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It’s 23:55 on the dot when a certain white haired man approaches the borders of a Midnight Rangers camp.
It’s a routine occurrence —or, as much of a routine it can be, with conflicting schedules and all that— for Calcharo to drop in on the General like a stray cat now and then.
For some reason, the General is strangely accommodating to him so long as it doesn’t harm anyone. But then again, after seeing what he’s like under all those layers of the cool-headed General persona, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise.
He almost wants to push the limits, sometimes. See how far Jiyan will let him. Toe the line and weave through loopholes.
But he doesn’t. It’s only the value he has in Jinzhou as a business partner, he convinces himself.
The white of his hair illuminated under the moonlight seems to catch the attention of a real white-furred stray cat perched on the wall. It stares at him. He stares back.
It meows. He motions at it to be quiet, before mentally smacking himself at the idiocy of such a futile thing. It’s a cat, there’s no way it would understand.
Yet miraculously, it does. It quiets, still staring at him. He gets a bad feeling as its tail sways.
It pounces at him. He curses quietly as he falls backwards into the bush.
This is why Calcharo prefers dogs.
The cat’s claws extend, and it grazes his wrist when he reaches towards it to catch the damn thing. It stares innocently at him, docile in his rough grip.
“You…” He hisses at it under his breath, mindful of the Midnight Rangers on watch nearby.
The cat tilts its head. It opens its mouth to meow again. He –not in the least bit panicked– shushes it again. It obliges.
He puts the cat on the ground. It winds around his leg.
Calcharo’s weirdly reminded of Jiyan’s teal dragon by the way it curls around, nuzzling against him.
He walks away, but the feline trails behind him. He sighs, rummaging through the pockets of the strange Huanglong attire that Jiyan had made him wear, fishing out a piece of low-sodium jerky.
The cat accepts the offering.
As it is preoccupied, Calcharo hurries around the camp to where the General’s quarters were located. However, something catches his attention.
“Is it true?”
“Yeah, I saw it happen myself. The General got his arm screwed up while covering the new girl.”
“The new girl? You mean the resonator that uses her blood for weapons?”
“Yeah. The General takes special care to cover her when she’s low, but this time is probably the worst it's gotten.”
“Is that why she was so distraught?”
“Mhm. She was really worried, but the General just waved her off, like usual, saying he just needs some bedrest and he’ll be fine.”
“Well, I guess since he was a healer…”
The conversation between the two guards standing near the gate trailed off into talk about their training with resonance abilities.
Calcharo quickened his pace. Jiyan was injured? That changes things.
He grapples over the wall, dropping into the crevice between. A window, dimly lit by a candle on the windowsill, along with a familiar pair of earrings, catches his eye.
As he approaches, he reaches for the bottom of the window, where a gap has been left for him. He opens it with practised movements, slipping into the room seamlessly, parting the curtains.
The moonlight trickles in through the window, casting light upon the sleeping General’s face. As he approaches, a shadow is cast upon the sleeping man, but he doesn’t do so much as twitch at the very powerful resonator who had just broken in.
Calcharo takes the time to observe the man. He’s on his back, hair undone from its tie and spilling over the edge of the bed. His expression pinched even in his sleep, and the absence of those gentle golden eyes almost makes him seem like a cold immortal from one of those Huanglong books one of the Ghost Hounds in Jinzhou had recommended to him.
His attention is caught by the bandaged arm that the man rests on his stomach. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the General only slept in the position to prevent straining his arm, but he had seen him asleep enough times to know that this was simply the default position that he adopted as both healer and fighter.
Jiyan had explained to him once, about why. Something about being both prepared to fight and also being good for the lower back? Calcharo had teased him about ageing, but Jiyan had simply chuckled at that in a charming, rare sight that had left him breathless.
Calcharo stoops down on the low bed to scoop up the fallen strands of hair brushing the ground. It’s silky smooth, and Calcharo wonders if Jiyan had washed it by himself with his injured arm or if someone else had helped him. He’s surprised by the irrational pit of jealousy that forms in his stomach at the thought.
“...Calcharo?” Jiyan stirs, and Calcharo lets go of the hair he had been clenching in his hand, smoothing it down.
“Mm. Sorry for waking you.”
Jiyan props himself up on an elbow, rubbing his eyes with his bandaged arm. His robes slip down at the movement to reveal the bandages travelling all the way to his bicep.
Calcharo grabs Jiyan’s wrist in a careful grip. “What happened?”
“Hm? This…? Ah, just a dreadmane," he says in the midst of a yawn. “It’s been properly treated, so it’ll probably heal enough for me to fight with it in two to three days.”
Calcharo looks at the bandages, stark white and clinical against the teal sleeve. The hand doesn’t break from his grasp.
“...You know, I’ve always wondered,” Calcharo says, letting go of the General’s wrist, “Are you always this unguarded against intruders?”
Jiyan leans against him as he sits by the bedside. “Of course not. The Qingloong is sensitive to unfamiliar scents, it’d warn me if there was a threat.”
Calcharo ignores the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of the General being so unguarded against him. Obviously, they had a deal going on, but the vulnerability that Jiyan didn’t seem to mind offering to him was…
“And if I do become a threat? Maybe I’ll receive a better business deal.”
Jiyan cracks open an eye, the heavy gaze of the golden eye and slitted pupil trained on him, “Well, then I suppose I’ll simply be letting you have a head start, then.” There’s an edge to his voice, but his body is relaxed against Calcharo.
The duality is interesting, Calcharo thinks, steadfastly not addressing the warmth in his chest. Nope, just the Tacet Core acting up.
“Hm.”
Jiyan’s eye stops on something while looking him up and down. A bare hand reaches out to hold his hand. “You’re injured.”
Calcharo looks away from the window he had been focusing on to distract himself– to clear his mind. Jiyan’s looking at his wrist, where a thin red mark from the cat he had been scratched by stayed.
“Ah. I forgot about that– there was this white cat outside. Scratched me, and almost blew my cover.”
Jiyan’s face changes from concern to recognition, “Oh, you must be talking about Xiao Bai. He’s a bit enthusiastic when it comes to someone new.”
Calcharo raised a brow. “Xiao Bai?”
“Hm?”
Calcharo flicks a strand of white hair over his shoulder, unintentionally slapping Jiyan in the face. “I suppose even the General has things he’s bad at.”
“Wha–” Jiyan turns his head to avoid hair ending up in his mouth, “There’s nothing wrong with my naming skills!”
“Well. It’s coming from someone who called a teal dragon “The Qingloong”.”
Jiyan huffed. “That’s because that is its name. And don’t say anything about my naming sense when you still don’t understand how to match clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothing choices? It's practical.”
Jiyan raises a brow.
Calcharo sighs. “Well, it seems we are at a standstill, General.”
“Truce?”
“Truce.”
Jiyan sits up. Calcharo barely has a second to miss the warmth, when the other man speaks again.
“Come on, at least get that treated.” Jiyan holds his hand as the man drags him to stand up.
“It’s not that serious.”
“Xiao Bai’s an outdoor cat. We should at least clean it. Who knows what kind of dirt might have been in his claws when he scratched you?”
Calcharo frowns as he follows Jiyan to the restroom, not breaking free from the admittedly loose grip. Jiyan makes him wash the cut while he rummages through the cabinet.
He presses a clean cloth to cut to stem the blood. “It really isn’t that serious,” Calcharo tries.
Jiyan ignores his half-hearted attempts to convince him to go back to bed. A cool ointment is put on the cut, and he bandages it with efficient moves.
In about a minute or two, he’s done. “See? Wasn’t so bad.” Jiyan smiles at him. "Now we're matching."
“I’m a resonator, it would have healed by morning.”
“It’s never a bad thing to be careful.”
Calcharo acquiesces with a hopeless sigh. “Well, at least you can get back to bed. I was only checking up on you because I heard you were injured.”
Jiyan slips back into his bed. Calcharo stays standing.
“Well, I appreciate it.” Jiyan looks at him, and then at the window behind him. “Looks like you have a little stalker.”
Calcharo turns his head around fast enough to have injured himself if he hadn’t been a resonator, just to see the sight of a familiar white cat by the windowsill. It slips in through the window he had left a slight gap in, wide enough for it to fit through.
Jiyan yawns softly, “Hello, Xiao Bai.”
The cat meows in what Calcharo assumes to be greeting, before plopping itself in front of the window, between the candle and the earrings.
Calcharo turns back to Jiyan, who has migrated to the further side of the bed, cast in shadow. “Well, I’ll be taking my leave.”
Jiyan is quiet as he approaches the window.
However, his plans are interrupted by a certain feline meowing loudly. Calcharo freezes at the sound breaking the silence of the night.
“Maybe he’s suggesting you to stay a bit longer.”
Calcharo turns to see Jiyan’s inviting smile. He lifts the edge of his blanket, raising a brow at him.
It’s a bit embarrassing how quickly he caves. He sighs, removing his belts and the strange ribbons on his clothes. “I’ll leave in the morning.”
Jiyan hums as Calcharo slips in beside him. “Remember to pay the fee to leave to the little window-guard later.”