Private Tales Money Talks

[Lailah]

Lailah cried too. She couldn't not. Her arms wrapped around him, her magic trying desperately to work without any affect on him what-so-ever and so all she could do was hold on whilst stroking soothingly and just let him cry.

His apology chipped away at her heart a little more and she frowned as she looked down at him, letting him slide out of her grip but not leaving his side right away. "Don't apologise." she chastised gently and her head shook. "You've nothing to be sorry about." Lailah assured, a hand settling on his shoulder as the other wiped the tears from her own face. He had more right to cry than she did.

"I'm going to have a bottle of wine by the fire..I'm not adverse to sharing if you want to join me.." her head tilted and her brow rose in question.

 

[Vincent]

"I'll join you," he softly responded. Join her, he did, though, without having a drop of wine. Vincent mostly stared into the small fire as he sank into the cushioned chair.

Vincent had been right. The temperature dropped at the end of their first week in the village, then fell even further into the second. Vincent's cheeks, which had been pale and hollow, seemed to fill out and regain its color. Still, as he would look at himself in the mirror after bathing, his ribs poked out. His arms looked ready to snap with the slightest bit of strain.

It was a challenge to stay composed. The first week had been bad. He would beg Lailah for her to show him where she hid the case. He would scream, hammer at her arms with his weak, frail fists, kick at furniture. He would beg her. Please, just a little. Just a little.

There had been a night where he even ripped apart his feathered mattress. The nightmares were the worst.

Of course, Lailah had been there the whole time, keeping a careful eye over him.

It took a month for Vincent's volatile temperament to simmer down. He willingly went out, helped prepare meals, and gathered ingredients. Eventually, he started helping Lailah carry things from the small market on the village's populated side back to the house. At first, it had been to shut her up. A reluctant agreeance to keep himself busy. It soon became a habit, completing chore after chore. Less time spent thinking about using.

The pair returned from a trip to the market. Vincent held a sack of flour over his left shoulder and a basket of vegetables in his right hand.

"You work me too much," he groaned, "Van, carry this. Van, grab that."

His clothes didn't fit him so loosely anymore. Even under his black cloak, the same one he'd wore when they first met, it was clear that he'd finally picked up the weight that had been lost.

 

[Lailah]

Lailah's eyes rolled as she kicked off her boots by the door.. "And if I didn't you'd still be scrawny and weak, wouldn't you? This way it's a win-win." she mused with a playful smirk and a blink that was supposed to be a wink. Truthfully though, Lailah was ridiculously weak and likely weighed less than the bag of flour he'd so effortlessly thrown over his shoulder. It was in both of their best interests that he strengthen up.

She set the wicker basket of eggs and vegetables down and hugged herself, rubbing the cold from her arms. She never did cope too well with the cold, not since leaving home. She made quick work of starting the hearth back up with a few more logs and she flopped down in front of it to warm up and stop shivering before she got to work on supper.

"I'm proud of you.. You know that, right?" she asked, staring at the fire for a moment before looking over her shoulder, her hands rubbing together for warmth.. "Like, I know I tease you about being a whiny bitch, but it can't have been easy to get to where you are, so.. I'm proud of you." she smiled softly.

"Now, Van, get me tea." she grinned..

 

[Vincent]

"Yeah, yeah," he whined as he dropped the sack of flour by the counter and the vegetables on the countertop. "Win-win, my boot."

Vincent leaned over the counter, unable to contain his smile as she heaped on praise. "You know it wouldn't have been possible without you." He said with an uncharacteristically sincere tone.

Now get me tea.

"Aw, fuck off!" he said with a hearty chuckle. But, of course, she had a steaming cup of tea delivered to her hand in a matter of minutes. Vincent tossed a heavy, balled-up blanket against her back. He tossed a cushion next to her and sat on it.

"Weather'll only get colder," he glanced at her, taking note of the way her shoulders shook, "I should... probably go into the city. We don't have much to keep warm."

Despite all the time spent focusing on Vincent's recovery, they hadn't talked about what had happened. At least not much. They almost avoided it, at times. Of course, he wasn't keen on stepping foot in Alliria. Without knowing why he realized that she simply couldn't.

He couldn't quite find the courage to ask.

 

[Lailah]

Lailah laughed softly under her breath and returned her gaze to the fire, her lips twisting in amusement as he swore at her despite the fact that he'd get her what she wanted anyway. Lailah had made her own progress, not that Vincent knew the extent of it, but keeping him on track, as difficult as it had been, had been giving her purpose and focus and she hadn't once felt like leaving him in any capacity. She knew what he said was true, and it sent a rush of warmth through her that comforted her far more than the hearth could. She needed to be needed, to be of use and to help, and she felt a whole lot better in knowing that she'd given him something back even if it would never be enough.

She took the tea with a warm smile and a quiet rumble of thanks as she pulled the blanket around her shoulders and leaned up against him comfortably to blow the steam from her cup and sip carefully. She'd been content to settle there until he mentioned going to the city and she frowned and sat up a little to look at him in confusion. "Why? We have everything that we need right here.. We don't ever have to go back to the city.." she pressed her lips thinly and sighed, realising she'd let a little panic into her words and she sought to soften them. "Not unless we get sick of eating fish."

 

[Vincent]

”You’re shaking,” he quietly answered, not missing the subtle panic behind her response, ”It won’t hurt to get some extra furs. The market here doesn’t have any. And you know we have plenty of coin.”

The coin that he won the night she bet on him, and all the other coin he’d earned hitherto the raid on the bordello, had been safely hidden in the house. There was no small amount in his coffer.

Her weight against him was welcomed. Vincent grasped her hand.

”We’ll need to prepare for the winter, Lai. Otherwise, I wouldn’t mention going back.”

 

[Lailah]

Lailah stared at him, glancing down at his hand as it took her own, a flicker of panic in her eyes as her face contorted with the desperation of trying to think of an alternative solution. She'd done her best to avoid talking about how she'd managed to get away from them. She'd done her best to avoid telling him a lot of things, in fact. He was healing, it had never been the time or place to bring any of that up and so she'd buried it all in the sand and her head along with it.

Now, though, it seemed she'd run out of options. She'd have to go, and she couldn't tell him that she didn't fully trust him to go on his own yet. His using days were behind him, but only right behind him, and she'd barely let him out of her sight.

"Van I.." she almost spit it out, but the words stuck in her throat and she felt a wave of nausea threaten to replace them. She dropped her gaze and tightened her grip on his hand, afraid he'd pull it away when she finally told him.

"I killed Alvaro. I killed La Puta Madre..". Even with who he was, Lailah couldn't hide the shame she felt. He was the third person who's life she'd taken, and despite all three being as dangerous as they were, they hadn't been hers to take or her judgement to call.. Perhaps she was some sort of demon. 'Touched by darkness', they'd said. 'Impure', 'monstrous', 'shameful'.

"I'm sorry." she tried to lift her face to look at him but she couldn't, and her eyes pooled with tears at the memory she now had to face. "I should've told you." she frowned.

 

[Vincent]

Vincent sat, tightly grasping her hand as her confession stunned him into silence? Killed? La Puta Madre? That La Puta Madre?

She wouldn’t lie about such a thing. It all made sense. The blood that stained her hands and clothes the day she arrived. The blood he hadn’t asked about.

He didn’t miss her bothered expression. Van lifted her hand, the hand of a murdered, to his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. No matter how ashamed of herself she felt, Vincent couldn’t share those sentiments. He hadn’t any other way to share that than with the impulsive, affectionate kiss. To him, her hands weren’t dirtied.

”It’s okay,” he cooed, ”It’s really okay.”

 

[Lailah]

Lailah looked up as she felt the warm kiss on her knuckles and she let out a choked sob at his assurance, her face buckling and tears rolling unchecked, washing a path to her chin. There was nobody that she needed to forgive her. She had long since lost her faith in any Gods, Alvaro had no family and his friends were only more people who feared him, he lived by the sword and he died by it. Her family had disowned her and she was a disgrace to her people. She realised then, when he told her that it was okay, that he was the only person she cared about, the only person she didn't want to think badly of her, and he didn't. At least not for this.

Overwhelming relief crashed over her all at once and she reclaimed her hand to wrap both arms tightly around his neck and bury her teary face against his collar. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had just told her it was okay. A riot of emotions rampaged in her mind and Lailah's heart pounded in her chest as she tried to process them. The first time she'd ever hurt someone, the consequences had been extreme and she'd lost everything but her life. She couldn't bear to lose anything else, and she'd buried the festering worry that Van would have looked at her differently if she'd told him.

"I was so scared you'd throw me out.." she admitted, her voice cracking and muffling against his shirt. She let out a shuddered breath and tried to calm herself, and she clutched him a little tighter. "I wasn't followed. I made sure I wasn't. They don't know where I am." she told him hurriedly in the assurance that she had been careful not to drag him into her mess again.

 

[Vincent]

Vincent gently rubbed the back of Lailah’s head as she nestled against his shoulder, running his fingers through her wavy, white hair.

”Don’t worry, Lai,” he said, ”If anyone comes looking, we’ll take care of it. Together. Whatever comes our way, we’ll get through it. I won’t throw you out, ever. So don’t be afraid. It’ll all be okay.”

 

[Lailah]

There had never been anything romantic between them, but whenever Vincent opened his arms, Lailah never hesitated to go into them. His body was so familiar to her, the way it moved and the way he smelled of salty air and woodsmoke. Even the sound of his heart beating she knew from the quiet moments they’d spent in their own thoughts – but this was the first time she’d really fully appreciated the cage of lean muscle and how safe she felt within it.

She believed him, and realised then that she trusted him. Truly trusted him. She’d told him something that she’d been ashamed of and he’d comforted her rather than look at her with any sort of disgust. It was far more than her family had ever done. Her grip tightened on him for a moment and slowly eased as her shaking body relaxed and she shifted to settle her back against his chest, dragging the backs of her hands across her tear-washed cheeks before reaching to take hold of each of his wrists and pull his arms around her like a cat demanding attention and warmth.

“I assume, that Vigo will have stepped into his shoes..” she sniffled and huffed, her voice gritty from the pain in her throat. Vigo was Alvaro’s muscle and second in command, he had orc blood and was built like a brick shithouse. He’d been the one who’d beaten her close to death already, and he’d always frightened Lailah far more than Alvaro had, but he had been a loyal dog and there was no doubt in Lailah’s mind that he’d have had the men scouring the streets for her. “I’m sure by now they’ll think I’m long gone. But if anyone notices me, I don’t think there will be any more chances.” She sighed and let her head fall back.

 

[Vincent]

When she’d pulled his arms around her, he pulled her into his lap in turn. His arms wrapped around her waist, and Vincent found himself resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I know of him,” he mumbled, “Surprisingly cunning for his size.” Must have been the human in him.

His grip on Lailah’s waist tightened. Vincent grew used to their physical closeness, though he remained emotionally distant. It had been a comforting thing, and played a large part in his recovery. She had, without fail, been there when she desperately needed him. The appreciation he had for her was boundless. It had been difficult to see her in any other way than a friend- a good, trusted friend.

Time to time, she’d prance about the house in nothing but one of Vincent’s oversized shirts. He’d catch a glimpse or two of her in nothing but a towel after a bath. As more time passed, the emotional wall Vincent had built up chipped away, and as he held her now, he couldn’t suppress the small rush of excitement that sent his heart aflutter.

 

[Lailah]

Her lips twitched and gave in to a small smile as she felt his grip tighten around her. There was much more that she wanted to tell him, now that she'd opened up and confessed to one thing everything else felt like it was about to burst free. She kept her thoughts locked behind her teeth however, and nothing more than a soft sigh escaped as she chose to just enjoy the comfort and deal with one matter at a time. She had never lied to him, but she hadn't been entirely honest either, and she felt the need to be careful not to bombard him and give his mind too much to process at once.

"Perhaps we can ask one of the merchants to bring some furs back from the city?.." she suggested and looked up at him.. "It'd be too much of a risk, Van..For either of us.."

 

[Vincent]

"That's," his voice trailed, "actually a good idea. Yeah, we'll do that next time we see them."

Vincent's hands held her waist and lifted her off his lap.

"Right, I'm gonna go wash up, then I'll be back down to help with the food."

He stood and playfully ruffled Lailah's hair before disappearing up the stairs. It didn't take long for him to clean himself up. He came back down with damp hair and a soft linen shirt; the top buttons were left undone, leaving much of his chest exposed. Admittedly, it had been a conscious decision.

"What can I help with?" He said as he came up behind Lailah, peeking over her shoulder. Vincent wasn't a masterful chef by any means, but he'd cooked his own meals most of his life. Learned from the girls at the bordello to make tasty food, and passed on some of his knowledge to Lailah.

 

[Lailah]

Lailah grinned and passed a comment about sacks of flour when he lifted her so effortlessly, intending on taking full credit for making him carry everything. She was feather light, but regardless, she was glad to see he'd got his strength back. She grumbled and was quick to sort her hair after he ruffled it, it was one thing she'd always been particular about, and she smoothed it over her ears and made sure it was sitting right.

She watched him go and sat for a little while in quiet consternation, listening to her own thoughts over the crackling of the fire, and as they drifted a little too far she became aware of the curling smile on her lips and cleared her throat.

When he came back downstairs she was mid-way through chopping the vegetables. She intended on casting him a brief glance over her shoulder, but her gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary, trailing down over his chest when the knife slipped and she winced, her body flinching and her attention rushing back to the bleeding cut on her fingertip.

"Shit." she muttered to herself and gripped hold of the wound. "You can get me a towel.." she laughed under her breath with a quiet groan.

 

[Vincent]

"What'd you do that for?" Vincent teased and gently rubbed Lailah's back before fetching a small rag for her. "Here. Now, scoot." As he handed the rag to her, Vincent took the knife and lightly bumped her with his hip, taking her spot in chopping up the vegetables.

"Is it bad?"

Chop, chop, chop, Vincent rhythmically and quickly made short work of the vegetables, pushing them aside to be used later. He stepped to the stove and prepped small logs and kindling under it, and struck iron with flint until the kindling lit.

As he waited for the stove to heat, Vincent stepped close to Lailah. "Let me see."

 

[Lailah]

Grey eyes rolled at his taunting and she stepped aside to wrap her finger and try and staunch the bleeding. "I don't think so.." she murmured sheepishly and applied some pressure as she watched him prepare. She'd already chopped the meat. Stew was as easy as the soup was, so long as it all went together in one pot, she could manage.

Her eyes rose to him as he stepped closer to her and she smirked.. "Really it's fine..I've had worse." she mused and unwrapped the small cut. It wasn't particularly long or deep, but the blood was still oozing a little. "Don't get blood on your shirt." she muttered as she let him look at it. She didn't know how there could be so much blood warming her cheeks right now when she felt it all rush and throb in her fingertip, she couldn't even blame the stove.

"So much for domestic goddess.." she smiled.

 

[Vincent]

"I have other shirts," Vincent pouted, "that's good. Glad you didn't lose a fingertip."

He smirked and folded his arms, "You can still be a goddess of some sort... clumsiness, maybe?"

 

[Lailah]

Lailah quirked her brow along with some inner monologue that was too flirtatious to be allowed past her lips. Her face was a brief rictus of feigned rage and her jaw fell open with a laugh that caught in her throat and she reached out her other hand to shove at him.

"Everything I do and this defines me? I'm a fucking Saint, I'll have you know." she lifted her chin defiantly and her lips twisted. She'd been about to say angel and she cleared her throat.. "A clumsy one but still." she mused and dropped her gaze.

 

[Vincent]

"Yeah, yeah," Vincent playfully patted her cheek, "don't look so down. Smug fits you better than sad." He quietly chuckled and walked across the room to fetch a small box. Inside it was a few basic supplies to treat things like what Lailah had; small cuts and the likes.

As the bleeding came to a halt, Vincent pulled the cork from a small, brown bottle and pressed a cloth over the lip, wetting the cloth with a disinfecting liquid. He dabbed the cut with it and dried it with the rag she used to staunch the bleeding. Then, he applied a small amount of goopy ointment over it.

"There we go!" his gaze rose from her fingers to her stormy eyes, and perhaps lingered there longer than necessary, "All better."

 

[Lailah]

He was right, smug did suit her, and though she didn't feel sad she couldn't explain why she felt so foolish and awkward. She grinned as she watched him fuss over her, but she allowed it since she'd been the one to pander to him over the past few weeks. She drew in a slight hiss as he cleaned the stingy little wound, and she looked up as he spoke, catching his crystalline gaze and holding it.

Her smile faltered. Was that tension?.. She didn't think she was imagining it, and she was definitely more flustered than usual. She let out a quiet huff and glanced behind him.. "Stove's boiling over.." she whispered. Her lips twisted as she tried to suppress her grin but it was hopeless and she chuckled quietly.

"Thank you.."

 

[Vincent]

"Oh, quiet, it's the least I can do. You've done so much for me." He smiled and turned back to the stove, "I'm so hungry..."

The two of them finished preparing the meal and sat at the table, bowls of steaming stew set down in front of them. Vincent had strayed away from alcohol during his recovery but had slowly eased back into drinking during meals.

"You're brave," he said as they began to eat, "to do what you did and come seek me out."

 

[Lailah]

Lailah smiled warmly behind his back as he turned away, and she nodded in agreement and set the table.

She broke off an end of a fresh loaf and dunked it into her stew, but as he spoke she stilled and lifted her eyes to him. There was a pregnant silence as the memory played in her mind once again and her head shook eventually.

"There was nothing brave about it, Van." she admitted. "I stabbed the man in his sleep and ran." she told him, her brow knitting as she shrugged at him. "I think that's the very opposite of brave. But I don't feel sorry. He hurt people. Hurt you.." she glanced up.

"I was nothing but a prisoner. Had enough of living in fear of the day he'd had enough of me." she growled softly and took an aggressive bite of bread.

 

[Vincent]

"There's nothing cowardly about breaking the shackles that enslaved you," he quietly remarked, "excuse the metaphor. That's unbecoming of a simpleton like me."

He chuckled and washed down a spoonful of stew with mead.

"So, you got revenge." he paused. So much time had been spent on him, he hadn't really had the chance to ask: "How are you doing, Lailah?"

 

[Lailah]

Lailah's expression warmed as he chuckled, it worked better than any tonic to wash down the bitter taste in her mouth. "You're not a simpleton." she chastised, but there was a smile in her tone.

Revenge..

The word itself brought back so many bad memories that her mind froze up for a moment and she dropped her fork. His question dragged her back before she drifted too far and she looked up again.. "I.." she frowned softly and thought of what a truthful answer would be, she hadn't actually considered it in some time.

"I'm good. I'm doing better." she answered with a nod and a deep sigh as she lifted her fork again. She stared at him in consideration for a moment, and returned her eyes to her food as she slowly started to eat.

"Van?..." she asked carefully, leaving a pause as she considered the question a little longer before finally letting it out. "How come magic doesn't seem to work on you?.." she asked without looking up in fear of his reaction.