"Alright." Hylas gently replied, looking down at the soup before smiling back at Cas. He liked hearing the prince promise home things. He'd never been the keeper of a vow or secret, and had never been the maker of one. The promise to drink water excited him, as simple as it was. It said 'I know you care about something, and I vow to honour it through my own actions.' It was a serious thing. As he went back to retrieve the last of the sweet dough, he tried not to think about the momentary tension of their fleeting talk. He would not think about how it felt to be looked at in that way. He would not think about how good it felt to match his low tone and flickering gaze. He would not think of the words that yelled to be remembered, because as much as he wanted to believe that by miracle the prince had wanted something, even for a moment, he knew it was wrong. Now that Osaire had loosened their grip on their weary souls, they were free to consider the events with logic. How likely was it that the prince was trying to catch him? If Cas was thinking clearly, would he consider the fact of his crimes? Only one thing out of all this had been made clear. Hylas wanted Caspian, and he had to find a way to stop it. Ignoring the realization, Hylas looked up at Cas, wanting to see his smile again. Kill me now. "Hey. Watch this," He said, unwrapping the sweet dough and dropping spoonfuls of it into the soup. At once, they started expanding, puffing up but hardly absorbing the thick, spiced broth as they swelled into soft rounds of instant dumplings.
Watching the sweet dough expand was impressive, turning into delicious, soft dumplings in an instant was a kind of magic in itself. It was enough of a distraction on his tired mind that Cas couldn't fight the soft smile that appeared seconds later, "Clever." He wondered where the dish was from and made a note to ask later for dinner time conversation. How many dishes and meals had Hylas picked up over his years of travelling? In between the work that he did, learning to cook all these simple, and yet full-flavoured, comforting foods. Truly a mystery. "How do they do that?" When it came to ordinary, mundane things, such as how the bread expanded, Cas could shamefully admit, he didn't know much. Time as a kid learning about such things, the normal things, was fleeting, and then it came crashing down with the last war, before all the time he had was spent on learning to run a kingdom. He'd often dreamt of days where he could explore interesting, places, cultures, without the politics coming into play. To experience life without the weight of thousands of people resting on his every move and word. Cas knew he was fortunate to live the life he had, and he had no right to complain nor wish for anything besides the luxury of grand palaces, never-ending food, and soft beds piled high with all the cushions in the world. But was it worth? The rest of his life after the oncoming war would be spent hauled up in a room with little visitors for days on end of planning for the welfare of Eirus, meetings upon meetings about trades and alliances, and visits to other kingdoms, not to explore the culture because he wanted to, but because politics demanded him to.
Hylas tilted his head to the side as he watched the dumplings fighting to bubble up to the surface. "It's because of the grain used to make the dough. It's a weed of sorts; hardly worth anything to anyone with real money. It doesn't grow in Eirus." The long grain of Valthea and Croucan grew rampant in farming regions, where the effortless crop needed no fertile earth and hardly any water to thrive in wild clusters of white stalks. Cheap, filling, and long-lasting, sweet dough was a staple in any poor Valthean's diet. "The plant thrives in warmth and rain, so naturally, the dry flour reacts the same. People have used it in cooking for hundreds of years. A round of dough keeps for a whole month." Soon, all the floating moons had cooked through, floating on the surface of the thick stew. "Mm, it's ready," Hylas said in hushed excitement, eagerly but thoughtlessly rolling up his sleeves as he snatched two empty bowls. The pot was full to the brim with the warm, sunset-coloured soup, where bulbous clouds bobbed in idle wait. So much food for only two of them. He hardly had the need or means to cook such a large stock, but when he did, he had taken to imagining a loud room of laughter and music, where bowls and plates of steaming food were passed around in excited exchanges. Hylas couldn't have moved faster as he ladled in the thick broth, the tender vegetables, the meat, and the sof dumplings into the wooden bowls. "Spoons!" He called with a smile, nodding over to the counter as he sat with their midday meal.
With a light chuckle, Cas was quick to retrieve their spoons, placing one in front of Hylas and keeping the other to himself as he sat across from the assassin, breathing deeply to appreciate how wonderful it smelt. It was hard not to devour it all right there, but Cas wasn't a brute, nor would he ever forget his manners, not in any situation, "Thank you, it smells delicious." He dug in quickly after that, near groaning at the taste. Simple, and yet effective. It seemed to be the theme with all these meals. Not that that was surprising to the prince, and it didn't stop him from enjoying all the food Hylas made. Through the silence that filled the air between them as they ate, only the sound of the cicadas and birds drifting through the open windows, Cas couldn't help but steal glances at the assassin from across the table. He tried not to stare, but when Hylas had his shirt rolled up like that it was hard not to. In between bites of soft bread dumplings and filling stew, Cas took the time to really look at Hylas. Those arms… what were those lines? At first glance, it looked to just be veins or bones, Hylas sure was skinny enough that that would make sense, but on closer inspection, the realization of what they actually were hit Cas like a tonne of bricks. Scars. Seeing them like that, it was hard to tear his gaze away, but he didn't want to be caught staring, however late that might have been for him to realize. Cas shouldn't have been so surprised at seeing the scars, he had his own to match, but the prince couldn't help the gut-wrenching feeling and the reminder of who Hylas was, and what he had endured over his lifetime.
Hylas tucked into his meal with a giddy focus, moving slow but wanting nothing but to eat as much as possible before anything or anyone could interrupt and take it away from him. Though he felt safe, fear and hunger always dictated his thoughts. The richness of the spices and the steady warmth of the stock overwhelmed him, steering all his sensory observations towards how wonderful it was so eat so well and share something. There was a small part of Hylas that felt nervous about eating around Cas, and just as he wandered into the idea of slowly accepting the reality of his unassuming company, he felt Cas' eyes on him, and not in the manner of the usual shy, fluttery glances that they traded. Hot shame was quick to cloak his cheeks as he caught the prince's gaze leaving the low focal point of his arms. Hylas swallowed, licking his lips as he looked away, as if something outside had softly called for his attention. Slow as can be, Hylas's arm retracted from the impolite cross at the table's edge, and he quietly rolled his sleeves down to hide the crooked scars; crossing over each other as their stories did. They were light and faded compared to the newer ones over his chest and the one leg, but knowing that Cas had seen them inspired a dull ache that snuffed out the warm sparks of respected companionship. From the sliver of green under the gentle press of a frown, Cas' stare burned him alive. The colourless fire pricked at his skin, biting with judgement and imagined disgust. The silent moment of shame lingered with Hylas' jaw clenched and his hands unmoving in his lap before he was met with a slow push of determination. If he wants to ask, let him ask. I won't apologize again. Carefully, Hylas hand returned to grip his spoon to finish his meal.
Cas didn't ask, nor did he open his mouth to even hint that he wanted to ask about the lingering ghost of wounds from battles fought and near-death experiences Hylas might have endured before their meeting. The silence that followed as they both ate was heavier than moments before, not the comfortable blanket that draped over them in usual meals, or after teasing conversations, but one that pushed down on both of them, it seemed, as they finished their food lost in their own thoughts. The prince kept his gaze on the table, the wood that was cracked beneath their bowls, and what was left of the now finished meal of delicious spices and new tastes. He'd never meant to make Hylas uncomfortable, but the way the assassin moved so slowly as if Cas would attack at any moment, was enough to make his heart sink gently in his chest. Curiosity, it seemed, wasn't doing him any favours. It was hard for the prince to push away the questions that rose whenever he learnt something new around Hylas or saw something that he shouldn't have. The bundle of mysteries sitting across from him got bigger the more Cas was around him, and the urge to ask was strong. Mentally, Cas scolded himself. He was better than that. Respect. The situation that had been thrust upon them both in the most basic of senses, was insanity, and the fact they had made it this far without another attempt on his life was a miracle in itself. But Cas wasn't going to forget what he stood for, and Hylas had earned his share of respect, as much as that was crazy to think about. I'm not dead. He's helping me. He deserves it. He would have thought himself insane in a normal situation, but this wasn't normal, and they would never be 'normal' again.
In the soft, wavering silence, the assassin heard his heartbeat whisper realizations in the river of blood racing through his veins. Dragging his gaze from the table had the drama and shrill resistance of paper being torn. Panicked black eyes met unblinking green. This quiet show of defiance likely meant nothing to Cas, but to a ghostly man of silence and isolation, speaking in the new language of eyes was a wonderful, terrifying experience. We've already said so much. And when we teased each other just a moment ago— whole sentences in a glance. He would not show cowardice over something as little as this. Hylas knew it wasn't little. And he knew he didn't really need to prove anything to Cas, or anybody for that matter. But the fact remained that he wanted to be seen as strong; honourable, and as good as he could manage, given his past. He wanted Cas to feel safe— comfortable, if that was even possible. He wanted his trust, and his respect, and his attention and— the sound of his laugh; the sight of his smile above all else. That smirk; that grin, and that shy curl of his mouth with the excited pinch of his forest eyes. His smile was golden enough to pay off his killer's bounty; his laugh— golden enough to replace the sun. In those rare moments of smile and laughter, Hylas had wondered if everyone smiled as beautifully up this close, or if being the sole witness and inspirer of that radiance was what made his face burn and his heart stutter. That doesn't matter, He thought with an imagined shake of his head, What matters is that he knows I'm not some cowardly ghost of a legend. The Raven doesn't avert his gaze. "Um…how was– is!…it?" He asked, struggling out of their shared trance of sympathetic focus, "The soup. Is it alright?…Do you like it?" It didn't matter if he liked it or not. They were far from the luxury of choice, but Hylas still hoped he could please him, if only by making him something enjoyable enough to eat. The assassin held his companion's gaze with a gentle strength, challenging the reality of their unsaid silence with his own request for Cas to ignore his past and think of the kindness— the soup —in their shared present.
