bakerstreet | when things break bad...

"You should," Balthier says without hesitation. Then he considers who he's talking to and thinks to amend his statement, but the unexpected touch at his back both surprises and soothes him. He closes his eyes, just letting himself feel the sensation.

"I know it isn't your people's way but -- if it's something you want, you should."

Should. That word is so powerful and painful. David's hand pulls back, restoring the unspoken barrier of pain between them.

"To leave is to not return. We have our places in life. This is meant to be mine."

He should stop. He knows the cultural rules. This ain’t his place.

But…

“That’s how Fran talked about it too. What she was meant for. It wasn’t what she wanted.” David withdraws though, and Balthier knows he’s pushed too far, dissolving whatever quiet had grown between them.

“It’s not my decision and I’m not intending to pressure you. I just think it’s alright if you want that. Even if it’s a hard path.”

And he suspects no one has ever said that to David.

A great temptation offered, and leaving David to ache with longing. But he isnt' that strong, that brave. So instead he pulls the heated vegetables closer and then rises gracefully to go collect some utensils.

"The hunters do not leave the wood. We are of the wood, more than even the females. We cannot exist free of it."

He sighs as David walks away, reasonably dismissing this absurd conversation. “I’m not sure fighting my fate didn’t make everything worse and here I still am touting it. Maybe I ought to try something closer to your way.”

Though at this point, what would that even mean? Try to take his title back? Fall in line?

Just go back to piracy?

What is his place? Especially without Fran?

"My way does not always provide happiness," David reminded the Hume before he returned and settled by the man once more. "Please poor some tea."

“Haven’t found a way that does,” Balthier shrugs. But he obliges, testing a small amount of the tea then taking out the leaves so the they’ll stop steeping. He serves them both, handing the steaming mug to David. “Cheers.”

"The question is 'what does one wish of their life'. This is what must guide," he suggests. At least for a Hume it is worthy.

Worthy for Viera too, he would counter. He’d only met one who wanted to leave.

“Time was I would agree. That compass doesn’t work when one can’t answer the question though.” The tea is still too hot to drink but he holds it close to his chest, letting the heat roll over him as he breathes in the heavy plant scent. Its relaxing him already.

Oh, he had met two. But David's greatest fear, in the end, was that he would not be able to find purpose. At least as a hunter he had purpose, had guidance from the wood.

"Then find a new compass. Or seek beyond the borders of the lands it once pointed toward. Find new places, new callings, and perhaps it will guide you once more."

Balthier can’t help raise his brows. That sounds an awful lot like his former self. Like Fran when he was being morose. A strange metaphor for someone insisting they are meant to stay put.

“Oh? And where does your compass point? What calls you?”

With that question the Viera clearly feels awkward. His ears dip for a moment, as if ashamed. And instead he focuses on sipping his tea and then checking the meat. Satisfied with those he rises to get plates. Only when he returns does he speak.

"I belong to the Wood. My people do. We listen to the word."

Balthier has a guess what that ear dip means; Fran did the same, rarely. So he knows to be gentle, careful. He doesn’t even notice the way this entire situation is lifting some of the fog.

“And she sent you for me today?” He would think the Wood would protect this clearly conflicted Viera from a heathen dreamer like him. Especially with what happened to Fran.

Is it possible the Wood approved of Fran’s choice? Somehow that makes Balthier’s heart feel lighter; it’s a risky thing, to nurse a narrative one wants. And yet the allure that something about what he did for her was right…

"Yes," he said, that much he knew. Perhaps as a male he cannot hear the voice as well, but when he could, he didn't refuse it. "You have something that must be told. There are two in the village."

And in the morning he would see a message sent so they could tell him when he could bring Balthier to them.

"I know she was of the place, if she took your group there. So I will take you. And wait while you find and tell the tale you must tell them. Perhaps they will give you guidance."

He nods. "Her sisters." Because he thinks David will understand both why he must deliver the message, and why it's going to be so difficult.

He does wrinkle his brow though. "You are not allowed in?" He knows males do not usually go, but neither do humes. "Did the wood tell you to wait for me?" Because he can't imagine what business David would have with him after, not that he minds the company.

"I am not allowed in without forewarning," he corrected. There was much to be traded, and there was a chance there was a boy child of age that would be sent with him. "And I wait for I fear you will do poorly to leave the woods on your own."

Ah. Yes. His being in need of keeping. He'd protest, but it's obvious the viera is right.

"You honor me with your concern and your aid. And this tea." There's something restorative to it, the blend itself yes, but just...sharing tea with someone. It's been, well, since before Fran passed.

Could anyone doubt that this poor Hume was not in need of keeping? He was clearly not one meant for solitude, and if all truth was given, neither was David. He was alone for that was his place, but for now, he would take the company the Wood gave him.

"You honor me with your tolerance and your company. But here, have more than merely the tea," he said, handing over a utensil and pulling the warmed dish of vegetables between them. "Eat your fill. You will need your strength for what you must tell."

Balthier didn't have much of a history of being kept when he needed it, and the one person most prone to it was lost to him, the others of his party scattered.

"First person who has called me tolerant in a long while," he says with a half-smile and a shake of his head. "Company I am fairly sure I can provide. And thank you." There's something platonic and lovely about sharing from the same plate, and that bolsters his spirits as much as the food. "This is excellent," he says, surprise not entirely masked. He's had Viera cooking, and he's had some of the best foods across Ivalice. Not that food has tasted like much lately, but this gets through, and it's good.

"You are the first who has chosen to tolerate me in a while," David countered just as easily.

To be told his cooking is excellent, though, makes the Viera smile quite genuinely. He had not had someone with which to share his cooking save the one who had trained him many decades ago. Those rare encounters he had allowed himself with other hunters had never had them sharing of his hearth in this way.

"Thank you. I imagine that you have tasted a good many things in your seeing of the world. I am glad my humble offerings could be of comment."

"I can visit again, if that's something you'd like." He doesn't entirely intend to say it, and he hasn't really even thought about what he'll do after he delivers his story. Maybe it's just the part of him that shouldn't be alone, recognizing someone he gets along with. Someone that doesn't remind him of his own painful history.

"No need to be humble about something you're good at. I'm a right snob." His smile is easier. It's not like the grief is gone, but it's quieter, receding the shadows outside the glow of David's hearth.

Ah but the yearning to say hes is powerful, perhaps even obvious in how he holds himself straighter at the offer. Then his ears flag a little, for he cannot fathom that the Hume would come back. He would not wish to stay where he so hurt for memories of his companion.

"I was not aware I was skilled. I have only had myself to taste my creations for many years. Guests are not common here."

Balthier watches David's body tense, then his ears dip a little. Maybe he wouldn't see it if he hadn't spent years with Fran. She too would gloss over his words, only for him to realize later she heard -- and contemplated -- all of them. Even when they were copious.

"I'll bring things from afield then," he says casually, to cement that the offer is there but David's choice. "Fresh won't travel well, but there are spices. And pickles. If you decide you don't wish to see me again, then I doubt I'll find you, and the food won't spoil."

An offering to return. And yet not one that David thought he could accept. There was no way the Hume would return.

"Why would you offer such a thing? You know the Woods are dangerous. What if she should block her ways to you in the future?"

Balthier tilts his head, gaze getting distant as he really thinks about David's question and, more importantly, what David likely does and doesn't know. When he met Fran, she'd already been out of the Wood a good long while. Hume culture was foreign to her, but travel was not.

"My path is always dangerous, and I move across Ivalice freely and frequently. I like to see people I know, people who are good company and good for conversation, when I am nearby. Perhaps the Wood will block me, and I will respect that, but she has let me pass several times before. I have taken hunts for the village, even. And if I can repay your kindness, then I am happy to." He doesn't address the molboro in the room that Fran was always with him. It is not the point.

Bad End AU Meme

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject