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Entry tags:
Mend
Title: Mend
Fandom: Tales of Berseria
Characters/pairing: Eleanor + Eizen
Rating: all audiences
Word Count: 1,069
Eleanor stuck her finger with the needle and bit back a startled shriek -- a woman who can’t sew goes, that’s what the village boys sang when she was seven, watching her mother make her a new dress in the sun room, flecked with gold light and lighting up their shared dresser with its little brass handles. She should be good at this by now. She dressed herself, bathed herself, fed herself, taught herself -- mostly -- and lived on things her hands could do.
It’s because you’re emotional, stupid. Just watch your hands.
She’s trying, really.
“If you’re going to sniffle and keep the rest of us awake, leave would you?” Velvet’s voice is calm, but the words are sharp and mean. She rolls over in her cot to make it clear that she’s disturbed.
She’s just thinking too much again, but Velvet doesn’t know that, doesn’t know her, and probably wouldn’t believe any of it right now anyway. “O-of course, I’m sorry.”
She collects the lantern and slips out into the small hall, walking barefooted down the rug -- what kind of pirate decorates their ship? it’s kind of luxurious -- with her burden in tow. It’ll be another two days before they reach Reneed and this keeps her hands busy.
Maybe she should have listened harder to the voice that was her mother’s, showing her the ways of the world. Velvet seemed to know more than she did. She’d spied her in the ship’s kitchenette, seen her wiping the sticky salt spray from the door handles when she thought no one was looking.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what to make of it. A demon being domestic was almost as fantastical as Artorius being a murderer -- she couldn’t buy either, yet.
“Where are you going?”
Eleanor squeaked and stubbed her toe into the side of the frame. Eizen was sitting in the dining hall, at the large desk right beside the door. Had he not spoken, she may not have even noticed that he was there. Was she really that unfocused? She’d do best to simply go to sleep and worry about it some other time.
“O-outside. Fresh air.” She shook her lantern, which would somehow improve her vision on a cloudless, starry night. Eizen’s eyes slipped to it, disbelieving maybe. Eleanor felt doubtful that he would let her pass the silence drew on for so long, and then:
“I heard Velvet’s comment. I’m finished here. You can use the desk if you’d like.”
Eleanor was struck by the ease with which he said it. He didn’t treat her poorly, no snappy comment, no biting remark about the hour or her puffy eyes -- malakhim senses were supernatural to her, so maybe he could see in the dark. She felt poorly for her sidestepping of his honest question.
“Are you writing letters again? To your sister?” she blurted. Ah. Maybe too intrusive. Not that it mattered, no one would like anything she had to say.
Eizen showed her an envelope that he then stuck in an inner coat pocket. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
It made her smile, a little. “I won’t say anything. Could you not sleep?”
The desk drawers rattled as he opened and closed them with a little silver key. All drawers were kept locked, furniture attached to the floor with bolts or mounts. She hadn’t known until she’d been ferried from the capital to Hellawes and shared a room with four other girls. The nights had been long and murderous, the water green and blue-black with swells and the winds cantering over head. So she was flung from her bed with her sheets but at least she had something to hold on to.
He cast her a strange look. “Malakhim don’t need to sleep. Benwick and I were going over our inventory. It’d be a good idea to refresh our water supply when we can.”
Eleanor shifted her weight. “Wait... you don’t sleep...”
The strangeness turned into bemusement. “I thought exorcists that kept malakhim as slaves would be better versed with our biology. To be fair, I suppose Bienfu might be different.”
Eleanor’s face flushed. “That’s -- that’s not fair.”
He quirked an eyebrow, suddenly brisk. “Isn’t it, though. I didn’t think it would be in your interest to know.”
“I--I guess I can say I am largely ignorant of your kind overall. I am learning.”
“Not quick enough for me.”
Eizen nodded his head. Then his gaze dropped to her hands and Eleanor was reminded that she wasn’t here for talking, though it had done well to make her feel more comfortable and she felt less like crying than she had a minute before.
“Midnight repair?”
Eleanor set her lantern down on the dining table and stretched out her Abbey coat so he could see where it had torn -- where a bird had gotten her earlier, across the back of the shoulder. Except it wasn’t a clean tear and she didn’t know what to do with those.
“Do they teach exorcists how to fix their armor?”
“Y-yes. Even with teaching I’m bad at it, though.”
Eizen sighed, resigned. “Give it here. It’ll only take ten minutes. You might as well go back to sleep.”
Eleanor felt her face flush up to ears. “I’m not that terrible.”
Eizen popped open another drawer on the desk and waved the small sewing kit at her, complete with needle holder, pins, a threader, and sharp silver scissors. “I’m better.”
Reluctantly, Eleanor examined the stitches she made. She hadn’t tied the knot large enough for the width of the needle. She tugged the thread once and it unraveled almost immediately.
“Go to bed,” Eizen said insistently. “If not for your sake, then the boy’s.”
Eleanor perked up at the name. He’d slept soundly through all of her uncomfortable, burdened thoughts. Maybe he was tired -- maybe he didn’t care. Maybe the night was young and she was just too tired to argue.
“How good?”
“My sister’s younger. I’ve been doing this significantly longer than Velvet has. What do you think?”
Eleanor smiled. “Alright. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay up with you, though.”
Eizen slid a small stack of papers across the desk. “Here. Organize these by date for me, would you? Benwick’s dyslexia is worse at night.”
So Eleanor sat quietly while Eizen mended her jacket.
Nothing had really changed, but a lump sat in her stomach, something warm and tense. Velvet made a little more sense.
Fandom: Tales of Berseria
Characters/pairing: Eleanor + Eizen
Rating: all audiences
Word Count: 1,069
Eleanor stuck her finger with the needle and bit back a startled shriek -- a woman who can’t sew goes, that’s what the village boys sang when she was seven, watching her mother make her a new dress in the sun room, flecked with gold light and lighting up their shared dresser with its little brass handles. She should be good at this by now. She dressed herself, bathed herself, fed herself, taught herself -- mostly -- and lived on things her hands could do.
It’s because you’re emotional, stupid. Just watch your hands.
She’s trying, really.
“If you’re going to sniffle and keep the rest of us awake, leave would you?” Velvet’s voice is calm, but the words are sharp and mean. She rolls over in her cot to make it clear that she’s disturbed.
She’s just thinking too much again, but Velvet doesn’t know that, doesn’t know her, and probably wouldn’t believe any of it right now anyway. “O-of course, I’m sorry.”
She collects the lantern and slips out into the small hall, walking barefooted down the rug -- what kind of pirate decorates their ship? it’s kind of luxurious -- with her burden in tow. It’ll be another two days before they reach Reneed and this keeps her hands busy.
Maybe she should have listened harder to the voice that was her mother’s, showing her the ways of the world. Velvet seemed to know more than she did. She’d spied her in the ship’s kitchenette, seen her wiping the sticky salt spray from the door handles when she thought no one was looking.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what to make of it. A demon being domestic was almost as fantastical as Artorius being a murderer -- she couldn’t buy either, yet.
“Where are you going?”
Eleanor squeaked and stubbed her toe into the side of the frame. Eizen was sitting in the dining hall, at the large desk right beside the door. Had he not spoken, she may not have even noticed that he was there. Was she really that unfocused? She’d do best to simply go to sleep and worry about it some other time.
“O-outside. Fresh air.” She shook her lantern, which would somehow improve her vision on a cloudless, starry night. Eizen’s eyes slipped to it, disbelieving maybe. Eleanor felt doubtful that he would let her pass the silence drew on for so long, and then:
“I heard Velvet’s comment. I’m finished here. You can use the desk if you’d like.”
Eleanor was struck by the ease with which he said it. He didn’t treat her poorly, no snappy comment, no biting remark about the hour or her puffy eyes -- malakhim senses were supernatural to her, so maybe he could see in the dark. She felt poorly for her sidestepping of his honest question.
“Are you writing letters again? To your sister?” she blurted. Ah. Maybe too intrusive. Not that it mattered, no one would like anything she had to say.
Eizen showed her an envelope that he then stuck in an inner coat pocket. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
It made her smile, a little. “I won’t say anything. Could you not sleep?”
The desk drawers rattled as he opened and closed them with a little silver key. All drawers were kept locked, furniture attached to the floor with bolts or mounts. She hadn’t known until she’d been ferried from the capital to Hellawes and shared a room with four other girls. The nights had been long and murderous, the water green and blue-black with swells and the winds cantering over head. So she was flung from her bed with her sheets but at least she had something to hold on to.
He cast her a strange look. “Malakhim don’t need to sleep. Benwick and I were going over our inventory. It’d be a good idea to refresh our water supply when we can.”
Eleanor shifted her weight. “Wait... you don’t sleep...”
The strangeness turned into bemusement. “I thought exorcists that kept malakhim as slaves would be better versed with our biology. To be fair, I suppose Bienfu might be different.”
Eleanor’s face flushed. “That’s -- that’s not fair.”
He quirked an eyebrow, suddenly brisk. “Isn’t it, though. I didn’t think it would be in your interest to know.”
“I--I guess I can say I am largely ignorant of your kind overall. I am learning.”
“Not quick enough for me.”
Eizen nodded his head. Then his gaze dropped to her hands and Eleanor was reminded that she wasn’t here for talking, though it had done well to make her feel more comfortable and she felt less like crying than she had a minute before.
“Midnight repair?”
Eleanor set her lantern down on the dining table and stretched out her Abbey coat so he could see where it had torn -- where a bird had gotten her earlier, across the back of the shoulder. Except it wasn’t a clean tear and she didn’t know what to do with those.
“Do they teach exorcists how to fix their armor?”
“Y-yes. Even with teaching I’m bad at it, though.”
Eizen sighed, resigned. “Give it here. It’ll only take ten minutes. You might as well go back to sleep.”
Eleanor felt her face flush up to ears. “I’m not that terrible.”
Eizen popped open another drawer on the desk and waved the small sewing kit at her, complete with needle holder, pins, a threader, and sharp silver scissors. “I’m better.”
Reluctantly, Eleanor examined the stitches she made. She hadn’t tied the knot large enough for the width of the needle. She tugged the thread once and it unraveled almost immediately.
“Go to bed,” Eizen said insistently. “If not for your sake, then the boy’s.”
Eleanor perked up at the name. He’d slept soundly through all of her uncomfortable, burdened thoughts. Maybe he was tired -- maybe he didn’t care. Maybe the night was young and she was just too tired to argue.
“How good?”
“My sister’s younger. I’ve been doing this significantly longer than Velvet has. What do you think?”
Eleanor smiled. “Alright. If you don’t mind, I’ll stay up with you, though.”
Eizen slid a small stack of papers across the desk. “Here. Organize these by date for me, would you? Benwick’s dyslexia is worse at night.”
So Eleanor sat quietly while Eizen mended her jacket.
Nothing had really changed, but a lump sat in her stomach, something warm and tense. Velvet made a little more sense.