Archive of Our Own

Kendal had a newfound appreciation for rooftops.

The view was lovely. The city of Argist sprawled out from beneath his dangling feet, its streets lively with throngs of diverse people. (Somewhere down there, Alinua, Dainix, Erin, and Tess must be wandering from shop to shop. Poor Erin.) The sea was a glittering expanse of sapphire to the east, while the mountains speared upward into a canvas of blue skies and puffball clouds. The air tasted like sea salt and blew freely past Kendal's face. He breathed it in. He didn't need to. He just wanted to.

The rooftop also brought out a different side of Falst. Quiet. Relaxed, or at least more relaxed than he usually was. Kind of pensive, though, if Kendal was reading his body language correctly. Body language was hard to understand. Falst made it easier than most, though, with his flicking tail, expressive pupils, and ears that could prick up or flatten. Right now, Falst's brow was furrowed, and his tail swayed gently by his feet. His ears were in a neutral position.

"I need a new shirt," said Falst suddenly.

Kendal blinked. Yes, that was true. Falst had nothing to shield his upper body from the elements. Besides, even on a mild summer evening like this one, shirts seemed to be social convention. Dainix was an exception, but he still had his wyrmsilk cloak.

Kendal considered the soft fabric of his own shirt. Okay, it was Erin's, technically, but still. Kendal was fond of the silky smooth texture on his skin, and it hid his bandaged wounds nicely. But if Falst needed it... "Want to borrow this one for a while?" He shook out his sleeve for emphasis.

Falst gave him a wry look. "I'd be swimming in that one. 'Sides, you shouldn't be so fast to give people the literal shirt off your back. Keep it."

"I think I need to return it to Erin eventually."

Falst showed a hint of mischievous fang. "Like I said, you should keep it."

Kendal frowned.

"Okay, fine, or ask Erin nicely, I guess. He probably wouldn't mind."

"Okay." Kendal made a mental note to ask Erin when (or if?) he needed this shirt back later. "But you still need a shirt in your size, right?"

"Yeah." Falst frowned contemplatively. "I was thinking of sneaking into town and scrounging one up."

"We're already in town," Kendal pointed out, amused. "With Argist's blessing to stay as long as we need."

"You know what I mean."

Kendal tilted his head. "Want to go look around? I can come with you."

"..." Falst glanced away and scratched his cheek. "Yeah. Sure, let's go."

Kendal lost Falst within five minutes of entering the market square.

Keeping up with Falst was more difficult than Kendal had anticipated. Even injured, Falst was ridiculously compact and agile, and he had a knack for dodging around people and disappearing into the crowd. Kendal himself had inhuman strength and speed, but he was much taller and much less instinctively inclined to hide--and he still felt the sting of his injury. It wasn't severe, just a faint, throbbing ache where he'd stabbed himself in the Tynan fight, but it was annoying. One moment, Falst was right next to him. Then Kendal got distracted by a display of beautifully crafted swords for a second, and when he looked again, Falst was gone.

What the...?

Kendal stopped short, frowning, searching for any signs of a lion tail or bare shoulders. Nope, nothing. Kendal opened his mouth to call out.

"Oy! Coming through!"

Kendal stepped aside for a red-faced laborer whose arms were laden with crates and raised both hands apologetically. "Sorry."

She squinted up at him. "What're you standing around for? You'll get knocked into if you stay in everyone's way like that."

Kendal repeated the apology and stepped farther back, toward a spot at the edge of the square and between a couple of stands. The laborer sighed, waved him off in a don't-worry-about-it sort of way, and moved on.

Kendal took a deep breath--not that he needed to breathe right now physically, but... Psychologically. He just... It was loud and chaotic here, with market stands in no particular order and people running around in all directions. Argist felt friendlier than Zuurith, but it was busier and hastier than Vash. And, of course, the layout was nothing like Vash. Not that Kendal had lived in Vash himself, technically. The city's death had cradled his birth. But he was kind of an extension of Vash, and--no, wait, something about that didn't seem quite right. Sounded like the kind of thing that would upset Alinua. Even so, it was strange, sometimes, carrying the echoes of Vash's memories, but it still felt like they were his too, in a way, and Argist was so much compared to home, and--

Kendal took another breath. I need to find Falst.

"Hey."

Kendal nearly jumped out of his skin.

As if by magic, Falst reappeared at Kendal's elbow. He held out a donut. "Want one?"

"I guess?" Tentatively, Kendal accepted the donut and took a small, curious bite. It was piping hot, crisp on the outside, soft and airy on the inside. An interesting combination of textures. It had several layers of flavor, too, even though each flavor on its own was simple. The sweetness of the sugar coating it, the subtler sweetness of the simple starch, the savory richness of the oil used to fry it... Vash really liked donuts, come to think of it. Not quite as much as cake, but close.

Falst watched him intently. "So? What do you think of it?"

"I think it's a donut."

Falst gave him an exasperated look.

Kendal remembered Falst's questions with the fish pastry and realized he should probably elaborate. "I think it's good. I like the textures and that it's mostly soft and warm." There. That was a detailed answer, wasn't it?

"What about the sugar?"

"The sugar's good too. Just not as interesting. The way it's layered with other tastes is kind of interesting, though."

"Huh," said Falst, looking oddly put out. Then he shoved an entire donut in his mouth.

Kendal rested a gentle hand on Falst's shoulder; Falst startled under the touch, then relaxed. Just as gently, Kendal said, "I appreciate the gift, but I'd prefer it if you warn me next time before you vanish. It was stressful to suddenly not know where you were or what to do with myself."

"Oh." Falst's ears flattened. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Where'd you get the donuts, anyway?"

Falst pointed to a stand down the street.

Kendal squinted. It looked like a standard street food stand, with people lining up to exchange coins for delicious treats--in this case, donuts. The merchant was a portly elf in vibrant purple clothes. As Kendal watched, the donut merchant slapped a child's hand away from the edge of the donut stack and said something sharp. Okay, so they obviously weren't free...

Wait a minute.

Kendal didn't have any coin on him; Alinua and Erin usually handled that stuff, and right now, they were off doing shopping of their own. Falst, to the best of Kendal's knowledge, didn't have a purse or any money to speak of either. Kendal felt like an idiot. He should have considered this before suggesting he and Falst go looking for a shirt.

"Falst," said Kendal quietly. "How exactly did you get those donuts?"

Falst's tone turned defensive. "The only way I could. Why?"

Kendal almost responded, then realized that they were drawing a few stares. He pressed his lips together and steered Falst toward an alleyway. Falst, thankfully, went along without protest. They stopped in the shadow of a residential building, away from prying eyes and out of earshot of the market. "Argist has given us hospitality and asylum," said Kendal sternly. "We shouldn't violate his trust by stealing from his people."

Falst's ears flattened further. "It was just a couple of donuts. It's not gonna break the guy's purse, or anything."

"It's still not right."

"Easy for you to say," snapped Falst. "They wouldn't chase you away if you tried to get things the legal way."

"Is that what you think will happen?"

"That's what I know will happen."

Kendal stopped short. He'd seen how Falst had been living before, alone in the woods. He'd heard Erin's explanation of how Ferin were discriminated against. He remembered the unadulterated shock on Falst's face when Kendal had offered him a place in the group. He even remembered the microaggressions Falst had suffered in Zuurith, with Falst having to lean on Erin's emissary status to be treated like a person. But it was... It was so different from how things were in Vash, and perhaps that made it easy for Kendal to forget, or not fully grasp, how abhorrently unfair Falst's life was.

That didn't excuse the thievery in this case, though. It only explained Falst's mindset, which made sense for how he'd survived before traveling with friends.

"It's not guaranteed," said Kendal quietly. "The citizens of Vash were fairer than that, and Argist is far more welcoming than Zuurith. But one of us can go with you anytime you want to buy something, just in case." He scratched the back of his head. "Unfortunately, I, uh, didn't think this trip through. Alinua and Erin have all the money with them. I'm sorry."

Falst snorted. "I didn't question it 'cause I'm not used to getting things the legal way."

"Okay, well, I'm asking you to please not get any more things the not-legal way. We can get them the legal way as soon as we reunite with the others."

"We're leaving first thing in the morning," Falst pointed out. "That's not gonna give us much time for shopping."

Kendal frowned, thinking the problem over. "We could try to find Alinua and the others now."

"In this city? It'd be like looking for a needle in a haystack. We don't exactly have messenger spells to chase around."

"We could find a place, remember where it is, and hurry back to it first thing in the morning."

"It'd be seriously pushing the timing."

Kendal thought, and thought some more. At last, an idea came to him. "Even if we don't have coin, we can still barter with favors or labor. Sometimes people accept those kinds of trade. We could look around and ask, see if someone's willing to trade a shirt for a bit of help."

Falst's eyes flicked down to Kendal's waist. "That gonna agitate your wound?"

"I don't think so. Most human labor isn't much effort for me."

"I guess that's true." Subconsciously, Falst gripped his own wrist. It was the one Kendal had snapped with minimal effort, back when they'd first met. 

Guilt ate at Kendal. He hadn't known how else to get Falst to stop when Falst was so dead set on fighting instead of talking, but still, it'd just... It'd broken so easily. Like sandlime glass in Kendal's fist. Clearly, it had hurt enough to make a lasting impression. Kendal didn't want to be thought of by his friends as someone who could--or worse, would--break them. He didn't ever want to harm any of them again.

Falst dropped his wrist with a sigh and shrugged. "Alright. Sure. Let's try your way."

They had no luck finding a clothes merchant.

The chaos of the city was just too overwhelming to sort through. Swishes of colored fabric as people walked past. A hundred scents in the air, all of which Falst noticed more acutely than Kendal--perfumes and street foods and manure and pungent fish. Thousands of chattering voices, shrill and booming and soft and hissing. It actually got to the point where Kendal caved and asked Falst for a break and a more distant view of Argist. He suspected Falst was as relieved as Kendal himself felt at the suggestion, even though Falst's response was nonchalant: a shrug of his shoulders and a "sure, why not."

They ended up on the overlook Kendal had found with Alinua earlier, leaning on the railing and watching ships scuttle across the sea.

"This is definitely distant," noted Falst. His shoulders relaxed, and his ears perked up. He looked more like he had on the roof. The breeze played with his short mane of hair, ruffling and frizzing it. He spared Kendal a sideways glance. "You smell and hear more than most humans, huh?"

Kendal considered this carefully. Did he? The world seemed incredibly rich to all five of his senses. It was a lot to filter through, even though he was built to absorb it all--Vash loved experiencing all of that stuff, all the vibrant details. And it did seem, sometimes, like Kendal would see or hear something that had escaped Alinua's, Erin's, or even Dainix's notice. But he hadn't been able to detect and distinguish scents to the degree that Falst could. They didn't bother him to the extent that they bothered Falst, either. Not the intensity of individual smells and sounds, at least. "I think so," he said at last. "Not as much as you, though. You're very perceptive."

Falst scowled and rested his chin on his arms. "Sometimes I hate it. Nobody bathes and everybody reeks, I swear."

"That sounds like a lot to deal with."

"It's a lot for you too, though, right?"

Once again, Kendal considered this carefully. "It's not the intensity of singular noises or smells for me. It's not bad for me in small towns, and it's not bad for me if I'm not trying to... filter most of it out? If I'm not searching for one specific thing. But if I am, and the thing isn't something obvious like a raging dragon or storm god, and the place has a thousand different sensory inputs..."

"It becomes a metric fuckton to deal with," concluded Falst, peeking up at him. "Right?"

"Kind of, yeah." Kendal rested a hand over his healing wound. It didn't hurt much, but all the walking around kept reminding him of its existence. 

Falst's expression sharpened, and he lifted his head. "You okay?"

Kendal gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. It's nicer out here, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Still reeks of fish and salt, though."

Kendal hummed in acknowledgement and looked down the shoreline--the ribbon of golden sand and the wooden docks jutting out like fingers into the sea. It was getting close to sunset, so the last shipments for the day were coming in. People scampered along the docks, tiny as ants, hoisting boxes and bundles and running to and from ships. Quite a few of them looked like merchant or cargo ships, though a few seemed designed to ferry passengers. A place where people are transporting goods in bulk, with a high demand for manual labor... Maybe our odds would be better trying to trade favors with them. "We could try bargaining with the merchants and shiphands down there," Kendal suggested. "They could probably use hands."

Falst squinted at the hordes of laborers. His ear twitched. "Maybe."

"Hand singular, for you," amended Kendal. "You're still supposed to be resting that arm."

Falst rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll be lefty only."

"Good. Ready?"

"Sure." Falst pushed himself away from the railing. "Let's go."

Within minutes of reaching the docks, they spotted shirts that seemed perfect for Falst, folded in stacks in an opened cargo crate. A few were the same style and cut of the one he'd lost, and they looked to be about his size. The shiphands who'd hauled them ashore were still running up and down the gangplank, unloading more crates and barrels of goods, while a short woman in a long, crimson coat and a tricorn hat watched and barked orders. One of the shiphands spared a glance at Kendal and Falst, and his nose wrinkled with... annoyance? Distaste? Kendal wasn't sure, but it didn't seem positive. The others hadn't noticed them, absorbed in their work as they were.

I'm not sure about them, but they might be worth a try.

Kendal pointed to the shirts. "Want to ask her to trade for one of those?"

Falst eyed the shirts, then the short woman in the coat, then Kendal. "You ask. I'll tag along."

"Okay." Kendal braced himself with a breath and strode forward, with Falst following closely. "Excuse me," he said quietly.

The shouting woman took no notice of him.

"Uh." Kendal cleared his throat and tried again, raising his voice. "I'll trade you my labor for a shirt!"

She finally stopped and turned to him. "What?" she yelled back.

Kendal inhaled. "I'LL TRADE LABOR FOR A SHIRT!"

Her eyebrows rose, and she stepped toward him. She was a stout human, with grey in her curls and a harsh downward turn to her mouth. She looked Kendal up and down, lingering on the hilt of his sword with a flicker of apprehension, then glanced at Falst. Her nose wrinkled. Kendal didn't like it. He didn't trust that expression. "So," she said, and pinned him beneath her stare. "You think you're fit enough to haul my cargo? And what's that ferin scamp doing with you?"

"Figures," growled Falst. "Kendal, let's--"

But blood pounded in his ears, and anger blazed through him like starfire. "My friend," he corrected. "You're talking about my friend."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "A friend, huh? You've got to be careful with those ones. Wild, they are, unpredictable sorts."

"For fuck's sake," said Falst, and Kendal couldn't tell if he was irritated or just exhausted. "I'm right here."

Kendal's fury grew, and his battle instincts screamed at him: protect, fight, she's attacking mine. His weight shifted; his hand curled. He checked himself just before he could move--just before this stupid, bigoted stranger could pick up on it.

One of the laborers, a swarthy human with tattoos all up and down his arms, came over. He was huge. Half a head taller than Kendal, even. "Something the matter, boss?" he asked, eyeing Kendal and Falst with obvious distrust. "Need me to bounce these guys for you?" He, too, noticed the sword strapped to Kendal's back, and he rested a hand on the scimitar belted at his waist.

Falst scoffed. "You? Bounce Kendal? I don't think so."

"He doesn't look so tough." He grinned sharply. "I can take him."

The merchant sniffed. "They're being nuisances. I was just going to send them off."

Kendal wanted to shake them. He wanted to throw them. He was terrified of what he wanted in this moment, because he knew he could take it too far, knew he could snap them like twigs and they'd never recover, and that was absolutely not warranted. But he was so angry, how dare they treat Falst like this, and--and this was what Falst had to deal with all the time.

Falst was already turning away, his tail lashing, his ears flattening, the hairs along his bare back bristling like a frightened cat's. 

The shirt was still right there, on top of that crate.

Kendal caught Falst's arm as gently as he could.

Falst stilled, though he didn't turn back.

"New deal," said Kendal coolly. "Arm wrestling match. I win, I get a shirt." He pointed. "I lose, you get... my boots, I guess." He glanced down at Falst.

Falst finally turned, glowering--but then he got a good look at Kendal's face, and his eyes turned round as saucers.

Kendal stared back solemnly. I'm getting you that stupid shirt.

The merchant rolled her eyes, but the shiphand eyed his boots appraisingly. "Those ain't half bad. I could use me a new pair of boots."

"Seriously?" said the merchant. "Fine. Whatever. Don't take too long. If you lose, you owe me a silver." Then she turned and went back to shouting at the other shiphands.

The shiphand cackled and waved Kendal over to a big crate. "C'mon, blondie. You heard the lady."

Kendal silently strode over to the crate and set his arm on the table.

The shiphand stood across from him and did the same. His bicep bulged as he moved his arm into position. His grasp felt marginally less fragile than most people's. "So," said the shiphand casually. "What's your story? Fall on a bit of bad luck? Or you get your ego stroked by some of the people at the tavern down the way?"

"Neither."

The shiphand raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Well, I guess it doesn't matter to me. Ready?"

Kendal nodded.

The shiphand gripped harder. Just to make sure the arm wrestling match had really started, Kendal relaxed slightly and let him move Kendal's hand an inch or so. Then Kendal firmed his grip and pushed back a reasonable and controlled amount.

SLAM.

Okay, so his anger might have influenced him a little.

Kendal didn't break the man's arm or anything, he was pretty sure. But wood splintered and buckled beneath the force of the impact, leaving a hole in the crate, and the shiphand stared at Kendal in shock. "What the fuck," he whispered.

Kendal let go. "I'll take the shirt and leave."

The man plucked a few splinters from his hand, grimacing, and flexed each finger one by one, probably to check if they were still functional. They were. Bruised and banged up, sure, but that was probably all. "Who in the lands are you?" he asked.

"Just some guy who's had a long day," said Kendal. If he told the truth, this might somehow get back to the rest of the party, and he had a feeling Alinua might become distressed if she found out he'd walked the entire city and arm wrestled someone while injured--even if it hadn't been that hard, really. "Shirt, please."

"Son of a carrion crawler," muttered the shiphand. But he went and grabbed the shirt, and he tossed it to Kendal without protest.

"Thank you," said Kendal politely. He turned and held it out to Falst.

Falst, who had been oddly quiet this whole time, accepted it with uncharacteristic silence. He ran his hands over the fabric--simple but good-quality cotton--then pulled the shirt on. His fingers popped out of the sleeves and his head up above the neckline. His pupils were dilated, glimmering with scraps of light as they adapted to the dimming sunset. "We should get out of here," said Falst. His voice, though quiet, had an unnerved edge to it.

"Okay."

Falst grabbed Kendal's hand and led them back the way they'd come.

They didn't climb all the way back up to the overlook, but they did find a secluded pocket of beach beneath it, with washed-up starfish and cool, shaded sand between their toes. Kendal sat, as did Falst, and they watched the waves roll in. It was well and truly dark, now, the last of the daylight a faint purple line on the horizon. The sky was spangled with stars.

"So, uh." Falst's voice broke through the quiet. "Thanks for the shirt."

"No problem." Kendal took a slow, deep breath. It was an oddly cleansing process, even though he seldom needed to do it.

"The face that guy made was fucking amazing."

Kendal stared at Falst in surprise.

Falst grinned back at him, his fangs bared. "You're never allowed to tell me off for stealing again, by the way. You challenged a guy to an arm wrestling match without telling him you're some kind of super half-god person, then nearly broke his arm, all to get me this freaking shirt. I'm never gonna let this go."

"I definitely didn't break his arm."

"You broke a crate."

"I slightly damanged a crate," corrected Kendal defensively.

Falst cackled.

Kendal decided to let Falst have this one.

Eventually, Falst sobered. "Was, uh. Was your day really bad?"

Kendal considered this. Argist had told him to stop trying to involve himself in Vash's rescue, and while Kendal understood Argist's desire to protect him, it was distressing to be sidelined like that. His stab wound was still paining him, just slightly. He'd gotten to spend time on the rooftop with Falst. Wandering the city had been interesting, though ultimately a bit overwhelming. The docks had been... infuriating. He hated the way that merchant had treated his friend. He hated that so many people had treated Falst like that--that Falst expected it, was resigned to it. He hated it so much.

Kendal took another breath.

No one had almost died today. No one had been imprisoned. (To the best of Kendal's knowledge, at least. The others were probably fine. They were mostly well and rested, in a mostly friendly city that had offered asylum. He should trust them to hold their own.)

"Not really bad," Kendal concluded. "I've had much worse days than this."

Falst regarded Kendal incredulously. "You told me you lost your city and your god the second you were born. Also, you've spent half your ridiculously short life fighting crazy shit or getting imprisoned."

"I guess so. I don't think I'll ever want to celebrate my birthday."

Falst looked oddly troubled at that.

Kendal hastily course corrected. "Spending time with you today was nice, though. I liked sitting on the roof and the overlook, seeing more of the city, and getting to know you a little better."

Falst's ears perked up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kendal smiled softly. "I'm glad you invited me out. Thanks."

"S-sure. No problem." Falst scratched his cheek. "Glad it wasn't a total bust."

"Did you have a good day?" asked Kendal.

"Compared to what I'm used to? Yeah."

Kendal grimaced. "Let's get you used to slightly better days, on average."

Falst huffed. "Let's make that go both ways."

Kendal hummed his assent and leaned back against the boulder behind them.

Falst flopped against Kendal's side, much like Alinua often did. The unexpected gesture of trust melted Kendal's heart. "How many of those constellations do you recognize?" Falst asked. "I, uh. My mom taught me a few when I was little. I don't know many, though."

Kendal sifted through the phantoms of Vash's memories, gathering everything pertinent that he could recall. "Vash learned all of them eventually." Kendal studied the skies for a moment, then started pointing out the constellations, one by one. He traced invisible paths between the glittering specks with his finger, leaning in close to align his and Falst's lines of sight as much as possible. Falst asked the occasional question about how those few dots were supposed to be a crab, or why a constellation was named what it was. But as Kendal kept going, the questions grew less frequent, and the weight of Falst's head grew heavy on his shoulder. Eventually, Falst's breathing slowed into the even rhythm of slumber.

Kendal gently moved Falst's head down to his thigh, letting the little guy rest more horizontally, then draped a protective arm around him. Kendal didn't move to lie down himself. He didn't need sleep to the same extent the others did, and he'd slept for an unusually long time (seven entire hours) before talking to Argist, anyway. He could also still rest, kind of, by achieving absolute stillness while sitting.

An aqua glow blossomed beneath the waves, and Argist's more aquatic incarnation poked their head above the surface. They observed Kendal silently, then offered him a reassuring smile and a wink.

Kendal relaxed.

Today had been good overall, despite the bad parts. He'd meant what he'd said to Falst. And he had gotten Falst a shirt, in the end. It was kind of funny that Falst had fallen asleep here, despite his insistence on not sleeping while the others stayed awake, but it was endearing, too. Kendal certainly wouldn't begrudge Falst the catnap. The rest was good for him.

Falst would probably wake up by dawn, if not before. When he did, he and Kendal could go find the ship Erin had commissioned. But until then...

Falst shifted, and Kendal ran a soothing hand over his side.

For now, they could just be.