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Argist is a peaceful place. Boats bob up and down with the swell of water in the harbor, and the wind is always accompanied by a refreshing coastal coolness. It’s not a dead town by any means, and it’s not even particularly quiet—there’s a lively market not too far from the docks, and most streets in the residential parts of town have at least a few children playing along the edges—but even the hustle and bustle seems somehow more relaxed, as if the town is unwilling to move faster than the ocean waves. It’s a good thing, too—the group’s activities are significantly limited by the various injuries its members are nursing, but the fact that Kendal’s hurt doesn’t bring Vash any closer to freedom and the fact that they’re recovering from their wounds doesn’t mean that Erin’s been released from the Void Dragon’s possession. If Argist were any less calm, Kendal wouldn’t trust anything to keep everyone in one place, not even the threat of Alinua’s wrath. (Even as it is, he’s already noticed how Erin’s spending more and more time outside of their room.)
Kendal had thought he’d figured it out. That he could just save Vash right then and there, no expedition into the Singing Caves necessary. Vash would certainly be far better equipped than Kendal to help Erin handle the Void Dragon, and Kendal knows Vash would take good care of Kendal’s friends—he’d probably take even better care of them than Kendal ever could. It had all turned out to be more complicated than he’d thought, though, and he’s still trying to piece together a new solution.
Kendal chooses not to think about it too much. The plan remains the same as it was before Kendal had his idea, and once he and Falst are well enough, they’ll all get going again, just like before they fought Tynan.
There are things that need to be done, ways to keep busy, so Kendal does what he can, and he tries not to think about it all. When he does think about it, he chooses to think about the people of Vash, and he chooses to think about how good it had felt to hold Alinua close as they watched the sunrise together. When he can’t keep himself busy, when he has to slow down to let his body heal and rebuild itself, he chooses to take the opportunity to look at the world through a closer lens. He notices how the temperature dips at night and how the air has a saltiness to it that’s wholly new to him. He notices how Alinua’s hair gets blown into her face by the ocean breeze, how each flower she grows in meditation is a slightly different color than the last, how she seems to like it when he smiles. He notices how sunbeams turn visible when the clouds part in precisely the right way, and he notices how the children’s laughter floats above the hubbub of a crowded square. (Vash had known these things, of course. But Kendal can’t deny that he enjoys experiencing them for himself.)
It rained the other night. The others had all been asleep by the time it started, but Kendal hadn’t been able to keep himself from sitting with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword all night. He hadn’t been able to keep himself from remembering the twisted form of relief he’d felt when he’d thought he’d figured everything out, or the indescribable sensation that had swept through his body as he’d told Alinua she wouldn’t have to save him again. He hadn’t been able to keep himself from remembering how it felt to hold his sword by the blade, blood running down his palm, and plunge it into his own flesh. Alinua had been so upset with him. He never wants to see Alinua that upset again.
Still, aside from the occasional brush with an unpleasant memory, life has been good. If there were anywhere that encapsulated the desire to experience and explore the world, it would be Argist, the quaint, lively city nestled on the ocean’s shores. The waves remind Kendal of Vash’s memories, how the movement of his people would ebb and flow as the sun rose and set. It’s one of those places that makes the whole world seem beautiful, especially as he looks out over the water with Alinua at his side. He’s relaxed, and happy, and enjoying some light conversation with his best friend.
“I stopped by the market again today, and I got to try a kind of fruit I’d never had before,” Alinua is saying.
“Did you like it?”
Kendal likes watching Alinua when she’s excited about something. They’ve spent so much of the time they’ve known each other fighting to keep each other alive; it’s a welcome change to watch Alinua fight to keep her hair from getting into her mouth.
As the sun slides higher in the sky, the light reflects on everything just the tiniest bit differently. Everything from the ocean to the chain he’s resting his arms on to the curls of Alinua’s hair seems just a little more vibrant, more alive.
“You know you have to give yourself permission, too, right?”
“What do you mean?” Alinua’s question doesn’t surprise him so much as it catches him off-guard, and he can’t quite trace it back to what it’s referring to.
“Last time we talked like this, I said it was like you’d given yourself permission to be happy. You said that the people of Vash did, and that’s great, but you have to give yourself that permission too. You told me not to sacrifice myself for you back when we first met, but I still kept trying to do it. Others can help, but it has to be your decision.”
“I am happy,” Kendal replies, and it’s true.
For some reason, Alinua pauses. When she does speak, her voice is quiet, and she says, “You don’t have to be.”
Kendal doesn’t really know what to say to that. It’s a good thing that he’s happy, it feels good, and he knows it makes Alinua happy. Or, rather, he’d thought it made her happy to see him happy.
It seems like every time Kendal thinks he understands what it means to be alive, something new appears and forces him to reconsider.
“You like it when I’m happy,” Kendal says.
“Of course I do! But I don’t like you any less when you’re not.” Alinua frowns. “You’re my friend because you’re you, Kendal, not because you’re feeling one way or another. I want you to be happy because I care about you, but that doesn’t mean you have to be happy all the time.”
The waves lap at the wall they’re sitting on, the water never quite reaching their feet but continually reaching up towards them. Quietly, Alinua adds, “I want you to feel like you can tell me if you’re sad. I think you’re sad a lot, and I want to be there for you.”
“It’s more complicated than that.” Emotions are always complicated for Kendal, if he’s being honest. Whether it’s the godly memories he has in place of a childhood, or the fact that his existence was the direct result of an entire city’s death, or just a simple fact of who he is, he’s never quite seemed to understand emotions in the way others seem to. The way Dainix had talked about anger when they were in the cell together, before they fought Tynan and been forced to start dealing with all the fallout from that—that way of thinking about emotion was entirely new to Kendal, and he still doesn’t entirely understand it. Still, Kendal knows that everything they’re discussing now, both the emotion itself and the context around it, is complicated for another reason.
“I want to live, but I can’t just forget that I’m alive because Vash’s people died. And I can’t forget that I’m the only one who can help them, and the only one who can help Vash.”
“You haven’t given yourself permission, really.” Alinua reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing tight.
“I have a responsibility to them.”
“Both of those things can be true.”
Kendal pauses, turning to fully face Alinua. The bandages still wrapped around his torso restrict the movement just enough to draw attention to themselves, pulling taut as he twists his body towards her. Kendal puts a hand over the spot where he stabbed himself just a few days earlier and says, “I’m sorry I made you save me again.”
An incomprehensible expression passes over Alinua’s face. “You said I wouldn’t have to.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Alinua squeezes his hand even tighter, as if her grip was the only thing keeping him from falling off a cliff. “Please stay,” she whispers, tears dripping down her face.
“I will. I want to live. I chose to live.” There’s a second half to the sentence, one that he can’t quite bring himself to say, and it must show on his face because Alinua says it for him.
“But it’s more complicated than that,” she says, repeating his own words back to him, and he nods. “I know. Just remember, they’re already dead. You aren’t.”
Kendal turns back to look across the ocean, reciprocating Alinua’s tight grip of his hand with a slight squeeze of his own. “I’ve made you sad.”
“You’re here to make me sad. That’s all I want from you. I just want you to be here.”
Kendal scoots closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The healing wound itches underneath the bandages, and Kendal has to bite back another but it’s more complicated than that.
Maybe he just wants it to be as simple, for once. It wouldn’t be too bad to have his life be fully his own, to be able to spend it with his best friend without making her fear for his life every other day. Kendal would quite like to have the kind of intimacy that involves quiet evenings simply spent in each other’s company rather than the kind of intimacy that involves Alinua stitching his flesh and bone back together.
“Can you promise that?” Alinua asks, curled up against his side.
“I promise. I’ll do everything I can to make sure I stay right here.”
~~~
In the end, it hadn’t been his choice. As soon as they’d taken Kendal, the paladins had never stood a chance, but that doesn’t stop Alinua’s heart from aching as she heals every broken bone and bruise they’d given him. He’s sleeping, his head on Alinua’s shoulder—and the fact that he’s sleeping at all is concerning enough, but Alinua is just glad that he’s safe and back beside her where he promised he’d be.
He wakes up slowly, and Alinua does her best to keep him comfortable, offering him tea and food in case his body decides to need it and wrapping him in blankets and spending as much time as possible at his side. When he’s fully awake, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I didn’t stay with you.”
“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t ever need help! I just wanted you to stop trying to throw your life away!” Alinua forces herself to take a deep breath and swipes at the tears gathering in her eyes. She nearly forgets herself and pulls Kendal close, but instead she contents herself with a careful hug that makes sure to avoid all of his injuries. More quietly, but no less sincerely, she adds, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I still promised,” Kendal whispers, weakly returning the embrace.
“Both of those things can be true.”
“If you’re apologizing, I should be apologizing too,” Alinua says, gently brushing Kendal’s hair out of his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep all this from happening. I tried.”
Her voice breaks as she says that. It seems like such an understatement, too simple to convey the pure agony she’d felt as she’d reached out with her magic only to have the tree so cruelly blasted away.
“I saw,” Kendal says. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“Neither do you,” Alinua replies, adjusting one of the blankets wrapped around him to cover them both.
She knows right now neither of them believe the other, but there will be time for that later. All that matters in the present moment is that, despite gods and paladins and their own hands, they are finally together again.