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“My Recluse!”
The knocks rang out as clear as ever, musical in their rhythm before the door clicked and opened. Tea had already been set on the coffee table, one cup full and steaming, the other mostly empty. The Recluse sat in his chair, a book cracked open, his staffs eyes trailing the pages while his own eyes rested. It was one that the Sage had brought recently, a brand new book with the smell of fresh paper still clinging to it.
“I see you’ve started letting yourself in, Sage.”
The Staffs eyes look up from the book, and the Recluses eyes open in tandem. His tone is as deadpan as ever, yet that doesn’t faze the Sage in the slightest.
”I thought that I’d been over enough times. I see you’ve started tea without me?”
The Sage smirks as he floats over to the other chair, settling himself down. Navy blue magic surrounds the full teacup, floating it over to the Sages waiting hands.
”I am not beholden to your schedule, Sage.”
“Stubborn as always, my dear Recluse.”
The Sage silenced himself to sip his tea, the steam fogging his monocle slightly. A soft sigh escaped him, barely audible to the Recluses ears.
”How do you manage to make it so perfect every time?”
The Recluse only hummed. He’d been finding today that his throat hurt, more than normal. The tea wasn’t entirely fixing it either, which had been the reason for its early steeping.
”Oh, are you reading that new botany book I brought?”
Suddenly, the Sage had floated to be beside him, leaning down to see the book, so close that the Recluse had to flick some of the flowing galaxy hair out of his face.
”This chapter is so fascinating, isn’t it? So many new flora discovered in Crispia recently! I can’t imagine how exciting it would have been!”
The Recluse only hummed again. He’d stopped paying attention to the words a while ago, and had only been examining the field illustrations. Even those on their own were fascinating enough to keep the Recluse engaged, but he had been finding it hard to focus on the words.
…Of course he recognized the signs of illness. The Recluse had been a medical professional before he fell, and even a millennia couldn’t erase the knowledge he had engrained in himself.
That didn’t mean he would validate it. Or even pay attention to it. A simple illness was nothing to take note of, surely he’d be better in a week, perhaps less. He didn’t see a need to deal with it, or to concern the Sage with it.
“And that reminds me, I had the most interesting debate today about the merits of naturally grown herbs in medicine in contrast to artificially grown ones, you would have been so interested…”
The Sage was beginning to ramble now, something about the difference between plants harvested in their natural biomes versus plants genetically modified to survive in other environments. It would be interesting, if the Recluse had the energy to care.
At least the Sages voice was soothing. That used to infuriate him, how easily the others words managed to flow. He’d gotten used to it though, he understood why Cookies enjoyed listening to him so much. The Sage made everything sound so simple, it was so easy to understand when he explained it.
”…and I said that there was no way to determine that the modifications wouldn’t affect the effects of the herbs, which led to the other Cookie countering by…”
He seemed rather passionate about this. The Recluse hadn’t thought that the Sage liked plants that much; He certainly hadn’t when the Recluse first introduced him to his little garden.
Perhaps helping him with the garden changed something? It seemed like it had, at least.
The Recluse leaned back in his seat, letting the words flow over him and bring his own overly-busy mind to a state of peace. He slowly drew in a breath for a sigh… only to feel something catch in his sore throat.
His whole body jolted up in a coughing fit, his tea spilling into his lap as his hands flew up to cover his face. Oh, his throat burned, was it truly that raw? It hadn’t felt that bad, maybe the tea had done more for him than he thought.
”My Recluse??”
He could hear the Sage nearly fly up too, and in the next second, worried eyes hover over his face. His hat was quickly taken, much to the Recluses dismay. He would have pulled it back had he not been busy shielding his coughs from the Sage.
There was a hand on his back, the Recluse realized, running up and down in a gentle, comforting motion.
…it takes far too long for the coughing fit to cease. By the time it had, the Recluses throat felt like it was burning. He had to wipe away the unwanted tears from how much he had coughed, though he knew the Sage had seen them. Especially when a blue hand came up to gently run across his cheek, dabbing close to his eye, but not close enough to wipe away the wetness that had been caused.
”Are you alright? Did you swallow your tea wrong? Are you ill?”
He felt a little bad. The Sage sounded so concerned, almost scared.
”I’m alright, Sage. Just a little illness. Nothing t-“
He felt his breath unintentionally hitch again, before the Recluse was thrown into another small bout of coughing.
“Ill?? Why didn’t you say so earlier- Oh, you shouldn’t have been just sitting here listening to me ramble, dearest- You should be in bed! Resting! Recovering!”
”Sage, it’s-“
The Recluse barely managed to get anything out before he felt himself become weightless, and cerulean magic fills his vision as he’s lifted out of his chair, and into the Sages waiting arms.
”I’ll be getting you to bed, my Recluse. No more making tea for us, I’ll be doing that- oh, and I’ll have to figure out how to make soup- and I’ll have to read up on best medical practices-“
The Sage rambled over every word the Recluse tried to get out, beginning to float up the winding stairs to the bedroom at the top of the tower. At one point he simply glanced at the floor, contemplating just jumping out of the Sages arms, which that in of itself caused the shorter Cookie to tighten his grip.
…this wasn’t as awful as he’d expect it to be. The Sage had a surprisingly gentle hold, comforting yet secure in a way that the Recluse could barely envision coming from such a Cookie. It took a lot of effort just to keep himself tense, because the last thing he would do was let himself melt into the warmth and comfort and the soft shades of blue and white filling his blurry vision.
“Why hadn’t you said anything sooner, my dearest Recluse?! Oh, I wouldn’t have kept you for so long if you did! I don’t know why you even entertained me at all, with the tea and the conversation and- Oh, you should have just been in bed!”
“It is not as bad as you think-“
“I don’t care! Any illness is bad enough!”
Great. Just perfect. The Sage was all worked up over nothing now, and when he got worked up over something, there was no talking him out of acting on impulses. Witches know what he’d do if the Recluse was being forced to stay in bed, left to freely roam the tower at his leisure.
The two reached the top of the tower, with the Sage kicking open the door to reveal the pale yellow interior, complete with waffle cone patterns and pots of white lilies and corrupted vanilla orchids.
The Sage immediately floats over to the bed sitting in the corner of the room and plops the Recluse down, rather unceremoniously, onto the soft covers. His hat and staff, which the Recluse just now realized had been floating alongside them, were set down on the nightstand next to the bed.
”You will be resting, there will be no debate. Recovering naturally is important, my dear Recluse.”
“Sage, this is completely unnecessary-“
”Shush.”
The Sage spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed, and most of the usual mirth and lightheartedness that the Sage held wasn’t present in the moment. All the Recluse saw was concern.
”This is something that you don’t get a say in.”
The blankets are pulled out from under him with a flourish, causing the Recluse to bounce on the mattress.
”Remove your outer robes too. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable to sleep with all of those bulky layers.”
”I’m not doing that.”
The Recluse replies almost immediately, his own eyes narrowing at the blurry form of the Sage.
”This is not a topic up for debate, my Recluse.”
He sees the blurry shape of the Sages arm raise, and the sound of a finger snap resonates through the room.
And then, the Recluses outer robes disappear, leaving him in the thin, rather cold layer of his basic black robes.
He shoots up, his eyes narrowing in a glare at the Sage.
”Sage!!”
”There. Now you won’t be uncomfortable!”
The blanket is thrown over his face, knocking him back down to the mattress with a soft whumph.
”I’ll be back later with some soup!~”
”Sage!!!”
…
He didn’t know what was happening. Not really, at least.
Falling asleep had been sudden, surprising. He had gotten up to leave his room almost immediately after the Sage left, finding it rather pointless to just sit there and wait, only to find it locked by one of the Sages spells. The handle wouldn’t even turn, and simply touching it had sent a shiver of magic through his dough, something that he wasn’t too fond of.
He’d gone and sat down again, staring at the door as if just glaring at it hard enough would cause the spell to break.
Everything seemed to stop at that point, as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him like a Jelly Bear train. No doubt the work of the Sage; He must have added some sort of sleep enchantment onto the spell, for anyone who touched the door.
Bastard Cookie. Absolute menace, using an enchantment against the Recluse, who had revolutionized the use of secondary enchantments before he’d fallen. The nerve, the audacity, the sheer…
…oh, he’d laid down without realizing it. He’d barely even noticed when his head hit the soft sheets; His limbs felt so heavy with tiredness…
…
…Waking up had been worse. The Recluse had not a single clue of how much time had passed, as his would-be windows were always covered, the blinds locked and never touched, keeping the room dark at all times. His mind was still hazy from whatever deep sleep he’d been enchanted into
Getting up was more of a chore than it usually was, taking a full minute just to push himself up on shaky feet. Doing so only made him dizzy, something he was unfortunately used to. It took a bit of fumbling about to find his staff, letting his own eyes fall closed as the numerous ones on the staff open up, allowing the fuzzy shapes in the room to define themselves into the furnishings he knew they were.
He picked up his heavy outer robes, pulling them on despite knowing that the Sage would scold him for it later. Frankly, he didn’t care what the Sage said, and he didn’t plan on letting the pompous Cookie keep bossing him about like this.
The Recluse was cautious when opening the door this time, not wanting to be afflicted with another sleeping spell. The enchantment seemed to have dissipated though. Perhaps it was a single use enchantment, one that disappeared after its first victim.
Opening the door felt like a mistake though. The second he did, the smell of burning food flooded his senses. He didn’t see any smoke, so the tower wasn’t on fire itself… there was that, at least.
Slowly, carefully because he was still dizzy, he descended the spiralling stairs to the main area of the tower, finding a very frazzled Sage in his kitchen. A pot sat on the stove, with faint smoke billowing out of it. Cups of water and various vegetables were scattered around the counter space, haphazardly placed as if everything had been abandoned to deal with the pot.
”…Sage.”
Oh, his own voice was painful to listen to, weak and raspy. There was no hiding his illness now.
”Oh! My Recluse, I- Why are you awake-? You should- Why aren’t you sleeping?”
The Sage was so clearly distressed, his usually fluid galaxy hair rigid and stiff, the stars having dimmed to nearly nothing. His hands were wrapped in bandages; He must have burnt his dough trying to cook.
”…were you attempting to make soup?”
His words were met with a nervous giggle.
”I… may have gotten a little bit in over my head… But it’s- it’s fine! I can fix this… probably…”
The Recluse only sighed. Of course something happens the second the Sage is left alone to his own devices.
His eyes open as he raises a hand, waving it in the air in a slow circular motion. The burning food in the pot was immediately doused, made ice cold in an instant with his White magic, and the stray vegetables and cups of water were levitated above the counter, floating up and into areas that were out of the way.
”Cooking was not necessary, Sage. You know I don’t eat often.”
”I-I thought maybe soup would help with your illness? It’s good to have some nutrients when your body is fighting off an infection, after all!”
”…no.”
”I’m not debating you on this, Recluse!”
“And neither am I.”
The Recluse snapped his fingers, and the pot floated up and over to the sparsely used sink.
”All of this effort is unnecessary, Sage. I am perfectly capable-“
”You can barely speak without your voice cracking! I know you don’t speak often, but it’s worse than usual!”
“That-“
“Stop trying to argue with me Recluse! I can see you shaking!”
The Recluse fell silent after that. Curse the feeling of empathy that kept him from continuing to argue, he didn’t need a damn babysitter while he recovered.
But the Sage was so worried… he was sure that if he argued any more the Sage might start tearing up. Crying just seemed like another issue to fix, and the Recluse was rather tired of fixing the Sages issues.
”…just… refrain from attempting any more cooking. I would appreciate the kitchen not going up in flames.”
The Sage immediately nodded, almost too urgently. The Recluse could only imagine how much that would hurt a Cookies neck.
”Of course! I’ll- There’s a cafe with some soup that I can bring!”
”That’s not-“
“And you should be laying back down. Being active is no way to fight off an illness.”
“I’m not-“
The Sage raised his arms and clapped them together loudly, startling the Recluse, so much so that any thoughts he was going to voice completely disappeared from his mind.
”No arguing! I am positive that you’re still tired, even if you don’t think so.”
The Recluse could only blink. Why had that startled him so much? Why did it feel like his mind had been reset, like all of his thoughts had just been put on pause?
He barely realized when he was being pushed over to the living room, his outer robes being taken once again, and this time disappearing from sight completely.
”You must be more ill than you seemed before, if you’re so dazed just from a sudden noise.”
He’s being pushed down to the couch, guided to lay down, all while he tries in vain to recollect himself to the degree of being able to argue again.
”I don’t trust that you won’t get up again, so you’ll be staying on the couch. Where I can keep an eye on you.”
The Recluse opened his mouth to say that he didn’t need this pointless supervision, that he was perfectly fine dealing with an illness himself, that he had centuries worth of medical experience that made it almost laughably easy to cure such a simple illness-
A hand waved over his face, illuminating the Recluses blurry vision with cerulean magic, and suddenly he felt more relaxed than he wanted to be.
”No protesting, I know you were about to.”
The Recluse's body sank into the couch cushions, his limbs unwilling to move from the reluctant comfort. Unexpectedly, and yet not surprisingly, his dough felt warm and cold all at once, something he hadn’t even noticed until now.
“I understand where you’re coming from, my Recluse. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let it happen.”
A blanket was draped over him, one the Recluse didn’t recognize. Pastel colours filled his blurry vision, and from what he could see, it seemed that there were small cream sheep dotted along the soft fabric.
“Just because you’ve dealt with it alone for so long doesn’t mean you have to. I’m here now. I won’t let you deal with your illness alone anymore, not while my dough is warm and my heart still beats.”
Why couldn’t the Sage just shut up? Those words weren’t necessary, they weren’t needed, they weren’t-
“Now, I’m off to get some soup from the town cafe. If you’re up and about when I get back, you’ll be smothered in blankets until you can’t move, you hear me?”
The Recluse wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that statement. He certainly had confidence, to think that the Recluse wouldn’t simply banish him from the tower again, as he’d done many times before in reflex.
A soft scoff was all he let out in response to the Sages attempted threat, turning his head to the side so he would be free of the blue that filled his blurry vision.
”I’ll take that as a yes!”
Infuriatingly enough, the Sage’s hand comes down to pat the Recluse’s head, combing through his hair for a split second as if he were nothing more than a child being tucked into bed. Even more infuriating was how comforting it was.
Truly a disgraceful moment for the Recluse, being coddled like this all because of a cough.
The Sage hadn’t even said a goodbye, if the soft sound of the door opening and closing was anything to go by. Just a silent departure.
…the blanket really was warm, and surprisingly comfortable. Where did the Sage even get this from? He couldn’t fathom something being snuck into the tower without him knowing…
In the silence that followed the Sages departure, he thought about getting up. Really, who did the Sage think he was, ordering him around? The Recluse had been in his tower for centuries upon centuries, and never once did he need someone to coddle him like this.
…sleep sounded nicer than trying to fight the exhaustion and shakiness though, as much as he loathed to admit it. His mind was still hazy from the enchantment earlier, and even as he tried to ignore it, his dough was much too sluggish to get up.
Sleep came easy. Much easier than it did most nights… perhaps the blanket was at fault for that. It didn’t seem to matter much to the Recluse as he drifted off though, back to sleep despite having only woken up mere minutes before.
…
Pure Vanilla’s eyes opened to the soft blue sky, familiar in its comfort, yet in a way he couldn’t quite dredge up. His wafer cone hat lay next to him, his cape sprawled out underneath his warm dough like a picnic blanket just for him. Blueberry birds sat on his chest, perched as if they were planning to make that spot their home. Pure Vanilla didn’t mind; he loved it when the blueberry birds that always followed him decided to take a nap with him.
It was peaceful. The clouds in the sky seemed to drift by without a care, a breeze tickled the grass underneath his fingers as he laid there, taking in the grounding feeling of being so close to nature.
He felt like he was forgetting something important. Like some huge event was hanging at the edges of his memory, only enough to make it feel like he should be worried, even when he had nothing to worry about. Everything was perfect here, his kingdom was peaceful, political relations were going so well that he barely had to participate, and his friends-
…his friends. Yes, that’s right! He had to go see his friends!
Pure Vanilla stretched on the grass, a content sigh escaping him as he slowly sat up. The blueberry birds scattered, their wings flapping in confusion as they chirped their protests, drawing out a soft laugh from the healer Cookie.
“I know, I know. I have something important to do, though. Perhaps later, we may continue this lazing about?”
Pure Vanilla speaks as he stands up, the eye on his vanilla orchid staff opening to bring the world into a clearer focus. His hat is picked up in a blueberry birds small claws, and deposited onto his head with all the precision of a young cake hound. The brim falls over Pure Vanillas eyes, messing up his bangs and drawing out yet another soft laugh.
“Thank you, little one. I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
With one more wave to the flapping blueberry birds, Pure Vanilla begins to make his way across the green grass. He’s not sure how he knows where he’s going; It almost feels instinctual. Like he’d never needed to be told how to find his fellow Ancients.
And yet, he finds them nevertheless; All of his friends were gathered in the shade under a majestic willow tree, one he recognized with a smile. The group had always come here as young Cookies, when the tree had been a mere sapling in the grass and dirt, and had barely provided the comfort it did now. Much of its flourishing had been of Pure Vanilla’s own doing, nourishing the roots with his own soft White magic.
“Pure Vanilla!!”
Hollyberry was waving to him vigorously, being the only one facing where he was coming from. Pure Vanilla offers his own, much calmer wave in response.
As he got closer, finding his own little spot on the soft grass, Pure Vanilla began to grasp what the current conversation was. Golden Cheese was boasting about something shiny she had found on her way to their sacred spot, with Dark Cacao chiming in every once in a while with his own comments. Hollyberry had already gotten out the berry juice, and her cup was almost empty as she sipped from it, laughing along to the bickering that arose as Golden Cheese defended her hoarding habits against Dark Cacao’s exhausted commentary. Yet…
“Where is White Lily?”
Pure Vanilla’s soft voice breaks through the chatter, as the three Ancients stop to look at him. It was admirable, how well they could hear his quiet voice, even if it was loud compared to White Lily’s shy demeanor. No matter the environment, no matter the situation, even if the group were at a ball where his own voice was barely audible amongst the chatter, they would somehow be able to hear him perfectly.
“White Lily? She said she was busy, had ‘important paperwork’ to do.”
Hollyberry was the one to respond, keeping her smile even as it dimmed slightly.
Those excuses had become more and more frequent. He knew that White Lily was a traveler, always moving from kingdom to kingdom with a clear goal never in sight, searching for some answer to a question that Pure Vanilla had never known.
They all knew that White Lily had no paperwork to speak of. She didn’t involve herself in politics, she barely stuck around in one place long enough to even be well-known by important figures of any kingdom. It was always a lie, plain and simple, easy enough to see through, yet concerning enough in the act itself to keep the Ancients from tracking her down.
“...I worry for her. It’s not like her to stay away this long.”
Pure Vanilla sat down in his usual spot, his back against the old bark of the willow tree as he propped his staff up, allowing him to see all of his friends at once.
“She’s a strong Cookie, Nilla, she’ll be fine.”
Golden Cheese had leaned forwards to reassure him, nearly spilling the bottle of berry juice in the process. That caused Hollyberry to shriek in panic, pushing Golden Cheese up and away from the bottle, which caused the shining Cookie to squawk indignantly.
As quickly as the serious moment had come, it was gone again, lost in the joyful chaos that the two boisterous Cookies created, squabbling about who was in the wrong, about how big of a deal it was for the berry juice to spill, and so on…
To his right, Pure Vanilla heard Dark Cacao sigh wearily. A troubling sound, for such a perfect day as this.
“Is something the matter, my dear friend?”
Pure Vanilla turns his head to his stoic companion, even as his own eyes are closed. His vanilla orchid staff sees everything he needs to see anyhow.
”They’ve been bickering all day, since we arrived here to wait for you.”
Pure Vanilla laughed softly, already imagining poor Dark Cacao sitting there while Hollyberry and Golden Cheese debate haughtily over nothing and everything all at once.
”Yes, they certainly seem to do that a lot, don’t they?”
He’d long gotten used to the chatter of his more lively friends, finding that it adds a nice buzz of noise and excitement to his otherwise calm existence thus far.
”I find it quite endearing. They have so much to take care of, and yet they find the time to engage in small bickers like these.”
Pure Vanilla took a sip from the cup in his hand, a much weaker berry juice than what Hollyberry tended to drink. When had he even gotten it? He couldn’t remember being poured a drink, or accepting one.
“Your kingdom is faring well?”
Dark Cacao had spoken again, his own voice stoic and sure against the impassioned bickering that seems to be getting louder as they go on.
”Yes! These past few decades have been the most peaceful we’ve ever seen, not even a stray cake hound has caused a disturbance!”
Of course, Pure Vanilla’s kingdom had always been the most peaceful, reflecting his own soft nature. A point of pride for him, though he’d seldom mention it.
Dark Cacao only hummed in response, which still worried the healer Cookie. Usually he’d get at least a short word in response, perhaps an observation or at least a small affirmation. Getting nothing was worrying.
The bickering was getting louder next to him, more aggressive, though he couldn’t make out the words.
“Uh, friends…?”
Pure Vanilla’s voice was drowned out by the noise, and this time no one noticed him.
”Friends, please-“
He opened his mouth to say their names, yet silence was all that came out. Why- their names, the names of his friends, he couldn’t remember-
Pure Vanilla looked desperately to (?) for help, hoping that he had a way to calm the growing fight.
All he saw was an apathetic stare, as if (?) felt nothing.
The fight escalated, and Pure Vanilla watched in horror as (?) flapped her wings into the sky, brandishing her golden spear. (?) raised her shield in response, yelling words that Pure Vanilla couldn’t understand, despite being more than close enough to hear.
”Stop it!”
He pushes himself up to run over to them, to stop the fighting, to do anything to keep this from happening, but he’s yanked back down by a strong hand on his wrist.
”It’s no use.”
(?) beside him speaks quietly, his voice now flat, emotionless, painfully devoid of life.
”This was meant to happen, Truthless Recluse.”
His breath catches in his throat.
Pure Vanilla pulls away from the Cookie, no longer his friend, no longer someone he went to for advice.
Blindly he fumbles for his staff, panic rising in his throat like an incoming tide. Instead of the soft yellow and that understanding eye, he was met with navy blue and suffocating black, three blue eyes blinking like mad in turn with his own.
“You of all Cookies should know that.”
(?)’s clothes had changed, when, the Recluse didn’t know. Instead of the dark purples and browns he was used to, orange and white and pale shades adorned the Cookie who had once been his friend.
”Please, I-“
The Recluse couldn’t get the words out, they stuck in his throat as tears pricked his own dull eyes.
A loud yelp rings out across the endless plains and rolling grass, unbearably peaceful despite the chaos unfolding in front of him.
Pure Recluse spins around, only to be smacked hard against the tree as Golden The Architect of Abundance is thrown into him.
Everything fades away.
…
“...-cluse…? Hey!”
Someone was shaking him awake, though not very well. It was more like a gentle rocking motion than an actual shaking.
“Come on, wake up…”
Oh, that was the Sage’s voice. Why did he sound distressed? The Recluse had done what he asked, he’d slept… presumably the whole time the Sage had been gone, if not longer.
He didn’t quite have the energy to just ignore the Sage though, however much he wanted to. So, reluctantly, the Recluse cracked open his eyes, which were somehow more blurry than they usually were.
“There you are! I was getting worried…”
He could barely see the Sage’s face, even as it was so close to his own. All he managed to gather were the various shades of blue and gold, blending together in a messy array of vibrancy.
“You must have dreamt something awful… I can’t imagine another reason for your crying.”
Crying? Had he been crying? Was that why the Sage was distressed?
He felt a hand brush against his cheek, wiping away something that he realized had been tears.
The Recluse tried to manage a response, some sort of affirmation that he was okay, but that only led to throat pain and an incoherent mumble. If he were feeling any better, the Recluse would have found such a pitiful response embarrassing. He should have found it embarrassing.
“Oh, you’re still- Witches, here, allow me to…”
The blurred mess of blues and yellows moves, and suddenly the Recluse is being lifted up. His first thought was to tell the Sage to fuck off already, this degree of doting was getting rather annoying at this point.
All he got out was a frustrated grumble.
”You can be as mad as you want, my Recluse. As long as you don’t refuse my care anymore… you’re clearly not in a well enough state to care for yourself.”
That was… too many words at once, his head was already spinning too much to really process what the Sage was saying in the first place.
He felt himself be set back down on the couch, now propped up to be semi-sitting, yet still resting against the blankets that had now been bundled up beside him for support.
”Alright, just focus on me…”
The Recluse only huffs in response. He doesn’t need to be coddled like this, the situation was getting ridiculous.
He hoped his scathing glare was getting across as well as he wanted it to. It was hard to tell when he could barely make out the Sages face.
”Don’t give me that look.”
Good.
A hand gently cupped his chin, turning his head up to face the blurred Sage fully. The Recluse was expecting a lecture, or perhaps pointless affirmations that would fall through in the end.
Instead, he got a spoonful of fever medicine shoved into his mouth. The syrup was cloyingly sweet, clearly flavoured with too much sugar to hide the usual bitter taste.
He nearly spit it out. He would have, if the Sage hadn’t placed a hand over his mouth to keep it shut.
”Just swallow it.”
The Recluse had half a mind to just bite the Sages hand. It would be a good consequence for sure, for daring to forcefeed him like this.
…the sugary syrup was starting to make him nauseous though. At least if he swallowed it, he’d be rid of the taste.
“Was it really that bad?”
The Recluse pushed away the Sages hand the second the medicine was down, as forcefully as he could muster.
…huh, his head did feel a little clearer now. Maybe that was a side effect of the disgusting taste of the syrup.
”…this is-“
”Completely unnecessary! I know, I know, it’s all you’ve been saying. Have you learned at this point that I can be quite hard-headed when needed?”
His vision still didn’t clear to the way it was supposed to be, where he could see vague details on a face, and so he barely noticed when the Sage had shifted to pull the blanket over him again. Not until the warmth had settled over him again.
”I brought soup. You should eat some.”
“...no…”
The Recluse barely felt hungry when he was well, and with how ill he was right now, there was a backdrop of nausea that sat ever present in his stomach.
“That wasn’t an option, My Recluse!”
The Sages voice was so irritatingly cheery, like he was enjoying coddling the Recluse. Even the idea of the Sage enjoying this was completely abhorrent.
“Now, open your mouth, or I’ll open it for you.”
“...no..”
That leads to a hand on his chin, gently pressing his cheeks to force his mouth open. The Recluse tries to shift out of the grip, tries to smack the hand away, anything to get the annoyingly gentle hand off of him.
It doesn’t work. Why couldn’t he move, the blanket wasn’t that heavy. Was he really that weak? A simple cold shouldn’t have made him so weak…
His thoughts are interrupted by another spoon being shoved into his mouth, this time carrying a light soup. There were vegetables, the Recluse noticed as he swallowed it down. He wasn’t quite in the mood to fight anymore, not when it hadn’t gone so well for him the first time. The soup wasn’t that bad either; it had to be bought, the Sage couldn’t have made something decent when he had burned broth mere hours earlier.
“See? You probably just need to eat decently to recover properly. I’m shocked that you hadn’t thought about that already, with your healing experience.”
Another spoonful was shoved into his mouth before he could even respond, this time a little more gently.
“I mean, I don't doubt that you didn't think of that, but I know you too well to think you would have eaten at all regardless.”
The Recluse shot him a glare for that particular comment. To act as if this was something so easily fixable… the sheer audacity of this Cookie… ugh, it made the Recluse feel more nauseous than he already was.
…Perhaps that was the soup he’d just been forcefed.
“Come on, my dear… eat a little more, you need it to recover properly…”
Oh, if the Recluse could smack this man upside the head he would, daring to use little pet names like this while he was incapacitated. Absolutely abhorrent.
“Your glares don’t do anything to me, dear Recluse.”
He really wished they did. He would have loved for the Sage to burst into flames about now.
Another spoonful of soup was shoved into his mouth, a bit cooler than the other spoonfuls he’d been fed. The Sage had started letting the soup cool before feeding it to him, it seemed. Either that, or they’d been sitting there far longer than the Recluse had realized, or even been able to track in his fever-ridden state.
Another wave of nausea bubbles in his throat, one he tries desperately to swallow down. The absolute last thing he needed was to give the Sage another reason to coddle him like this.
The second the spoon touched his lips again, the Recluse smacked it away. His sleeve became damp, supposedly from the soup he just spilt, and he heard the Sage yelp in surprise, though it barely registered in his hazy, cotton candy filled head.
“Recluse!!”
Good, let him be mad.
Actually, no, he was starting to realize the mistake that had been made. Apparently, deciding to suddenly hit the Sage had caused a bit of recoil, enough so that much hotter soup from the bowl had spilled onto the sleeve of his thin underrobes, which was now soaked through and burning his dough.
Ow. Mistakes were definitely made. He made a lot of those though, what was one more? He wouldn’t even be like this if he hadn’t made mistakes, it was practically second nature, and he was quite good at it if he really thought about it-
A snapping sound brings him out of his thoughts, and suddenly his robes are completely dry again.
Right. The Sage had magic. Such an easy thing to forget.
“You could have just told me to stop, you know…”
As if the Sage would have even listened.
“Again with the glaring? It wouldn’t kill you to say something you know- Actually, nevermind, you’re probably too ill to say anything…”
The Recluse merely scoffed at that. Of course he was too ill to say anything, and whose fault was that?
Definitely the Sage’s. He’d been fine before the Sage decided to force coddle him.
“Well… I suppose I should get you back to bed. No use keeping you down here now.”
And then the Recluse is being scooped up again, blanket included, as the Sage floats up the stairs to the bedroom.
Even with the constant grumbling under his breath about the wasted soup and the ‘good money’ he spent on such a soup, the Recluse could tell there was more than a faint hint of… almost fondness, in the Sages tone.
…ew. Fondness. The Sage was feeling fondness… for the Recluse.
Such an odd notion. Why would anyone feel such a thing for a Cookie as standoffish and unapproachable as the Recluse? Why would someone feel such a… sickeningly positive feeling towards him?
…
…the soothing motion of being carried was beginning to lull him to sleep again. Even with all of the sleep he’d gotten beforehand, the Recluse felt more than exhausted.
A little more sleep wouldn’t hurt… Oven knows he hadn’t done that much in months.
His eyes close before he even lets himself drift off, and even as he grumbles with annoyance, the Recluse falls asleep in the Sages arms, being carried gently up to his room.
…
Blueberry Milk looked down at the sleeping Recluse, now tucked safely and soundly in his bed, with nothing short of adoration.
How could someone so aloof, so dangerous, so feared, be so utterly adorable when asleep? It’s like all of his hardships melt away, leaving peace and a youthfulness that only seems to emerge in unconsciousness.
He reaches out a hand to smooth back some of the Recluses hair, gentle and soothing.
”…if only you knew how special you are… You don’t deserve this suffering, my dear. If only you could see it…”
Blueberry Milkshake leans down, pressing the barest hint of a kiss against the Recluse’s feverish temple.
He’d enjoy coddling the broken Cookie for as long as he could. Even if it was only for a few more hours, he’d welcome the small opportunity. Every minute was a chance to show the Recluse just how loved and cherished he really was.