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Yunaka is used to making herself scarce after battles. If she meets a comrade’s eyes, she might see something that wasn’t there before they witnessed her on the field. If a healer examines her, they might question her older scars, the ones her outfit is designed to cover, the windows along her sides a false promise. See? No dark past here. Just your good ol’ pal Yunaka.
Of course, she shouldn’t have any scars at all. A successful assassin is never seen, let alone attacked. Each scrape and bruise marks her failure.
As she drops to sit in the shadow of the old fort, most of her allies having hunkered down inside, she wishes she could use healing magic on herself. Emblem Micaiah can only help her sacrifice her health, not mend the cut along her side. It’s shallow, missing all those juicy insides she’d rather not have spilling out, but it’ll scar. She’ll need a new outfit, something that covers her sides. Another failure to hide.
With a wince, she gets out her medical kit. Cleaning and bandaging the wound will at least let her rise to fight another day. The sound of boots in the sand makes her freeze, ready to reach instead for her dagger.
She relaxes at the familiar silhouette overhead, dark even in sunlight, dripping with blood not her own. Yunaka is sure enough of that; she would have noticed if Panette had taken a grave wound, as the two of them have taken to fighting together. They’ve already seen each other’s violent sides—they like them. The admiration in Panette’s eyes when Yunaka fells an enemy with one vital strike is almost enough for Yunaka to see herself in a different light. Almost. Even now, she isn’t quite like Panette, who throws herself bodily into the fray to protect what she loves. Yunaka…displaces herself. Becomes someone she’s discarded. Folds herself into a cold point rather than running hot.
But from outside herself, she can at least watch Panette’s back.
“Yunaka! Did that last scoundrel get you?”
A cheerful greeting is on her tongue, her arms prepared to wave around in an attempt to distract from her bleeding midsection. But she hesitates, because it’s Panette. Because the numbness of battle is fading, letting her feel the sting of the wound, and Panette is looking down at her with a concern that will only sharpen if she deflects.
“Yeah. It’s just a scratch, but…”
“But you must not let it get infected. Here, allow me to clean it for you.”
Panette crouches in the sand, and Yunaka bites her already chapped lip. She shouldn’t accept even this much, let alone ask for more, but…the thought of a new scar makes panic fill all of the still-numb parts of her. As long as a trusted ally is here…
Yes, you can rely on your allies. You must. Please, lend me to her.
Micaiah has been semi-dormant since the battle concluded; her voice echoes privately inside Yunaka’s mind. It’s a welcome voice, one that fills a space she’s loathe to share with only herself, but it also likes to tell her things that are for her own good, which is unfortunate. She swears a slightly amused, slightly exasperated presence prods at her in response to the thought.
“Actually! How would you like a shot at Engaging with a one-of-a-kind magical artifact? Sorry—a hero.”
Yunaka holds out her hand, presenting the finger Micaiah is nestled around. There’s definitely an exasperated reply, like a scattering of feathers, when she says hero. The sales pitch only makes Panette tense, something Yunaka is attuned to before even clocking the thin line of her mouth.
“If it is healing you require, I shall retrieve my brother. I have never been inclined toward faith-based magic.”
As Panette starts to rise, Yunaka grabs at the hem of her dress without thinking.
“Nah, it’s just a scratch! No need to bother a man of the cloth,” Yunaka says. Though she releases the dress, Panette stays put, eyeing her sharply. Rather than lecturing her as expected, Panette speaks hesitantly.
“What is it like, using the Emblem?”
Like displacing herself for good reason, for once. Like allowing something—someone—better to make use of her hands.
“Kinda wiggly? All this power builds up and then flows out like, whoosh.”
“Whoosh,” Panette repeats flatly, clearly not convinced. If only Micaiah could show herself and explain—but she’s still curled up in her fake nap, wordlessly nudging Yunaka to be honest with her feelings.
It’s only Panette, she reminds herself as she lets her voice drop.
“Listen, I don’t have faith, either. I mean, no offense to our Divine One, but I didn’t exactly grow up with anyone to believe in—or any reason to believe in myself. But Emblem Micaiah says that a desire to help is enough. That it’s not a mistake that she called out to me.”
Panette’s manner softens, her attention on Yunaka’s face rather than the wound or Emblem. With a deep breath, Yunaka continues.
“I don’t think I’m some holy person, or even a good one, but I want to heal. I don’t know if it can make up for all the hurt. And I won’t force you to do it, if it brings up bad memories, but…maybe you’d like knowing you can do it, too?”
Panette’s wary expression returns. “I am quite happy that being chosen as her wielder brings you solace. Yet, if you would like to share that power, would Pandreo not be better suited?”
For all that, Micaiah still doesn’t seem to think Yunaka is done being honest, the warm glow of her approval dim. For papaya’s sake, what else is there for her to…
Oh, seriously?
Fine.
“I’d like it to be you. You know more about me than most people, so I feel like I can be vulnerable with you. So if you only want to bandage it up, that’s fine, but I’d rather not get yet another scar. And also you’d look like a total babe.”
Are you happy? she demands, earning a little trill.
“Oh, my,” Panette says, her fingers flying up to hide her mouth. They don’t conceal her flush. It’s a bit too fascinating of a sight to Yunaka, who’s used to seeing Panette reddened by blood and the rush of battle and even shame, rather than what she hopes to be pleasure.
“Any object of faith or desire can fuel the Emblem’s power?” Panette asks.
“Yep. Doesn’t have to be good ol’ prayer.”
She lowers her hand. “I do have faith in the Boss, and in the Divine One as a friend. And…I’m not sure what it means to want to heal, but I would like to help a kindred spirit. Even if I don’t think she would look less like a ‘total babe’ with a scar.”
With a slight smile, she extends her palm, and in one of Yunaka’s less intelligent moments she thinks she’s meant to hold it. She gets a grip in time to instead slip the ring from her finger, her hands shakier than expected (than an assassin can afford), and place it in Panette’s palm. It makes her hands shake more, to be separated from Micaiah, to be alone in her mind and have to trust that Panette won’t drop her friend in the sand—
Light bursts out of Panette, wreathing her from head to toe. She lifts in the air, her expression both serene and determined, her entire being golden. Divine.
In short: a total babe.
It’s strange to imagine that Yunaka herself looks anything like this, let alone on the battlefield, in that dark place in her mind. Those thoughts scatter when Panette bends down to place a hand against Yunaka’s side, spreading a warmth there that itches and pulses and hurts.
Yunaka didn’t know she was hurting her allies. Micaiah would probably say something about how that’s a part of healing, too, but Yunaka focuses instead on Panette, on the concentration on her glowing face, until the skin stitches itself back together.
While Yunaka collapses back against the wall, Panette holds her hand in front of her own face as if seeing it for the first time. Already knowing just how she feels, Yunaka says nothing as she waits for the light to recede.