26 A reflection of himself

How strange, Leonel thought absently as he pulled the Doctor even closer against to share his warmth, rubbing those thin arms to gather more heat in them. This person was clearly an oddity. Leonel had chased enough mages in his lifetime to know that the magic he used was not ordinary. Though his mana was weak, probably due to the circuit scars he saw peaking out over his hip bone that one time, the spells he used required pinpoint precision and skill.

Not just a random hedgewitch then. The magic was similar to what he'd seen the Astrum Magi used; High Generals that once served the Mage King in the old regime. Leonel's eyes darkened at the thought, his hands trailing over the thin body he had in his grasps.

He could almost circle his entire hand around the Doctor's bicep and probably snap the bone in two without much effort. The thought fluttered in his mind, hands ghosting over thin collar bones jutting out from the Doctor's loose shirt. He moved up. The Adam's Apple protruded quite sharply, and Leonel could so easily crush it under his strength.

"Inquisitor Leonel…" Illysa came back, blinking a little confused at the sight before her eyes. She had firewood in her arms. "I got what you asked of me…

Leonel loosened his grasps and looked up at her, "Good. Now help me set this up."

Together they labored to set up a fire. They shrugged off the majority of their clothes, hanging it by the fire and wrapped themselves up in the dry cloaks. Illysa was a little embarrassed to be clothed so sparingly in front of two unknown men but Leonel just scoffed and told her not to worry. "I'm not interested in kids," he spat at her.

Illysa scrunched up her nose. She was already fifteen years old and did not see herself as a child anymore. But Leonel didn't look her way, and she felt more relieved than anything else. She wrapped the dry cloak tight around her body and shyly peeked up at the Inquisitor and the strange Doctor.

They were huddled together, skin against skin and it did kind of painted a scandalous picture.

Leonel looked up and caught Illysa's stare. He sneered at the girl, causing her to flinch. "Whatever it is you're imagining. You're wrong."

"I didn't…"

"I can see your thoughts on your face."

"..." Illysa could tell that there was no way she was going to win an argument; the Inquisitor did not budge on his snappish response.

Leonel had removed his wet shirt and trousers and done the same to Julian's as well. They had only the cloaks to maintain any vague sense of modesty and Leonel hugged Julian like he was some bony stuffed toy.

It was like he was enjoying it. But the Doctor's body was still shaking, his skin cold to the touch. The chill of nightfall wasn't helping, and he reckoned that this was the best way to stay warm.

He still owed the Doctor his life after all, even if the old man was kind of annoying.

There wasn't much left of nighttime, twilight was already upon the sky, but Leonel supposed the should rest up while they still could and gather their strengths before they made their way to Fauster.

He sighed, nuzzling into the Doctor's hair as fatigue slowly ate at his bones, finally settling in. But he said he was keeping watch first and the girl was already lying on the ground, rolled in her cloak fast asleep.

So Leonel poked at the fire, willing his mind to clear and remembering bits and pieces of the pathetic life that he'd hobbled through and lived.

Whatever.

He could deal with that another day, once they escaped the hounds that chased their scent until this dumb girl was off to safety or something, and maybe Leonel could even reconcile with that psychotic woman, Nathaire.

The sun slowly crawled over the horizon, painting the dark blue sky orange and pink. Birdsong filled the air and Leonel was fighting sleep away with distant memories.

His hometown Somellien was upon the sea-coast, where waters glistening out to the horizon and beyond. The air was thick with salt, hot. And the sand was light velvet beneath the toes. How many years had it been since he was there? Princess Yvelle used to escape from the castle donning clothes they stole from the maids. The markets thrummed with life, the smell of fish and the shiny allure of foreign imports.

Leonel wondered if it was still the same. High Magi Estren was stationed there and guarded Somellien's trade like it was a prized jewel, but he had since been chased away. Leonel spent so many years away from home that he stopped picking up rumors about the far off land he called his hometown ever since the Blueiron scandal with the local lords and the High Bishops sent over to quell the situation.

Leonel fears that what awaited him, there would be nothing like he used to know.

Illysa stretched, basking in the warmth of morning rays. An embarrassed squeak let her lips when her cloak fell off her shoulders and revealed too much skin to be proper. But Leonel's eyes were glazed, blinking and barely awake despite staying open.

She fixed her cloak and cleared her throat, "Excuse me, sir? Inquisitor Leonel?" She said a little timidly. His eyes snapped up at her. There were dark circles beneath those blue irises. "I can take over now. Why don't you sleep?"

Leonel frowned and touched his forehead. Why was he so tired? He'd gone days without sleep before. The Doctor shifted in his arms, grumbling about something why nuzzling against him like an affectionate cat. Inwardly, he thought that he was only tolerating this because he was tired. "Yeah, I'll sleep, but only for a bit. We'll depart before noon." He told the girl before settling down on the ground.

If Julian was going to use him a human radiator, then he was going to hold back either. He tugged the older man close as though he were some sort of oversized toy, even tossing his leg over to get a more comfortable position.

Leonel had experienced many nights of sleeplessness, where old ghosts chased him down the same memory over and over again. It'd been years that he experienced the spark of excitement and inspiration. And yet, he fell asleep incredibly fast. The moment his head rested against the ground, he was out like a light, listening to the soft him of Julian's breath against his neck.

Illysa watched the two men wrapped up in each other, asleep with a slight flush upon her cheeks. Even if the Inquisitor was insistent on not misunderstanding, it was extremely difficult not to when they were seen in a position as compromising as such.

A secret smile lifted her cheeks. Privately, she admitted that it was kind of cute.

…

Julian dreamed of horses.

Their hooves were thundering over the lands, churning up mud and dirt. There were thunder overhead and rain heavy, his clothes weighing him down. He shrugged off the heavy coat and peeled off the Blueiron gauntlets.

Hunting dogs barked and howled in his ears.

His breathing was heavy, drowning out the chaos. Night was about the sky and he was shaking to the marrow of his bones.

He fiddled with the iron clasp but couldn't quite muster the dexterity needed. Wrought with impatience, he cursed. And tried to summon magic to burn the leather strap right off. But calling upon his mana brought upon nothing but a sharp knifing pain.

A sharp cry ripped out his throat, and he crumbled to his knees. There was yelling in the distance, and he slapped his hand to his mouth, forcefully silencing any sound that might escape.

Footsteps came close. He wanted to fight, he wanted to bolt. But he had no more mana. No more strength, and his leg was mangled, gushing blood. The rainwater was sharp in his wound, but he, he was a survivor.

The rain did not let up.

Perhaps it was the storm that saved him that night, the piercing bite of cold rain kept him awake, washed away his blood, his scent. His whole body was like a block of lead. The leg muscle twitched pathetically, and he hobbled. When he could no longer hobble, he crawled. His arms became coated with blood as well.

And when he found that hut atop the hill, he did what any sensible man would.

An elbow came up and caught Leonel in the chin. But Julian was slow, and Leonel's reaction was like lightning, grabbing the arm before it could do any real harm. He flipped them over immediately, trapping the slighter man beneath the whole weight of his larger, taller body. "What, trying to be smart?" Leonel sneered, "You're too slow."

For a moment, he'd expected something sharp, playful, and idiotic to come out of the Doctor's mouth, but instead there was silence. The eyes that glared at him were both haunted, determined like a cornered wolf with a folded tail, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

In those dark irises where panic, rage, and desperation swirled, Leonel thought he was looking at a reflection of himself.