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."
Cyris nods quietly, smiling back slightly at Damien, though it was guarded. He follows Oliver, quiet. He watches the bookshelf, his face not showing a flicker of emotion. He looks at the hallway, “Is there a second exit?” He asks softly, biting his lip.
He gently takes Oli’s wrist, “Look at my back. . . I think I opened the biggest one again. . . It. . . Might need stitches.” He shudders, his grip on Oli’s wrist light and gentle, but firm enough to keep the boy in place. “I. . . Can feel the blood on my back. . .” He mutters, looking away, slightly uncomfortable at admitting he was, indeed, weak at the moment.
Oli nodded his head in the direction of the end of the hallway. "Past the showers then there's another hidden door and it leads underground to a concrete tunnel, and it goes all the way to the edge of town and into the forest. It's a bit longer than where we came in, obviously, but it's definitely a lot safer to go that way if someone unpleasant comes knocking on our door."
When Cyris took his wrist, Oli could feel his brain short-circuit for a moment, but when he heard what he said, he frowned. "I think I have some supplies that can be used for stitches hidden down here somewhere," he said, glancing at the door right next to them. "I can take a look at your back and fix you up if you're okay with me doing it."
Cyris nods, “Ok. . .” He smiles slightly, walking towards a room. He let go of Oli’s wrist after a few steps, looking back at him, “I. . . Y-Yeah. . . I’m fine with you doing it.”
Cyris really didn’t want stitches, he headed needles and anyone being that close to him while he was that vulnerable besides his father. But he supposed he’d have to learn how to trust Oli, who else was going to help him anyways? Certainly no one else had bothered.
He looks at Oli, giving him a tentative smiles, “Just, don’t stab me with the needle, okay?” He jokes softly.
Oli gave him a nervous grin back. The only thing he had experience with stitching up were clothes; he'd never done anything like this with another human. "I'll do my best."
He opened the door to the room that Cyris was walking towards and stepped inside. The room had a small bed in the middle of it, with a shelf full of blankets and pillows right next to it. Near the door was a dark-wooden chest, and Oli opened it, looking at the contents inside. He sighed in relief when he saw an entire bottle full of painkillers, right next to a few bottles of water. He took those out of the chest before reaching back in and grabbing the needle and thread he saw near the bottom of the box before turning back around to Cyris.
"I would recommend taking a few of these before I get to work on your back," Oli advised, handing the bottle of painkillers and a bottle of water to Cyris.
Cyris take the painkillers and the bottle, opening it and putting the meds into his mouth then downing the water. He closed his eyes slightly and then turned his back to Oli, carefully taking his jacket off and then shirt. He sits down on the bed, holding his clothes to his chest, looking at Oli. Four all the world, he looked like a little boy holding his teddy bear.
He looks back down to the floor, “I can feel it bleeding. . .” He mutters, laughing softly. He shifts slightly, trying to get comfortable. He keeps staring at the floor, chewing on his lower lip, feeling insecure.
Even if Oli had already seen and tended to his back, that didn’t chase away the feels of vulnerability and insecurity.
Oli stared at Cyris's back for a minute, blinking in surprise at the small yet slow, steady stream of blood trickling down the skin. He was surprised that the wound had opened up so quickly, especially since Cyris had barely done anything except throw the sliver of wood.
He walked back to the wooden chest and grabbed some disinfectant wipes before going back over to Cyris. "Alright, this is just to wipe the blood off to make it easier to do the stitches, and it's going to sting," Oli warned, showing him the wipes. "And the needle will probably hurt a bit at first, but hopefully after that then it won't be too bad."
Cyris nods, “Just do it. The longer you take, the more on edge I’ll be and the less resolved I’ll be.” He looks at Oli, “Do you need me to lay down?” He asks, looking to the bed, still gripping his clothes.
“Would that make it easier for you to do the stiches?”
(I am so stuck on this right now— I have no inside thoughts for him -_-)
Oli quickly went to work cleaning the wound, being as careful as he possibly could wothout hurting him too badly.
"Yeah, that'll probably be a good idea," Oli finally replied once he was done, giving Cyris a nervous smile. He should've thought about having him do that before. "It will be easier for me to do this with you laying down, too."
(Do you want to just skip ahead a bit to after the stitches are done?)
(Yeah, I’ll do that, lol)
(Hah, forgot about this, give me a moment)
~~~
Cyris had laid down onto his stomach, staying quiet while Oli worked. He relaxes, pressing his face into the pillow. He could feel the stitches, and he suppresses a shudder into a shiver.
He lays there through the stitches and then while Oli wrapped him in bandages. He sits up when Oli bandages him and looks at the other boy, “You sure you on’t really know what you’re doing? It seemed like you knew exactly what you were doing.” He laughs softly, smiling at Oli.
Oli returned the smile Cyris gave him, releasing a sigh of relief as he looked down at his hands that were trembling slightly.
"I've only ever stitched up clothing," Oliver admitted. "I've never done anything like this to another human being."
He began putting the medical kit and the materials he used for stitching away, hoping he would never have to do that again. The smell of blood was making him queasy, and even though he managed not to accidentally stab Cyris this time, there was no telling what mistakes his inexperienced hands would make if he had to do this again the future.
"You probably shouldn't run or do anything to exert yourself a lot, but other than that I think you'll heal and be better again in no time," Oli said, glancing back at the stitches he made and gave a small nod of satisfaction at his work.
Cyris reaches out and lightly takes Oli’s wrists, looking at him. “Look, do you ever prick your fingers when sewing clothes, Oliver?”
Cyris kept his touch light and gentle, giving Oli the space and freedom to pull away if he wanted to, “If you don’t you dont need to worry about pricking me. And, if you forget about your nerves, your hands wont shake as much. Think about something else, if it makes it easier.”
Cyris gives him a warm smile and then it turns to a slight grimace, “No running? You mean I have to miss my morning run?” He grumbles.
Oli's brain short-circuited when Cyris took his wrists, and it was only after a few moments of staring that he realized that he needed to respond. "Hm? Oh, I pricked my fingers a lot when I was little, but I got better at it."
As he continued to look at his hands, he saw with surprise that they had stopped shaking at Cyris's touch. He forced himself to actually make eye contact with the guy in front of him and Oli gave him a sympathetic smile. "It'll only be for a little bit, but yeah, try not to run if you can help it."
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