21. The Assignment #3
He looked so relieved, it so eager to be friends.
Caelum physically winced, feeling another stab in his gut.
Leda must have protected him from absolutely fucking everything.
She’d taken on all the wariness, all the distrust and abandonment issues from what happened to them when they were young.
She’d absorbed all of the responsibility, all the worry, all the guilt.
She’d taken it all on and left Arcturus relatively intact.
Caelum couldn’t even resent him for it. He looked at the kid, and he wanted to protect him, too.
“Sorry about the smell,” he said next, gasping after he finished downing the third full cup of cold water.
He let go of the kid’s arm and waved vaguely at the mess he wouldn’t look at.
“I’ll use magic to clean it up later,” he added, wiping his face with a hand, then the side of his neck.
He winced and stared down at his palm when it came away bloody.
He’d forgotten Sirena and her knives.
She’d always been overly fond of knives, which is part of why Caelum hated them. He’d never learned to fence, other than what his father literally forced him to learn. He only carried a dagger because they were inordinately useful out in the field. He hated blades.
Remembering he’d cut Leda in that alcove, he winced.
He wiped what he could of the blood on the stone, hoping the kid hadn’t seen it. It was dark in there, but he had a feeling the kid saw a lot, and not only with his magic.
“When they uncuff me next, I can make it go away,” he explained, ignoring when the kid stared at his hand. “The smell, too.”
Arcturus nodded, his nose wrinkling.
Something about the expression made him look even younger.
After a pause, Arcturus got up, and headed back for the bucket.
“Don’t bother,” Caelum called after him.
The kid ignored him.
He came back with the full bucket a few seconds later. Using his shoes, which looked like what Leda called “trainers,” and likely came from a shop that specialized in human-inspired styles, Arcturus scraped most of the vomit over the floor towards one of the inset drains.
He worked at it for a few minutes, using his shoes and the bucket to wash it down.
It still smelled when he finally carried the bucket back to the piping in the wall, but no where near as bad as it had before he started.
Caelum couldn’t help but feel grateful.
The kid walked back, his eyes hesitant now, cautious.
When Caelum didn’t react, Arcturus walked all the way up to him and sat down next to him, by the same section of wall.
Caelum didn’t have the heart to push him away.
Maybe he wanted the proximity, too.
When the kid let out a long exhale and leaned against Caelum’s side, Caelum didn’t say anything that time, either.
He also didn’t move away. He watched the kid as Arcturus gauged his reaction, then slowly began to relax.
Drawing up his knees, the kid leaned his arms on his legs and his head on his arms.
He sighed again, and leaned deeper into Caelum’s side.
“What is that?” he asked next, his voice almost sleepy.
Caelum flinched, then stared at where the kid pointed.
His eyes widened once he had.
A fox stood there, black but glowing with gold.
It had shining gold-green eyes and a flaming tail. It was translucent, like a primal, but he didn’t know anyone with a fire fox primal. Something about it made his throat close.
“I don’t know,” he said thickly.
“Is it one of them, spying on us?” Arcturus ventured.
Bones felt his jaw harden.
He stared at the fox, at the fire rippling sensually around its bushy tail. For some reason, he wanted to deny what the kid said, to tell him he was wrong, but he knew, as far as explanations went, it made the most sense.
“Probably,” he made himself answer.
Neither of them spoke as they stared at the fox.
The fox continued to sit there, looking at them, its face serene, its aura rippling around it along with the fire.
Its fur and features changed a few times as Bones watched, from black to grey, from grey to white, from white to red with a black face and paws, to a tawny gold, and back to black.
The fox’s tail continued to flame through all of the changes.
All at once, the fox trotted over to them, and climbed up on Caelum’s thigh. It walked in a circle, curling into a ball, and leaned into both of them as it made itself comfortable. Caelum couldn’t feel it really, not with the collar, but his leg felt strangely warm.
After a few seconds, Caelum’s bone dragon climbed down to look at it. After examining it with black and gold eyes, the dragon lied down next to it, stretching its long neck and head out next to the fox’s fur.
The fox closed its eyes, its nose tucked under its flaming tail.
“It’s not a spy,” Arcturus commented, sleepily.
Caelum looked over at him. He wanted to argue with the kid, but didn’t.
He went back to watching the fox, unable to tear his eyes away.
Caelum was still sitting there, staring down at the ball of fluff made of light, watching its body move in regular breaths, as the kid fell asleep against him.