Cyris nods slightly, "I know it's starting to get infected. That's what happens when you can't reach it to clean it." He stays tense, letting out a hiss of pain at the touch is the disinfectant.
He sets his hands on the counter, staying quiet and letting I'll do whatever he needed to do. He don't think he'd have much time to rest though. He didn't know how far behind him his pursuers were, and there was no way he was going to get caught getting someone help him. He didn't want to know what they would do to Oli.
He closes his eyes, relaxing slightly as Oli worked, "If you need something to call me, call me whatever you think fits. I won't be ready to share my real name anytime soon."
Oli was silent for a while as he worked, cleaning out the injuries as best as he could and slathering on all the pain-relieving and healing ointments he had before using the gauze and bandages to secure the wounds. Once he was satisfied with his work, he stood back, going to the sink to clean off his hands.
"I know that you think you need to keep moving and running away so your captors won't find you again, but I'm saying this from experience, you'll get caught a lot quicker that way," he eventually said, drying his hands with a towel after he had rinsed them off. He knew that he should've put some ointment on his own injuries and replaced his bandages, but Amber needed them more and Oli knew that the pain he was experiencing was nothing compared to what the runaway had been through.
He turned around to face him, his gaze settling evenly on those lovely amber eyes. "I've helped more people than I can count to escape similar situations like yours, and each and every one of them insisted that they needed to keep moving. A few days later, word would reach us that they were captured, most of them being killed on sight." He moved over to the table where the medical supplies were scattered all across the surface, and he began to place them all neatly back into the kit, needing to keep his hands busy as he spoke. "The governments- or tyrants, whatever you wish to call them- have always left this town alone. We don't interfere with their affairs, and they don't interfere with ours. That's been an unspoken rule for longer than any of us locals can remember. If you stay put here, especially in one of the secret bunkers that the bakery has, your chances of getting caught will be a lot lower than you leaving." Once he finished packing up the kit, he closed it, but he kept his gaze on the table. Why was he trying so hard to make this person stay? What was so different about him that Oli wasn't able to let him go? "Plus, it'll give you more of a chance to rest and recover your strength, Amber." He finally tested the little nickname he had made for the traveler out loud, wondering if it was okay.
(By the way, I'm probably not going to be incredibly active this week so my replies are going to be pretty inconsistent)
(That's perfectly fine!)
Cyris sighs, "They have these special hounds. My scent will stop here and they will interrogate everyone until they find me. And if someone lies, they'll die. And most of the time, they'll kill just for the sport."
"Trust me, I've tried staying still multiple times. The people who helped me were killed in front of me and I was taken back. I'm not going to let a whole town suffer like that."
Cyris's gaze darkened at the memory. The blood. They had tried to make him kill them, but Chris had refused. He had suffered for that.
The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly in the hints of a smile for the first time in what felt like forever, "Amber?" He tried it out, " O like the sound of that. . . Let me guess, my eyes?" He looks at Oli.
He sighs, taking Oli's wrists as Cyris spoke, looking at his hands, "I didn't have any burns on my back. Do you have a burn ointment? It will help a lot and prevent scarring."
"Well, then we'll just put a bunch of overwhelming, different scents to confuse the dogs, and we'll make you smell entirely different, like of really burnt bread or something, so they won't be able to track you," Oli said stubbornly, refusing to just give up on Amber despite all of the flaws in his plan. He didn't look over just yet, but a small smile appeared on his lips. "Yeah, it's your eyes," he said, chuckling slightly. "They were the first part of you I actually saw, so it seemed fitting."
He finally glanced up again, his pulse jumping a bit when his acquaintance took hold of his wrists. A traitorous blush began to bloom on Oli's face, but he forced himself to stop it before Amber could look up. "There was some burn ointment, but my uncle has it right now since we were helping a large group of refugees at the hotel across the street, and the pots of food we were carrying were pretty hot."
He took his hands out of Amber's grasp, looking down at the ground. "I get burns all the time from baking, it's really not that big of a deal."
Cyris huffs, "Well, if you want to tend to my back, I can't let you use hands forming blisters that can pop at any moment and get the fluids from it into my wounds, now can I?" He takes Oli 's wrists again, his grip still light as he inspects his hands, "But, if you must, take something sharp and put a small-ish hole in the side of the blister and push the fluids out. They'll be sore for a few days, but then they'll heal, you have same nice calluses."
He lets go after a moment, flashing his hand, which had pretty much identical calluses on them. He jumps back to the topic about his eyes, "Well, thanks. I think. They aren't that special. Amber eyes are the thing where I'm from. So, I guess I'm used to it."
Cyris looks at Olis face, examine it closely before giving him a full out grin, "But it's nice to know someone likes them."
Oli tilted his head thoughtfully at Amber's suggestion and went over to a counter that had some knives stored neatly on top of it. He grabbed a small, jagged one, its sharp blade glinting in the kitchen light. He removed the bandages from his hands and grimaced at the ugly blisters that greeted him. He walked back over to the sink to not make a mess and he winced a bit as he carefully made small incisions into each blister. Almost immediately, fluid started to come out, and he lightly pressed the blisters to encourage the fluid to come out.
Needing a distraction from the pain, Oli looked over at Amber and smiled back at him. "People 'round here normally have green or dark brown eyes, so it is really cool that yours are so unique-"
A merry chime sounded from the bakery, and Oli's heart pounded, forgetting his callouses as he clutched the knife into his palm, the pain not even close to amounting to the fear he felt as he heard footsteps approach the kitchen.
"Oli? You here? I have that burn ointment if you need it, I saw you had some blisters from last night," A familiar voice called out and Oli gave a sigh of relief, his body relaxing.
"It's just my uncle," he explained to Amber. "Is it okay if he sees you, or would you prefer to hide?"
Cyris watches Oli, moving over, “Don’t press to hard, just a light and gentle touch.” He murmurs. “When you’re done wash your hands, and then find some of that burn ointment. Then after you put it on, wrap your hands in clean bandages.“
He smiles slightly, “I’ll take that as a complement.” He looks at Oli, “I did notice that detail, it’s strange seeing green eyes. I’ve always ben around people with brown eyes, orange, red, amber or gold. All on—”
He’s interrupted by the bell of the cafe and he spins, moving away from Oli in a few long strides staying along the wall, his hand at his hip where he knew his gun to be concealed. He watches the doorway, shaking his head slightly, tense.
At the sound of the voice he relaxes slightly, his hand dropping away, he looks back at Oli, moving back towards him, silent, “He can see me. . .” He murmurs, “If you trust him. . .”
"I trust him with my life," Oli promised, placing the knife next to the sink. "Over here!" he called back. A moment later, a man who looked almost identical to Oli except with shorter hair, taller, and noticeably older walked into the kitchen, his eyes immediately going to Oli's hands and the knife right next to him.
"You know doing that is painful, right?" the older man asked Oli, taking the ointment out of his pocket and opening up the small tin of medicine as he grabbed his nephew's wrists. "You could've waited until I got back."
Oli breathed a small sigh of relief as the cooling ointment was smeared onto his blisters, the pain instantly becoming more bearable. "I know, but I wanted to help fix Amber's wounds as quickly as possible."
Damien looked up from working on his nephew's hands, a puzzled expression on his face. "Who's Amber?"
Oli looked over at where his acquaintance was and Damien followed his gaze, blinking in surprise at the person he hadn't seen when entering the room.
"Oh! Hello there," Damien said, giving Amber a friendly smile. "I'm Damien, Olive's uncle." He glanced back at Oli. "I didn't realize we had more refugees coming through here."
"He's the only one that came in," Oli explained. "But he needs food, he's injured, and people are after him, so I've been trying to convince him to stay."
Cyris nods, mute. He watches Oli’s uncle, staying slightly tense. He debated on saying something, but he stays silent for the moment, watching Oli’s uncle put the ointment on. He watched Oli’s breath of relief from the pain and nods slightly, satisfied. He grabs his shirt, pulling it back on, wincing at the movement. He stays silent, lettering them talk, tying his jacket around his waist.
He sits on a small stool, silently watching and listening to the conversation, giving a small wave when Oli’s uncle looks at him. He sighs, “Oliver, I’m not staying here. It’ll just cause more trouble for you and your uncle. Like I said, I’ll take the food and then leave. Continue making my way north until I hit Canada.”
"Did you even comprehend anything I've told you?" Oli asked, exasperated as he stared at Amber. "If you leave, you'll die. Every stubborn idiot that says that they'll 'cause trouble for us so they have to leave' gets killed a few days later. So don't do it. Please."
Damien raised an eyebrow at his nephew's behavior; the older man had never seen Oli be so stubborn about having a refugee stay.
"Look, um, Amber, right?" Damien asked, placing a comforting hand on Oli's shoulder. "If you're not going to listen to him, then at least listen to me. We don't particularly care for the politics and wars that happen outside of our town, but we have reason to believe that an organization has a base of some sort near here, and they torture and execute every refugee they get their hands on. If anything, stay at least for a couple of days. Is that alright with you?"
Cyris crosses his arms, “Of course I comprehended what you told me. I am not an idiot.” He sighs, “But they won’t kill me. I won’t die.” He runs his hand through his hair, softening slightly at Oli’s behavior, “It’s better I keep moving, I know this through experience. I’ve always lasted longer moving around.”
Cyris looks at the older man, “I know exactly what happens. I’ve seen it.” Cyris sighs, “And most of the people that come through here are not trained to stay hidden. I am, I told you, I’m an assassin. It’s literally my job to stay hidden, and I do that better moving around.”
"An assassin?!" Damien cried, taking a step back from Amber. "Oliver, what the hell-"
"He's a good person, Damien," Oli said, suddenly feeling tired. "I wouldn't intentionally put us in danger and Amber's not going to kill us."
Damien muttered something under his breath, but Oli ignored it as he stared down at his hands which looked and felt a lot better than they had minutes before. After a couple of moments, an idea crept into Oli's head.
"What if…" he started to say slowly, looking directly into Amber's eyes. "What if I traveled with you? I know I don't know anything about the stuff that goes on outside of this town, but I do know how to cook, camouflage, and defend myself, and traveling with me would be better than traveling alone." With any other person, he would've dismissed the very thought of it, but something about the guy in front of him was different, and he wanted to know why he was so intrigued by him. "I can be useful, I promise."
Cyris looks at the older man, his face blank, and then flashes a wicked grin, “Look, man, if I wanted you dead, you would have been dead before you set foot inside this kitchen.” The grin vanishes, “But Oli’s right, I won’t hurt you guys. I have no inclination to hurt anyone unless they rat me out.”
Cyris stares at Oli as if he;’s grown a second head, “You think. . . I’ll just take you with me? Where, if I get caught, I’ll get have to either watch you be killed or do it myself? You’re much too sweet for that. And a life of running.” Cyris shakes his head, “I’m not briging you with me. Keep your comfortable, sheltered and safe life.”
"Well, I'm done with having a safe life!" Oli cried, his calm demeanor vanishing in a blink of an eye to be replaced by sudden, stubborn anger. "I'm done with healing and helping people only for them to get killed later. I'm done with being oblivious to the world outside of this damn town. And I'm especially done with you thinking that you can talk me out of helping and going with you."
Damien looked at Oli, his eyes filled with resigned sadness. He knew that his nephew had always hated not being able to end the suffering of all of the refugees who came by their home. And he also knew that there wasn't anything he could do to convince Oliver to stay; if his nephew wanted to leave with Amber, then he would leave.
Cyris keeps his gaze level with Oli's, swallowing, "Oliver. I'm not putting you in danger. I can not put you in danger. Do you even understand what you're asking me to do, Oli?"
Cyris's tone was calm and quiet, but firm. He was resigned to not letting Oli come with him, he didn't want to see the young man hurt. And that most certainly would happen if he came with Cyris.
"If I get caught, then you will die, Oliver. I can't let another good person die just because they liked me or helped me."
"Then we just won't get caught," Oli replied, keeping his gaze even with Amber's, his voice leaving no room for argument. He knew deep down that he was being irrational, that Amber would probably survive for a while on his own, but Oliver was tired of meeting people and then hearing that they died a few days later. And something about Amber made him want to stay with him, despite the risks.
"We can survive together. Or, you can stick with my original suggestion and stay here. No one ever bothers to thoroughly track people down here, and the locals would accept you as one of their own without question," he continued, determined to keep Amber from going off on his own. "Don't travel on your own. Please."
Cyris sighs, “I don’t want to be responsible for your life, and I can’t stay here. I’m too noticeable, if the wrong person passes through. . .” He shakes his head and then he pauses thinking.
He moves forward, standing in front of Oli, looking him over, “Why don’t you I want me to leave, Oli?” He guessed he should know why Oliver was being so insistant, and then make his final decision from there. There had to be a reason he didn’t want Cyris leaving on his own.
Oliver was quiet for a moment as he looked down at the ground, collecting his thoughts. Why did he want Amber to not leave? Damien stood to the side of the room, silently glancing between the two, also waiting for Oli's answer.
"Because I don't want you to be alone again," he finally replied, looking up. "I know you think it's best if you're on your own, but it's not safe. You're better off here, or if you insist on traveling, then at least let me come with you." He absentmindedly ran his fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of defeat. He was just using the same argument that he'd been using this entire time, but maybe Amber would finally understand if he kept repeating himself. "There's plenty of things we can do to make you not noticeable here and believe it or not, we can defend ourselves too. We have weapons and safe shelters hidden all over the place, so if the wrong person does happen to pass through, we have nothing to worry about." Oli made his gaze level with the taller person in front of him. "Please trust us. Trust me. I wouldn't suggest you stay here if I knew that it would put us both in danger."
Cyris looks at him, quiet. Debating. Then finally, "Fine. You can come. But if you become dead weight, I'm dropping you like a dead fly and moving on. Wherever that may be. And you'll have to find your own way from there." Cyris had the sensation that he was doing something very stupid. He also had the feeling of he got this boy hurt the smallest amount, the uncle would find a way to and Cyris pay. Or maybe the boy would himself.
"I'm leaving at dawn, if you're not ready to leave by then, I'm leaving without you. That eight hours. Dawn's at 6:03." He backs away from Oli, sitting on a stool, "And I'll test for that time, don't worry about me." He grins.
Oli was still processing the fact that Amber had agreed to let him come so he didn't register everything else he had said until a few moments later. Oli blinked in surprise before a bright, genuine smile broke out on his face, his heart racing from excitement.
"I'll be ready by then," he promised, struggling to contain his happiness from his triumph. "You won't regret this."
Oli turned around, ready to pack the things he needed to be prepared for the moment but stopped when he saw his uncle gazing at him with bittersweet eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe even apologize, but Damien stopped him by walking over to him and giving his nephew a tight, warm embrace. "I can't stop you from going," the older man murmured in Oli's ear. "But that's not going to keep me from worrying about you. I'll make some food for you both to take on the road in the morning, and I'll give you some of the weapons and survival supplies from the basement." Damien pulled away after a moment, looking into Oli's eyes before giving his nephew a small, sad smile. "Don't get killed, okay? I'll be very pissed if you do."
Oli chuckled, his eyes shining with gratitude as he looked at his uncle. "I'll try not to."
Cyris hums softly, slowly relaxing and watching Oli and his uncle. After a moment, Cyris looked away, thinking about his own father figure. Captain Fioln. He loved him for everything the aging man had done for Cyris and he knew that if Fioln ever caught word of his betrayal. He would be heartbroken. Utterly devistated.
Cyris knew Fioln didn't believe in the Broches bloodthirsty manner, but he was still a loyal man. Cyris realized that Silo would possibly send Fioln out to hunt Cyris himself, just to rub it in the captains face what a failure his son was. Cyris had to hold in a laugh, failure. Him, the slave. Yeah right.
Cyris looks uo, "He won't need weapons, I have plenty, but if you insist on him having weapons, I want to look them over. Make sure they won't be burdensome." He leans his elbows on the counter, "A weapon can be good, but also bad at the same time."
He looks at Oli, "Do you know how to fight? Use a blade, shoot a gun with accuracy?"
"If you have enough, then that'll be fine," Damien decided, stepping back from his nephew.
Oli tore his gaze away from Damien and turned back to Amber with a small smirk on his face. "I've been dealing with blades since I learned how to walk. I mean, they were mainly used for baking and cooking, but I know how to fight with them too, even from a distance. Damien here gave me some pretty sweet throwing knives around a couple of years ago and I can throw them pretty far and accurately if the need arises."
Oli paced around the kitchen for a bit, his bright forest-green eyes shining thoughtfully. "I haven't really used a gun before, but I'm good at setting traps. I go to the nearby forest with the butcher down the street every now and then to help her catch the deer and other animals that live around there." He paused his pacing, his gaze flickering back to Amber. "I also know what plants are safe to eat and how to make food even when we run out of supplies for a little while. Is that enough skills for you?"
Cyris looks at him, thoughtfully and listening. After a moment, he pulls one of his own daggers out of his boot, offering it hilt first to Oli. "I wanna see this." He looks at the dagger, " This is a good blade, I'm going to toss something in the air and I want you to throw the dagger at it and pin it to the wall, if you can do that, I'll say your good enough and that you've earned yourself a very good weapon."
He nods, "Good. Because I suck at telling the difference between a blueberry and a nightshade berry. And I have no clue if either one grows around here." He chcukles, pulling something from his pocket, "An assassin who can't tell the difference between a healthy berry and a deadly poison. . ." He grins.
Oli took the weapon, admiring the blade. It was well-crafted, and fit perfectly in his hands. He nodded his head in agreement with Amber's challenge. "I can probably do that, even if it's been a while."
He kept looking at the dagger, chuckling a bit at Amber's comments. "There's actually quite a lot of nightshade berries that grow around here," he explained, tossing the blade from one hand to the next with ease. "They grow in huge patches in the forest, right next to a bunch of blueberry bushes, so I had to learn pretty quickly how to differentiate the two." He paused for a moment, thinking. "If we encounter a pack of wolves, or maybe those hounds you were talking about, then we can kill a squirrel or something like that and stuff it with nightshade berries and leave it for them to eat. You think that could work?"
Cyris lifts a penny sized, almost paper thin piece of wood, tossing it up and down on his hand for a moment, listening to his idea, before hurling it at the wall and watching what Oliver would do.
"It might work. But the hounds are trained just as I was. To do chair job the moment they could breathe. Meaning they would probably scent the nighshade, but a wolf? We could probably trick it. I like the way you think."
Oli's focus zoomed in on the piece of wood and his mind went blank as he skillfully threw the dagger. The sound of the blade hitting the wall made Damien cringe from the side of the kitchen he was hanging around in. Oliver blinked, his hyperfocus gone as he walked to the wall, his heart beating faster and faster the closer he got. He wasn't sure if he made it. But as soon as he got close enough to see the blade hanging out of the wall, a smile of relief broke out on his face. The dagger had hit the small sliver of wood and was only around a centimeter away from being directly in the middle of it.
"It's not exactly a bullseye, but I'd say that's pretty good," Oli said, moving to the side so Amber could see his results. He processed what Amber had said about his idea, and his cheeks dusted pink in delight at Amber's praise.
Cyris follows Oli, pulling the blade out of the wall, giving Damien an apologetic look and then handing it back to Oli, as well as the sliver of wood. He looks at him for a moment, debating something, before leaning forward and whispering into his ear, "My name is Cyris Fioln. But keep calling me Amber. I like it."
He Pulls back smiling slightly, "Well. You have seven and a half hours to get everything you need. And that includes food. I'm not waiting a second longer. If you're late, I'm leaving you behind. Got that, Oli?"
"Y-yeah, I understand," Oli replied as he took the blade back, his cheeks growing redder against his will. Cyris. The name was just as unique as the amber eyes he had. "I'll be ready by then."
"I'll make food for the two of you to take," Damien volunteered, already getting ingredients out of the fridge. "Hopefully it'll last for around two weeks if you portion it out properly."
"Thank you," Oliver said gratefully to his uncle, regaining his composure. He turned back to Cyris- or Amber, since he said he didn't mind still being called that, but he kept his gaze firmly on the dagger in his hands in an attempt to keep the guy in front of him from seeing the fading blush on his face. "Um, I can show you where the showers and spare rooms are if you'd like. Unless you want to keep standing in here the entire time."
Cyris smiles at Oli's uncle, "Thank you, for your help." He moves away from Oli, "I'll take care of your nephew. If I decide to leave him behid, I won't do so in an unsafe place. I'll make sure he stays safe." He looks at Oli.
"I don't think I can shower, I can barely move anything above my hips. I probably shouldn't have thrown that wood chip." He chuckles, grimacing as he drops his arms to his sides.
Out of force of habit, Cyris had tried to hide how much the pain on his back was killing him. And the fact that he threw the wood sliver hadn't made it better. If anything, he though the deepest one might be bleeding again. "But, I can definitely go for a nap."
Damien nodded, looking more relaxed at the reassurance Amber gave him. "Thanks," he replied, giving him a genuine smile before going back to work with the food.
Oli caught the grimace Cyris made and his eyes immediately flashed with concern, but he chose not to say anything about it. "Yeah, of course. It's right over here." He led Cyris out of the kitchen and back out into the main bakery. He walked over to a seemingly normal shelf near the back of the building, with a bunch of old, dusty books stacked on top of it. Oli reached out and grabbed one of the books, gently pulling it out of the shelf until a soft click was heard and the part of the wall that the shelf was on opened up like a door, revealing a cozy, clean concrete hallway that had multiple doors on both sides of the hall.
"This place also doubles as a bunker in case of severe weather, or if someone bad comes through town," Oli explained as he led Amber further into the hallway, the shelf sliding back into place with a secure click. "There's no one else staying here right now, but the showers are at the end of the hall if you ever change your mind, and you can stay in whichever one of these rooms you want; they're all the same, and they're all stocked with blankets, pillows, clean clothes, water, and basic medical supplies, like painkillers if you need some to help you go to sleep."
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