Chapter Text
He was eleven years old and in the library, rifling through the seemingly endless selection at his disposal.
An old sergeant had been discharged recently – he didn’t really know the story, nor did he overtly care to. All he knew was that the older man wasn’t around anymore. The simplest way to put the situation was that he had been called into Belos’s throne room a day ago, and came out with a promotion.
To be truthful, he was excited – exceedingly so. For the additional responsibilities, yes, for the newfound trust, absolutely, but selfishly, oh so selfishly, he was most excited for his recently updated access to the library. It was mundane, laugh-worthy, and downright disrespectful. He couldn’t help it though, no matter how much he tried to. Simply staring at the amount of books lining the walls made that traitorous spark in his chest start to ignite.
Bookshelves covered every surface in the room, filled to the brim with covers of all sorts of different colors and sizes. Much of the castle was dull – which was good, he knew, as it demanded respect and imposed order onto any passerby walking the halls. But this room was bright, striking, and almost terrifyingly vibrant. He didn’t know what to do with any of it.
Well, he knew where to start. Every book was alphabetically arranged by the author’s name, after all.
He worked through any book available to him, one by one, throughout the entire few weeks – staying up by candlelight in his room, keeping the ruffling of pages quiet and unobtrusive. He still didn’t have access to everything; there were some books that only the highest coven – ranking officials could access, some books that were banned for such outlandish blasphemy that the world had to be protected from them. His uncle was certainly a kind man.
One book from his independent study sessions had remained in his memory the most, though. It spoke of a reality so outside his own that it made him nervous: the human world. There were green trees there (why did their leaves fall off in the cold?) and food so vastly tamer (how does it get prepared like that?) and rain that didn’t boil (did it feel any different from their own?).
He didn’t know the answers to any of those questions.
But Titan, did he want to.
So he read. He read until the moon held itself high up in the night, and he read past that too. He read until the sky outside started to lighten ever-so-slightly, a tease of the morning rays of sunlight that were soon to come. He read until he couldn’t any longer, until he had to stand up and dress himself in his new sergeant uniform and feel the tingling of pride spread over his skin underneath where the fabric touched it.
And when the work was done and the light had once again fallen away outside his window, he pulled out his books and continued reading.
***
The rain didn’t boil.
That was the first thought that crossed Hunter’s mind as he sat against the muddy ground beneath him. The muddy ground of the human realm. The human realm.
The rain didn’t boil.
He felt it tapping rhythmically against his clothes, his skin, his hair. He reached his hand out, although it felt stiff and hollow – like it wasn’t really his (which it wasn’t) – and positioned his hand so that a torn part of his glove around his thumb was braced against the sky above. He felt a drop of the non-boiling rain hit the slight bit of skin exposed.
Ah.
It did feel different.
He had never felt as much of an effect from boiling rain as other witches did, (he knew why that was now, he knew the skin he’d stolen, he knew-) but it had still felt hot whenever he touched it. It was unpleasant, definitely, and not something he liked to stay in for long – especially without his protective uniform.
But this was… well, the unfamiliar droplets weren't necessarily pleasant either, if he were to be honest. They were still cold. Still sliding awkwardly down his face – not as thick as blood, but almost as frustratingly sluggish. Still seeping into his clothes. Still tapping irritatingly against the top of his head.
Although, he would still call it better. Of course he would call it better; boiling rain wasn’t exactly the highest bar to compete against.
But truly, it just felt different.
He realized belatedly that his eyes had stopped focusing a minute ago. Huh, that was odd. Maybe he’d been concentrating too much on what he physically felt that he had suddenly started neglecting the simple act of seeing. Perhaps it was a Grimwalker thing – a byproduct of not being something real enough to multitask the simple functions of a witch’s anatomy – but it was mostly just frustrating.
He purposefully shoved all his energy into clearing his vision, which, luckily, was a moderate success; the fog slid away from the center of his eyesight and instead settled only in his peripherals. Still not ideal, but a success nonetheless. Titan, isn’t that funny? He couldn’t even use his own damn eyes properly anymore. How the mighty have fallen. It was downright hysterical. He should laugh.
He didn’t, though. He was too numb for it.
With his reinstituted and mostly-functioning vision, he found there was a lot more to see than just the rain. By a lot more, he meant a closed door leading to a dilapidated building (only a dilapidated building, not the Titan's skull, not the-) and four injured teenagers beside him braced against the muddy ground of the forest floor. The muddy ground of the human realm. The human realm-
And that was when he made his second unfortunate discovery. That being that, apparently, more than just his eyesight had decided to suddenly stop working: his ears weren’t processing correctly either. He was ashamed to admit he only really noticed that fact when his now-working eyes had landed on the small, shaking frame of Gus. The boy was wracked with tremors and his face was distorted in what Hunter quickly realized was sobs. It took him a humiliatingly long time to realize that he couldn’t hear the other boy, though, over the now recognizable ringing in his ears. Now that he focused on it, he couldn’t ignore it – his head was practically buzzing with the noise.
Wow, wasn’t that pathetic? And pretty concerning, actually. He had always made sure to take very careful stock of his whole body at all times – it was dangerous not to. To have such a lapse in his consideration was… unnerving, to say the least.
Gus shook harder. Ah, right, he was crying.
The ringing was starting to subside now; it remained just enough to where he could still hear it lingering in his mind, but Gus’s sobs were starting to process through. The noises the other boy was making were shockingly loud, actually – terrifyingly obvious. It made Hunter uneasy.
A particularly miserable-sounding cry broke its way out of Gus’s mouth. Hunter should really try to deal with that.
It took him a frustrating – and, truthfully, unsettling – amount of time to get his body to respond to him, but soon he managed to position himself next to the other boy. Gus barely seemed to notice as Hunter hesitantly, oh so carefully, lifted up his arm and tucked it around Gus’s shoulders. The hold was tight, firm, pressing but not painful. They seemed alone out here, but Hunter didn’t really want to take any chances, so he surreptitiously tried to muffle Gus’s cries against his own torn shirt. Gus was young, after all, and appeared mostly untouched in terms of discipline. He didn’t know any better yet. That was fine.
For some reason, Gus cried harder, clinging onto Hunter’s shirt with rain-slicked hands. Hunter held him tighter, muffling the sound more.
His attention was brought back to the door as Hunter noticed for the first time that Luz was standing – and slamming her fist harshly against the hard wood. When she slowly turned back to them, Hunter realized with a faint pull in his stomach that she was crying too; though, thankfully it was much quieter than Gus’s undeniable sobs. That was good. That was fine.
She muttered something quietly to the rest of the group, the tears from her eyes merging with the rivulets of rain dripping down her cheeks. Hunter couldn’t quite make out what she said – the ringing was still loud enough to cancel it out – but suddenly both Willow and Amity were starting to slowly rise. Ah, so they were planning on moving somewhere. That would be good, too. The rain didn’t boil here, but it surely wouldn’t help the physical conditions of any of them. Hunter would have to deal with all of that soon as well.
That was fine. He had handled worse.
Hunter himself slowly rose, making sure his legs were working properly as he did – he could not afford to risk falling when he was still supporting Gus with one arm. Luckily, they appeared to be working just as they were supposed to, and Hunter guided Gus upright with him. The boy’s cries were starting to quiet as well, Hunter noticed, as they were replaced with a vague vacancy shadowing his expression. Hunter ignored the tug at his chest that came from seeing it. That was good, still. It was. If they were moving somewhere, less noise would certainly be beneficial.
That was… good.
Hunter was ashamed to admit that the walk there was a complete blur. He still hadn’t quite caught where their destination truly was, and he didn’t think he was going to; everyone seemed to be keeping completely silent aside from their soft footfalls against the muddy ground of the human re– which was smart, in Hunter’s opinion. The last thing they were looking for was gaining some unwanted attention.
He only really came back to himself when he realized the group was suddenly standing in front of a door. It was a different one than the door they had come out of, though – this one looked much cleaner, much more polished. This one was also open.
A woman stood on the other side, and it took Hunter’s addled brain an embarrassing amount of time to make the connection that she looked shockingly like Luz and oh, of course, this was her mother. She was a human, after all. This was her realm, of course, of course, the rain belonged to her and so did this door and oh, of course, she would visit her mother, why would Hunter expect anything else?
Luz was kind, after all, too kind for her own good, really, but obviously she would still go back to living with her mother, of course. This was her realm. That made complete sense. That was fine.
Hunter had lived in the woods for a week before, during a mission gone wrong when he was twelve; he could easily do it again without much cause for concern. Well, perhaps not easily, he conceded – this time he would have the company of three teenagers that very likely would not have had a similar level of experience with this, as well as the fact that they were all starting out injured and in a completely unfamiliar world that could have any sorts of creatures living around that Hunter wasn’t able to even begin imagining and alright, yes, not easily. Still doable, though. Probably still doable. He could figure it out.
Which meant they definitely should be leaving right about now to start that, even though the rain was falling harder by now – and it didn’t boil, it didn’t boil, and it felt so different, and it was leaking into the muddy ground, the muddy ground from – which definitely didn’t make things any easier. Still, perhaps it would give them some obscurity as the group worked to find some shelter. Clean water was good for cleaning out wounds, too. Perhaps non-boiling rain water could help with that as well? Hunter was certain he could turn this around to be a good thing but really, really, they should be leaving right now because Luz and her mother had their arms wrapped around each other and that was certainly a thing that the two definitely would not want them around for but his legs had suddenly decided to stop working again and–
Huh. Willow had started to shift beside him. So had Amity. They were moving now, that was good, but suddenly it wasn’t because they were walking right into the house. His brain short-circuited.
What?
But for some reason, even more confusingly, Luz’s mother had her arms stretched out in invitation and a small smile on her face – and alarmingly, Gus had extracted himself from Hunter’s hold sometime when he wasn’t paying attention (why hadn’t he been paying attention?) and was lightly tugging the sleeve of his arm as he tried to pull Hunter inside with him.
Hesitantly, Hunter shook himself out of his stupor as he realized what had happened. Ah, Luz really was too kind for her own good. She must’ve bargained some sort of deal with her mother to let them stay here. He’d have to figure out the terms for that arrangement shortly – he should’ve been paying more attention (why hadn’t he been paying attention? Why hadn’t he-) while the two spoke. It was fine, he was sure he could figure it out. With a more analytical glance towards Luz’s mother, he took a firmer stock of her expression and ah, her smile was much tighter on her face than he had thought it would be and her eyes looked much more resigned than they had a minute ago. He would have to figure out those terms sooner rather than later, then. He hoped Luz knew what she was doing.
He followed Gus inside.
The house was much warmer and much dryer than the outside, thankfully. It was comfortably sized, with dim but pleasant lighting and the smell of freshly-made food hovering in the air. It looked well-used but not cluttered, with trinkets and photos scattered throughout the house. All things considered, Hunter found it shockingly – almost pleasantly–mundane. He still ensured he didn’t let his guard down, though; he couldn’t afford to. Not yet, at least. Most likely never.
But Gus had stopped crying, and that was good. And the home wasn’t dangerous in itself – although he still wouldn’t let himself believe that its occupants (specifically one occupant) wouldn’t be – and that was good. And Luz had sat down on a small but soft-looking couch in the middle of the room, and oh, Amity was sitting in a chair next to her and oh, that could’ve been a problem but all Luz’s mother did was smile a little more at her so that was good, too. And then Luz’s mom was saying something that Hunter still wasn’t quite processing yet and a basilisk was walking through the door on the right and oh–
Oh.
That was. Hm. He would…figure out how to receive that. Later.
He couldn’t right now, he really couldn’t, because Gus was still pulling at his arm and Hunter belatedly realized by the stabbing pain that dashed all throughout his nervous system up to a spot by his neck that it was the one his sigil – golden veins of fire coursing throughout his body, searing heat and freezing cold merging together to form one thought, one final realization that he had truly been sentenced to death even before his own creation – was on. That was less than ideal. Hunter would have to figure out how to treat the injury soon. He hadn’t realized that whatever effects the draining spell had served would last longer than the spell itself did. He supposed it made sense, of course it made sense; any casting of that scale would clearly have lasting consequences. It had been created to kill, after all.
And then he was sitting on the couch as well, next to Gus. It was a little cramped, and the feeling of another body pressing his clothes all the more firmly into his wrist agitated his sigil even further, but it was both comfortable and dry so really. Good. That was good. He vaguely noticed Willow sitting down in a chair across from Amity, next to the part of the couch Hunter was sitting on.
“So,” Luz’s mother said, and Hunter realized it was the first real word that had made it through the fog in his brain and the buzzing in his ears. That was progress, and certainly welcome; he had been starting to get a little wary that parts of his body had simply stopped functioning permanently. He wasn’t sure how reliable Grimwalker anatomy was; he’d tracked down any book about the subject that he could secure since his time in his Uncle’s – in the Emperor’s – since he’d found out, but a lot of it was outdated material or simply fearmongering rumors. At least, he hoped they were only rumors. Either way, it meant he still was working with an alarming deficit of information on the topic.
Oh, right, Luz’s mom was talking. (pay attention for Titan’s sake, pay attention-)
He expected a demand for a report, but instead she simply said: “Who’s hurt the most?”
Her voice was strangely soft, and Hunter still couldn’t quite figure it out. What confused him even more was her question – he certainly wouldn’t deem their injuries to be any level of severity to justify coming before a simple report. But perhaps he just didn’t understand. Some things he ultimately wasn’t meant to know.
The other teenagers were completely quiet, and Hunter noticed that most of their eyes were hazy and unfocused. They were clearly in a state of shock. That made sense. They’d been ripped away from their home, after all.
Still, someone had to answer her. Hunter needed to answer her – he was the oldest, the most experienced, he needed to answer her, obviously, but for some reason he couldn’t get his mouth to work right and hm, maybe his Grimwalker biology really was failing him and then it was too late because Luz’s mother was talking again, and ah, he was screwing this all up, wasn’t he?
“Alright, I’ll just work down the line.” Luz’s mother said slowly, her eyes full of a weird emotion that Hunter couldn’t quite place. Sadness, maybe. Probably disappointment. Yes, he had screwed this up. He should probably pull himself together enough to apologize. He definitely should, really, but he was relatively certain that if he opened his mouth now that he would start laughing, which would be both wildly inappropriate and exceedingly disrespectful – but really, this whole situation was so undeniably absurd and what made it more hilarious was the fact that his body wasn’t responding to him-
So he kept his mouth tightly shut. He told himself he was choosing to do that – but, really, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to open it if he tried.
Luz’s mother grabbed a small case from the basilisk–he should learn her name, that was the least he could do, truly – that he belatedly realized she had been carrying since she first stepped into the room. It was presumably some human version of a medical kit. Hunter felt their debt to this woman grow ever-so-frighteningly deeper.
She didn’t make any immediate demands, however; instead, she simply walked over to Amity and started speaking to her in a hushed tone. He saw Amity extend her arm out to showcase a section of her forearm that had a small cut on it and, shockingly – even though the injury was so minor it surprised him that Amity had even bothered to bring attention to it – started to clean it up. The small smile on her face stayed there permanently the entire time she worked. It unsettled him how he was thoroughly unable to figure out what intention was behind it.
The way she worked was strange, too. Her hands moved slowly, almost gently, over Amity’s exposed wound as she dressed it. Luz’s mother would speak in murmured tones the entire time; each gesture she made was puzzlingly clear and careful. It was unlike anything he’d ever witnessed in his time with the coven.
He’d seen healers do their work sometimes with the scouts under his command – as he’d never personally been authorized to see someone for his injuries; the Emperor had told him it was more valuable for him to learn such abilities on his own – and they had always been quick, efficient, quiet. They did not react to any disobedience or disrespect from the scouts; if their patient hissed in pain or yanked their injured limbs away, the healers consistently made no response. Hunter had respected them for that. They had always remained both professional and effective in their work.
Luz’s mother didn’t work like that though – and really, it should be obvious why. She wasn’t a professional healing coven witch, after all. Hunter didn’t know what profession she worked in; he didn’t know what human professions were even like. But the issue with that assumption was that it wasn’t quite as obvious as it initially appeared. Her work wasn’t unprofessional, or even ineffective, just simply… careful. It was slow, but with apparent tenderness as opposed to inadequacy. She’d clearly done healing work before, though Hunter still couldn’t tell quite to what extent or field, but it was so disconcertingly different from anything he knew that it made his head spin a little.
The rain had felt different, too.
He was shaken out of his thoughts by a light tap against his thigh. He forced himself not to jump as he turned to face Willow, still sitting on the chair next to him.
Are you okay? She mouthed. Her eyebrows were creased downwards slightly and there was a soft, surprisingly worried frown on her face.
That was odd. He was absolutely fine. Actually, his situation was shockingly good considering he had been about to die just an hour ago. Another check on his physical condition really only showed the blaring problems of his burning wrist and a few insignificant scratches added onto the constant fact of not actually being a real person. The most vital thing on that list being his sigil injury, though even that had obviously lessened from the whole-body experience it had been not long ago.
With his brief mental report finished, he realized that he had never actually acknowledged Willow’s question other than in his head. Perhaps he should add to the list of problems his newfound and disconcerting lack of ability to focus. Had the draining spell given him brain damage or something? That would certainly make his situation a little worse. He began to wonder how he could logically test that theory.
Oh, right. Willow.
He should probably try to test that theory soon, actually.
Fine. He mouthed back, ignoring the way that her frown had cut even deeper into her face with his hesitance. Titan, he hated seeing that expression on her. You?
After all, she was the one who had lost her whole family and almost all of her community. She was the one who had a world to return to. She was the one who had been born with a possibility for a future in mind.
She smiled ruefully, holding up a hand and teetering it side to side in a so-so motion. Well. That wasn’t unreasonable. She opened her mouth as if to continue the silent conversation when Hunter suddenly heard Luz speak, her voice louder than her mother and Amity’s quiet whispers.
“I’m okay, mama,” she said. Luz’s mother had apparently finished with Amity, and was looking at Luz with an indiscernible expression while the girl spoke. “I just have a little cut here,” she pointed to her split eyebrow, “it’s not a big deal. I know where the band-aids are. I can fix myself up after dinner.”
Luz’s mother remained frozen, still holding the kit with one hand. Luz’s smile was wide, and slightly nervous.
Hunter stiffened, bracing himself to react. Feasibly, he could get Luz out of the house quickly enough – especially if he harnessed Flapjack’s abilities to teleport there (although Hunter was inclined to let the bird rest; he’d been in a dormant state ever since crossing through the portal) – but he wasn’t sure if it would be better to simply let her handle her mother’s reaction herself, if it goes badly. Perhaps his intervention would cause things to turn out worse, after all. If Luz felt comfortable enough to deny her mother this then perhaps the customs were moderately different here.
Still, though, the tension in the air was palpable. He kept himself poised and ready, just in case.
Finally, though, any interference on his part wasn’t deemed necessary as Luz’s mother, thankfully, decided to grant mercy this time and allow Luz grace. She nodded slowly – the tension in the air not quite dissipating, but certainly decreasing – as she smiled back and said: “Alright, mija.”
The situation apparently being relatively defused, Hunter allowed his thoughts to drift while Luz’s mother tended to Gus’s wounds – only after a moment of watching her carefully to make sure she was handling Gus with the same oddly careful but competent demeanor she had adopted with Amity. Once he had confirmed that she was, though, Hunter found his brain starting to feel foggy again as he stared down at the floor absently. He really should worry more about that. Right now, all he could muster up was apathy.
He felt a light pressure against his shoulder as someone nudged him – Gus, he realized belatedly – and this time he couldn’t suppress a visible twitch. He looked up.
Luz’s mother stood in front of him, medical kit still in hand. Oh. She had said something, hadn’t she? And he hadn’t been listening. He felt that fact hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face, like spilled blood spraying onto his uniform, like slime dripping from the ceiling from something, from someone-
He hadn’t been listening. Shit, he hadn’t been listening.
That was fine. He obviously couldn’t ask her to repeat herself – that would just be plain insolence. He could pick it up by context clues, if he worked quickly enough. They were clearly waiting for his reply to something, so it had a high probability of being a question. He shot a glance towards Gus; the boy looked properly cleaned up, and so did Amity, and Luz had said she was going to clean herself up later, hadn’t she? Ah, it was simple, then: he was next in line. The specific question in mind was still a mystery (why would you need to ask to heal someone’s wounds?) but he could probably guess close enough that it was related to the medical supplies she was holding.
Well. He must admit, he wasn’t fond of digging his grave – so to speak – even deeper with future repayment, but he obviously couldn’t just say ‘no.’ Luz had somehow gotten away with it, but he assumed it had something to do with familial blood. Hunter surely couldn’t afford the same behavior, though.
But he had plenty of experience with fixing himself after missions before. There’s no way she could know that; there was a high likelihood that she thought he was as unaware of the subject as all of the other teenagers. He should at least offer to do it himself – if only to minutely lessen how much they all owed her.
He had gone too long without speaking.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Hunter said, quietly enough to convey respect but firm enough to imply competence. “I should inform you that I’m capable of handling my own injuries, if you are willing. I have had plenty of experience.”
He bowed his head low, ignoring the prickle of discomfort he felt at having the back of his neck so plainly exposed. Did that come on too strong? Hunter was fairly certain that came on too strong. Titan, he was usually better at this.
Still, though, it wasn’t the worst request he’d ever made – perhaps it would still land well. He felt safer with only his own hands touching any sore spots, anyway; there was less potential for collateral damage that way.
His hopes were dashed, however, when he hesitantly raised his head again and saw Luz’s mother giving him a strange – but clearly not happy, that was for sure – look, a frown slowly replacing that permanent small smile she’d been keeping ever since she had allowed them into their home. He could feel the prickling glances of the others on him as well, though he didn’t dare break eye contact from the person addressing him.
Well, fuck, then.
“Alright, um,” Luz’s mother said slowly. “Thank you, but no thank you. I’ll take care of it, if that’s alright.”
The way she phrased it was a bit odd, but that was a clear refusal. That was fine.
“Understood,” he said. His voice came out quieter than he wanted it to.
“And you can just call me Camila,” she continued, her frown still on her face.
Oh. Hm. That sounded… horribly disrespectful to do to an authority figure who had just offered them shelter, but he nodded nonetheless.
Behind Luz’s mother – Camila? It made Hunter uneasy to even think it – he saw the basilisk staring at him thoughtfully, her eyes narrowed slightly.
Well. He could deal with that, he was sure. It was fine.
“What part most hurts?”
Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten Camila’s strange healing approach. He couldn’t figure out how talking to the patient would help anything run more efficiently, but he certainly wasn’t going to impose.
He decided right then that he wasn’t going to mention the sigil wound. He simply engraved the image of the medical kit into his head and then made a plan to find it sometime after dark, if they were all allowed to stay that long. If he couldn’t find a good time to retrieve it, then he could simply deal with the damage by himself. He was used to being injured on missions where he didn’t have any supplies on him for a while after – he’d handle it until he found something to be a substitute.
So, he picked something easy: a scrape on the side of his head. It was so insignificant it was almost laughable, but Camila still didn’t say a word of protest as she dressed the wound; instead, she whispered softly about each step she was taking, as well as throwing on a few inconsequential and utterly befuddling reassurances.
He wasn’t really sure what method she was employing. Perhaps she was trying to assert her superior capabilities of fixing injuries by treating him like a new healing coven student? It was a little strange, but he supposed that made sense enough – but then Titan, that meant he had truly upset her. Hunter was surprised she didn’t press her hand a little harder while she cleaned his cuts.
When she finished with the scratch on his head, she requested he point to something else. He did. Each wound felt more and more unimportant, but Camilla still did her work without complaint. It made Hunter uneasy. He didn’t think they were in any position to afford something like this.
Finally, any small injury he had was dressed and treated with little folly on his part. He hadn’t shifted an inch while she had attended to him – although it really wasn’t that hard with the injuries he’d brought to her concern – and stayed ultimately quiet unless she asked a question. Well, on the bright side, this left a little less work for him when he needed to dress his remaining wound himself.
When he had nothing more to point at, he bowed his head again. “Thank you ma’a-” he stopped. “Ca-” he stopped again, feeling sick. “Um. Thank you.”
Well, shit, so much for being in the clear.
Shockingly, though, Luz’s mother didn’t respond with anything other than a slightly more tense smile. At this point, the waiting was making him more apprehensive than any action would have – though he assumed that was the point: to psychologically toy with your opponent first, without even having to actually do anything yourself. It was smart, frustratingly so. What was more frustrating was that it was working.
Still, though, at least temporarily she appeared to be done with Hunter as she started to move onto facing Willow, who had remained sitting on the chair next to him. He let out a mental sigh of relief.
Then the world decided it had gone too long without reminding him that it hated him.
“Wait,” Willow said, holding up a hand. “Hunter, what about your sigil? You should probably get that looked at, even if the draining spell is over.”
The basilisk’s expression became sharper.
Fuck. “It’s fine.” Hunter said. His words were too quick, too nervous, and probably overshadowed by the unconscious decision to grip at his injured wrist with his other gloved hand as a type of shield, and definitely overshadowed by the subsequent and glaringly obvious wince that came after that terrible idea.
Gus was glaring at him suspiciously now, and by then he knew it was over. “Roll up your sleeve, Hunter.”
Hunter glanced at Luz’s mother – Camila, she had told him to call her Camila – with a dying hope that she possibly wouldn’t care to look at it. That hope was quickly stomped on as he was met with a slightly apprehensive but undeniably curious stare.
Fuck.
Well, he could just owe his debt forever, then. That had never gone badly for him before.
He rolled up his sleeve–
–and was promptly met with horrified gasps from Gus, Willow, and Luz’s mo – Camila, Camila, he had to get used to that, no matter how filthy it made him feel.
The sigil, he admitted, looked bad. There was no denying that. The skin around the symbol was marred and disfigured, though the emblem itself remained nauseatingly untouched – although it was stained with still-fresh blood and pus (huh, he was shocked he hadn’t noticed any darkening on his sleeve. Perhaps the rainwater had looked too similar? More likely, and more concerningly, he had been in too much of this weird haze to realize). Old scars on his arm surrounding the mark had started to be replaced with the new one, the skin around the wound puckering and warping to make way for it. The design looked much less like a representation of honor and much more like a brand.
He supposed that’s what it had always been.
Finally looking at the injury, though, had the side effect of clearing the fogginess surrounding him completely – which would’ve been relieving, if it didn’t suddenly bring the pain of the wound into full force.
Okay, so the injury was bad. That was fine. At least it was now contained to only his wrist instead of his whole body.
He was shaken out of his stupor by hearing the quiet movement of the basilisk as she turned and promptly left the room.
Well. That was understandable, really.
He wondered idly how much she knew about him. He wondered if he’d seen her, at eight years old and staring into a cage-
“Vee?” Luz’s m – Camila said, staring after her in worry.
Oh. That answered the concern of knowing her name. That was good, at least.
Camila looked torn for a moment, eyes flitting between where the basi – Vee – had gone and where Hunter was still sitting, arm held out. Shockingly, she settled on turning back towards him.
“Oh my Titan, Hunter!” Willow gasped, finally seeming to find her words after a moment of gaping at his exposed wrist.
“It looks worse than it is.” Hunter said. Not necessarily true, but he was definitely feeling increasingly uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes on him by the second. It was times like these he missed the feeling of the Golden Guard mask over his face.
“What? What is it?” Luz said, a bit more life filling her expression as she turned to the commotion. She leaned forward, catching sight of his wrist and–
“Oh my Titan, Hunter!” Luz exclaimed.
This was certainly a bad day for him. He’d confess that readily.
“Oh wow, dude-” Gus muttered beside him, staring wide-eyed at his arm.
“It’s really fine,” Hunter said, starting to pull his sleeve back down if only to stop the prying looks cast his way.
“Whoa, hold on, I need to treat that,” Camilla said, for the first time since Vee had walked out of the room. Her voice sounded slightly shaken. That certainly wasn’t a good sign. “Hold your arm back up.”
Well, he couldn’t deny an outright command, so he reluctantly rolled his sleeve up again and lifted his arm. Hm. The pain was definitely getting worse the longer he looked at it. That really wasn’t a good sign.
“Dios mío,” Camila muttered as she dug more urgently through her medical kit. Well, shit, she sounded upset. This really wasn’t going well.
This time, Camila worked in complete silence; that was something that was, thankfully, much more familiar to Hunter. He matched her steady focus by keeping himself just as still as before – with, admittedly, much more difficulty because oh, wow, that injury was really feeling worse now – and kept his mouth firmly closed shut. Gus was muttering something beside him about “jeez, man, you really have to tell us this stuff, oh Titan, that looks really bad-” which Hunter would usually find an easy comeback to, but with Camila in the room, he didn’t dare. Willow remained staring at him with slightly sad eyes, but didn’t say anything, while Amity and Luz exchanged a glance on the other side of Gus. Vee didn’t come back into the room.
Titan, they were all acting like he was dying. It was bad, sure, but the draining spell had been over for a while now – enough to presumably ensure he would be fine. It was fine.
Eventually, the awkward quiet ended as Camila finished wrapping up the wound with a tired sigh. He had to admit, she had done a good job; the pain had significantly decreased over the course of her work, becoming a more bone-deep ache than the skin-level burning it had been a moment ago. Progress.
“Alright,” she sighed. “That was certainly…harrowing. Is there anything else I don’t know about?”
Oddly enough, he found her gaze lingering on the scar that split across his cheek – although that injury was very obviously an old one and not a current concern, so he couldn’t begin to fathom why.
“No, ma’a–” Camila, Camila, “...Camila.”
It still felt wrong, but Camila didn’t really react either way – so he deemed it a marginal success.
What was less of a success was how she immediately turned to his friends to apparently double-check his answer.
“That’s all I remember,” Willow said slowly, still staring at Hunter. He didn’t meet her gaze.
“Okay,” Camila said, looking worn, and then pointed towards his wrist. The gesture wasn’t angry – a fact that still confused Hunter – but it still took all that was in him not to shift farther away. “Every morning I’d love to re-apply that bandaging for you. Is that okay?”
She was testing him, he realized, with the question; she was seeing if he was going to insist on doing it himself again.
So, obviously – although he definitely was not a fan of that idea – he said: “Of course.”
She nodded, seeming satisfied enough with that reply before turning, finally, to face Willow. “I’ll take a look at you now, if that’s alright.”
Her work with Willow went by much quicker – only a few small scrapes and scratches to handle, thank the Titan – and, eventually, the group of them were all sitting with freshly-bandaged injuries and exhausted expressions.
Camila muttered something softly to herself – it sounded like the same language that Luz would occasionally speak in, but Hunter couldn’t really make out the words – before she turned fully to face all of them with a strained smile.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands lightly together. Hunter tensed. “With that out of the way, I am sure you all are very hungry and very tired. So let’s get you all some dinner, sí? And if you’re up for it, I’d love to, ah…” she paused, looking over the group carefully. “...ask a few questions about your situation over some food, if that’s alright.”
A report, then. He understood that.
A couple of them nodded; Hunter didn’t really catch who, but it was apparently enough that Camila’s smile unwound slightly. “I’ll go finish with the food, then, and… check on Vee. I’ll let you all know when it’s ready. It should only take a few minutes.”
“Thanks, mama.” Luz said with a smile on her face. Any prior tension between the two luckily seemed to have faded by now, as Camila’s returning smile looked earnest enough.
“We’ll take it slow,” Camila promised them, her words soft as her eyes scanned over them all one more time. Finally, she turned and walked out the door that Vee had exited from, leaving the rest of them still sitting in the same spots.
This would be fine.
He felt another pulse of pain jolt through his wrist, despite the wound’s newfound treatment.
Yes. Fine.