Chapter Text
Krile would not have noted anything particular about G'raha, if not for the fact that he was so distracted that he nearly tripped over her in the hall.
“Raha, really, are we truly so distracted today?” She glanced back in the direction he'd been walking from, noting that she'd sent S'ria that way to sort paperwork earlier in the morning, and a mischievous smile snuck onto her face. “Oh, I see. Please do try to keep your head out of the clouds, if you are going to visit each other throughout the day.”
“R-really, I do not… well, guilty as charged, I suppose.” G'raha cleared his throat, trying and failing to sound casual. “By the by, has S'ria been wearing reading glasses for long? He had not used them before that I can recall.”
Krile shook her head. “No, those are a recent request from realizing he got eye strain after a few hours of looking at documents.”
G'raha’s easy smile was slightly betrayed by the nervous flick of his ears. “Thank you for accommodating his needs, and my apologies for nearly running into you – now if you shall excuse me –”.
It finally caught up to Krile and she stifled a snort. “Wait, is that what has you so flustered?”
G'raha shrugged helplessly, stepping around Krile and beating a hasty retreat back to his own work.
Ahh… she was delighted to have S'ria around, and he was quite helpful himself, but there seemed to be a corresponding drop in G'raha's quality of focus at times, oh dear.
Well, the world had nearly ended, she wouldn't begrudge them that much.
It was good that there were new scholars and helping hands being recruited to the Students of Baldesion. They tried to keep S'ria's presence there more under the table when recruiting, rather than advertising it, and no few individuals were a touch… starstruck to learn they'd be living in close proximity with him.
That never lasted very long, though. They always had the idea of a hero more than the idea of a man – and watching S'ria stumble into the kitchen, favoring one leg, and yawn his way through making tea despite Ojika’s insistence that he needn't do so himself – well, it tended to make him seem a lot more human.
Many of them had more prior firsthand interactions with G'raha as a scholar than personal familiarity with S'ria, and S'ria found himself slowly demoted from “Savior of the World” to “G'raha Tia’s Partner” – a turn of events he was finding greatly preferable, actually.
It was nice, to live with a group of people who were not so impressed with him that they forgot he was just another person.
“Ah, is it better or worse than usual?”
G'raha knew S'ria prefer he not make a big deal out of things. So when he entered S'ria's room to find him sat by the washroom door, he tried to play it off as non-stressfully as possible.
“Mmm.”
If S'ria wasn't speaking, he must be feeling quite a bit poorly, but if he wasn't preemptively on the washroom floor, then it at least wasn't critically awful – so moderately bad, he supposed.
It worried G'raha, that an episode like this meant S'ria would likely not eat anything else tonight, but pushing him on that would help nothing.
G'raha kept nearly a whole apothecary in S'ria's room, for things to be on hand. He brought back a tiny vial of anti-nausea medication and handed it to S'ria, heading into the washroom to dampen a washcloth.
This was not the first time such a thing had happened, and S'ria drank the potion with little hesitation. He did not flinch at G'raha lifting his bangs and applying the cool cloth to his forehead. G'raha didn't need to ask if it was helping, the way S'ria visibly relaxed. Gods be willing, the worst of it would pass shortly now and S'ria could properly move somewhere more comfortable.
After not screaming himself awake this time, S'ria was a bit confused about why he was conscious. He didn't have to wonder for long, tuning in to the sound of someone quietly crying a short distance away. He blinked groggily, carefully sitting up.
“Raha?”
There was a loud sniffle and sounds of shuffling. “Gods, have I woken you? Forgive me, go back to sleep, Ria.”
S'ria did absolutely nothing of the sort, gingerly crawling out of bed and putting his good leg down first. He navigated the few fulms to G'raha's makeshift bedding (more of a futon than a mattress) and carefully sat down by him. G'raha was already upright, sitting against the wall.
He shook his head, breathing still ragged. “I am sorry, I'm – I –”.
“Hush, don't apologize. What's wrong?”
G'raha leaned his forehead onto his knees, tucking his head down. “Ria, you were – you were actually dead for a few moments, you were so still, I – gods. I tried so hard, but I was not even sure I could bring you back to us."
S'ria pushed away the intense pang of guilt over being the cause of such distress, leaning closer to G'raha. He was not good with words sometimes, not like G'raha, not like Menphina… but he did not necessarily need to have the right words. “Can I have your hand?”
G'raha unwrapped one arm from his legs and held the hand towards S'ria, otherwise not moving or looking up. S'ria took it gently, pressing G'raha's palm against the left side of his chest. G'raha was always so… warm,but he must have been very panicked indeed, because his hand actually felt cool against S'ria's skin for once. G'raha jerkily looked up to face S'ria. He tried to give G'raha a reassuring smile.
“There… see?” He felt his heartbeat vibrate from G'raha's hand into his own, nervous and a bit quick, but strong and quite alive. G'raha nodded, shaking. In an appreciated show of restraint, S'ria felt the accidental pinpricks of claws against bare skin for only a moment before they were retracted.
G'raha's voice was trembling, still choked by tears. “What if what I just saw, where I failed to save you, was reality… and this part is the dream?”
S'ria considered for a moment, before lifting G'raha's hand from his chest. He met a bewildered G'raha's eyes as he brought it to his mouth – and then he bit G'raha's hand, gently enough to not pierce skin with fangs at least.
“Ow?!”
G'raha yanked his hand away, looking at S'ria with mild annoyance. S'ria's reaction, in response, was quite unbothered.
“That felt real though, didn't it?”
G'raha's expression softened. “Ah… yes. That it did.”
G'raha slipped into S'ria's room, finding him still focused on work at his desk.
“Are you not done for the day? The sun has fallen.”
S'ria chuckled. “As if you're one to talk. Has time of day ever meant anything to you?” He stretches, joints cracking audibly. “No, this is just some personal work.”
He capped his inkwell and shoved it off to the side as G'raha crossed the room. G'raha rapped on the desk to make absolutely certain S'ria knew he was so close, and then laid his hands on S'ria's shoulders. He began to carefully massage, pressing his thumbs into the muscle between shoulder and neck. S'ria groaned and dropped his forehead down onto the desk with a dull thunk, gratefully allowing G'raha to continue as he saw fit.
“What have you been doing today, Ria? Anything fun?”
S'ria laughed, good-natured and relaxed. “More sorting and alphabetizing in the archives. Well within my skill abilities though, and good practice.” He slumped more heavily onto the desk. “What about you? I haven't seen you since this morning.”
G'raha shrugged despite himself. “I have done nothing unusual today – some supply runs, transporting and logging of materials from the Eureka outpost, but nothing arduous or dangerous.”
“Mm, good, no need for you to overdo anything.”
G'raha glanced to the side, at the parchment S'ria had abandoned, and was surprised to simply see a jumble of repeated names in slightly clumsy script. S'ria Edelweiss, G'raha Tia, Krile Baldesion, Ojika Tsunjika, Ejika Tsunjika –
“Oh, what is this?”
S'ria looked up enough to follow G'raha's eyes, ears flicking back in embarrassment. “Oh, that's – ugh. I'm worried about labeling documents correctly and am trying to practice writing and spelling everyone's names perfectly. It'd look so unprofessional if someone saw a typo – and Krile stopped by my desk earlier today to ask if I note I made said Ojika or Ejika, since they are on entirely different projects and parts of the world, and she wasn't perfectly sure…” S'ria made a quiet sound of despair. “So…I'm trying not to do that.”
“Oh dear. She was not… unkind about it, was she?”
“Oh no, not at all! She was insistent that the names are really similar and that she'd seen worse handwriting from tenured professors …I just want to do a good job, with all the work this group is putting into helping me recover.”
G'raha smiled fondly, stopping his massage and tapping on one shoulder until S'ria turned his head to the side to look up. “Part of recovering also includes rest, does it not? You are far too tense – how is breathing? And any pain?”
S'ria's eyebrows drew together in thought. “Well, my leg is normal, if anything it might be too stiff from staying still. My chest does feel… tight.” He took a slow breath, holding his hand gently to one side of his ribs. “The muscles are a bit… strained, but nothing awful.”
“Then that all sounds like something that a hot bath would be good for, not hunching over a desk.” G'raha smiled gently. “I shall go start water. And then afterwards, I was rather hoping we could relax and enjoy something to eat together?”
“This is ridiculous. You have to know this is ridiculous, right?” S'ria was not anywhere near drunk, but there was looseness to his words, an uncommon accent sneaking back in, that betrayed him being at least thoroughly tipsy.
G'raha shifted him very gently – the side of his chest pressed into G'raha's chest was the less delicate side, but it still required so much caution, as did holding S'ria's legs like this. It was difficult to carry S'ria in his arms like this without putting pressure on the bad leg.
“Forgive me, did you want to climb all of these stairs back to the Annex with your leg bothering you and after two glasses of wine?”
S'ria tucked his face towards G'raha's chest. “No, I didn't want to do that. Dinner was nice, but getting home sounds even nicer. Just…isn't it embarrassing?” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “People are staring, you know.”
G'raha chuckled. “Embarrassing for you or for me? I am not ashamed in the slightest to be seen with you like this, and – if anyone in Sharlayan is feeling judgmental – then they are not being very charitable to a person who saved their life. You are injured, which they are aware of.”
S'ria laughed, wincing at the jolts of pain in his side. “Ah, yes, I am nestled in your arms and being carried through Sharlayan solely for my medical benefit, I'm sure.”
