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It was late in the day, when the church was usually quiet and empty of visitors. Lately however, it had seen a single visitor in the shape of Leonard, whose visitations tended to focus on the evenings. He would call out to Furiae at the door, and follow her voice to the front of the hall, by the statue of the Goddess. They would sit down at the pews and talk.
It had began as Leonard asking to be led into prayer, but oftentimes they would simply spend the evening by talking. Furiae had insisted it would help in his treatment to know more about him, but Leonard felt uncertain.
He was unsure what to make of Furiae. She was the shining angel of the church, the savior of the town. His savior. But the longer he stayed by her side, the more ill he would feel. At first he had suspected he was falling ill, but every night upon sleeping in his own abode, he would regain his health as if by magic. And every time he met with Furiae, he felt the same throbbing headache signal the coming of the rest of his illness. He had once confided in Furiae about this, worried that something in the church was making him ill, but Furiae had soothed his worries by telling him that it was all his inner worries surfacing in her presence, manifesting into a form they could banish together. Leonard hoped his condition could be improved soon.
Furiae asked him a lot of questions, both about himself and about the town, the woods, the people outside the church. Leonard was glad to tell her about what he knew, as she always seemed enraptured even by the most mundane of stories about trading what he had hunted for clothes or what he had chosen to plant in his garden of late. However, he was tight-lipped about his own life - Furiae was intent on asking him about it, and he knew he should offer her more in return. She said it would make his treatment easier, after all. But Leonard enjoyed their talks, and was hesitant to bring an end to them. Hesitant to let out the string of events that had brought him there in the first place. The angel of the church need not be stained with his sins. This evening, he was avoiding the details again.
Furiae sighed. "Leonard, if you are to-" her sentence was cut short as the doors opened, and her attention was brought to the doorway. Leonard expected to hear someone walk in, but the steps he heard sounded heavier than anyone's he had heard before, with a slight click to them, like a dog's nails against the stone floor.
"Caim!" Furiae exclaimed and stood up with such speed Leonard caught a wing to the face. Furiae's rushed footsteps rang out in the hall towards the front door.
"Caim…? Who…?" Leonard muttered as he slowly stood. "Is… it… alright?" He asked carefully. Furiae seemed to not hear him as she knelt down by this Caim.
"Oh, that looks painful! How are you feeling?" Furiae asked. There was no answer, only the swishing of something against the floor. A tail, perhaps, but it sounded different from Furiae's long and segmented tail. It was heavier, meatier.
"Don't worry, it's all going to be alright." Leonard heard the rustling of the fabric of Furiae's dress followed by a sound he knew well: a knife being pulled out of its sheath. The hair on his arms stood on end as he rushed up to her, not caring about making sure there was nothing in his way.
"Furiae, what are you…" he got out before he heard Furiae wince and her tail scrape against the stone floor. The unimstakable metallic smell of blood hit his nose. He kneeled down by her side, ready to take the knife from her hands. "Don't worry, it will be alright," Furiae's soothing voice said breathed out.
Had she gone mad? Or were her dog's wounds so extensive as to warrant death? But while Leonard was trying to find his words, the temperature in the room had quickly risen. It wasn't just his nerves. The heat was emanating from the creature in front of Furiae, like a lit fireplace. "What…?" Leonard let out without realising it.
"My blood is mixing itself into his wounds, Leonard. It strengthens him - his wounds are already starting to close." Furiae's words were definitely aimed at him, but the tone of them made it sound like she was transfixed by what was happening. He could hear her hand gliding across this Caim's skin, presumably spreading her blood across it as she did.
Caim's laboured breathing slowed down to a calm rhythm, and Furiae finally sheathed her knife. The burst of warmth was starting to cool down. Although the heat had felt much too warm, like a warning not to touch the source of it, the absence of it left him wishing for more.
So this was the healing power of an angel? Leonard had had a nagging doubt about their sessions' effectiveness, but now he felt ashamed for having harboured those thoughts. She was truly the angel of the church, and hopefully, his saviour.
"That looked like a particularly deep one, Caim. Every time you come back like this, I get more and more worried. You need to take it easy for a time, so the healing can properly take hold. Understand?" Furiae asked the visitor.
"Excuse me, Caim… are you feeling quite alright?" Leonard asked carefully.
Furiae let out a gasp and turned to him. "Oh, right! Apologies for the late introductions. This here is Caim, my older brother, and the town's valiant protector!" Her voice was beaming with pride.
"Greetings, Caim. I am Leonard, a… visitor from out of town." His voice came out uncertain as he looked for a moniker to introduce himself by.
"Yes! We get along quite well, you see," Furiae said, and though Leonard could not see Caim's expression, whatever it was, it made Furiae's wings flutter. They got along well? Leonard did not consider himself proficient at talking nor had they known each other for a long period of time, but he was honoured the angel of the church herself thought so highly of him.
Caim grasped onto Leonard's hand. Caim's hands were rough, but smaller than Leonard's. His fingers were long and thin, but clearly had seen hard work, like a pianist whose instrument was made of sandpaper. Caim signed onto his hand a single word: "a visitor?"
Leonard nodded. "I live a bit away from the town, in the woods by a patch of lavender," he explained. "Furiae has helped me lately with, uh, matters of the mind." Caim tapped on Leonard's palm with a single digit rhythmically, thinking but not saying anything. He let go of Leonard's hand, the conversation clearly over.
"But Caim, I cannot believe you have returned! It's been much too long since you last came to town. Though I wish you would visit even when you are not on the verge of bleeding out! That wound cannot be older than a day, or did you reopen an old wound?" Furiae hugged Caim as she kept complaining about how this was not the first time he returned covered in old blood. When Furiae threw her arms around him, Caim's tail dragged on the floor slowly.
Leonard could not help but to smile - was that embarrassment? Siblings seemed to always be averse to affection, no matter how good natured, Leonard mused. Lukhege had been the exact same way, always brushing off his hand when he would try to ruffle his hair. Back when… back then. Leonard's smile faded away.
Caim stood up, and Leonard got the feeling he was quite a bit taller than Leonard had expected. He shuffled around, likely looking over the wounds Furiae's blood had healed.
"You really should stay for longer this time, Caim. I did what I could, but your wounds have not fully healed. You need to rest and recover your strength before you can go back to your travels," Furiae told him. There was a pause, likely reserved for Caim's answer. "Yes, and that's exactly why you should rest up. I was even given books on swordplay, which you might find interesting. And they would only weigh you down on the road, so it's best to keep them here. Please, Caim?"
Caim sighed. "I knew you would see reason!" Furiae beamed.
The corners of Leonard's mouth rose back into a smile. Furiae's joy at her brother having finally come back felt nostalgic, and he could not help his thoughts wandering into the past. Maybe it would behoove him to get to know Caim better.
Leonard rose to his feet. "I should head home for the night. Good night, Furiae. May you rest well, Caim," he wished the two.
"Of course, you as well, Leonard. Caim, sleep well!" With that, Furiae started heading to the back of the room, where Leonard had been told the door to her room lay.
Leonard went to open the front door of the church, but felt something bump into his shoulder. Caim, likely, though the feeling surprised him - it felt more akin to a horse than a human, all muscle and odd in shape for a person. He got the image Caim was looming above him further than he had expected. However, he felt that asking about it would be rude, and so he simply apologised for bumping into Caim.
Caim, however, grabbed his hand and opened it before Leonard had the opportunity to react. "I don't trust you," the words signed clearly, with no hesitation to them.
"Caim…?" He got out, but received no answer. Caim let go of his wrist, having said all he meant to. "What do you…?"
He felt a hand on his shoulder, giving him a light push towards the door. Not quite a command, but still a clear sign to get out.
"Good night, Caim," Leonard mumbled in lieu of a goodbye, and left the church.
The cool night air hit him, but he paid it no mind. As he walked, he replayed their meeting in his mind, but could think of no moment where he showed disrespect to the man. Mayhap he was distrustful by nature? Or maybe it had something to do with Furiae's claim of being the town's protector? Leonard frowned.
He did not want to cause Caim more reason to dislike him, but he felt he could not stay away from the church. Furiae's treatment was vital to him. And he had to admit, that he simply enjoyed her company - it had been long since he had spoken so often with someone. He would have to return again some time, whether Caim was there or not. They were bound to meet again, whether they felt inclined to or not. No, he was being unfair - surely Caim had a reason. Maybe he could cut through the wall Caim had built with a well-intentioned gift. He should come back again soon. The night air felt cool against his skin.