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He is back. Again. It is telling how frequently she has found him in her space as of late that she did not notice when he showed up. Just that when she cuts a few sprigs of herbs from the pots at the other end of the room to bring to her worktable she sees him sitting in the corner with a book in hand looking like he has been there for a while, nestled in a pile of cushions that act as a seat.
People in general are not all that hard to figure out. When she was young, when she was still Maral Kha of the Steppe, she spent a lot of her time watching the people of her tribe. It was less that she was pushed to the wayside and ignored, and more that she was a quiet child who found interest in different activates compared to her peers. Not that some children weren’t nasty, that’s how kids are, but their words played little role in her repeated decision to keep herself away. She is not the first child whose father was not of the tribe—and not in their life—that it would make her a sort of pariah, but she was an easier target due to her obvious mixed parentage. In the end, running around and getting dirty with young children her age did not interest her much and casual conversation not coming easy to her made her choose to remain out of the way most of the time. She got nervous too easily, so better to not involve herself at all unless necessary.
Regardless, there is a lot you can learn about people without ever interacting with them. Picking up on mannerisms and habits, learning to read their face and body language, seeing what responses elicit different reactions. It got to the point that she could predict what it was people wanted, and how others would react and respond with enough accuracy that she felt more comfortable initiating conversation on her own. The element of unknown was gone. Which seemed to help foster a more positive relationship between her and the rest of the tribe. At least until she was banished... left the Steppe.
This skill only improved as she traveled. Finding herself truly alone for the first time in her life, not having the protection of a tribe, made her extremely wary of people. Being able to predict how people would act made it safer. If people get what they want they are more likely to move on and leave her alone. If she acted how they expected her to they were even more predictable. Just fit the role they are expecting of her and she will be fine. And in the few instances it is not fine, she has the means to protect herself. That is how she lived thirty years of her life after settling in Yanxia.
Then she traveled out to the Ruby Sea to search for Tatsunoko eggs and instead found a half dead au ra in the sand. Khaliun was sure he was actually dead when she first stumbled onto him. The sand and gentle waves around him were stained red. He was covered in burns and so many wounds. A large piece of driftwood pushed with the tide and fragments of treated wood scattered around told her what might have happened and how he made it to shore. She’s surprised scavengers have not already found the buffet.
Moving closer, she turns him onto his back to check him over when he suddenly moves. Khaliun lets out a startled scream when he grabs her, trying to scramble back but his grip is strong for a dead man. He mumbles something she cannot understand, repeating words over and over, his eyes flit back and forth without seeing anything. Trying to pull her hand from his causes his focus to sharpen on her. Taking a few moments to look her over whatever little bits of adrenaline he gained fade and his grip goes slack. Khaliun is quick to yank her hand back and make a bit more distance.
“Where… is everyone?” He groans, shifts like he’s trying to get up, “Need to find them… Find… Can’t…” muscles locking up suddenly, he hisses through clenched teeth and Khaliun moves closer before she realizes.
“Do not move, you are badly injured.” She sets her hands on his shoulders with gentle pressure, a silent order to stay lying down.
He looks up at her then, eyes looking a bit more focused, “Don’t… take me t’ the city…” he implores, begs, “They can’t know I’m… still alive.” He wants to find someone, but doesn’t want to be found? The remains of his strength leave with his next exhale, “Please… need to find them… before... find me…”
She waits for more, but nothing comes. Checking his pulse the man is still alive, simply unconscious. Not knowing if this man’s vessel was in fact attacked by pirates makes her hesitant to help him. But letting a man die on the off-chance that he has vindictive vagrants after him does not sit right with her either. She looks further down the beach, Isari is not too far south. She could inform the people there of the wounded man and they could take him in. Give the people some potions and let others deal with him.
Although... She does have Vanara blood on her. It was meant as a means to defend herself if she stumbled upon an angry wavekin, but using it would make it little trouble to take him back to her home. Which is private, outside and away of the seaside villages as he seems to desperately want. There are no healers in Isari. This man probably needs more extensive care than a few potions and poultices.
So she may end up with a roommate. One, who, for the first two weeks has very sporadic and short bouts of consciousness. She does not leave her home any more than necessary for that time, as she has to take every opportunity to shove broth down his throat. For those fleeting times he is awake he asks after different people with varying degrees of awareness, the most frequent and insistent being “Adrian”. She shushes him each time and feeds him what she can and gives him medication for the pain. He’s healing rather nicely given the state he was in. Burns all along his side, a myriad of cuts and stab wounds, and even a few bullet holes as well. Her best guess is he’s a sailor whose vessel was attacked by pirates, common throughout the Ruby Sea, the most likely reason he wants to find people while simultaneously not wanting to be found.
When he’s healed enough to have actual conversation he is quite polite. Khaliun learns that his name is Salvatore and he was indeed attacked by pirates, but also he himself is one. He treats her with respect, takes the medicine she gives him without complaining, has an upbeat demeanor, and an agreeable conversationalist. A model patient. Once Salvatore is finally deemed well enough to travel he says he needs to get to Kugane as quick as he can, and he will return to repay her in some way. She waves him off, saying it isn’t necessary; half because she really does not mind being compensated—she was not asked to help him, she chose to—he was pleasant company, and it is unlikely he actually will return.
Then he comes back five days later, considerably more despondent than when he was literally bedridden. He does not offer as to why and Khaliun does not ask. What he does offer is to help her in any way she needs as payment for her services. From housework to hunting to deliveries she finds herself with company again. This time, however, she is much more wary. Salvatore is no longer a wounded man, meaning he can more easily become a threat. Something he is aware of; as he does not enter her home unless explicitly invited in, stays out of her immediate space while keeping in her line of sight, and he leaves every evening and comes back in the morning. She will admit she enjoyed the brief extension to his companionship, he had many stories to tell and readily listened to her own. There was no deceit that she could glean from his actions or words, no underlying motive she could find; he simply wanted to pay her back. Which is understandable, no man wants to feel he owes a debt. A week passes and Khaliun declares that he has amply paid back for her services. Salvatore thanks her again and leaves. And that is that.
A few days later there is a knock at her door. Salvatore is standing there, “You are not injured again are you?”
“I have been very careful to not undo all your hard work.” He says with complete sincerity.
“Did you forget something?”
“Nope.”
A stretch of silence, “Do you... Need something?”
“Not particularly.”
“So why are you back?”
“There was this really yummy crab soup I had yesterday, so I wanted to bring you some too.” He holds up a box tied closed with twine, there is a faint smell of cooked vegetables.
“Oh.”
A head tilts, she tries to not compare him to a hound, “Are you busy?”
He gives the impression that if Khaliun told him that she was busy, he would leave without issue and would not continue to pester her today. Which is why she answers honestly, “No, not at the moment.”
Grinning widely, his tail eagerly sways behind him, “Want to eat together?” Thrown out of sorts by the whole interaction she agrees.
It is a pleasant meal. The food is good and the company is nice, Khaliun is just... confused. Throughout their lunch she didn’t note anything from Salvatore that makes her think he assumed this was a date. Nothing suggestive in his words or actions, kept to his side of the table, and conversation kept light. And when they had finished eating Salvatore excused himself, happily wished her a nice day, and left.
A few days later he’s back, with a different meal. A day after that he asks if she has book on local plants he can read and proceeds to read it while sitting on her fence. He’s gone for four days before he comes back leading an injured man who needs healing. A day after her new patient leaves he’s back again. This man shows up multiple times a week for all manner of reasons and sometimes there is no reason at all! Just comes over to exist in her space for a few hours.
What is the reason? Why does Salvatore keep showing up? He does not ask for anything in exchange for bringing a meal to share or giving her seeds he came across at a market that “sounded interesting” or offering help with random chores. Sometimes they just talk about all manner of things. Sometimes he will ask after her work if she is in the middle of crafting, listening intently as she describes what each ingredient does and how different preparation will change their effects. But he is not looking for a teacher, merely an idle interest. He stays for a handful of hours and leaves once it is time to retire for the evening, says “goodbye” and “have a nice evening” and “see you later”.
What does he want? There is a short list of things people come to her for. He made use of her healing, which he paid back for. He does not want her other potions or poisons. He is not trying to steal from her. He is not trying to convince her to come back to town with her because he’s “fallen in love with her” and “they were meant to be”. He does not even try—
Ah, of course, why did she not think of that previously? Just because he is considerate and respectful does not mean he is not still a man. Sweet and shy are rare to come by, but she has seen it before; too bashful to be the one to instigate on their desires. He is kind and good-looking, it is not a hardship for her to help him along. And once he finally gets what he came for he can stop showing up at random and leave her to her solitude once more.
Setting down her pruning shears, she turns away from her potted gerbera and quickly finds Salvatore lying in a pile of cushions in the corner he has made into a sort of nest and seemingly napping. Khaliun walks around the table, letting her outer robe fall off her shoulders to drape in the crook of her elbows. One long nail hooks under the tie at the neckline of her undershirt, pulling it undone to show her collarbone and lower. Khaliun gets closer with the quiet click of her claws against the floor, the end of Salvatore’s tail twitches at the sound betraying that he is still awake. Standing next to him now she leans down, one knee on the cushions and pressing against his hip, Salvatore finally opens his eyes to watch her. Having more of his attention she tilts her head just so, letting her hair slide over her bare shoulder to fall over and drape down like a curtain. Her other leg slides along the inside of his, teasing but not yet straddling his waist.
Placing a hand down on the cushions by his head, she leans over him, “Is there something else you are looking for?” She asks in a low murmur. Watching his eyes rove down her body, she waits until he drags them back up to give a sly grin, “Is that why I continue to find you at my door? Long after you have reason to be here?” Khaliun traces a finger along the edges of the scales along his cheek. A low appreciative hum rolls up his throat, but his hands stay where they are laced behind his head.
Her hand continues a path along his jaw, down his throat to his chest, “What is stopping you from simply asking?”
She catches his lips twitch in an aborted smirk, not able to hide that moment of looking pleased before he slips back to a faux disinterested mask, “Well...” Salvatore drawls out. She leans down until her chest brushes against his, getting close enough for him to feel the barest hint of her breath against his lips. His head tilts up just the slightest, predictable.
“I would have asked some time ago.” His voice is a rumble that she can feel. Looking at him from under her eyelashes she leans just a hairsbreadth closer, her free hand reaches down to trace a nail along his exposed hip. She feels the barest shiver, sliding the tips of her fingers under the waistband of his pants— “If I thought you actually had any interest in sleeping with me.”
—she stares at him grinning brightly back up at her. Looking all too pleased with himself and completely unbothered. Her eyes narrow, “What.”
“Not that you didn’t do a good job.” he shrugs, “But I can recognize an act.”
Khaliun leans upright, “Excuse me?”
Just for a moment Salvatore’s grin drops, looking uncharacteristically serious, then it comes back slow and sly. Leaning up suddenly he is in her space again, curled over her while carefully not touching her, but so close it’s impossible not to notice every point he nearly brushes her skin, “You can’t fool another actor Khali.” Voice pitched low. A sultry tone that has no doubt had other potential lovers melt.
A pause, a moment of disbelief. Khaliun turns her head just enough to make eye contact, watching as Salvatore’s flirty grin slides into something more humorous. Of someone sharing a joke.
Her lips purse in response and she stands up, “Then what do you want?!” Snapping in frustration, “I can’t figure you out!” She whirls around, tail lashing. Salvatore sitting on the cushions looking politely attentive just infuriates her more, “Everyone wants something—my medicines, my knowledge, my poisons, my body, my life—and I can usually figure it out. But you don’t want anything and yet you keep coming back here!”
Salvatore stands up, he takes a step closer but stays out of her space, “Who is trying to kill you?”
Confused exasperation interrupts her anger, “What?”
“You just said people want your life.” He elaborates, “Who the hells wants you dead? I’ll kill them. I mean you can obviously take care of yourself, you have for a long time, but if you want any help I can do cleanup and bury the body.”
That is what’s so confusing about him! She can’t properly predict him. He is not acting like the countless others so she does not know how to act around him in turn to give what he wants so he will just move on. He does not want anything! He just keeps existing here in her space; chattering through the afternoon, offering help around the house, out hunting and helping cook, asking about her trade, sharing stories of his own or silent company as she works. Salvatore left after he was declared healed and healthy, but he came back after a few days and has been coming back for weeks. And she ca not even say he is obtrusive. He does not try and move her things to claim space for himself, he just finds what space there is and settles in. He stays out of her way when she works, respects her warnings about the plants inside and out in the gardens, and always scarce when she has a patient, and leaves at the end of the day.
What is this kindness with no apparent motive? Plenty have played nice wanting something from her and it was always obvious. So not being able to tell now is driving her insane as nothing has worked, “Why do you care?!”
“Why wouldn’t I care?” Asked with genuine confusion.
“Why care at all? You do not know me!”
“I know enough.”
A bitter laugh, “You just told me that you knew I was faking! You know nothing about me, not really.”
“I know that you’re genuine and kind.”
“What?” Genuine? Did he just say genuine?
“I know that you help people regardless of who they are.” He says, “Anyone coming to you, who genuinely needs it, you help to the greatest of your ability. You’re sympathetic to your patients, but don’t stand by and let them take out their pain on you because you’re the only target.” he looks away, staring at the wall, “I know you are kind. You found a strange man washed up on the beach and you personally healed him and helped him through recovery.”
“You gained consciousness and the only coherent thing you said was you begging me not to “let them find you”. What was I supposed to do?” She argues.
Salvatore turns back to her, “You had no reason to honor my request. I was a complete stranger, you had no obligations to me. You could have just dumped me at a village or called the guard in Kugane anyways and wiped your hands of me. It’s what most would do, if they did anything at all. Instead you took me into your home and helped me.”
“That speaks more to my poor choices in my personal safety by bringing a strange man into my home, than it does to any “kindness”.”
“Khali you have so many toxic plants and vials of poisonous substances within reach no matter where you’re standing. You would not have brought me home if you didn’t have the means to handle it if I became a threat.” It is not said with destain or reproach, just a simple fact—that she’s dangerous in addition to being a liar—“You wouldn’t still be out here alone without having proper means to ensure your safety.”
Salvatore isn’t wrong. But still, “You don’t know someone well enough after only a few weeks.”
“Of course not.” He agrees, “But from what I have seen I want to know more.”
Know more? He has no true interest in alchemy or botany. What does he want to know? More about the blood magic? No, he does not have skill in magical arts.
He keeps talking, “The whole point of meeting someone new is learning new things about them.”
Wait, “You want to know more about me? ”
“Yea.”
“What? Why?”
“… Why?”
“Yes why?! I am nothing but a liar. Why would you trust me at all? Or keep coming back?”
“I don’t fully trust you.” Said bluntly, “Why would I? Like you said, I haven’t known you long. But you do have my respect, and the benefit of the doubt. You could have screwed me over plenty of times while I was hurt and weak, but you didn’t. What you did I could never truly repay.”
“If this is because you want to pay me back-”
“Not anymore.” Shaking his head, “The first week or so, it was. I didn’t have anything to give you in return for your kindness except for favors so I paid you back in work. I left to try and find my people…” He takes a moment to breathe, “I came back because I couldn’t, I didn’t have anyone else... But I keep coming back now because I want to, not because I didn’t have another choice.”
“It’s a waste of time! Anything you learn, it is all fake!”
Something shifts in his expression, “No one can keep up the act all the time. It’s impossible.”
“How would you know?” It’s a childish retort she will admit.
“I said it before; we’re both actors.” He shrugs, “plenty of times I’ve put on the “right” personality to make people do and act how I want them to and make them believe it was all their idea. Make an enemy think I’m their best friend for the night and pull secrets from them one drink at a time. Or make a deal that robs you blind, but you don’t realize until I’m long gone. Or make you think I’m as harmless as a puppy, so you don’t see the knife coming.”
He just admitted to being a liar like her, a fake, so why is she not afraid of him? He is objectively a threat but there is no aggression in his stance or his words. Thinking back to their previous interactions she’s never gotten a hint at being played with, of the two of them she was the one guilty of that. And in hindsight, he probably knew most of the time whenever she did. Has he truly not tried any of that on her? No, she would know, because she would recognize it.
“Faking it is exhausting.” A simple statement of someone who understands, “Takes too much out of you to keep it up for too long. Plus, run the risk of getting stuck in the act after a while.” He chuckles, “My sister has smacked me more than once to “knock me out o’ it”.” He smiles at the thought, the memory, then his smile falls abruptly.
He has spoken of his sister before, the happy memories tinged with sorrow. He clears his throat, “Maybe it’s egotistical of me, but I’ve seen—at least I hope—that you’re able to relax a bit around me sometimes and just be you. And maybe we provide some company for each other, so we aren’t alone all the time.”
He does not understand, “I cannot do that. I cannot afford to!”
“Why not?”
“Acting how people expect makes them easier to predict, easier to keep them to the script. They get what they came for and leave, that is how I survive! Giving people what they want keeps me safe! They want the kind herbalist in the woods, the conniving witch that will steal your blood, the exotic lover for the night. No one wants—” she nearly bites her tongue.
She doesn’t say it, but Salvatore hears. He’s visibly looking for something to say but Khaliun refuses to hear his pity, “Tell me what you want.” She says in a strained whisper, unable to hold his gaze. All the masks and personalities she’s perfected over the years and a man she’s known for just over a month has her anxious to the point of shaking. A feeling she hasn’t experienced since those days right after she left her tribe, “I can’t figure it out. Just tell me.” Her voice breaks when she asks, “ Please .”
“I want to be a friend.” No hesitation.
“I don’t know how to.” She admits, “I have never… how do I do that?”
“There isn’t really a set guide to follow. You just… enjoy each other’s company, help each other, want the other to be happy.” Salvatore shrugs, “No real rules.”
He says it like it’s so simple. Like her relationship with him isn’t the longest she’s ever had. That she’s spoken to him more in these weeks than merchants she has known for years, possibly more than her own damned mother. There must be catch, something she’s missing, something else she doesn’t understand. It can’t be that simple. If it was so easy, then why hasn’t she ever had…
“Leave.” She whispers.
“What?”
“I need you to leave.” Her voice louder, steadier. Grasping at what scraps of control she can scavenge to hold eye contact.
Salvatore looks like he may argue, silently watching her. She feels aether draw up in response. She does not want to but if he refuses to leave her home—her space, her sanctuary—she will make him .
He breaks the silent standoff, “Alright. I’ll leave.” said calm and careful.
Khaliun nods, staying where she is before realizing she is kind of blocking his way to the door. She thinks to move, but Salvatore moves first; walking around the table, past her worktable and taking the long way to the front door.
He stops when he reaches the door and pulls it open, “Have a good night Khali.” Like he says every time he goes, and quietly leaves.
“Goodnight.” She whispers in an empty room.