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Perched atop the lighthouse at Cliffwatch Camp, Illuga surveys the surrounding area with determined focus. The Wild Hunt attacks have not slowed as of recently, and a Ratnik is always stationed to keep watch in case of an outbreak.
What he doesn't expect to see while he's on watch, though, is the approach of a certain Ratnik that rarely makes an appearance at Cliffwatch Camp. He catches sight of Flins from a distance, his tall stature and long, blue hair proving him unmistakable.
Illuga's first thought is that something must be wrong. However, as he continues to observe Flins, he takes note of the man's less than urgent pace and puts his racing mind to rest. Flins arrives at the camp just as dusk begins to paint the sky in oranges and reds, and Illuga passes his post off to another Ratnik to meet with him.
Flins waits for Illuga at the bottom of the lighthouse ladder, and Illuga climbs down, skipping the last few rungs, his boots coming to the ground with a solid thud. "Sir Flins," he greets, quick to business, "What brings you to Cliffwatch?"
"Young Master Illuga, it is wonderful to see you in good health," Flins says with a smile and a glint in his eye.
Illuga could grumble about the title that Flins has bestowed upon him, but he has done so many times before, and Flins has never budged. Today, he won't give Flins the satisfaction.
Flins presses a letter into Illuga's hands. "From the Starshyna," he says.
Illuga raises an eyebrow. "Since when do you run deliveries, Sir Flins?"
Illuga doesn't know why he expected anything different than the cryptic response Flins gives him: "The daily duties of the Ratniki are ever-changing."
His eyebrow stays perked for a moment, but he quickly tears open the letter, eyes scanning over Nikita's script to find that his old man is requesting his presence in Piramida… tomorrow morning.
He lets out an involuntary groan, and Flins tilts his head curiously.
"There's a briefing with other squad leaders in Piramida tomorrow morning," Illuga says, "The old man never gives me enough notice for this type of thing. I'd ought to have left several hours ago."
Flins laughs lightly. "Allow me to accompany you through the dark, Master Illuga."
"You just made the trip here, I couldn't ask that of you," Illuga responds, beginning to gather his supplies for travel, "You should rest."
"I am quite alright."
Illuga squints at him. Illuga often makes the trek from Cliffwatch Camp to Piramida with several other Ratniki, short of a full squad but enough to keep each other safe against any Wild Hunt attacks. On such short notice, he's not sure he would be able to round up many Ratniki to join him. As such, he'd better not turn down Flins' offer and risk traveling to Piramida alone — though he's almost certain Flins would allow no such thing to occur in the first place.
As Illuga continues to prepare his supplies, Flins informs Illuga's squad of their captain's departure, ensuring them that he and Illuga will get back to Piramida safe and sound on their own.
And then the pair of Ratniki are off.
Dusk settles into night as they walk, stars peaking through the dark curtain of the night sky. Illuga stops for a moment to ignite his lantern, and then they continue forth into the darkness, their way lit only by the moon and two lanterns shining in tandem.
Flins, as he is wont to do, regales Illuga with stories as they travel — some with so much detail Illuga can't help but wonder if the stories are personal anecdotes, although in order for that to be true… Flins would have to be…
Illuga shakes his head.
"Is something the matter, Young Master?" Flins inquires, observant as ever.
"No, nothing's the matter," Illuga responds, biting at the inside of his cheek. "You are quite the storyteller, Sir Flins."
"Hm," Flins smiles. "I'm simply telling the tales as they were passed on to me."
"Hm," Illuga parrots, not convinced.
Before Flins is able to continue his story, though, the darkness around them sinks several shades deeper and Illuga's pace quickens — telltale signs of the Wild Hunt. He immediately drops his supplies and draws his weapon, and Flins is quick to do the same. As predicted, apparitions of the Wild Hunt appear before them, deathly pale bodies enshrouded in abyssal corrosion.
The pair springs into action against the Wild Hunt, not a word said between them; Illuga is certain that Flins has his back as he thrusts his polearm into the torso of one of their enemies, wrenching it back out and watching as the ghoul fades to dust. He feels a twinge of sadness at the sight, but as he steps back, he feels Flins' back against his own — affirming what he already knew to be true.
They twirl around in some bastardization of a dance, Flins' blue flames twinning with Illuga's Geo energy and Aedon as they wipe out the threat before them. Flins moves with such precision, and so quickly that Illuga blinks and he misses it. He hasn't the time to gawk at Flins' battle prowess, after all; he has to think of himself, the way he moves together with Flins, a step this way and two steps that way, a strike here and well-timed block there.
When the dust settles, the moon again piercing through the darkness and Aedon retreating, Flins immediately turns to Illuga.
"Easy work, I'd say," he says, though his eyes betray his confidence as they scan over Illuga's body for injury.
"I'm alright, Flins," Illuga assures, and Flins smiles.
"We'd still better sit and rest for a moment," Flins offers, well aware of how Illuga's shoulders and chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. As much as Illuga wants to argue — he can keep going, they don't need to stop for his sake — Flins is already sitting down in a patch of grass off the path.
Illuga takes a seat next to him, the grass cool beneath his palms as he threads his fingers through the blades. They set their lanterns to lean against one another, illuminating the area. Illuga tilts his head back as he lets out a long breath, eyes tracing from star to star. Flins, it seems, is no worse for wear after such a fight.
"Sir Flins," Illuga says, still looking at the sky. "I won't force you to say anything you don't want to say."
"Oh, dear," Flins chuckles a little, "Whatever could have brought this on?"
Illuga stares at him, at his calm and poised demeanor, at the beauty found in his features. Beneath the moonlight and the stars, he somehow looks even more ethereal.
"You aren't human, are you?" Illuga asks plainly. He's asked it before and been brushed off, but tonight…
Flins looks up at the sky, too. "And if I am not?"
Illuga swallows thickly. "I wouldn't think any differently of you," he says. "I just — Flins, I want your honesty."
"How do you think of me now, Young Master Illuga?"
Illuga balks in the face of such a question. He clears his throat, and despite the plethora of words that threaten to come tumbling out, he manages to be succinct: "There are plenty of rumors about you, Sir Flins, and I have found it unwise to believe many of them at all."
Flins quirks an eyebrow. "Oh?" he chirps, "Please, go on."
"You are dodging my question."
Flins chuckles. "Alright," he says, "Though I find myself quite curious as to what a man like you — observant and determined to an admirable degree — thinks of someone like me, if rumors are not to be believed."
It's Illuga's turn to laugh. "Well, I do believe you are not human," he says, unwavering in the face of Flins' flattering words.
Flins holds Illuga's gaze with his own, yellow eyes only made more captivating by the moonlight. "If I were to tell you the truth, would that sate you? Or are you looking for something else? It seems to me that you are already aware of the truth, and saying it aloud may in fact be gratuitous."
Illuga stares at him, yet again. "You're playing with me," he says.
Flins smiles. It causes an angry flare in Illuga's chest. He turns his head away, feeling his cheeks heat.
"Oh, my," Flins breathes, leaning closer to Illuga and tilting Illuga's face back with a gentle hand on his jawline. Illuga's eyes flicker wildly around Flins' face as Flins says, "I always seem to anger you."
"You sure are good at it," Illuga says with a huff, "Your flippancy is remarkable."
Flins continues to hold Illuga's face, and Illuga feels his throat tighten.
"Young Master," Flins starts, "You may find me flippant, but…" he trails off, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Let me put it this way. I have been indulging in your company — at the cemetery, in Piramida, and right now — by keeping you in the dark about certain things. It is cruel of me, no? And yet, you have found the truth without me having to utter a word of it to you. And yet, you continue to stay by my side."
Illuga blinks at him. Flins lets his hand fall.
"Is it selfish of me to continue to skirt around the subject, in hopes it will keep you intrigued for longer? Indeed, it is. And yet…"
Now, Illuga lets out a choked laugh. "Sir Flins, do you truly believe that I would — what, abandon you, given the truth?"
"I believe there is a lot to be sought after in mystery."
"So, you're —" Illuga stops himself, thoughts racing. Flins has basically done all but admitted it outright at this point: he is not human. Illuga's own deductions — or perhaps, he realizes with a jolt, what Flins has allowed him to see — have lain that truth bare.
Still, there is a vulnerability in Flins' words, a fear of loneliness needling through, aching to be seen. Illuga sees it and takes care to cradle it in his palms, pressing an open hand to Flins' chest.
"There's still plenty of mystery surrounding you, Sir Flins," he says, "And I will continue to unravel such mystery until I know you, all of you, and after that, I will continue to come around."
Now, Flins stares.
"I will come around until you're well and rightly sick of me."
Flins lets out a breath. "If you believe I could get sick of you, then you are more foolish than I thought."
A smile pulls at Illuga's lips, his previous anger whisked up and carried away by the wind.
—
When they finally make it to Piramida, the settlement is mostly sleeping, save for a few Ratniki on duty. If any of them have anything to say about Flins stepping into Illuga's house for the night — well, Illuga's sure he'll hear about it from his old man.
Flins keeps his lantern burning the whole night, and Illuga falls asleep cast in blue light.