticed how every now and again, Scar would glance in his direction, a calculating look in his gaze before looking back out his own window. At first, he had thought that there was something that the man wanted to say, so he simply waited for him to verbalize his thoughts. Not wanting to push him by asking anything of him.
But Scar remained silent, simply glancing at him occasionally before looking back out the window. The carriage remained quiet, although not uncomfortably so. Eventually, Grian came to the realization that Scar was simply checking on him, making sure that he was still okay. Perhaps he had picked up on his unease with what they were doing? But why would he care to make sure that he was okay? It didn’t matter if he was the one who was okay or not—Scar was the one who was about to go give away ten years of his life.
He mentally shook himself, closing his eyes to still his thoughts. Focusing more on his other senses. The sound of the carriage as it continued its journey. The feeling of the leathery cushion under him and of the wooden arm rest which he had propped his arm up on. Of the wooden floor beneath his talons. Of the clothing which covered him.
The quiet sound of his own breathing, and the even quieter sound of Scar’s. Allowing any nervous thoughts to fade away before they could run him in circles. Allowing himself to relax as he shifted in his seat to be more comfortable before the sounds around him faded away and his mind slipped into darkness.
~ ¤ ~
Scar watched as Grian slowly allowed himself to get more comfortable, having noticed when the avian’s breathing had slowed beyond what was normal. He had been looking out the window, occasionally checking on him, to see if he had wanted to start a conversation. However, the avian had always seemed too in his own thoughts to say anything. He had seen the way Grian had responded when they had received that letter. The way he had tensed. Scar wanted to wrap his arms around him, to comfort him and tell him that it would be okay, that everything was going to be fine.
However, that would be a lie because Scar didn’t know if it would be fine. He didn’t know how he would respond to losing ten years of his life. Even if he had felt that rush after receiving Ren’s ten years, that didn’t mean that he had failed to notice the way the wolf hybrid had responded. And he didn’t know how they would mirror onto him, since as far as he knew, Ren had a perfectly healthy body. If malnourished, due to the imprisonment, but still healthy. He didn’t deal with the pains that Scar did.
The dull pain that echoed in his ankles, knees, and hips every step he took. The pain that would spread up his back and get worse the longer he walked, the longer he worked. The pain that required he had a cane, just to slow its progress. The pain that even still, sometimes life him bed ridden. That settled in every joint, and every bone which ached like someone was slowly trying to tear his body apart. So, maybe he was concerned about giving ten years of his life away too.
But he could deal with that—he would be fine. But Grian was scared, and he didn’t want to see him scared. He just didn’t want to push him. So, as soon as he had noticed the avian’s breathing having slowed, he had looked over. To see him resting his head upon his hand, with his arm propped up on the arm rest. Eyes closed and ear feathers flaring out before resting back against his head.
He shifted and Scar watched him as his breathing deepened. He had fallen asleep. And for the first time since they had first set out, since they had first received that second letter, Grian looked to be at peace. Scar smiled to himself, taking in the look on his face and committing it to memory. He didn’t ever want to forget such a look on Grian’s face, when he kept it so carefully blank so often. Hidding his tension and his fear behind that mask. So, he wanted to remember when he looked peaceful, for when the peace was missing.
A moment later, Grian’s head rolled forward, his bangs falling into his eyes. Yet he remained asleep. Scar chuckled to himself, leaning forward with a small grunt to push them back. His ear feathers fluttered at the contact, and Scar smiled even brighter before leaning back with another grunt, pain lacing up his back. It appeared as though Grian found the seats more comfortable than he. Then again, at least it wasn’t just wood, so that was a bonus.
Scar looked back out the window, still smiling to himself as the colorful avian slept across from him. And he would let him sleep as long as he needed to. To let him have peaceful dreams, to have his own reprise from the cruel world around him. Before he had to wake up to his own fears. It was the least Scar could do for him before they arrived at their destination.