It would be nice to see what books he had read, what he would think would be to her taste- or was his taste. There could be a lot of back and forth with that, and the music too. What a helpful person to have around in the library! Especially if he could show her the way to the music players and such later. That would be a really fun and good way to relax.
Heck, it might help with getting her to relax to get some sleep sometime.
But that was for later. For the other, should things still be okay with the pair of them.
"I wanted to clear up about the magic I used, and its source." Her voice was soft. "I think we may be...clashing because of world differences. And you're going to see me as the witch that overruled your will until we do."
The reaction to the shift in conversation was immediate and obvious. Collins stiffened and his expression went carefully neutral almost to the extent of cold. He could have happily ignored the topic forever but she had brought it forward and now there it was directly in front of him.
He could have walked away. The idea did strike him. But no one could call him cowardly if he met everything head-on.
"I don't see yer staff today," he noted almost casually except for the ice-cold undertone in his voice. Idly, he fiddled with his sleeve cuff to realign and straighten it. It kept his eyes away from her. "That's unwise."
He may not have known the full importance of the staff to her fighting prowess, but he had always seen it as a weapon by which to protect herself. Now it was missing. His words were meant as an underhanded threat as much as an observation of her vulnerability.
Though she could always call him on his bluff if she had found out about his restrictions by now. He could do nothing either way.
She remembered seeing that look after the attempt with the gun. If he walked, she wouldn't have followed. Neither would she have brought it up again. But there was a reason why she didn't bring her staff.
"I know. But it wouldn't be fair if I brought it. So." She spread her hands slowly, carefully. For all she knew, he'd see her hand gestures as magic invoking in nature and see them as a threat.
"Now you have the advantage Collins. I'm unarmed. I'm small. I can run, but I don't have the strength to fight you. You saw how easy it was for me to get pinned to the wall."
She really had no idea of how he was unable to harm. How that actually might have saved her life.
"Cards are on the table. Your choice how this goes."
He didn't like that. He didn't like the way she spoke to him. To him, it was a challenge and he was primed to meet it.
He stalked forward suddenly, swiftly closing the gap Aerith had carefully left between them, and engaged Aerith at an uncomfortably close range. It was a deliberate and purposeful maneuver that left her no personal space and, if she tried to step backwards away from him, he matched it with a step forward until there was nowhere left to go.
Pinning her, essentially, much like her white-coated assailants. Though he did not, for the moment, touch her. He used his presence instead to hound her.
"Oh, I remember."
His expression matched his tone: cold and harsh, the glint of sharpened steel in his eye and the hard edge lining his mouth. There was a spark, too, like the beginnings of a crescendo at the fringes of a musical piece waiting patiently for the right moment to hit for the remaining instruments to join in final swell.
It hadn't meant to be a challenge. But there it was. She had been pushing him, and this conversation. She knew this could go very, very badly.
She just hoped if it did, none of her friends found her before she came back to life.
Aerith found herself taking a step back, and another. One more still until she found herself pressed against the wall, reminded of what those white coats had done. All the scars were in her mind and her nightmares.
And there was Collins, menacing and primed. Possibly for the kill.
Of course Aerith was scared. It showed in the way her hands pressed against the surface. But she didn't plead. Didn't stammer. She kept her eyes on his face, watching him.
Aerith, his challenger, was still. Waiting for the next word, and where the music would take him.
His eyes were riveted to hers as he watched carefully. His favorite part was to watch the moment of death. The thin tone of a trill began to match the quickening of his heartbeat. It overrode his senses.
And yet there was a note out of place. The usual joy seemed dulled somehow. He couldn't quite comprehend what was wrong and that angered him. His face crumpled into one of rage.
A great horn bellowed in agony--or was it his frustrated yell ringing in his ears?--as he smashed a hand into the wall next to Aerith. He spotted it then: the flinch all along her body, the terrified trill of a flute panicking like a small bird, the tension in the body and fright in the eyes--and what would normally delight the wicked beast inside of him turned the music inside of him into a desperate plea that he had never heard before. The beautiful chords of the harp changed key and all the notes turned sharp and painfully forlorn. A flicker of confusion and hurt flashed through his eyes, unbidden.
Gone in an instant, his head tilted to one side as his eyes narrowed in furious cynicism. She was doing this to him. She was the cause of his music's distress. Her unhappiness was-
Collins grabbed at her wrist and squeezed it so hard he could feel the slight pressure slip into his own wrist, for he could not hurt her; she would only feel his hand a-hold of her but no pain from it.
"Don't," he warned angrily, but whether the ominous word was meant for her or to chide himself for his own folly was debatable.
Cards were on the table. She had no idea what was churning through his mind, the music that swelled and the discord that twanged rather then thrilled into the great crescendo that he so desired.
When his hand smashed against the wall, she jumped. It couldn't be helped; it was a reflex from a violent reaction.
But when he grabbed her, she didn't resist. Even when he grabbed to the point of causing pain to himself, she only offered a confused look, and a slight shake of her head.
"I don't understand." Her voice was quiet, and green eyes kept on blue.
And there was no sign of magic, at all. If that was what he wanted either she was being truthful, or wanted him to believe in her lie that much.
Her fright and confusion seeped into his music, instilling a resonant sadness to the piece that sunk into his chest deeper than he realized. Her stillness silenced the majority of instruments till only a discordant pair vied for dominance. The chilling howl of a wolf fought to overwhelm the cheery chirps of the songbird.
His grip on her wrist tightened until it threatened to leave a mark once released. He barely noticed though the pain was all on him.
"You are-"
He started to say but couldn't seem to find the words. His demeanor began to falter. The tightness in his jaw ached from his anger, but the piercing coldness of his eyes frayed around the edges.
Suddenly he let her go and turned completely from her, taking two steps away. In the movement, his other hand came forcefully around and beat into his own chest. Once, twice, quickly, painfully, in punishment. The music quieted to a low thrum, a holding note as the piece waited to shift to something different.
"You are nothing but trouble," he groused in defeat. And the low cello hummed softly beneath the airy flute as it tentatively tested its freedom.
She could see his knuckles whitening, tightening on her wrist, but there wasn't any pain. No grinding of bone on bone, no worry that she'd have to hide the injury until she took care of it herself.
She could hide it of course. Keep it a secret like she kept so many from others on board. Even from her friends. It was her own fault, her own risk.
Still. Aerith exhaled, and took in a shaky breath. Maybe she had been holding it in the whole time. She wasn't sure. But she placed her own hand on her chest, hoping to calm her racing heart.
"That's me." Aerith's voice didn't hold its usual pep or cheer. Her hands felt shaky. "Nothing but trouble."
She was tempted to say more but ...that would be pushing it.
The low whine of the cello was mournful. Collins closed his eyes.
"Go on then," he said without turning back around to look at her. "I won't bother you again."
It was a hard promise to swallow but it was all that he had to give her. An assurance that he would steer clear.
He didn't realize how much it would hurt to see that look in her eyes. It had never mattered before. But then, he had never known his targets before either. They were meaningless marks to him. An animal he could fall in love with just enough to enjoy the hunt and then walk away satisfied. Aerith seemed...to be a different sort of animal. And much the way he felt after Trevor and Sheehan had shunned him for a time, Collins couldn't get over that strange feeling of wistfulness rather than satisfaction from a job well done.
It left the air cold and empty, his heartbeat slowed and languished since the music changed.
Aerith felt her wrist as she watched him. He seemed to be expecting rejection, for her to walk away all scared and spooked after his display of snarls and teeth.
And that would be very much an understandable, normal reaction to being threatened.
Thankfully, Aerith was not a very normal person.
Instead, she sighed. After a few moments of checking for injury, she came up behind him Instead, and lightly touched him on the shoulder.
"Now that's not fair. To you. I pushed you just now. Yes, you scared me. But that's my fault."
Her voice was reasonable. Not kind. If anything, she might have sounded tart, but it was at herself.
"So...can you give me a chance to explain? Please?"
He startled at her touch, whipping around to stare at her for the unexpected contact. There was no anger anymore, just surprise that she was still here and talking to him.
He couldn't believe his ears. Aerith's words sounded suspiciously like an apology even if they were sharp and if his mother taught him anything it wasn't Aerith's behavior that required an apology. It was his.
Collins's shoulders slumped. His eyes searched hers for some sort of reasoning. There was something else in his eyes now, something that didn't befit the fierce hunter.
"You don't owe me anything," he said. He swallowed. "But I owe you a chance ta talk. I'll listen."
Sharpness was needed and maybe it was a bit due to her scare. But, she'd been playing with fire the whole time and she knew it. Collins had warned her and she pushed.
Now maybe they could push a little further into the thing known as trust. There was thay opportunity in his eyes.
"First, I think I need to know something important." Her hand had dropped but she hadn't pulled away from him, despite his quick movements.
"How does magic work in your world? I'd like to hear it."
Collins frowned at her question. There was an innate distaste brought on by the topic, but also a thoughtful look to him. Like the answer was one hard to convey.
He shook his head. "I don't mess with magic. But as far as I've seen, and I've seen a lot, it's an unnatural, unholy power begot from alien entities. Cultists worship these Old Ones as gods and gain these unnatural abilities from them. I've heard of tomes and items that grant unfathomable knowledge and seen rituals that summon awful beasts. There's always a price. It can be little as yer own misfortune or as heavy as tha sacrifice of life. And every caster I have ever met has suffered fer their spells ta be cast. Just recitin' tha language of these ancient entities can make a man go mad, never mind what happens once tha spell is cast or some foul beast is summoned into tha world."
He never joined a cult himself, but he certainly had worked for a cultist or two in his day. Sometimes unknowingly, other times realizing it and not caring enough to do anything about it. It was those kinds of people, after all, that had no qualms in hiring sorts like him.
Cults, deities from beyond the stars and items of madness. No wonder he had been so violent with his reaction before; he thought that he needed to pay a price- or that he may have fallen under her spell that'd make him into something he wasn't.
Her expression changed. From baffled, to realization, to a kind of understanding with exasperation.
"No wonder you tried to shoot me. You thought I was some sort of cultist? Or am, and a witch?"
Aerith sighed, and shook her head. "I've heard of different magics, but nothing like that. And to tell you the truth...if anyone has the right material in my world, anyone can cast a spell. And I do mean anyone."
Her hands dropped. "And no, they don't make you mad or slaves to them. If you overdo it like I have...yeah, it can give a bit of a mental punch. But that's more like...a muscle strain then causing harm.
"I wouldn't cast anything to hurt you. I wanted to save your life."
"It would certainly fit tha bill," he replied sullenly to her question. Cultists, witches, they were all insane for wanting anything from those foul entities.
He could do nothing but frown at what she told him of the magic of her world. So she did require items to cast her magic. That explained the lack of staff and why she was extra vulnerable without it. She had implied it made them even...far from it in truth since she was so weak physically. But the point remained she had done it on purpose and, possibly, as much as for him as any other reason. It made him huff in annoyance but if anything that was only to snuff out any other sentimental emotions that may have formed with the realization.
"But you can do harm with yer magic," he pointed out stubbornly. At this point he was struggling to argue with her but that was his nature. "You can perform unnatural phenomenon with it. And ya wield it as you see fit."
"Yes I can. I absolutely can." Aerith wasn't going to deny it. It would be foolish and be some sort of weird denial. She had wielded it without a thought to defend and attack against monsters without any problem.
"Just like other people can do harm with their knives, or bows, or guns." She paused, glancing at his hands. "Or their hands." Her eyes went up to look back up at his face, to that stubborn gaze.
"Which is why I've been learning self-defense so I don't rely on it. Though...I won't be any good at it for a very long time. But...I am sorry that I cast magic on you without your permission. I won't do that again."
She looked pained at it. "Even if that means...even if that means you stay injured or worse."
Unconsciously, he began to rub at his wrist before it occurred to him what he was doing and he turned the gesture into a tug on his shirt sleeve as if to fix it's fit beneath his suit jacket. She had called him out and he knew she was right and fair to do so. He could do more damage with his hands than most people could manage with a weapon in theirs. He was not only trained but had years of experience and he enjoyed the act so much he'd definitely experimented over the years with his various targets.
That gave him joy. Today, when she looked at him, it almost felt like what he imagined guilt must be like to feel.
He huffed in annoyance but there she went again. Apologizing to him. After all his snarling and teeth-baring like a vicious wolf-like animal. He looked away as if in irritation. Truth be told, he couldn't stand that pained look in her eye. That couldn't be for him. She was just...she was just kind to everyone. It didn't matter.
"Don't go worryin' about that," he said and his voice was gruff from some underlying emotion that he was barking through with stubborn doggedness. "It was a one time happenstance. Ya won't see me doin' anything so foolish again."
The idea in his head was that it had been stupid for him to bother protecting her. That wasn't like him at all. He was a lone wolf and had no attachments. Such things were weaknesses and he didn't need them. He was content with his life as it was.
It would never happen again.
Yet when he looked back at her the stubborn set to his jaw faltered as the flute warbled plaintively at him. The glare that he had intended to pointedly fire at her died before he even had a chance to truly aim it. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.
It was almost impossible not to sigh in a huff again. "Now don't go lookin' like that, petal. You'll ruin yer pretty little face with a look like that and there ain't no reason fer you ta over an old dog like this one." A beat passed. "You just do as you see fit in tha future. That's what yer here fer. I ain't got no say in what you wardens do anyway."
Maybe she was kind to everyone. Maybe she was kind even to people who showed her music that brought her joy. Who grabbed her wrist hard enough to bruise. And who even risked their life for her sake.
Life and injury was not something she took lightly. Even if she had been able to save herself, over and over, he had pulled her out of the way and dealt with her monsters.
"You don't know what the future will hold Mr Collins. Not unless you've got some sort of future vision I don't know about."
She stepped forward slowly. And another step. She didn't like the idea of him getting hurt again- even if he might have deserved it with whatever action he took.
But her hand still slowly reached to touch him on the arm.
"Just remember. I might do what I want, but that's as me. Not the warden. Not the witch." Her voice was softer still. "You don't have to keep putting barriers between us Dennis. You know what would be great? If we could be friends."
Collins's eyes dipped to watch Aerith's hand reach out to touch his arm, but he didn't make any move away. If anything he seemed to relax with the contact.
His eyes returned to hers. A retort formed on his tongue but before he could get it out she had continued in her faint voice. His chest constricted though he wasn't altogether certain what for. Maybe it was just another new line from the music. It was doing everything it could to confuse him today.
"I don't know about that, Miss Aerith." He said. He looked as though he considered saying more and then decided to keep his mouth shut after all.
It seemed that Aerith was doing everything to turn his head. At lest she was trying to be careful and gentle with him. Even if it meant he could bark and snarl all he wanted.
"It's a choice." Aerith told him. Her hand went down his forearm to grip his hand. "None of this worthy or not nonsense. You are who you are. Friendship is a choice we can make, again and again."
Being able to bark and snarl all he wanted was probably one of the biggest bonuses that a person could give him. That leniency went a long way with Collins. (However, the hard part was then drawing the line and, for Collins, not hurting someone was rather hard even when he liked that person. He would have to be careful with Aerith lest he finally cross that line and create a rift that could not be mended with time.)
The fingers of his hands twitched at the contact but again there was no indication that he wanted to pull away. Instead, after a hesitant moment, his fingers curled slightly as if to quietly accept. "I do like you, lass. You've a mettle some men on tha battlefield don't even have and a temperament fit fer an angel." He said with a faint smile. "And tha music is always sweeter when yer around."
Sometimes, he needed to learn where the line was. And she needed to know where he needed to draw the line for himself. Some might have said in his snapping and growling, that he went too far in trying to scare her but...they were all right. They would both learn where would be too much as they got to know each other better.
As Collins noticed, Aerith was not exactly a shrinking violet. There was still a lot that she could handle.
Like her holding the hand that could have hurt her so badly with such utter gentleness.
"I like you too. I like being your friend." Aerith told him, smiling. "I always learn something new around you. You're going to fuss, but I know with you- I am safe."
She paused. Well, that was not completely true. "From everyone else at least."
Collins wasn't used to feeling flustered much less over something as innocent as a few compliments. Still, he felt awkward receiving the kind words from Aerith and for a moment it seemed he like he didn't know what to do. That was frustrating but in a mild way now as he settled into a calm demeanor with their conversation having moved past the hardest parts.
He looked away and for a moment he looked more like a grumpy cat turning its back on someone than a fierce wolf. Fortunately for him, her final comment broke the ice.
Collins laughed. "You've learned half yer lesson, I suppose." His voice grew quieter. "It'll have ta do. But don't you forget." Then after a small beat of silence to let that sink in and then dissipate into the air, he allowed his tone to relax again. Lightly, "Sounds like I'll have ta keep charmin' you with new things ta learn. Are you really tryin' ta learn how ta defend yerself without relyin' on magic? You think yer learnin' tha right kind of self defense fer you?"
Aerith hadn't meant to make Collins flustered but...well. Couldn't say she minded it very much. It was much better then some of the other reactions he could have had with her, being as sassy and bold as she was.
At least she managed to make him laugh. She rewarded him with a pert little smile, clearly pleased with the outcome.
"Oh, that's something I won't forget Collins. We'd both suffer." And she meant it too. But she nodded at the slight chance of subject.
"I have no idea." She was honest at least. "Song Zichen is showing me how to slash, Cain how to punch, and Saga some self defense. They're really kind to help me out so- I've been trying everything I can."
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It would be nice to see what books he had read, what he would think would be to her taste- or was his taste. There could be a lot of back and forth with that, and the music too. What a helpful person to have around in the library! Especially if he could show her the way to the music players and such later. That would be a really fun and good way to relax.
Heck, it might help with getting her to relax to get some sleep sometime.
But that was for later. For the other, should things still be okay with the pair of them.
"I wanted to clear up about the magic I used, and its source." Her voice was soft. "I think we may be...clashing because of world differences. And you're going to see me as the witch that overruled your will until we do."
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He could have walked away. The idea did strike him. But no one could call him cowardly if he met everything head-on.
"I don't see yer staff today," he noted almost casually except for the ice-cold undertone in his voice. Idly, he fiddled with his sleeve cuff to realign and straighten it. It kept his eyes away from her. "That's unwise."
He may not have known the full importance of the staff to her fighting prowess, but he had always seen it as a weapon by which to protect herself. Now it was missing. His words were meant as an underhanded threat as much as an observation of her vulnerability.
Though she could always call him on his bluff if she had found out about his restrictions by now. He could do nothing either way.
"Do you really want ta continue?"
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She remembered seeing that look after the attempt with the gun. If he walked, she wouldn't have followed. Neither would she have brought it up again. But there was a reason why she didn't bring her staff.
"I know. But it wouldn't be fair if I brought it. So." She spread her hands slowly, carefully. For all she knew, he'd see her hand gestures as magic invoking in nature and see them as a threat.
"Now you have the advantage Collins. I'm unarmed. I'm small. I can run, but I don't have the strength to fight you. You saw how easy it was for me to get pinned to the wall."
She really had no idea of how he was unable to harm. How that actually might have saved her life.
"Cards are on the table. Your choice how this goes."
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He stalked forward suddenly, swiftly closing the gap Aerith had carefully left between them, and engaged Aerith at an uncomfortably close range. It was a deliberate and purposeful maneuver that left her no personal space and, if she tried to step backwards away from him, he matched it with a step forward until there was nowhere left to go.
Pinning her, essentially, much like her white-coated assailants. Though he did not, for the moment, touch her. He used his presence instead to hound her.
"Oh, I remember."
His expression matched his tone: cold and harsh, the glint of sharpened steel in his eye and the hard edge lining his mouth. There was a spark, too, like the beginnings of a crescendo at the fringes of a musical piece waiting patiently for the right moment to hit for the remaining instruments to join in final swell.
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She just hoped if it did, none of her friends found her before she came back to life.
Aerith found herself taking a step back, and another. One more still until she found herself pressed against the wall, reminded of what those white coats had done. All the scars were in her mind and her nightmares.
And there was Collins, menacing and primed. Possibly for the kill.
Of course Aerith was scared. It showed in the way her hands pressed against the surface. But she didn't plead. Didn't stammer. She kept her eyes on his face, watching him.
Aerith, his challenger, was still. Waiting for the next word, and where the music would take him.
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And yet there was a note out of place. The usual joy seemed dulled somehow. He couldn't quite comprehend what was wrong and that angered him. His face crumpled into one of rage.
A great horn bellowed in agony--or was it his frustrated yell ringing in his ears?--as he smashed a hand into the wall next to Aerith. He spotted it then: the flinch all along her body, the terrified trill of a flute panicking like a small bird, the tension in the body and fright in the eyes--and what would normally delight the wicked beast inside of him turned the music inside of him into a desperate plea that he had never heard before. The beautiful chords of the harp changed key and all the notes turned sharp and painfully forlorn. A flicker of confusion and hurt flashed through his eyes, unbidden.
Gone in an instant, his head tilted to one side as his eyes narrowed in furious cynicism. She was doing this to him. She was the cause of his music's distress. Her unhappiness was-
Collins grabbed at her wrist and squeezed it so hard he could feel the slight pressure slip into his own wrist, for he could not hurt her; she would only feel his hand a-hold of her but no pain from it.
"Don't," he warned angrily, but whether the ominous word was meant for her or to chide himself for his own folly was debatable.
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When his hand smashed against the wall, she jumped. It couldn't be helped; it was a reflex from a violent reaction.
But when he grabbed her, she didn't resist. Even when he grabbed to the point of causing pain to himself, she only offered a confused look, and a slight shake of her head.
"I don't understand." Her voice was quiet, and green eyes kept on blue.
And there was no sign of magic, at all. If that was what he wanted either she was being truthful, or wanted him to believe in her lie that much.
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His grip on her wrist tightened until it threatened to leave a mark once released. He barely noticed though the pain was all on him.
"You are-"
He started to say but couldn't seem to find the words. His demeanor began to falter. The tightness in his jaw ached from his anger, but the piercing coldness of his eyes frayed around the edges.
Suddenly he let her go and turned completely from her, taking two steps away. In the movement, his other hand came forcefully around and beat into his own chest. Once, twice, quickly, painfully, in punishment. The music quieted to a low thrum, a holding note as the piece waited to shift to something different.
"You are nothing but trouble," he groused in defeat. And the low cello hummed softly beneath the airy flute as it tentatively tested its freedom.
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She could hide it of course. Keep it a secret like she kept so many from others on board. Even from her friends. It was her own fault, her own risk.
Still. Aerith exhaled, and took in a shaky breath. Maybe she had been holding it in the whole time. She wasn't sure. But she placed her own hand on her chest, hoping to calm her racing heart.
"That's me." Aerith's voice didn't hold its usual pep or cheer. Her hands felt shaky. "Nothing but trouble."
She was tempted to say more but ...that would be pushing it.
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"Go on then," he said without turning back around to look at her. "I won't bother you again."
It was a hard promise to swallow but it was all that he had to give her. An assurance that he would steer clear.
He didn't realize how much it would hurt to see that look in her eyes. It had never mattered before. But then, he had never known his targets before either. They were meaningless marks to him. An animal he could fall in love with just enough to enjoy the hunt and then walk away satisfied. Aerith seemed...to be a different sort of animal. And much the way he felt after Trevor and Sheehan had shunned him for a time, Collins couldn't get over that strange feeling of wistfulness rather than satisfaction from a job well done.
It left the air cold and empty, his heartbeat slowed and languished since the music changed.
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And that would be very much an understandable, normal reaction to being threatened.
Thankfully, Aerith was not a very normal person.
Instead, she sighed. After a few moments of checking for injury, she came up behind him Instead, and lightly touched him on the shoulder.
"Now that's not fair. To you. I pushed you just now. Yes, you scared me. But that's my fault."
Her voice was reasonable. Not kind. If anything, she might have sounded tart, but it was at herself.
"So...can you give me a chance to explain? Please?"
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He couldn't believe his ears. Aerith's words sounded suspiciously like an apology even if they were sharp and if his mother taught him anything it wasn't Aerith's behavior that required an apology. It was his.
Collins's shoulders slumped. His eyes searched hers for some sort of reasoning. There was something else in his eyes now, something that didn't befit the fierce hunter.
"You don't owe me anything," he said. He swallowed. "But I owe you a chance ta talk. I'll listen."
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Now maybe they could push a little further into the thing known as trust. There was thay opportunity in his eyes.
"First, I think I need to know something important." Her hand had dropped but she hadn't pulled away from him, despite his quick movements.
"How does magic work in your world? I'd like to hear it."
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He shook his head. "I don't mess with magic. But as far as I've seen, and I've seen a lot, it's an unnatural, unholy power begot from alien entities. Cultists worship these Old Ones as gods and gain these unnatural abilities from them. I've heard of tomes and items that grant unfathomable knowledge and seen rituals that summon awful beasts. There's always a price. It can be little as yer own misfortune or as heavy as tha sacrifice of life. And every caster I have ever met has suffered fer their spells ta be cast. Just recitin' tha language of these ancient entities can make a man go mad, never mind what happens once tha spell is cast or some foul beast is summoned into tha world."
He never joined a cult himself, but he certainly had worked for a cultist or two in his day. Sometimes unknowingly, other times realizing it and not caring enough to do anything about it. It was those kinds of people, after all, that had no qualms in hiring sorts like him.
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Her expression changed. From baffled, to realization, to a kind of understanding with exasperation.
"No wonder you tried to shoot me. You thought I was some sort of cultist? Or am, and a witch?"
Aerith sighed, and shook her head. "I've heard of different magics, but nothing like that. And to tell you the truth...if anyone has the right material in my world, anyone can cast a spell. And I do mean anyone."
Her hands dropped. "And no, they don't make you mad or slaves to them. If you overdo it like I have...yeah, it can give a bit of a mental punch. But that's more like...a muscle strain then causing harm.
"I wouldn't cast anything to hurt you. I wanted to save your life."
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He could do nothing but frown at what she told him of the magic of her world. So she did require items to cast her magic. That explained the lack of staff and why she was extra vulnerable without it. She had implied it made them even...far from it in truth since she was so weak physically. But the point remained she had done it on purpose and, possibly, as much as for him as any other reason. It made him huff in annoyance but if anything that was only to snuff out any other sentimental emotions that may have formed with the realization.
"But you can do harm with yer magic," he pointed out stubbornly. At this point he was struggling to argue with her but that was his nature. "You can perform unnatural phenomenon with it. And ya wield it as you see fit."
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"Just like other people can do harm with their knives, or bows, or guns." She paused, glancing at his hands. "Or their hands." Her eyes went up to look back up at his face, to that stubborn gaze.
"Which is why I've been learning self-defense so I don't rely on it. Though...I won't be any good at it for a very long time. But...I am sorry that I cast magic on you without your permission. I won't do that again."
She looked pained at it. "Even if that means...even if that means you stay injured or worse."
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That gave him joy. Today, when she looked at him, it almost felt like what he imagined guilt must be like to feel.
He huffed in annoyance but there she went again. Apologizing to him. After all his snarling and teeth-baring like a vicious wolf-like animal. He looked away as if in irritation. Truth be told, he couldn't stand that pained look in her eye. That couldn't be for him. She was just...she was just kind to everyone. It didn't matter.
"Don't go worryin' about that," he said and his voice was gruff from some underlying emotion that he was barking through with stubborn doggedness. "It was a one time happenstance. Ya won't see me doin' anything so foolish again."
The idea in his head was that it had been stupid for him to bother protecting her. That wasn't like him at all. He was a lone wolf and had no attachments. Such things were weaknesses and he didn't need them. He was content with his life as it was.
It would never happen again.
Yet when he looked back at her the stubborn set to his jaw faltered as the flute warbled plaintively at him. The glare that he had intended to pointedly fire at her died before he even had a chance to truly aim it. He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.
It was almost impossible not to sigh in a huff again. "Now don't go lookin' like that, petal. You'll ruin yer pretty little face with a look like that and there ain't no reason fer you ta over an old dog like this one." A beat passed. "You just do as you see fit in tha future. That's what yer here fer. I ain't got no say in what you wardens do anyway."
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Life and injury was not something she took lightly. Even if she had been able to save herself, over and over, he had pulled her out of the way and dealt with her monsters.
"You don't know what the future will hold Mr Collins. Not unless you've got some sort of future vision I don't know about."
She stepped forward slowly. And another step. She didn't like the idea of him getting hurt again- even if he might have deserved it with whatever action he took.
But her hand still slowly reached to touch him on the arm.
"Just remember. I might do what I want, but that's as me. Not the warden. Not the witch." Her voice was softer still. "You don't have to keep putting barriers between us Dennis. You know what would be great? If we could be friends."
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His eyes returned to hers. A retort formed on his tongue but before he could get it out she had continued in her faint voice. His chest constricted though he wasn't altogether certain what for. Maybe it was just another new line from the music. It was doing everything it could to confuse him today.
"I don't know about that, Miss Aerith." He said. He looked as though he considered saying more and then decided to keep his mouth shut after all.
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"It's a choice." Aerith told him. Her hand went down his forearm to grip his hand. "None of this worthy or not nonsense. You are who you are. Friendship is a choice we can make, again and again."
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The fingers of his hands twitched at the contact but again there was no indication that he wanted to pull away. Instead, after a hesitant moment, his fingers curled slightly as if to quietly accept. "I do like you, lass. You've a mettle some men on tha battlefield don't even have and a temperament fit fer an angel." He said with a faint smile. "And tha music is always sweeter when yer around."
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As Collins noticed, Aerith was not exactly a shrinking violet. There was still a lot that she could handle.
Like her holding the hand that could have hurt her so badly with such utter gentleness.
"I like you too. I like being your friend." Aerith told him, smiling. "I always learn something new around you. You're going to fuss, but I know with you- I am safe."
She paused. Well, that was not completely true. "From everyone else at least."
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He looked away and for a moment he looked more like a grumpy cat turning its back on someone than a fierce wolf. Fortunately for him, her final comment broke the ice.
Collins laughed. "You've learned half yer lesson, I suppose." His voice grew quieter. "It'll have ta do. But don't you forget." Then after a small beat of silence to let that sink in and then dissipate into the air, he allowed his tone to relax again. Lightly, "Sounds like I'll have ta keep charmin' you with new things ta learn. Are you really tryin' ta learn how ta defend yerself without relyin' on magic? You think yer learnin' tha right kind of self defense fer you?"
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At least she managed to make him laugh. She rewarded him with a pert little smile, clearly pleased with the outcome.
"Oh, that's something I won't forget Collins. We'd both suffer." And she meant it too. But she nodded at the slight chance of subject.
"I have no idea." She was honest at least. "Song Zichen is showing me how to slash, Cain how to punch, and Saga some self defense. They're really kind to help me out so- I've been trying everything I can."
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