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"To understand is to forgive, even oneself."
— Alexander Chase
The sound of a hammer on metal was comforting in a way. It was loud and harsh on the ears but it was almost routine—repetitive, like the sound of a second heartbeat that outside Percival’s chest.
At least, that was how it made Vex feel. It was silly really, when she thought about it. It wasn’t a heartbeat; Percy was just working. He worked a lot but he had skills that the rest of them could scarcely understand. He kept them supplied with items they’d never be able to create themselves.
He was just working. It wasn’t really anything that special.
Then again, when Vex finally stepped into the workshop proper, the pile of arrows on the nearest table said otherwise. She stepped toward them, hand outstretched to pick one up and inspect it until she decided perhaps it was best to wait until Percy told her what they all did first.
She had to call out his name; he hadn’t heard her come in.
“Vex! I’m sorry, my ears must be ringing slightly from all the noise I’m making.”
He looked sheepish and his hair was messy, tousled in the way it would be if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. There were dark streaks of dirt and powder that gave him a sort of salt-and-pepper look this evening. Vex smirked, nodding toward the table she’d passed on the way in.
“And what has another evening of unbridled guilt made me this time?”
Vex teased but she knew the words struck home—for both of them. Percy didn’t react, at least not visibly, but he nodded a little too enthusiastically and Vex immediately felt bad. He was trying, she could tell. She thought he might have spent days trying to apologize to her (he did like his small speeches after all) but instead he’d made her quite the gift and looked at her like the words had simply escaped his this time.
As she frowned, Percy nudged her gently, smiling more genuinely.
“I made you a little bit of everything, I suppose—”
Judging from the size of the pile, he wasn’t kidding, Vex thought.
“—since I wasn’t sure what you were low on and I needed something simple to do between a few larger projects.”
Well, alongside her regular arrows, they would certainly keep her stocked up for awhile. Vex turned and raised an eyebrow. Sure, the siege arrow had been a kind gift but she hadn’t been expecting this. Once again, the sheepish look returned to Percy’s face and he momentarily seemed a little flustered.
“I, ah, don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
Her eyebrow was only raised further. Percy sighed, running his hand (as she suspected) through his already tousled hair.
“I don’t want you to assume that I think making you a pile of arrows will set things right. I don’t. But I do hope you like them, of course.”
Vex smiled, looking between Percy and the pile.
“I do, Percival; they’re lovely.”
That seemed to ease the man’s nerves, though Vex could sense he had more to say. Wordlessly, she pulled up a chair and moved closer to his forge so he could talk and tinker at the same time. Percy seemed appreciative of this gesture and did not hesitate on setting to work on one of his guns.
There was a feather on the table, dark at first glance but blue upon further inspection. Seeing the flash of teal in the light set Vex’s heart at rest, having startled when she first thought it might be a raven feather. Percy looked over and smiled.
“I found it outside. I was saving it for one of your arrows but I must have forgotten. You can keep it if you’d like.”
Vex pulled the feather closer, twirling it around between her thumb and forefinger. The heat from the forge was heavy and the idle motion soothing. Vex could have fallen asleep down here, she realized. Maybe that’s why Percy slept in his workshop so often.
“Vex…”
She lifted her head which had been drooping ever so slightly.
“I want you to know that I am sorry. I am truly, honestly, sincerely sorry for what I’ve done—all of it; past and present.”
Vex blinked; she wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about. She watched him work and noticed the lines forming around his features. He seemed… older and tired. The half-elf frowned.
“You know, I made the siege arrow because… I thought it would be better just to do something… instead of talking, you know?”
Percy then looked up from his gun, staring at her with such solemn eyes, Vex nearly held her breath. There were storms in those eyes; dark, cloudless storms formed purely by shadows of inner monsters and guilt.
“You have always been here for me. When the Briarwoods were here, you stuck by me every step of the way and made sure I knew that you would have my back no matter what. And it was one of the few things that kept me grounded while Orthax was still around. If only there were the words to tell you how that whole situation felt… but you were there, Vex, even when I couldn’t tell you for certain what was happening to me. You made promises that I knew you would keep. You were my anchor and when I look at you, I see someone who keeps me sane.”
There was a brief, sad chuckle.
“And now I must admit I don’t know how to see you any other way. It’s purely selfish, I know. It pains me to think that I’ve put you in such a position where I might see something different. And I’ll be the first to admit that I am not particularly equipped to help you the way you’ve helped me. After all, I’m quite certain that I don’t exude quite the same confidence that you always do. Given the circumstances, you seem to be taking all of this rather well and I worry it’s because you feel that you have to, given your brother’s tendency to walk away from his problems and my similar inclinations. We’re cut from the same cloth in that way, I suppose.”
There was a pause for breath and for Percy to gather his thoughts. Vex, on the other hand, couldn’t keep hers from racing. How was it that he practically seemed to know her better than she knew herself? It hadn’t crossed her mind really, that she coped because she knew that no one else would. She coped because everyone else got so wrapped up in their own grief that someone needed to keep them all tethered to reality. And perhaps it was because she was the only one who hadn’t been witness to her own death. Vex was coping well because she wasn’t entirely sure what she was coping with just yet.
Percy had a point.
“I was worried if I tried to apologize to you right away then I’d merely be waiting for you to reassure me that my negligence was an accident and not some profound flaw in character,” Percy joked wryly. “When you woke up after… after it happened, you seemed so normal. You didn’t even know that anything had happened. I didn’t want to take advantage of the normalcy. Because none of this is normal. What happened to you was terrible and coming back from something like that puts you in extraordinary circumstances, I don’t even know if you’ve come to terms with yet. As it happens, I realized that I’ve never asked.”
Percy reached out toward her and Vex felt the warmth from his fingers wrap around her own on the hand that didn’t hold the feather. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she responded in turn.
“None of this is anything any of us could have expected. And I am so sorry. Like I said, please remember that you’re my favourite and until you tell me exactly what you need and how I can give it to you, I’ll make you as many arrows as you would like.”
He gave her a lopsided, half-smile that was uncertain yet eager to please. He reminded Vex of a puppy, she thought, and it nearly made her smile.
“I know you like new things but promise me that if you need something—anything—that you’ll tell me. Because arrows can’t solve all the world’s problems, as much as I’m sure you’d love them to. I just needed to do something until I knew what to say to you without placing my world on your shoulders and for that I hope you can forgive me as well.”
They sat together in silence for a few minutes, his hand never leaving hers. Vex found herself absently rubbing her thumb across his skin, which was surprisingly soft for something so calloused. There was little for Vex to say—Percy was the one with the affinity for words and he certainly had plenty of them. She preferred to listen to him speak. His voice was even and calm even with the nerves and the workshop was warm and smelled like him. Or maybe it was Percy that smelled like the materials he worked with. It didn’t matter.
“I forgive you,” she murmured sleepily.
“You do?” he asked, searching her face for some sort of indication that she was simply trying to placate him but found none. “You do."
Then he smiled and squeezed her hand once more.
“Anything, remember? If there’s anything you need, you tell me, Vex’ahlia.”
“I will.”
And she was fading quickly, suddenly too tired to keep up with any further conversation. The feather slipped from her grasp but she lazily watched Percy reach out to catch it and, in a single movement, he was on his feet and at her side, helping her up and telling her that it was time for bed. Vex muttered some sort of incoherent retort and Percy just laughed, pulling her into his side as they began to walk out of the workshop together. Vex felt lips pressed against the top of her head and she sighed.
This time when she heard his heartbeat, it was his, the one she could hear coming from inside as she leaned in close against his chest.