Work Text:
All Derlorde wanted to do was to actually help Avery for once instead of sitting inside the slime’s small home brooding over his racing, tired mind. His physical wounds had finally healed nearly a week prior, leaving only fresh scars in their wake to add to the many already sprinkled around his body.
He tried to help the slime when he could, despite the other’s attempts for Derlorde to get some more rest that he knew he couldn’t truly take advantage of. Not with the nightmares from events long before he was born, branching potential outcomes of the future, and of that horrible…thing draped in yellow. His weary and loud mind was making him irritable, and he found himself snapping at the slime who had taken him in when he found the knight half-dead over minute things. He quickly realized that he needed a new avenue to vent his built up energy.
Which was how Derlorde found himself deep underground, torch in one hand and pickaxe in the other, looking for an old, derelict mineshaft that he knew the exact location of.
He had informed Avery that he was going to go mining, who of course offered to go with him or in his place. He shrugged off the other’s offers. Avery had done plenty for him over the last month, the least he could do was bring back some ore he knew they needed back at home.
He also wanted to break himself of the dread he found himself feeling whenever he even thought of caves since seeing it, not that Avery needed to know that part.
Finally, after following the large cave downwards and mining out whatever coal or ore he could, Derlorde found the old wood of the mineshaft peeking out from the stone wall. He knew it held valuables undisturbed for decades if not centuries, and their precise locations. He also knew the shaft housed unwanted mobs in its shadows.
Glimpses of near-future outcomes sprung in his head, ranging from him effortlessly taking out any mob that attacked him to the mobs cornering him in the dark mine. He pushed them away; he had quickly learned to not lean into any of them, no matter how tempting it was to try to achieve an outcome. He instead listened to his gut and let whatever path come.
So, gripping his pickaxe, he made his way through the mine. He was able to take out any wandering mobs with the iron sword now sheathed once more on his belt.
He was rummaging through an old storage chest, debating whether he should take the old rails inside, when he heard the hiss of an approaching spider. He glanced to his left and saw its glowing red eyes peeking from a hole in the rotting wooden ceiling. He quickly swapped the pickaxe for his sword, but found the spider to be dangerously agile. It pounced as he swung, hitting his forearm. He wasted no time swinging again, this time cutting the creature nearly in half.
He neatly sheathed his sword when his mind flashed new glimpses of near future events in his mind. He was about to pay them no mind as typical, but froze at the images of him staggering through the cave lost, full of aches and fever, or him collapsing just outside Avery’s home. His eyes met the corpse of the spider. In the dim torch light of the mines, he noted the blue patterns on the arachnid’s body. His right forearm soon began to ache.
”Of course,” he hissed to himself after getting a good look at his arm. The spider had bit him, his skin already starting to swell around the bite. He quickly pushed his sleeve back down and shoved the gauntlet back on his hand. His personal task for finding ore for the slime quickly became a race against time to get back above ground.
Thankfully he had the foresight to light up the path around and to the mine, as no mobs tried to attack him on his venture back up. Even better, considering his vision was already beginning to haze over and his mind began to tip. His armor and full bag of ore, which typically didn’t bother him, wasn’t helping his increasingly unsteady body and the aches in his muscles.
By the time he made it back to the mid afternoon sun, Derlorde’s mind felt as if it were being smothered in cotton. The unwelcome thoughts he had somehow grew accustomed to were dulled and muted. Just a few hours ago, he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for such a moment. However, the relief was extremely short lived, given the full body shakes gripping his body and the pain wrapping his limbs and chest.
‘Keep it together,’ he thought to himself through the fog gathering in his head. He willed his shaking legs to keep going. ‘It’s just a 15 minute walk away.’
He somehow managed to keep his legs from rebelling against him on his way back to Avery’s home. The afternoon sun felt like a hot ray, his armor not helping his already overheated body. He stumbled out of the tree line and into the clearing which housed the small home. Hazy, wobbly images of Avery tending to the crops in the back by the small river tried to push through the cotton suffocating his mind.
Derlorde shrugged the bag off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground with a thud. The shifting of the ore must’ve been loud, as he saw the slime hybrid peek out from the side of the house. As his legs finally failed to support him, he saw alarm wash over Avery, who opened his mouth to say something, but his brain couldn’t make it out. An imitation of the thought he saw earlier of him passing out in front of Avery’s home flashed over his eyes once more as the slime quickly approached him.
Better here than the mine, he supposed.
-
For once, Derlorde’s dreams were free of the boundless information jammed into his head.
It felt like he was floating. Pale imitations of dreams tried to creep up, but he could hardly grasp them. Even so, they were nothing compared to the typical nightmares. No worst case scenarios of the world’s fate, no detailed showcases of both man-made and natural horrors of yesteryear. No grotesque figures in yellow his brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Instead, just muted, garbled flashes of caves or mundane housework, with a hazy recollection of Avery chatting away about everything and nothing.
Soon, the image of a plain oak ceiling seemed to overlap with his dreams. It took his brain longer than he would admit to realize he was looking at the ceiling of their shared bedroom. His awareness eventually began to catch up and he shook away what little he could comprehend of his dreams.
He was lying in bed; the one Avery had gave him after he made a new one for himself. His armor was neatly hung on the armor stand in the corner on his side of the room. The dull light coming through the open window close to his bed indicated it was nearing sunset. His arm ached terribly along with the rest of his body. He tried to remember what happened after he made it back to the house, but he came up empty.
The bedroom door was open, and he could hear sounds coming from somewhere in the house. His brain refused to conclude where they were coming from, much to his frustration. He took a few thready breaths before calling out a weak “Avery?”
The sounds stopped and he heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. Avery poked his head into the room and something akin to relief washed over his face.
“Der,” the slime breathed out. He stepped forward towards the bed. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, man.”
Derlorde hummed, closing his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered. He felt the bed dip.
“You’re fine, I’m just-“ Avery paused for a heartbeat too long. “What happened? Cave spider? Your forearm’s all swollen and red.”
Derlorde nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Made sense why his right arm was slightly elevated and was practically pulsating. The back of a cool, slick hand gently brushed against his forehead.
“You’re still pretty warm,” the slime muttered more to himself.
“It’ll wear off in a couple days,” Derlorde replied. His heavy eyes slid open again and met Avery’s own worried face. It made something twist in his aching chest.
“I wish there were cows that weren’t like a thousand blocks away for milk,” Avery pouted. “I swear they’re allergic to me or something.” He huffed and got back up from the side of the bed.
“Well, I’m making dinner,” Avery said. “Nothing super crazy, just some mushroom stew. I’ll pour you a bowl.”
“Please make sure they’re not poisonous, at least,” Derlorde attempted to joke, at least partly. He trusted the slime, but he really didn’t want to deal with another poison in his body.
Avery pouted again, but Derlorde could just about see the slime’s eyes lighten up. “Trust me that little, big guy?”
“Only a little,” Derlorde teased.
“Rude.”
-
The evening was a blur to Derlorde. He fell into a restless sleep, hazy dreams of the day’s misadventure dancing around his head. Avery woke him up long enough for dinner and to get some water in him before falling back under.
Soon, even the hazy images of his fever dream were washed away, his mind no longer comprehending the thoughts. What aches and pains that followed him into his sleep seemed to melt away too, leaving behind a blurry, muted void of dulled sounds and colors. At one point, he thought he could almost make out a distant, familiar voice. With it came a cool sensation on his face and arms, but just as quickly as they arrived, they fell back into the void.
He floated there for what felt like days.
Finally, finally, Derlorde crawled back to the waking world. Rain drummed on the roof above him and the now closed window. His arm and body still ached, but not nearly as sharp as before. He could feel something damp on his forehead, with his sluggish thoughts informing him that it was a wet cloth. So much for that break from the infinite knowledge nonsense, even if it was still slow and numbed.
He gathered the strength to sit himself up, a soft groan escaping and the cloth falling from his head. A shiver ran through his body, thankfully not nearly as prominent as the shakes that plagued him last he was awake.
He was grateful—and somewhat surprised—to find that his legs were more or less sturdy when he stood up from the bed. The damp weather made the house feel colder and drafty, but he didn’t bother bringing the blanket with him, instead tucking his arms close to his chest and wandered into the living area.
Avery sat at the small kitchen table, a book lying in front of him and a quill in his hand. He was scribbling something down on the near empty page. The persistent voice now inhabiting his head told him it was reminders of chores to do for when the rain cleared up. The slime looked up as the knight approached. Derlorde didn’t miss the weary expression that shadowed his face. Tired eyes widened at the knight and he quickly shut the book, probably smearing the wet ink as he did so.
“What are you doing out of-“ the slime quickly started, but stopped himself. An exasperated sigh left his mouth. “Of course you left the bed. How are you feeling?”
Derlorde responded with a typical hum. “Compared to yesterday, leagues better.” He moved to the empty chair across from Avery, then paused. “It was yesterday, correct?” He asked. Typically, his brain could fill in whatever events he missed while sleeping, usually against his will. But it was still barely chugging along, only just now beginning to process typical information, let alone the supernatural amounts of thoughts now plaguing his head.
Avery rubbed his face. “Yeah, that was yesterday.” He eyed the knight, who sunk into the chair, not missing the fact that the small walk from the bedroom to the kitchen left him fatigued. “You remember anything from last night?”
Still hugging himself, Derlorde tried to dig for any clues for the previous night. He remembered that wobbly, hazy reflection of a voice, but nothing else came to mind. He shook his head, earning a smirk hinting at nervousness from the slime.
“Your fever peaked last night,” he explained, leaning back. “You were super out of it and rambling about whatever; I don’t even think it was in English.”
Derlorde felt his face heat up with something other than the remains of his fever. He thought back to those brief moments of something cool and wet on his skin. “You tried to cool me down.” He concluded.
Another smirk, hands now behind Avery’s head. A habit Derlorde noticed the slime had whenever he was anxious or stressed. “Hey, it worked, I think.”
The words were enough to jumpstart Derlorde’s limitless thoughts into clarity. Though still fuzzy, he could see glimpses of the slime sitting on the edge of the bed, patting the sick knight down with a damp cloth in an attempt to cool his fevered body. Of the worried assurances as Derlorde weakly babbled in some foreign language. Of how Avery debated racing off to the nearest village in the dead of night with the hope of finding something to help Derlorde despite the rain.
Guilt washed over the knight. What a mess his seemingly simple task to help Avery turned out to be. “I’m sorry, Avery, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Avery shrugged, hands falling back to the table. “Whatever, dude; at least you’re feeling better now.” He turned back to gaze out the window over the sink. “But I think it’s time to stop putting off looking for those cows.”
Derlorde couldn’t agree more.
The fever finally broke early the next morning, leaving behind a blanket of general malaise over the knight and a slight ache in his arm. Even so, he provided Avery with directions to a herd of wild cows about a half a day’s walk away. Sure enough, nearing dinner time, Derlorde watched through the bedroom window as the slime attempted to push a pair of cows into a haphazardly built pen. A scenario of Avery watching in horror as the cows escaped during his cleanup of the pen’s fence flashed in his head. Derlorde couldn’t help but grin.