bakerstreet | when things break bad...

"Then I will speak," he agrees, as much to solidify it for himself as anything. It still feels surreal, to finally be here.

He follows as the Viera begins again, weighing his question before responding. "Yes, though I think I will need to sleep after that."

"You will sleep after you have food. You grow lean in your grief," he observes, gesturing for Balthier to keep closer. He did not wish to lose what he had won the life of.

Has he? He supposes it’s possible. Food hasn’t been of much interest to him. Denying a Viera an offer to share their hunt is insulting besides.

“I thank you for your sharp eye and good hunt.” Keeping closer is difficult, not because of the pace though it does push him past his usual gait, but because it feels too much like being near to Fran.

Damn right it's insulting. The Viera in question was particularly intense about feeding. Perhaps he was solitary by circumstances of birth, but that did not mean he enjoyed being alone. At all.

"You know the proper ways. She was good to teach you them," he says as he keeps them going. "I thank you for the respect."

Yes, some vague foggy patch of Balthier's mind is buzzing, slowly crawling over the Viera's words. So many of them. Social. Welcoming even. It may be a trait of male Viera, but as far as he knows, they are even more isolated than the women. A personal quirk, perhaps.

Regardless, he's grateful for it. How long has it been since he had interaction that wasn't laborious?

"You don't seem troubled that I am a hume who has been shown Viera customs." Others had judged Fran for that. There was no such coldness in this one's comment.

He was, by no means, the normal Viera, even for a male.

"I saw your group, when you walked through the Wood last. Not long, in passing. But you respected her, and she clearly respected you."

And that went far. Very far.

David had watched them. Not just their movements to make sure they did not disturb the Wood, but their dynamics. Checking on Fran, perhaps? But he thinks something else, a longing his own heart knows.

But it's muddy, and for once he doesn't trust his instincts. It could just be projection of his own feelings, so addled and dulled these days.

Still. He's curious. "A pity we didn't get to make your acquaintance then. We'd have been pleased to share our fire and our hunt."

"It is not the place of a Hunter to interact with an exile or Warder or Salvemaker," he pointed out. So he'd been alone because it was what he was supposed to do.

"Distance is our way of following the Green Word."

"Fair enough," Balthier agrees. Even if following what he's told to be is anathema to him.

Or maybe he never outran it. A Judge was someone who claimed to bring justice and simply got others killed. Was that not what he was?

"I think I envy the Viera," he admits. "I've never had that sort of clarity, or sense of home." To have something like the Green Word and feel a sense of meaning from it -- that was something he didn't understand.

Envy? David raised a slender eyebrow at that. He had not heard people express envy toward their ways before. In fact, he had seen people speak of their lives with pity, over how things were so rigid for them.

"Home is where one makes it. Clarity is something one has to find with open eyes and ears."

He sighs, because he doesn’t disagree. He’s just … tired. “My eyes and ears are clouded of late. I’ve started to wonder if they always have been.”

Likely not, but the evidence against it is all in memory to painful to touch, and so he is in a fog. And if he thinks of the future, he has to confront what it lacks, so here he is, stewing in the thick, unpleasant now.

If his ears and eyes are tired...

"There is a tea I shall make you," he decides as he finally brings them to a stop on their walk. Yes, here is where they have to climb to the high roads. "It will clear them. But first, we must get to my shelter. I must carry you up. I do not believe you have the strength to haul yourself up through the vines."

He’s too tired both emotionally and physically to protest. The tea certainly won’t hurt, but what if it makes the Mist visions clearer? Well, then he will have something to ask the Viera he supposes. It’s rude to refuse, regardless.

Some other lifetime he would have protested at the indignity of being carried like a child into the trees, but he only nods. “I will try your tea. Shall I climb onto your back?”

The viera considers for a long moment then nods. This is, unfortunately, the best solution. So he goes down to a knee so the other man can more easily get in position.

"I am glad that you will try it."

Two things strike him simultaneously: just how much larger David is than him, even without counting the ears, and that its been weeks since he touched another person.

He’s a skilled enough con man to get into position without betraying either thought, though there’s a lump in his throat at feeling small and near to someone, but not actually intimate. It gets tighter when he used a tiny stop spell to help lock his grip in place, a trick Fran taught him with Magick not confined to license boards and rules.

“Ready when you are.”

The viera stands straight, and then gives a mighty shake, as if trying to loose Balthier. Finding the little Hume secure he nods, then runs forward, before leaping. His long, clawed hands grab a vine well out of normal reach, and soon he's hauling them up.

"You do well to use the magic so. She has taught you some of our ways."

Well this isn’t something he has ever done with Fran. If he hadn’t used the spell, he’d likely have flung off into a heap. Even knowing his grip is secure, his stomach flips at their speed and how strong snd smooth David’s movements are beneath him. It’s not often he feels someone could destroy him with little effort. To be so aware of his own fragility - truly he is in awe, and thanks.

A thanks that grows with David’s approving stance toward what Fran has shared with him. He expected hostility. “She was an excellent teacher and extremely creative problem solver. I learned a good deal from her.” About magick. About being alive.

There was no way that David could destroy Balthier with no effort. First he would have to wish to do so, and he did not wish to do so.

"Humes did much to limit the true ways of magic," he agreed as he hauled himself hand over hand with ease up to the higher branches. "It is good when the old ways are remembered. The Mists are powerful, and need to flow for them to refresh the world."

Balthier can’t help a sigh at that. “You’re right. I fear what the state of Mist and Hume behavior will be going forward.” Venat and his father had succeeded. The time of Ocurria was over. How long until the license system broke down? How long until something new and more rigid took its place?

“More reason the old ways are important.” That, at least, is a belief of his that hasn’t been shaken, and there is comfort in that knowledge. A tiny ledge to find his balance on.

"If your people have their way, it will not be of a state," David noted as he finally hauled himself up onto the high limb he had been taking them to. From here, just barely in the distance, one might even make out a small hut, built in against the sturdy trunk of the tree he had brought them up.

"The old ways are not always without their flaws, though it is not a thing often to be said."

“You are a curious Viera,” Balthier says. The candidness of the response is a testament to how good interaction is for his grieving spirit. “All things have their flaws. Best to have a broad tool kit.”

He can see around the Viera’s head and spots the hut. He’s never been in one, and some shadow of curiosity stirs, like a muscle memory he hasn’t used in ages.

"How many of our men do you know?" David countered in an almost off hand manner. No, the man cannot truly say he's curious, even if David truly is.

"Not all fit the molds made for them, the will expected of them by the Wood. But ours is to duty, and so duty is taken. Tell me, do you eat meat?"

While it was not as common of the female viera, it indeed was more common of the males. They were, so often, hunters after all.

David’s words are fair, but Balthier has a hunch, and those hunched have been right a good deal more often than they haven’t. So he doesn’t argue.

“I don’t refuse food, especially offered from a hunt.” It’s kind David asked, but Balthier was without food for enough of his youth to be above denying it. Besides. An surefire way to insult someone in almost any culture was to refuse their food.

Perhaps it was a sure way to do so, however he merely would have found and prepared something else for his guest. Instead he keeps going at a brisk pace, clearly confident on these higher, thinner, and yes, more bouncy branches than rightly someone of his size wearing heels should rightly be.

But hey, that's just the way he works.

"I am glad for it. It will do you good to have a full meal. You feel light."

These thinner, bouncier branches are making Balthier a little queasy. He prefers the skies, thanks, and he’s glad for the spell keeping his grip. Still, newness is good for him, and something stirs at having this experience that’s so unfamiliar.

“And do you know the weight of many men?” He shoots back. It’s light, but he amends, “I only tease. I know I haven’t been eating well.”

Bad End AU Meme

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