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The high walls of the Academy have never felt quite so stifling. Of course, Drift was used to being confined to such spaces. Large, but entirely too trapping.
However, the low light from the torches makes everything feel almost damp, and Drift isn't a fan of it. No, not one bit. Low lighting could be fun! Dim rooms were calming, and there was a reason candlelit dinners were reserved for dates.
Drift just doesn't like dim lighting all the time. It's a little creepy, if you ask her. To be entirely fair, the Academy was creepy. Drift just didn't see why even the lighting had to be that way too. It was horrible for reading. Drift's eyes weren't the best, and in dim lighting they were even worse.
So, that led to her having to squint, with her book inches from her face. If a certain tinkerer saw her, AJ would definitely have called Drift stupid-looking, the way she literally had her nose in a book.
Whatever. It's not like Drift even cared what AJ thought. The tinkerer was stubborn, and sloppy. Drift didn't have any business chasing the opinion of someone like that.
But, there was unfortunately a certain allure to AJ. Like one would be drawn to a rather sickly-looking cat, almost. How people feel about sick, disgusting animals? Yeah, that's pretty much how Drift feels about AJ.
But it wasn't quite pity. No, if there was one thing Drift knew AJ hated more than anything else, it was pity. So Drift didn't pity AJ. It was more a magnetic force, or something like that. Drift simultaneously wanted to know every single thought that entered AJ’s mind, and also wanted to punch the tinkerer in the face really hard.
Usually, the latter won. Talking to AJ was like looking at a puzzle with a singular missing piece, except the puzzle kept mocking you, calling you an open book, and asking why you couldn’t just find the missing piece, despite the puzzle having never revealed where that secret last piece was.
Okay, maybe Drift didn’t do many puzzles.
But she’s still sitting there, nose in a book, thinking about what AJ would think about her. It really doesn’t matter.
But, it’s still lucky that AJ is out. Last Drift had checked, AJ had mentioned going to get ingredients for some stupid fucking sandwich. AJ had been real excited about it, too. All ‘Drift, you should come over to my dorm later for a sandwich! They’re going to be really good, and maybe I’ll win your heart with it, huh?’.
AJ would be doing no such thing.
Drift gives up on reading. It was a losing battle, and being out in the hallway of the academy—even if she was just sitting on an oddly placed pile of barrels—was distracting her.
So Drift stands, and puts her bookmark on her page. She would never dogear a page. Some people thought it was bogus, that seeing dogeared pages in books just meant that they were well-loved, but Drift didn’t see the value in the fact that something worn was ‘well-loved’.
She, for one, was very worn. That didn’t necessarily equate to love at all.
The wooden floor gives a loud creak under her feet, and Drift flinches, despite herself. Another thing she hated about this place. If you were going to have wooden flooring, and so much of it, at that, it should not creak this much.
It made her wonder how anyone could ever sneak around the academy. Someone with light footsteps, for sure.
Drift comes to a stop, as she turns a corner.
Someone with light footsteps could probably sneak back into their room without Drift even noticing.
Yes, someone like— “AJ?”
AJ winces, as she turns. The tinkerer looks… haggard. Not like she does usually. Drift’s eyes dart to the way that AJ holds her right arm, pressing on a sloppily applied bandage around an arrow that pointedly sticks out of her arm, as if stopping bleeding. Her rugged charm is stripped away, replaced with pain in her eyes, as she tries for her signature, lazy, smile, and falls dreadfully short.
“Hey Drift.”
Drift.
Not open book. Not even princess.
Drift.
“Holy shit- Are you okay?” Drift rushes towards the tinkerer, a hand on AJ’s arm, and her other coming up to inspect AJ’s face for any wounds. She’s so caught off-guard, that Drift can’t even remind herself not to care.
No, Drift doesn’t even notice the way that AJ stiffens, and then melts into her touch like putty. Even so, AJ mumbles halfhearted reassurance. “I’m fine, Drift. Seriously.”
“You’re very obviously not.” Drift points out, “Come here.”
AJ looks like she's about to protest, but is silenced as Drift tugs on her sleeve gently. Her left sleeve, as to not aggravate whatever wound AJ is currently nursing on her right. Drift’s mind whirls. What was AJ doing? What did this? What was AJ going to do if Drift hadn’t found her? Just bleed out in her room? From the way that the bandage was applied, it didn’t seem like AJ had very much experience with first aid, so she would have been absolutely hopeless.
“What happened?” Drift, instead asks. There's a long silence, as Drift leads AJ down the hallway, and into AJ’s own dorm. “What on earth could you possibly have been doing?”
The door slams behind them, as Drift shuts it. Maybe it’s a little forceful, but she can’t bring herself to care, as she looks over AJ worriedly. If AJ was downplaying her arm, what other injuries could the tinkerer have possibly sustained?
“I told you. Sandwich stuff.” AJ mumbles, eyes on the floor. She looks so different like this. Defeated, almost. Like she can’t keep up whatever facade she holds onto. Drift debates whether to spare AJ’s pride or not. She decides to let the tinkerer decide that.
“Can you patch yourself up on your own?” Drift asks, softly, like she’s trying not to spook an animal. Again with comparing AJ to a cat. Maybe she really was one? “Do you want my help?”
AJ nods at the first question, and then, hesitantly, answers aloud for the second. “Yeah I- I do. Just- Stay. For a little bit.”
Stay in my room.
“Of course.” Drift nods, as if it’s obvious. As if they’ve ever done anything like this before. As if this situation wasn’t unusual at all.
As if AJ and her weren’t supposed to hate each other.
“But uh- try not to get any big ideas, huh?” AJ says, because the tinkerer probably can’t stand the change in dynamic. And, because Drift is the way she is, her face flushes despite herself. "I know I'm hot, but try not to stare."
“You’re insufferable,” Drift rolls her eyes, "You might bleed out, and all you can think about is me getting big ideas."
"So you admit you have them, then." AJ grins, and it feels a little more real this time, so Drift smiles back, before clocking what AJ has said. "Baby steps. Proud of you."
"I- You're-" Drift splutters, "Shut up and bandage yourself."
AJ makes a show of frowning dramatically, before turning to unwrap her arm. The tinkerer hisses in pain, before shooting Drift a warning glare. It holds no venom, just a promise of I'm fine. Drift steps back, (When had she taken that step forwards?) and AJ seems to appreciate it. It's like Drift is telling her that she knows that AJ can do it herself, and it somehow reassures both of them, as AJ removes the bandage carefully.
“Oh my god, AJ.” Drift murmurs, stepping closer despite the tinkerers earlier glare. “You walked all the way home with that?”
The arrow is gnarled, sticking out of AJ’s flesh as blood flows through the wound in a steady throb. It’s a wonder that AJ made it home, and Drift reaches out to touch the injured arm, guiding AJ to the floor, where the two women sit, opposite to each other.
“Yeah. Can’t say it feels any better than it looks, princess.” AJ jokes, and Drift thinks that now is really not the time.
“Pull it out.”
“What?”
“The arrow?” Drift says incredulously. “You’ve got to pull it out, so we can clean and bandage it properly. You should have pulled it out before walking back.”
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda, open book.” AJ shrugs, looking at the arrow, “I think it looks pretty at home there, don’t you think? It’d be a shame to pull it out.”
The tinkerer says that, but Drift can sense the undertones of fear that cut through AJ’s voice, unmistakable and clear. If it’s from her fear of being vulnerable, Drift can’t tell. But AJ’s desperation to shift the tone of their interaction worries her a little, and Drift wonders if maybe she ought to tone down her…
Her what?
Caring?
“I can step out for a second, if it’d help. Just while you pull it out?” Drift offers, and AJ immediately shakes her head, glancing up at Drift with a look that almost resembles fear, or something like it.
“No, no. I can do it.” AJ blows out a forceful breath, “I’m a big girl, I can pull an arrow out of my arm.”
Drift purses her lips, staying silent as AJ closes shaking fingers over the arrow. There’s a tense second of silence, before AJ inhales sharply, and pulls.
“Fuck!” AJ swears, letting go of the arrow. It’s not quite out of her arm, the tinkerer had barely moved it at all, and Drift wordlessly moves to sit beside AJ, facing the tinkerer.
“Hey I’ll-” Drift’s voice is sickeningly gentle. She couldn’t stop it if she tried. She doesn’t. “I’ll help you, okay?”
AJ is deafeningly quiet, until she murmurs, “Okay.”
“Alright.” Drift preps herself mentally. She offered to help, obviously, but part of her is scared that any moment, AJ might snap out of whatever is allowing Drift to stay, and push her away again. She speaks carefully, just in case. “Gonna grab the arrow now.”
AJ doesn’t protest, so Drift grasps the arrow shaft. It feels more real now that she’s got her fingers on the wood, and she takes a deep breath. “I’m going to count to three, and pull.”
Drift hears AJ’s breathing quicken, but doesn’t back down.
“Three,”
AJ bites her lip, and Drift traces it with her eyes; turns back to the arrow.
“Two,”
“Drift.”
Drift.
AJ’s voice is desperate, and Drift reaches out with her other hand, intertwining their fingers as a reassurance. Something crackles in the air, and then—
“One.”
Drift squeezes AJ’s hand as she pulls. AJ squeezes back, and then the arrow is out, and AJ is doubling over, as a whimper of pain makes it known that AJ is in fact in, well, pain.
Drift scrambles for the already used bandage, pressing it to AJ’s arm maybe too forcefully. Anything to stop the bleeding.
“You did it!” Drift whispers, leaning in to rub AJ’s back, almost tenderly. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
The last part sort of slips out. It’s too much for Drift, the shift in dynamic, the tone, and the swell of emotion in her chest, and it just slips out. She silently curses herself. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
If AJ notices, she doesn’t say anything, from where she’s still hunched forwards from the pain.
She only stiffens a little, as if to show she’s heard it.
And Drift knows it’s too much.
“Here. Press this to your arm.” Drift waits until AJ has a hold of the bandage, before standing, and taking a couple much-needed steps back.
She’s not going to leave, she’s not heartless. She’s just giving herself space, giving AJ space. To avoid any slip ups like that one.
“Where do you keep your bandages?” Drift asks lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room. AJ doesn't respond, and Drift glances over as the tinkerer makes a muffled sound. "AJ?"
"I- I don't have any." AJ's voice, if Drift didn't know any better, sounds almost tearful. But she banishes the thought from her mind, deeming it unreasonable, before not even a moment later, AJ raises her head to look at Drift, wiping her eyes.
“Are you crying?” Drift says, immediately feeling guilty for leaving AJ’s side. The tinkerer waves her off with a hand, and Drift gets the feeling AJ would rather not discuss it.
“No, no, ‘m fine.” AJ says, hiccuping.
Drift fights the urge to sit back down beside AJ, and coax the other woman’s head into her lap, so AJ can get some sleep. Focus, Drift, AJ is bleeding. Bandages.
“What do you mean you don’t have any?” Drift says incredulously, “You mean to tell me you just never thought to have any bandages?”
“Well, open book,” AJ winces, “I didn’t exactly plan on getting shot, now did I?”
“Yes, but it’s always good to have these things on hand.” Drift laments, before grabbing the bottom of her cloak. She had more in her room, and this was, unfortunately, a necessary sacrifice. She rips the fabric loudly, tearing off a large section of the cloak, before dropping to her knees once more to tend to AJ.
“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” AJ immediately insists, even as she’s trying not to whimper from the pressure being put on her arm. Drift promptly ignores the ridiculous statement, fetching her flask from her belt. "I'll be fine."
“This might sting.” Drift says, before pouring the entire flask on AJ’s arm. Its already bare, so it’s not like AJ’s clothes get wet, but the other woman flinches, her hand shooting out to grip Drifts wrist tightly, as if it’s the only thing keeping her from passing out. “Sorry.”
“N- No problem, Drift.” AJ tries for a smile. “I’m tough, see? I got it.”
Drift tries to clean up the wound, and the area surrounding it, as best as possible. “You don’t need to keep saying that when you’re hurt, you know.”
“That I’m tough?” AJ questions, “But it's true. I am.”
“Even tough people get hurt,” Drift says absentmindedly, ripping the cloth further, and using the corner to wipe off more blood. “That doesn’t mean you're not tough. Just means you got hurt.”
“But tough people can handle it.” AJ replies, and Drift gets the feeling that the tinkerer wants to add ‘by themselves’ to the statement. She frowns.
“Yeah, but tough people don’t do it alone, you know.” Drift alleges, biting her lips as she loops the remaining cloth around AJ’s arm. “They have help. From people like me.”
“People like you, huh?” AJ murmurs softly, which makes something in Drift’s chest shiver. “If I’m tough, what are you?”
“The opposite, I guess.” Drift shrugs, “You need help, and I help.”
AJ stays silent for a moment. “So you’re soft, then?”
Soft.
Is Drift soft? She certainly feels like it, the warm feeling that washes over her as she ties the bandage. She feels soft when she takes a step back, and AJ looks relatively like herself again. She also feels like she wants to move back closer, and tilt AJ’s head to the side, just to know that she’s real.
Is Drift soft for AJ?
“I never said that.” Drift frowns, “I just said I’m not tough.”
“Sure you are, open book.” AJ hides the compliment behind her usual teasing smile, “Give yourself more credit.”
No, Drift isn’t tough like AJ. If she was, she wouldn’t be walking towards the door. If Drift was tough, she would have kissed AJ when she started crying. If Drift was tough, she wouldn’t be leaving.
“Whatever, AJ.” The nature mage makes a show of rolling her eyes, in order to hide the way her words seem to drip with pained wistfulness. “See you later.”
AJ looks almost sad that she’s going. Drift tells herself that she’s either imagining it, or that AJ is acting that way on purpose to be difficult. There’s no other reason that the tinkerer’s eyes would linger on her.
“Yeah, see ‘ya, open book.”