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Minfilia’s heart sinks.
“Thancred!” she calls after him, stretching out a hand that he either does not see or chooses to ignore. He responds naught to her at all as he strides out of the Waking Sands, sparing naught a glance at anything or anyone as he goes.
Oh, dear Mother Hydaelyn, is she worried! She’s so terribly worried. She’s so terribly worried that she has no clue what to even do, immobilized by her concern, watching his back as he goes.
She glances down at the food she brought him, untouched. A sandwich. Bread, some veg, protein… nothing special, but nutritious enough. She had hoped he would at least eat some of it.
He ate so little, but drank two entire tankards of ale. It’s not good for him. She’s terribly worried. She knows how much her friend loves ale, of course, but considering how severely he has neglected his eating, and how quickly he removed himself from their presence…
She’s so terribly worried. Of course she is.
She can scarcely imagine how impossibly difficult it all must have been for him. She has such little knowledge of what he has been through — he hasn’t talked about it, not any of it, not to anyone — but she knows with absolute certainty that Ascian possession must be one of the worst things one could experience. To have your own body stripped away from you and used for such terrible deeds… and had Thancred been present at all? Could he see? Did he know? Did Lahabrea’s deeds play before him as if he was the one committing them? Was he aware the whole time, helpless to stop the wave of his own hand and the call of his own voice?
The things such an experience could do to one’s mind!
Not to mention his body, of course, but the wear on his body is plain to anyone who may lay their eyes on him. His eyes heavily shadowed, he’s paler than he should be, and practically emaciated, face gaunt. Not to mention his injuries, such as the aetherial burns scarred onto his hands; a visible reminder of the sins Lahabrea used Thanred’s hands to commit.
Thancred hardly looks like the man she has known and loved all these years. He almost looks like a corpse, she thinks, and the thought chills her to the bone.
He isn’t dead, thank Hydaelyn. Still, she fears that at this rate, he may be soon.
She wishes he had eaten. More than anything. She is truly worried that he will starve.
…Well, he ate a little. Tsurugi had given him grapes, and he had eaten them. That is… something. Something in his stomach besides ale. It isn’t enough to be healthy, but she tries to be grateful for even the smallest things. She tries to be thankful that he is alive to have eaten those grapes at all.
Tsurugi stands beside her still, arms crossed, almost seeming unconcerned. Minfilia is sure she must be at least a little worried, though, considering her efforts to try and get him to consume anything… as well as the fact that she had been successful.
Mayhap she should express her concerns out loud to Tsurugi, then. The woman is a Warrior of Light after all — one of Eorzea’s saviors — and Minfilia is certain she has plenty of wisdom beneath that cute, albeit very difficult to read, exterior of hers. She trusts her, in any case. She trusts her more than she trusts most anyone, after all she has done.
“I am worried about how little he’s eaten,” Minfila says. “We’re relatively sure that Lahabrea did nothing whatsoever to care for his body while it was in the Ascian’s use. He ate after you saved him from the Lahabrea’s grasp, but I know he has not been eating since…”
Tsurugi hums. “He probably just got overwhelmed,” she says, in a way that makes it feel as though everything is perfectly plain and simple. “Like… he’s probably still reeling from everything, and eating a meal is kinda a lot of steps. Especially since he isn’t really used to it anymore? And like… a sandwich is a lot of bits, especially if you’re already kinda overwhelmed.”
That’s the other thing about Tsurugi: she makes things sound awfully simple and obvious, even when the words leaving her mouth don’t actually seem to make all that much sense.
“...A lot of bits?” Minfilia asks, to clarify. “What do you mean?”
“Well, y’know, it’s bread and it’s meat and there’s veggies n’ stuff. That’s like, at least three bits. And you can’t eat it all in one bite, you gotta take multiple bites, and that can feel like a lot of work. And you gotta chew all those bites, too. That’s why I gave him the grapes, ‘cos they’re only one bit each, and you can just pop ‘em in your mouth, and they don’t take long to chew.”
That does make sense. That makes perfect sense. Minfilia knows exactly what she means.
She… had been worried about that, too. Overwhelming him, while he’s going through so much.
She knows him quite well, and feels as though she has him figured out by now — he has a tendency to isolate. He is quite prone to disallowing himself care and kindness, especially in times of struggle, and this is certainly a time of great struggle.
She had been so concerned about Thancred depriving himself that, while she had considered the likelihood that he would find this all overwhelming, she did not take the time to truly think about precisely how overwhelming it would actually be. She had intended it to help, not hurt, and yet…
She has made a mistake.
“It was too much,” she says, to herself more than Tsurugi.
“Maybe a l’il bit,” Tsurugi admits with a casual shrug. “Less bits will probably be good.”
Oh, dear. Minfilia feels so bad. “I hadn’t meant to make things harder on him…”
Tsurugi scoffs, “No,” she says, drawing out the “o”, voice saturated with playful sarcasm, “you overwhelmed him on purpose because you’re mean. C’mon. Of course you didn’t. It was a mistake, it’s fine, you’ll make it up to him. Here. Gimme your hand.”
Mifilia hums a questioning “Hm?” trying not to dwell too much on her guilt. “I suppose you’re right…” she muses, offering Tsurugi her open palm.
Tsurugi places a single cube of cheese into her hand. “He can eat one more bit,” she says confidently. “You can take it to him and tell him you’re sorry, if you want. Just, y’know. Maybe take it a little slower after this.”
Minfilia laughs. “I suppose you’re right. I mustn’t get so hung up on my mistake that I fail to actually help him. Thank you. Whatever would I do without your wisdom?”
Tsurugi grins, clearly pleased by the compliment. “Yeah, I give great advice, don’t I?” she says. “You should go, though. Tell ‘im to take a good nap.”
“Thank you, Tsurugi,” Minfilia says once again. “I will. If you’ll excuse me.”
With a quick bow goodbye and a wave from Tsurugi, Minfilia departs the Waking Sands, briskly returning to the inn room Thancred has made into his quarters since returning to the Scions, quiet and separate from the rest of the group to allow him proper rest. She approaches the door and finds it unlocked — concerning, yes, but good for her purposes, at the very least — and lets herself inside.
There Thancred lies, face down on the bed despite the most certainly painful bruising across his chest, practically choking on air. Her heart sinks — Twelve forgive her for her mistake! — but she refuses to let the feeling dissuade or disparage her. She will right her wrong and she will help. She does not intend on allowing him to suffer alone.
With the cube of cheese still resting loosely in one hand, so as not to cause it to melt from the warmth of her body, she crosses the room and gingerly sits on the side of his bed. She watches for a moment as Thancred pulls in laboring breaths, heart aching for her dear, poor friend, before gently placing what she hopes in a comforting hand between his shoulder blades.
“I’m sorry, Thancred. I pushed you too hard,” she says. Her voice wavers, tears burning at her eyes. She cares about him, so terribly much. She wishes he didn’t have to suffer so. “I asked too much of you, too soon…”
Thancred inhales sharply — and painfully, no doubt — and then begins to cry. Her heart feels pierced, the dagger twisted. She has never seen him cry before. Not even when they lost Lousioix, not once…
“Oh, Thancred,” she warbles.
He has always tried so hard to be strong for her, she knows. Now, in order to share in his pain and to ease some of his burden, she will be strong for him. Even as tears fall down her own cheeks, she will be strong for him. He deserves this, and much more.
“You’ll be all right,” she says, and she means it as a promise. “I swear to you, we’ll see you through this.”
She knows him well. She knows how little value he sees in himself and his wellbeing, and fears what that will mean for him now. She means not to overwhelm him anymore, but she will not let him deprive himself from the love and care he deserves.
She will not let him drown. She knows that all the others would and do share her resolve — because all of them find Thancred worthy of their love and care, as well, she knows. The only one who doubts his worthiness is himself.
“Your fellow Scions, the Warriors or Light, and I… we will see you through this. All I ask is that you don’t let go.”
Thancred weeps. Minfilia sits with him as he cries, gently rubbing his back and uttering soft comforts, until he runs out of tears to shed. He gasps for air for a short time afterwards, before his trembling breaths finally begin to even out.
Minfilia waits a moment longer. Then, “Thancred, may I look at you? You do not have to look at me. I only ask that you turn your head… is that all right?”
There’s a pause, during which Minfilia worries she’s already asking too much again. But then, Thancred lifts his face from the pillow and turns his head to the side, sniffling as he looks past Minfilia to stare distantly at the wall behind her.
That is, until she holds the cube of cheese in front of his eyes. He blinks hazily, then slowly lifts his upper body slightly off the bed, squinting at Tsusrugi’s offering. He makes a wheezing sound that sounds almost like a question, so Minfilia answers.
“Tsurugi sent it with me,” she says softly. “One more ‘bit’ for you to eat. Can you do that?”
Thancred stares blankly at the cheese for a long moment, before croaking, “One more… what?”
“”Bit’,” Minfilia says, unable to suppress the small, humored smile crossing her face. “‘Tis what Tsurugi calls it. The grapes were both one ‘bit’, and so is this cheese, apparently. She says single ‘bits’ are easy to eat. ‘Tis what the grapes were, as well.”
Thancred, though he still seems quite dazed, makes a face that she believes is vague recognition. Then, slowly adjusting his body, he takes the cheese from her and eats it.
Thank Hydaelyn. Minfilia is so relieved.
“Thank you,” she says to Thancred, too.
Thancred grunts, dropping his upper body back down onto the mattress. He turns away from her, then, rolling onto his side with his back to her, but that’s all right. She’s asked much of him already. She doesn’t need him to face her any longer.
She pats his shoulder gently. “Rest,” she tells him.
She isn’t going anywhere.
She will not let go.