Hylas left the dusty chest with a hefty armful of things for their meal, moving to the flat furnace with his rucksack in his free hand. He carefully laid out their goods on a low counter, setting the large pot on the cast iron girdle of the furnace-stove and the food to the side. "Could you start the fire?" He asked, emptying the contents of his foraging basket into a basin and pouring in the water of his flask, "The nights are warm in Valthea, so we won't need to keep it burning after cooking." The silence between them was comfortable as Hylas washed the few root vegetables and truffles he'd found in the forest and brought them onto a wooden slab to be cut. He had never been in someone's company like this; sharing a space and working together without any looming threat hovering over them. It felt strange, and almost nice to see and hear another body shuffling around him. No suspicion arose from their quiet working around each other, and as Hylas prepared the rest of the ingredients, he was suddenly aware of how well they worked together. The fact made him nervous. "So…" He quietly began, swirling some oil into the large pot and needing to ignore a few thoughts, "You've never been to Valthea?"
Cas hummed his reply, finishing off the last of the candles before he started on the fire. Laying the kindling between and around the logs of wood ready to be burnt, lighting the match and watching the gentle orange flame catch and dance before the fire took off. The gentle crackling filled the comfortable silence, a comforting sound to Cas. He sat cross legged in front of the flame, ready to throw in more logs of kindling if necessary before he responded to Hylas without taking his eyes of the red and gold before him, "At least not that I can remember," He replied running a hand through his soft curls, "Usually if I have to travel from home, it's further North, and even so not for long. I try not to leave Eirus, but…" He shrugged, "The closer coronation comes, the less I seem to be able to stay home." Politics, alliances, planning for becoming king, there was little time to relax anymore. Setting up new trades, dealing with money and plans to form new roads and towns across borders of kingdoms, trying to maintain peace with everyone, staying home was a rarity. Even if he was there was no time to simply relax. There was always more papers to read, meetings to attend, appearances to make. The weight of the kingdom was soon to fully rest on his shoulders, looking to him to protect them and do what was right for his people. It was too much to think about at times.
Hylas wordlessly nodded, inching a glowing candlestick closer to his cutting board. The light rounded the shadows of his hands into wide, bird-like shapes cutting up a tender slab of meat. "I hate the North," He said, smiling through his words, "The rain, the snow, the cold—" Not to mention how hard it is to deal with a body in such weather. Being warm meant being safe, and as a child, every winter of some foreign place he survived was a miracle. "I can't understand why the folk up in Kienheim and Gowythe stay there." Valthea was so obviously the fairest of all lands. Sure, it was quieter and poorer than some of the other kingdoms, but it was rich in beauty, and til now, that beauty had been well protected. His travels had brought him to every continent, kingdom, queendom, and republic; to unimaginable lands and before fantastical creatures. All those memories swirled and swayed in his mind, trapped colours and sounds that ached to break free and bleed into his vision. "Qai-Via isn't so bad, but…" He sighed, dropping the cubed meat into the sizzling pot. It gave a satisfying hiss, corners sizzling with a wonderful, sharp aroma. His mouth watered, and he threw in the root vegetables. "I couldn't care less about the towns and cities. If I can't find peace in the countryside, I have a problem."
At the sizzling of the food, Cas looked towards Hylas, bringing a knee to his chest to rest his head on as he watched the vegetables be thrown into the hot pot, "Snow isn't too bad, neither is the cold." It didn't snow often in Eirus, further towards Croucan yes, but it was a rarity in the city center. Cas recalled one winter when he was little, barely even a teenager, when it snowed heavily during a particularly cold season, his brothers throwing balls of snow at him in the grounds, chasing them and trying not to slip on any hidden spots of ice. One of the few times they had the opportunity to do so back home. Aeron also went on political trips before he died, Arin accompanying him on occasion while Cas stayed in the palace. Oh the stories they told when they returned home of the sights of cities covered in blankets of white with lights flickering like stars in between. Maybe it was the reason Cas didn't despise the cold as much as Hylas seemed to, "Cities aren't all bad. New people, new foods, back alleys to explore, secret gardens. Surely you don't want to spend all your time out here?" He already knew what Hylas' answer was going to be, but as he watched him cook in the flickering light of the candle, he couldn't help but ask. Maybe in hope of a different answer.
"Well…It's not that I don't want to travel and see new things." Hylas hesitated, pausing for too long. Sometimes, he thought that the beauty of the world was the only thing keeping him alive and sane. So many days had been spent in walking reverie— scaling the blue cliffs of Ternat or planting luminescence into Reitvi soil with his footsteps. He chuckled to cover up the staggered silence. The truth was already in his mouth, waiting to get out. "It's just that…I feel like I need to stay here. I should." Hylas in the wilderness was a temporary, self-imposed exile. How else could his hands be free of blood? Not in the way of hungry twitch, but in the way of self-preservation and remorse. Out in the countryside, he wasn't a wanted man, or a killer. He was just another wandering soul planning his next step and meal. Even on his journeys towards a foreign target, he could pretend that he was a mere traveller too poor to afford a transport. And when he had his books, he could pretend he was out mapping the stars. In solitude, peace. He bit his lip, looking down to see that he had stopped chopping. With a sigh, he smiled and shook his head, trying to reanimate himself into his work. He stirred the meat and vegetables, keeping his gaze from flickering to see Cas' reaction. "You know it as well as I do. I just…shouldn't be around people." His shoulders raised in a shameful shrug. I shouldn't be around at all.
Cas' gazed softened slightly, for a brief moment forgetting that Hylas was the deadliest killer known to the continent, "No one deserves to be alone for their whole life, Hylas." His voice was laced with gentle sympathy. It was hard to forget what Hylas had done, but as the prince watched him chop vegetables in the light of the candles, the quiet sounds of night filling the room, he couldn't help but feel sorry. Even Hylas, a man who had killed and record beached red from the acts committed, didn't deserve to live a lonely life. Cas couldn't forgive him for what he had done, at least not yet, but as he admired the man in the warm evening air, his heart flickered with a feel unknown to him. The Valthean country side was the most gorgeous place Cas had visited for a long time. To appreciate the beauty with someone else made it all the better. All the years Hylas had spent alone out here, he ached to change what had passed, if only to make things slightly better for him. Killer or prince, right now, right here, they were both the same. Just men with heavy weights situated on both their shoulders. From the way Hylas looked, the far off look in his eyes whenever the past was brought up, Cas knew he felt just as guilty of his actions as he looked. Maybe keeping him alive was his way of trying to make amends, maybe it started out that way, Cas didn't know, but he knew he couldn't spend time dwelling on what was or might have been.
Hylas took in a breath with a deep sigh, stepping back from the flat furnace and reaching for a tin pail. The night sky was a feverish blue cape over Valthea, and Hylas anticipated the harmonious chirping of insects by the well behind the safehouse. What's so tragic about being alone? I've been alone all my life, and I'm doing well enough. "Some people do," He quietly replied, slowly walking to the door and pondering the cold swirl of feelings clouding his thoughts. To hear those very thoughts out loud was surreal; dreamlike and almost frightening. But to know that his words were being heard and received was something else. He half-turned at the doorframe, speaking over his shoulder with a careful breath. "And…some people deserve to know that those people are gone for the most part." It's why criminals were imprisoned and sentenced to death: good people deserved to see or think of bad people suffering. That's simply how it was in Hylas' mind. He let his words settle in the dim room before nodding to himself, turning, and leaving for the well.
Cas watched Hylas leave, sighing softly as he left and contemplated his words. Running his hands over his face, Cas chewed his lip. Who was he kidding? He couldn't relate to Hylas, in any case. Their lives were too different, too complex, and some God had thrown them together as if they were mere pawns in a long, convoluted game of chess. Those people.. referring to himself, of course, Cas knew. Swallowing, he threw a log in the fire, keeping the blaze a light and crackling while Hylas left to go do whatever it was he was doing. He wanted to follow, but could tell that Hylas needed some room. Spending more than one day in another persons company, especially one who he had kidnapped and nearly murdered, wasn't something he was used to, obviously. As much as Cas was used to being around people from the second he was awake to when he fell into a restless sleep, Hylas wasn't. Boundaries. He'd been kind enough to make the trip bearable so far, minus nearly killing him, the least Cas could do was let him have a little space without trying to argue with the man. He stayed on his place on the floor, waiting for him to return and carefully watching dinner.
Hylas cut through the warm evening air, surrounded by an invisible orchestra of cicadas and crickets. He knew his way to the well, and he hardly relied on sight to get there. Ten paces forwards, mind the sharp stone. Twenty paces, round the corner and follow the fallen log. Bringing up the bucket of well water, he thought of how lonely it had really been for him, all these years. He had never had the sense of mental safety to really consider it, and he didn't have much to compare his experience to. But now the idea had been planted in his head. What did…not being alone feel like? Surely Cas would know; he was easily the most beloved prince in Mavadora. Hylas listed off the potential qualities of having friends, family, and a community, and shocked himself with how strange and unfamiliar the concepts were to him. What do friends do? Talk? And Husbands and Wives? Kiss and also talk? And acquaintances? And— He felt saddened by his lack of understanding; it was a considerable gap missing from his knowledge and as much as he stood by his claim of needinng to be along, Hylas couldn't help his curiosity. He walked back inside the safehouse, carefully setting his pail of water for the soup on the counter. With a soft breath, his shoulder stuttered as he half-turned to Cas, feeling his expression soften with the mental message of 'Thank you for trying to be kind.'
Not wanting to make Hylas uncomfortable, Cas offered a small smile as a sign that he understood what his silent look meant. It wasn't easy for either of them in the situation they were thrust into, but Cas was well aware that he had more experience dealing with others - especially for long periods of time. He guessed this was the longest Hylas had been around another person who could actually talk to him since.. he didn't know how long he had been killing for, but from his skill set, he knew it was a long time. Cas was glad that they had made it this far with as much conversation and understanding as they had. A surprise, but a good one to say the least. Cas ached to learn more about Hylas, more about his past, how he ended up in the life he was in, what led him to chose death over anything else. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't good, and Cas wasn't going to ask when Hylas was the one feeding him and letting him have a roof over his head. Not that they had a choice. He supposed if he wanted Hylas could kill him and runaway to another continent, but the rational part of him acknowledged that wasn't going to happen, not after he'd spend money on him and lent clothes for him to borrow. Strange to think that the dangerous yet beautiful man in his company could be so.. kind? to him. Hylas' past actions might not have been good but right now? He certainly was.
Glimpsing at Cas' smile had Hylas looking away, quietly surprised at his show of patience. A part of him had been expecting an eyeroll or shrug. Moments passed by in comfortable silence, the only sounds of insects and crackling logs between them as Hylas stirred the soup and Cas watched the fire. As it simmered, the savoury aroma of their meal billowed in curls of thick steam. Throwing the final ingredients of mushrooms and herbs, Hylas turned to Cas. "It's…ready," He said, trying to hide his excitement and already forgetting their past conversation, "Go get a few bowls from the chest. Spoons. Don't forget those." With a final stir, he lifted the soup onto the counter to cool and darted off to drag the frail table and chairs closer together. He chewed his lip in thought, looking over the room in flickering glances and trying to understand what was missing. Hunger drove his impatience and a gentle frown crossed his expression. "Oh, Hylas softly gasped, darting around the dividing wall to snatch the last of the wrapped Stelre loaf and place in on their wobbly dining table. He would've never forgiven himself if he had soup with Stelre waiting uneaten. Slowly, he took a burning candle from its home on a shelf and carried it to the table, cupping his hand to shield it from the wind. "Finally."
The smell that filled the room made Cas' mouth water. All the herbs and vegetables mixed together to produce a soup that he knew tasted even better than the smell. Nodding, Cas was quick to head over to the chest Hylas had referred to, rummaging through to find the dusted filled bowls. He was surprised there weren't any dead insects lying at the bottom He blew away the dust, wiping away any that referred to budge before scooping up the two spoons lying in the chest. The smell of the food, even the sight of the large pot, had his stomach aching to get a mouthful, "It smells so good." He commented, placing the bowls and spoons in their perspective places on the unstable table. He couldn't wait to get a mouthful of the delicious soup. The hot steam fogged up the dirty glass windows surrounding them, heating up the room further with the work on the fire. Toasty, comforting, in a way, too. He took a seat across from Hylas, making sure not to knock either the candles or the pot of soup. He breathed in deeply, savouring the smell that dinner possessed before it was soon to be devoured by the two of them, both equally as hungry to dig into their meal.
Hylas sighed, running his hands through his hair before settling down on the creaky chair across from the prince. "Thyrr Atlea, meet Cas. Cas, meet Thyrr Atlea," He said with a soft chuckle, smiling as his gaze flickered from the prince to their bowls of soup, "Not the dizzying delicacies of the royal halls. Just comforting, I'd say." The warm bowl of soup, however plain-looking and common, felt wonderous in his hands. Wavy curls of long atel-sprout mushrooms, cuts of beef, softened root vegetables and shaved earthnuts swam in a rich, salty broth. It was a dish he could actually remember from his childhood. He could remember the three books and cushion that raised him up to the table's height, and how he still reached for his food with careful, extended arms; small, shaky hands balancing the journeys of spoonfuls. He could remember the time he burnt his tongue when the soup hadn't cooled enough; how he'd cried and how his mother had given him a spoon of sugar to soothe the burn. That pain and delight was a golden mist of memory now, and he knew he had break away from its warm embrace. Realizing the foolish smile on his face, he came to his senses and recentered his attention on his meal. "Oh. Um. Let's eat." He broke off a thick corner of the Stelre loaf and handed it to Cas, doing the same for himself.
"Might not look as good as the food at the palace, but it smells better than anything there." Cas took the chunk of bread gladly, tearing off a small piece to dip into the broth. He wasn't lying, either. The grand tables filled with fresh fruits and cakes five layers high decorated with the sweetest berries and candies didn't even compare to how good the soup smelled. Homemade cooking that came from a place of gratitude always tasted better. Cas had always preferred his mothers cooking to the cooks his father paid. On the rare occasion, the family went away when he was a child, Cas recalled the nights filled with helping his mother chop vegetables and stir whatever was cooking in the pot. The way he stood on a stool before the counter while his brothers and father cooked the meat, Cas helping his mother with the bread, vegetables and soups. Times before he grew up. Those moments became few and far between as the years went on. Work keeping the family away during the day with no time, nor energy for anyone to cook for the evening, and after the war… Cas hoped that if he survived the next, maybe he would be lucky enough to start a family of his own and make the same memories. The food did indeed taste better than it smelt, and Cad couldn't keep himself from digging in to the delicious soup.
Hylas hummed, smiling as he ate and imagined the wonders of a royal dining table; how dangling chandeliers of crystal and firelight might turn steaming platters of roast and cloud-soft white cakes a harsh golden. A soft realization dawned on Hylas as he watched the prince eat and speak. In all his past replies, the prince couldn't seem to make connections to things outside of his royal life; the war, his family, and his responsibilities as the heir. There was always an immediate comparison that ended in a wistful disappointment of varying undertones. "Do you like it at the palace?" Hylas asked without thinking, his smile dropping as he scrambled to recover his words, silently grateful that he hadn't included 'even' in his question. That would be a sure way to stir him up. "—I mean…The meals. But you don't have to answer that, I was, I was just curious and—" He shrugged, burying his focus in the warm curve of his bowl, eating to do something with his hands. Most of his excuse was the truth. Hylas was painfully curious when it came to the green-eyed stranger in his kitchen, and he did want to hear more about his life. It seemed an impossible world to him. Full stomachs, plush beds, not a day of pain, and any means of comfort and service one could wish for; all there just waiting for him, in every single moment of every single day. Hylas liked to think he was beyond jealousy, and unknowingly, he was. He was at a point where any thought of painless existence in the future was a void of blackness or a sharp, sparkling image of full colour. But both fantasies always ended with ache. "I told you I always imagine it as a perfect thing. Servants fanning you and feeding you grapes; I joked of something like that," He shrugged, daring to slip out his innocent observation, "So I…find it of interest how you like to find the faults in luxury. Being a prince and all."
Cas damn near went red at the question. In fact, he felt heat rise to his cheeks and in a very poor attempt to hide it, reached up to scratch at his nose, "I- no I- of course I like the palace and the meals," He swallowed, trying to form a coherent sentence. He had everything anyone could ever dream of. He didn't have to worry about when his next meal was, whether or not he would have a roof over his head for the evening. His life was perfect. At least to anyone else but him. Cas knew he was selfish for wishing for a quiet life, for wanting anything else other than royal life. He had no reason to complain, to seem so disappointed with the life he was granted, "I suppose it just seems… superficial, at times. When everything is done for you or you don't experience those candid moment with friends or family," He shrugged, taking another bite of bread, "It's hard to not find the faults." Cas craved to relive the moments when he was young and there was no pressure on any of his brothers to hold up to the expectations of royalty. To spend the days in the sun laughing without needing to present a certain way. As they grew older, those moments were few and far between, and then they were taken from him in a blink of an eye. Royal life called them away, and then the war, "I have no right to complain," He continued, "And I know that. But.. everything becomes so complicated, and to have your dream life be taken from you, to have responsibilities thrown on you with no preparation, it's hard to not compare what life could have been like, what you wanted it to be like and knowing you can't have it. I love what I do, but at the same time…" He trailed off, shaking his head, "Sorry." For the long winded answer and for whining about life when, compared to Hylas' Cas' was perfect.
Hylas watched the prince with careful curiosity, noting how his gaze bounced around as he spoke. There was a flow to his words and mannerisms— a kind of memorized expression of thoughts that wasn't at all like that of a speech— but rather, a summarized telling of something hidden and laced with sentimental frustration. He wanted to rid himself of the feeling; the frustration, whatever it was. Hylas received the words with a soft nod, almost smiling with the quiet knowledge of the prince's royal disdain. "You haven't…wronged me by filling the silence. Or speaking truthfully," He breathed, looking down as he gently stirred his Thyrr Atlea. Saying that Cas pleased him with his talking would have been too…bold, but Hylas imagined and quietly hoped that his light tone had carried the feeling. "Maybe I understand. You have the world at your fingertips, but no time for the world." Everything, but not a moment for something. Hylas had seen the world, but at what cost? The lives of others, and the sanity of himself. "In any case, if an assassin can have the freedom to hate what he does, so can a prince." With thoughts of Cas' simmering frustration towards his duties, Hylas chewed a thoughtful bite of bread. Ballrooms swelling with sound and colour, sharp voices echoing in proclamation, blurred vision, disordered desks and beds still made, whispers and handshakes and endless thoughts spiralling into endless nights.
Cas' shoulders seemed to drop slightly, relief maybe, from being able to voice his pent up frustrations and hidden feelings, or maybe from knowing that he was being heard, and not in the way he was used to, and liked it, "Yes, you're quite right." Never any time for anything and yet too much empty time and space to fill. Busy and surrounded by everyone and still feeling bored and alone, "Difference is, you can chose to stop at anytime, I cannot." Who would then take the throne? Rule over Eirus, govern in a way that people liked, have the best interests of the people at heart and not just rule for the money or the power it brought? Cas wouldn't hand over the title, not until he died. As much as he longed to get away from it all, to have nothing to worry about on behalf of thousands, he could not denounce his title. The kingdom would be throne into chaos, his father would certainly not approve and in his old age, couldn't have another heir. None of the royal court were fit to rule. From long, meaningless conversations with them all, none truly grasped the weight being king held, most just thought of money and social status, not the people they would rule. It left a dry taste in his mouth to think that someone like that would rule and ruin his beloved kingdom. Those feelings would never be voiced. Not even to his father nor his most trusted friends. No one could know he had thought about leaving. Running. You'd be running away.
Hylas surprised himself with the breathy scoff that escaped him. The prince's words proved his theory. As it stood, the prince was unable to hold a thought without comparing it to something brighter or bleaker. No matter what Hylas told him about himself, Cas would always try to find a way to stitch his own awe or disappointment into the discussion. This time, he had mistaken Hylas' work as something he could give up; nothing like the terrible task of sitting plump and pampered after a hard, exhausting day of talking and smiling, no. Hylas tried not to frown, knowing that the prince knew nothing of what being an assassin was like, and that patience is what normal folk hailed for. Me? Choose to stop? Oh, so simple. Just like that! He put down his spoon, leaning back in the chair with a muffled creak while his gaze; lowered and unfocused seemed to burn into Cas. "I want you to think hard about what you just said," Hylas told him, letting his quiet words settle in the warm silence. His claim— that Hylas' life as an assassin was something escapable —hurt him in a way he couldn't explain. It seemed to imply that every day, he chose this life, over and over, and that if he had something— the willpower, a decent set of morals, or even the time of day, he could find it in himself to stop the killing. Did he think that Hylas enjoyed this? Hylas thought the prince's empathy came from a place of early understanding. All the tiptoeing and careful, kind words had meant something to him; reassuring Hylas that someone, Cas, could see the extremity of his position. "I want you to understand how you're wrong…" He said, unblinking, "But…I don't…owe you an exhibition or an explanation." What good what it do to tell him about the unimaginable; the unspeakable horrors of bringing death to doorsteps? Deep within Hylas' mind was a throbbing frustration so condensed and contained that to even whisper over the valley of his work memories was to strike up a fractal of pain and paranoia. "So. Just…think about what you said."
Cas stopped eating. His heart raced and he wondered if Hylas could hear it. He hadn't thought, hadn't realised the weight of his comment, and now in the tense silence as he reflected back on the stupid, ignorant comment, he did, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek. He knew nothing of what Hylas' life was like, so blindly assumed he could just stop after all these years. A dumb thought of one who knew nothing of the hardships of life, who had had everything handed to him on a silver platter his entire life and was ungrateful. He hadn't had to do or live through what Hylas had done, what he did. Sure, war was terrible, but different to the life the assassin staring so hard into his soul did. The twitch of the frown, the weight that Hylas' eyes held, had Cas holding his spoon just a fraction tighter. The look in his eye, that.. disappointment, sorrow and something deeper than that, had Cas choosing his next words carefully. He had no intention of making an enemy out of Hylas this early in the game, not when he had fed, clothed and offered sanctuary. The striking realisation that Hylas could change his mind at any moment hit him harder than a tone of bricks. Cas wouldn't even make it five steps if he decided to kill him here and now, "I-" He swallowed, looking from the bowl to the heavy gaze Hylas held as he spoke gently and cautiously, "I'm sorry. I know nothing of what your life is like and assumed wrongly. Terribly so." He took a small, steadying breath, "I can't begin to imagine what you've been through, Hylas, and for that, and my words of ignorance, I am sorry." The assassin was a man of many talents, many faces, and many hidden emotions. So many secrets hidden under the surface. Cas might have been a prince, but he was nothing of the sort now. Hylas had no right to forgive him, but Cas hoped that eventually he could.
A series of strange, cloudy emotions passed through Hylas, almost like a ghost had walked into him. "Oh–" He breathed, looking up with quiet surprise. Cas apologized. An honest wave of tension broke and filled the air with a new feeling; something he had never experienced. His gaze flickered up in confusion. Hylas hadn't expected a reply so humble and sincere. At best, he had anticipated silence, a passive "Of course," or a scoffed "Noted." Or perhaps even a challenging rebuttal questioning Hylas' claim before considering it. Politics was a ruthless field, and Hylas knew that to be a good leader, Cas had to— and surely was, sharp with a comeback. But hearing his softened words of apology smacked his projections to the ground, and charged that space with a strange awe. "I didn't mean—" He started, sitting up, "I wasn't…accusing you or anything, I just— I'm sure you understand. I don't know if I wasn't too severe, myself." Had he been too harsh with his past mutterings? Perhaps his tone had let on more pain than he would've been comfortable with consciously sharing, and Cas had felt so ashamed that he had felt actually regretful. Hylas didn't have the words to thank him, forgive him, and apologize himself, but he managed a frown and a smile as he considered the messiness of their whole conversation, and tiredly rubbed his face in mental exhaustion. "I'm sorry," He sighed, "It's the talking. Or maybe just the day that's wearing on me. I don't know." A breathless chuckle left him, and with another sigh, he shook his head and returned to his lukewarm soup, smile gone. "We can forget about it…if you like."
"You have no reason to apologise," Cas replied, the barest hint of a sincere smile gracing his face. He'd been in the wrong and could acknowledge that. Even if Hylas was an assassin, he deserved the same respect anyone else would have if put in the same situation, "It was my fault." The day had been long and draining for both of them. A nights rest would do them both a world of good before tomorrow, "Conversation is hard when you're not used to it, I understand." A subtle way to change the topic and a quiet acknowledgement to put the words behind them. There was sure to be difficult words shared between them at some point, it was never going to be perfect, especially between a prince and his assassin. All Cas could do was try and understand Hylas' views, respect boundaries and acknowledge faults on both their parts. Nothing was going to be easy in the days to come. Words would be spoken that no one didn't truly mean and said out of desperation. Right now, they were both tired and stressed. The future would hold days of restless nights that Cas didn't look forward to. There was no need to make an enemy out of Hylas. Picking up the last piece of his bread, he offered it to the man sitting across the table from him, another silent apology and an offering of peace. He didn't say anything more, not wanting to force Hylas into speaking after expressing his tiredness from the conversation. He'd let him set the line, at least for now, especially for now. Maybe they both needed a little but of quiet understanding tonight before the long day ahead tomorrow.
Hylas glanced at the bread and then to Cas. Sincerity. In his words, in his expression, Hylas could sense the softened regret and thoughtful sentiment breaking through. He opened his mouth to speak, helplessly looking for words to communicate the strange understanding he had reached. A moment of consideration passed, and with a soft sigh, Hylas took the morsel of bread from him and ate it, shaking his head with a lowered gaze. Unbelievable, He thought. A corner of his mouth fought to curl into a smile. Unbelievable how he does that. Thoughtless, empty-headed and charming. For a few silent minutes, they sat in the shadowy candlelight of the room, with Hylas stealing quiet looks of of curiosity and wordless wonder. It all felt so ridiculous, now. Everything said between them had been rebounding shocks of boldness, kindness, and severity. How long have we been awake? How foolish have I been? With their stomachs full and the night growing long, Hylas felt a comfortable drowsiness pushing down the air around them. It was almost a drunken feeling— warm and satisfying without the incoherency of sight and sound. With his head half turning to the chest behind him, Hylas wondered if there was a bottle of wine hidden somewhere. No. Not tonight. —Of course. Not tonight. Not…ever? Hmm. A blush rushed to his cheeks when he realized how foolish he must have looked, sitting and smiling in silence for that long before he abruptly stood up. "Oh– uh. It's late, I suppose," He said with a bashful laugh, turning away and running a hand through his hair as he tried to wake himself up, "We should get some rest. There's uh…a spare bed at the end of the hall. And um, some extra furs in one of the chests." He could feel himself tiredly rambling, wanting to stay alert but dying a little every time he thought of how the warm light curved with Cas' smile when they met eyes over their short dinner, "—The nights aren't cold in…in Valthea. Well, there's a breeze but…that'll hardly be a problem. So…um."
It felt nice to simply just… sit, with Hylas in the newfound silence, to enjoy the last of their meal with a mutual understanding. So different to what Cas was used to but he preferred it, greatly, to the bustling of home. Even if he missed his father, nothing could beat a quiet dinner. The gentle wind that brushed through the small living space rustled Hylas' hair in a way that Cas couldn't ignore, his gaze lingering maybe a fraction longer than it should have. The meal was delicious, leaving Cas ready for a good nights rest. Hylas standing abruptly caught him off guard but he nodded as the other spoke, standing a moment later and pushing his chair under the table once he was done. Might be unnecessary but manners Cas.. "I'm sure the breeze will be nice with the warm night but i’ll find the fur if I need it, thank you.” He once again offered a smile. Thank you for giving me a place to stay, for the parchment, for wanting to help, for not killing me. Picking up a nearby candle from the side, he blocked the flame from the gentle wind, nodding to the doorway, “Shall we? I might get lost in this place if you don’t show me where the room is.” A soft chuckle. He could probably find his way, but a part of him wanted to spent a fraction more time with the assassin. Whether to maybe find out a little about him, or simply because he enjoyed his company. Either way it didn’t matter to Cas. They were both equally as tired, and in need of a nice rest.
"Uh. Yes. I'll show you the way," Hylas nodded, stacking their bowls and thoughtlessly discarding them on the square countertop. In a brief dash around the room, he blew out the candles one by one, until the only star in the inky midnight of the room was the candle in Cas' hand. The sight of the prince's face— almost smiling, painted with a layer of gold and sharp black —struck Hylas like a bite of poison, flooding his veins with a strange, wonderful dread. He cut through the dark towards him, marching right into the table with a wince and an awkward laugh as he walked it off. The soft pain had shaken him out of his momentary transfixion, but as he neared Cas, the same ghostly reverence stirred in his stomach. The sharper edges of his features— all so sharp —pierced the darkness to bathe in the warmth of his lonely candlelight, curving spilled-ink shadows over him and turning his once emerald eyes to a sweet olive hue. This close, Hylas could feel the wavering heat of the flame as it flickered in the shifting air. One inhale, a soft exhale. The little light bent and arched, echoes of its dance playing across Cas' illuminated face. He'd never been so comfortable near someone, holding a gaze with weary ease as the warm Valthean night crept in. "It's just, um…down this way," Hylas said, tearing his gaze from the prince as he pushed open the door, stepping into the hall and holding the door open for him.
