Chapter Text
It starts with smoke.
A lot of smoke.
Anaxa coughs, squinting through the bright blue smoke that now covers his immediate field of vision. He rushes to his few closed windows, opening them to hopefully let the rest of the smoke out... relatively safely. He sticks his head out of the last one he opens, coughing and hacking out any of the dust he may have inhaled while desperately breathing in clean air.
His eye stings, bubbling up with tears, and he blinks rapidly to clear his vision. He sighs in annoyance, leaning against his windowsill and massaging his temples.
“How amateur,” he remarks to himself, watching life go on below him through the little visibility the azure smoke allows. The smog rolls out of his residence like the picturesque ocean waves told of in epics; water spanning as far as the eye can see, only the waves and oneself for company.
Unfortunately, however, it is not the same sort of harmless water in those epics; on the contrary, it is rather toxic.
…He should probably vacate his home before he develops any pressing medical issues.
Regrettably, very little of his house has been spared from the dust – with an open floor plan and only one story, the smoke has reached most of his belongings, including his food, his most of his clothing… he curses himself for his lack of foresight regarding the sheer explosivity of the rune he was handling. only managing to put a safety film over the more valuable things in his home lab.
In any other circumstance, he would just hide out in his private lab in the Grove; closed off, quiet, and next to most of his research. Unfortunately, he had recently cleared out most of his possessions there for a much-needed cleaning and reorganizing, where he had moved his cot back to his home, which is now likely soaked in the toxic smoke. As well as his current attire.
He facepalms. Oh, dear, this is…
…really embarrassing, to put it lightly. Anaxagoras of the Nousporists, smoked out of his own home and, for all intents and purposes, homeless. Wonderful.
Were he a more foolish man, he might believe that he was being set up for some cosmic joke by the Titans. All of this is falling together far too precisely – so much so that it feels like a cheap, second-rate cliche he’s living through.
He eventually manages to stop stewing in his shame for long enough to search through his clothing to find a decent, non-smoke-covered outfit to wear out, taking the rest of the untouched clothing into a small travel bag before setting out for Okhema.
As much as he loathes being in the city, it is likely his best bet for seeking temporary residence. While he does have his wallet with him, he certainly didn’t bring enough to rent a hotel room indefinitely, and most of his acquaintances are in Okhema during normal daylight hours anyway – if he runs into one, he can just ask to stay with them.
All things considered, it is a rather nice day – not that Okhema ever really isn’t, with its eternal days and never-ending clear skies, but the breeze is rather nice today. It carries with it the scent of sea salt and something inexplicably sweet, the scent reminding him of the fact that he hasn’t eaten at all, today.
He wanders aimlessly around Okhema for a while, stopping by the Dromases for a little while to pet and feed them, but that is only a momentary occupation. Eventually, his wandering carries him to the Marmoreal Market, where he searches for something substantial to tide him over for the day.
If he hadn’t been forced out of his own home with no way to continue his research, he may have been more inclined to enjoy the day off. With the nice weather and so few distractions, it would be an ideal day to catch up on some of the literature he had recently picked up– but he minds it a lot more now that his home is rendered uninhabitable for what is likely to be a few weeks.
If only,, he wonders, but I suppose it’s useless to dwell on now.
Anaxa turns the corner, turning to the market proper to continue his search. There aren’t that many places to pick up readily-made food in the Okheman market, only groceries, and Anaxa is rather picky – so much so, that after searching for over fifteen minutes, he isn’t able to find anything he’d like; and there’s not a chance in hell that he’d be willing to sit down somewhere just for lunch on his own.
For what feels like the eighteenth time today, he sighs and accepts his fate of wandering the streets of Okhema until he either runs into an acquaintance or grows bored enough to seek the other Chrysos Heirs out. He has a sneaking suspicion that the latter will prove to be true.
He takes a moment to savor the pleasant breeze, the faint scent of the sea calming his mind. He can feel the stares on his back; it’d be hard not to, but he hasn’t cared before, and certainly won't start now. He prefers being left alone, anyway, and few would even approach him unless they wanted something or were pompous enough to believe that they could humble him.
“Professor!” he hears from behind him, rapidly approaching footsteps accompanying the too-familiar voice.
Nevermind, then.
“Phainon?” he asks, watching the Deliverer jog over to him out of the corner of his eye, looking far too happy for Anaxa’s current tastes. “What brings you here?”
Phainon gives him a look that screams this is literally a public space, but quickly drops it as his grin returns. “It’s good to see you,” he says in lieu of an answer, stopping at Anaxa’s right – his non-blind side – like Anaxa has reminded him to.
The gesture, though likely out of habit by now, gives Anaxa a little kick in the chest. He doesn’t particularly like it when he’s talking to someone in his blind spot – it’s easily remedied, though a little difficult with multiple people around him – but he supposes that the sentiment is… nice.
(Nice, he says, like it doesn’t make his dead heart rattle in the cage of his body. Nice, he says, like the Coreflame resting in his chest doesn’t ache at the fact it’s Phainon who might’ve done this enough that it’s now subconscious.)
“What are you doing out here?” Phainon questions, cocking his head like he commonly does when stumped. It seems that, too, hasn’t changed from when Phainon was a student of his. “I thought you’d be at your lab, since classes aren't in session this month.”
Oh, dear, where do I begin, Anaxa gripes to himself.
“I essentially made my house a temporary biohazard,” he states simply. Phainon balks.
“You what,” Phainon deadpans. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that correctly. You what.”
Anaxa’s gaze narrows defensively. “I needn’t repeat myself,” he says, turning to his side. “Walk with me. It isn’t a long story.”
Phainon stands there for a few more seconds, looking at Anaxa like he’d just grown a second head, before following in step with the alchemist.
An awkward silence befalls the two of them as they walk through the streets, Phainon seemingly not knowing what to say and Anaxa waiting for his signal.
“So…” Phainon started.
Anaxa sighs. “You still need to work on this,” he admonishes. “Long story short, though: I misread a rune that used a few toxic components, and it ended up exploding and covering my home.”
Phainon is still looking at him strangely. “So… what’s your current plan? I can’t imagine you’ll be able to stay there for a while.” he asks, concern leaking into his voice, expression turning far more sympathetic.
“You’re right, I can’t stay there. Thank you for the wonderfully insightful information. I wouldn’t have known this otherwise,” he snarks, “but yes. I need somewhere to stay.”
”Smartass,” he hears Phainon mutter under his breath – which, yeah, that was probably deserved – before seemingly realizing something. “Don’t you have your lab in the Grove? I know that you’ve stayed there for weeks on end before, so I’d assume you’d have a bed there, right?”
“Yes, preferably, since hotels are no longer a thing, here.” Not to mention, that even if Okhema hadn’t remodeled all of its hotels into apartment complexes, it would cost him an arm and a leg to live in one for any extended period of time. ”But my lab is currently uninhabitable for other reasons.”
Phainon’s eyebrows raise. “Damn, that sucks. Sorry that happened.” he winces, Anaxa snorting inelegantly at his tactlessness. “I…” he hesitates, sounding like he’s getting his teeth pulled as he speaks, “You.. you could stay with me. As long as you’re, ah, fine sleeping on the couch.”
Anaxa is nonplussed at Phainon’s nervous rambling. “No need to offer your help out of a sense of obligation. You make it sound like I’m going to skin you as soon as you let me into your residence.”
“No, no, that’s– that’s not it at all!” Phainon rushes to say, speaking far too loudly if the few stares they attract are telling him anything. “I, uhm,” he starts, volume considerably lower, “that’s not it, sorry. I really do mean it, though. I wouldn’t mind you staying over for a while.”
Anaxa contemplates whether asking Phainon are you sure would be rude or not, but ultimately plays it safe and decides not to. “That’s good, then. I trust I would not be imposing?”
Phainon nods. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” he laughs. His gaze shifts to the bag at Anaxa’s hip, the silent question of is that all you have? not going unnoticed.
“Regrettably, all that’s in here is clothing, so yes,” Anaxa sighs, “I have money, though, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can purchase anything I might need.”
“Thankfully, I suppose. I’m not exactly the most affluent, here…” Phainon chuckles, smiling ruefully. “Saving Okhema on a regular basis isn’t the highest paying job.”
Anaxa frowns. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to freeload off of you,” he scoffs. Phainon gives him a guilty look, and Anaxa’s jaw slackens at his incredulity. “Seriously?”
At least Phainon has the dignity to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry, Professor!”
Anaxa is probably running out of breath to sigh with, by now. “No need to apologize. I would not take advantage of your hospitality like that.” More like never take advantage of, period, but it isn’t like Phainon needs to know that.
Phainon doesn’t respond. The two fall into a not-quite comfortable silence, still wandering Okhema aimlessly. As if on cue, Anaxa’s stomach decided to remind him that he hadn’t eaten anything in over eight hours. Anaxa flushes bright red as Phainon giggles like a child, resolutely ignoring the floaty feeling that the sound brings him.
“...Excuse me,” Anaxa says after a pause.
“Should we go find somewhere to eat?” comes Phainon’s innocuous response. His tone's intention falls flat, though, as he giggles again after finishing his sentence.
“No, I.. had already been looking around. Nothing caught my interest,” Anaxa muttered. “If you’re amiable, I could perhaps cook something at your home? For both of us, of course.”
Phainon hummed in response. “Sure,” he said amiably, stopping at Anaxa’s side and turning to face him.
“I am assuming you do have actual ingredients to cook with,” Anaxa deadpans. “Please tell me you are not some heathen that only orders out and wastes all of their money.”
Phainon snorts. “No, no, absolutely not,” he answers, “I do hope you don’t think that little of me,” he jokes, tone dry.
“Of course not,” Anaxa snips, staring straight into Phainon’s eyes., “I just have to make sure I’m not going to be living with a moron.”
...
A few seconds of silence. Neither of them move.
“Well..?” Anaxa prompts. “I don’t exactly know the way to your home.”
Phainon chokes, looking utterly mortified. ‘Sorry, sorry, I just..!“ He pauses, seemingly looking for the right words. “...I don’t know.”
Anaxa barks a laugh. Phainon flushes.
“Hey! I– I just.” Stuttered syllables. “Shut up!”
Anaxa laughs harder.
“Alright, Phainon,” he says between chuckles. “Lead the way.”