Edited by Iseul

Leonel was surprising proficient with the burn salve and the bandages—

Or perhaps the word ‘surprising’ wouldn’t quite be correct, for an inquisitor needed the knowledge to patch up wounds on their own. They were lone wolves, often partaking in dangerous work and having to patch up their own injuries.

Rather, Julian merely thought that the careful attentiveness did not match Leonel’s brutish and crass personality very well. He smirked at the thought, finding secret amusement.

Leonel suddenly looked up, as though reading Julian’s mind. He scowled. “What are you thinking about? You have a shit-eating grin on your face. It’s offensive.”

“Offensive?” Julian rolled his eyes. “This is just how my face looks! And you think my natural beauty is offensive? Such slander! Now that's what I call a true offense.”

Leonel merely scoffed. Julian almost expected the inquisitor to pull the bandages extra tight out of spite. Yet Leonel did no such thing, carefully folding the last bit of hemp over Julian’s burns. 

Intrigued, Julian inspected the inquisitor’s handiwork, secretly spying the way that Leonel followed his gaze, as though waiting for his verdict.

“Not too bad,” Julian hummed. “Though I could have done better, you know?” Actually, this was unlikely, for he would struggle to wrap his own arms with hands that were aching and numb from burns. 

This time, Leonel did not take the bait and only stared blankly. It was moments like this that Julian thought disconcerting because he couldn’t begin to guess what thoughts or emotions passed behind those sapphire blue eyes.

Feeling awkward, Julian stood. “Ah well, never mind. I suppose we ought to get to cleaning.”

Leonel stood after him, creating a tall, annoying wall that obstructed Julian’s way. Just as the doctor was about to sidestep him, strong hands came upon his shoulder and forced him back down.

With a startled oof, Julian found himself back on the cot. He blinked in confusion, glasses askew. “What was that about—!?”

“I’ll clean up, since—“ Leonel made a strange face. In the end, he corrected himself, “I’ll clean. You just sit there and don’t get in my way.”

“…Even now, you’re being such a rude brat.” Julian did his best to look annoyed but truthfully, he was more amused than anything else. He sat back without any intention of getting back up. If Leonel was offering to do all the work, why wouldn’t Julian let him? In fact, he thought he might as well go back to sleep. It was still too early in the day to be awake. 

Leonel clicked his tongue but didn’t grace him with another retort. He turned his back to the doctor and found the broom. The inquisitor sulked in silence while he cleaned, his stomach rumbling angrily from emptiness. In the end, he never got to eat breakfast. 

But food was out of the question now, and Leonel was due to suffer. He redirected his annoyance toward the doctor’s house. There were piles upon piles of junk and not to mention a line of rope used to hang laundry that was blatantly offensive to Leonel’s height. He had to duck each time he walked past it.

Leonel’s agitation continued to simmer. And the more cleaned, the more the thought: How could a person, much less a blind one, live in such a hovel!? His fingers itched to clean up after not only the hot plate pieces but also the entire damned house. Leonel couldn’t imagine that half of these things could have any sort of legitimate use.

A stuffed bear? Seriously?

No, Leonel couldn't take it anymore. Pushed to a breaking point, the inquisitor began the arduous task of sorting through the trash littered about the tiny space. He began dismantling the entire setup, unhooking the hammock from the bear, taking the big trunks out from under the desk, and— What was this?

Old knitted sweaters and children's clothes!? Leonel found clumsy wood carvings and more useless books and even rusted jewelry and empty tins.

Seriously! What was all this crap!? This junk clearly needed to be sold to some random peddler or tossed into fire, never to be seen again.

And soon, the entire hut became an even bigger mess. Leonel slaved tirelessly as he underwent the daunting task of sorting out all of Julian's junk. He was suddenly struck with the realization that there was still more trash lying about outside.

He shuddered at the thought and decided to focus on the ink bottles in front of him first. There was much to sort; the empty ones from the half-empty ones and then those from the ones that were actually full. 

And then, he needed to clear out some of the trunks.

And then there was the bookshelf.

Not to mention the drawers.

And…

…

Julian slept peacefully. At least he did until a certain wyvern pup decided to fly down from its perch, slithering around Julian’s leg to harass him for attention.

"Get off me." He gave the creature a light kick. "You're not a cat." But Dog wasn’t offended by Julian’s words and merely cawed pleasantly. It flew up to find a place around Julian’s neck and shoulders, setting down like a scaly scarf.

Julian scowled, unhappy with the feeling of scale against his sensitive neck. No matter how much he tried to peel the beast off, it refused to budge. Sleep no longer graced him with its presence. 

Frustrated, Julian sat up and searched for his glasses.

Something was off. 

Julian wasn’t certain at first, because his vision was beyond terrible, but somehow the shadows around the room weren't looking quite right. He could hear rummaging and saw a blur of darkness shuffling about; no doubt Leonel.

Luckily, this time, his glasses were actually where he left them and Julian remembered to search there first. However, the moment he put on his glasses, a shrill of horror left his lips. Julian surged to his feet so quickly that he almost knocked the cot over. His right leg stung wildly but he ignored the pain and raged, “W-What do you think you’re doing!?”

Leonel sighed and turned toward him. “What does it look like?” he deadpanned.

Half the room was organized in sleek columns and rows, all the items perfectly stacked, fitting together without a single inch wasted. On the other side of the room, items sat in a large disorganized pile, as if waiting to be thrown. And Leonel was seated in the middle with stacks of books he had taken out. Some were being put into the bookshelf, while others were tossed into the big pile of trash.

“You’re making a mess of my house!” Julian stared at the giant pile with abject horror. "How am I supposed to put everything back? My home was perfect before!"

"More like a pig's den," Leonel sighed. "Look, I'm doing you a favor. Sorting out your junk."

“You damned monster!” Forgetting his walking stick, Julian could only awkwardly hobble over on his lame leg. He reached over and yanked a book out of the inquisitor’s hand. The title read something along the lines of Virtue and Passion: A Good Balance for a Married Life. Julian didn’t even know he had this thing.

Much to Julian’s horror, Leonel only glared at him before reaching over to the stack of books and picked one with a spine that read, Beginner Spells for Beginner Mages.

Leonel’s expression was completely blank when he turned over the book in his hands before he quietly placed it neatly on the bookshelf. Then, he rudely snatched the one that Julian had taken from him earlier. That one, he mercilessly threw into the pile of junk.

"Leonel. You are a heartless demon." Julian trembled with rage, hands curled into fists at his side.

"Tell me you're going to read Virtue and Passion: A Good Balance for a Married Life with a straight face and I'll reconsider my decision."

"I-" Julian was a shameless liar but even he could not say that without snickering or choking on his own spit.

With a huff of satisfaction, Leonel went back to sorting books. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Do you really expect me to do the devil's work along your side? Toss out my precious belongings like they are no better than a crow's rotting corpse? Tell me, young man, do I look like an idiot to you?"

A deep sigh left Leonel’s lips. He glared at the doctor, who stood over his seated position. “I’m trying to help you, idiot.”

“How is this helping me!?"

"It's going to improve your quality of living."

Somewhere in the depths of Julian’s heart, he knew that it was high time he parted with some of these useless trinkets that he hoarded in his tiny home. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to admit to his wrongs so readily.

At least not verbally.

"What, do you think giving me heartache and depression will improve my quality of life? As a doctor, I can be sure to tell you that is not how things work." But despite the continued complaining he had knelt down and began to help Leonel with organizing. Each time he came upon a useless item, a deep frown tugged at his visage, wondering if the (nonexistent) sentimental value was enough to convince Leonel to allow him to keep it.

He tried. It never worked.

Still, they bickered for an entire morning, and an entire afternoon as well.

Before they even knew it, an entire day had come and gone. The pile outside of Julian's hut had doubled if not tripled in size. The interior was neater than it was when Julian first arrived. Amazing.

Exhausted from moving a bunch of things, Julian decided to give up on life and laid down on the grass, pretending like he was about to become one with the dirt.

Nightfall was coming with dusk painting the sky hues of orange. A savory scent made Julian drool but he was too fatigued to pull himself up from the ground. Grass tickled his cheeks as the wind swayed. He would fall asleep if he wasn't also salivating from the sweet smell of roasted pork and vegetable stew. His stomach rumbled loudly, urging him to get up but Julian's limbs were as loose as overcooked noodles.

"Get up, old man."

Julian sighed, lashes fluttering open. But his glasses were long askew, face pressed against the grass and he was too lazy to look up. "You really need to get out of this habit of ordering me around. Have you forgotten that I'm your elder?"

"I haven't forgotten. That's why I call you old man."

"Wow." Now Julian didn't want to get up even more. "You truly are a shameless brat." When he finally sat up, a warm bowl of stew was shoved in his face. Wetting his lips, Julian accepted it happily.

Leonel huffed, or perhaps it was a chuckle. “Never said I wasn’t.”

This time, Julian ignored him. Warmth filled the doctor’s mouth and belly. The hearth that flickered outside of Julian's house was welcoming, the heat kissing their faces.

It was calm and the crickets came out to sing. A distant buzz saturated the air, insects joining them at the flame.

"When are you going to leave?" Julian meant the question to be sharp, a sneer but his voice was soft and he blamed it on fatigue. A yawn stretched his visage as if to convince himself of the fact.

"..." Leonel stroked the flame, his bowl emptied at his side. He was considering another filling but he'd already had five and Julian only one. There was only a bit of food left over. After contemplating, he said, "When my injuries heal, I'll go."

Which would be soon. Inquisitors healed faster than normal people.

Julian wasn’t so sure how he felt about that.