Conversations of the Cross {Mila/Yorick Support B}

[Mila]

It was the morning after the gargoyle hunt in the Bern. Mila had occupied a table for herself in the room she shared with Yorick, in order to fix the tome that was damaged. The pages in the tome were replaceable and she had good knowledge of the notes she had written in between the pages. She was upset that the cover to the tome was completely ruined. The cover was a relic to her as it was the only remnant of her original fire Tome she received as a gift from her family. She sighed softly as she mimicked the writing into the inner cover of this new tome. Her arms and bits of her hand were still red and raw from the scratch.

The mage blew on the fresh ink in order for it to dry faster. She dipped a quill in some rune ink and began transcribing the texts between tomes. She had woken up early to do this in order to capitalize on the sunlight. There was a good chance she was going to be at this all day. The night was probably going to be filled with her writing more notes about the gargoyle pieces she had collected. She was trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb her roommate. By mid-morning she had gotten half way through the tome and went out to go get some breakfast. The inn was still warm and full of the good cheer and vibes of celebration from last night. She yawned lightly and took a seat by the bar. She asked the waiter for a bowl of oatmeal with fruit and some water for tea.

[Yorick]

"Ooh, man, I feel like... Wow."

Yorick rolled out of bed and looked around. It stunk of book-ink in the room, but there was no sign of Mila. The scholarly mage probably had gone to get some food, or drink, or a walk. Taking all of her clothing articles and tossing them onto a pile, Yorick began to stretch and crack her joints, taking a few minutes to limber up and work herself into a nice, cleansing sweat. Then she dipped into the bucket that stood in the room, poured water over her rag, and cleaned herself, scrubbing her skin and then donning her clothes once more. She left her armor in the room - nobody would be fighting her now - and headed downstairs with nothing but her iron axe on her hip. She saw her comrade, seated at the bar, and promptly made her way there, sitting down next to her with a light thud and sighing deeply. She felt drained after the fight, and she had a blasted headache from the celebration last night. She always told herself she'd drink less so she wouldn't end up like this, but yet, every time, she drank more.

"How're you holding up, Mila? Arm doing all right? I was worried for a minute...while. It looked pretty vicious. Glad the healer got to it right when we got back."

When the bartender walked over, asking for her drink, Yorick shook her head sadly.

"Nothing but cold water for me, sorry. I feel like I've been hit by a battering ram. Ugh."

[Mila]

"The arm is fine." Mila responded with a half serious tone. She was a little annoyed that her companion had spent most of the night drinking. Which lead to her telling "overly glorified stories" of the days events. And when she couldn't drink any more it was Mila who helped put her to bed. The mage gave a sigh through her nose as she scooped up some more oatmeal and popped it into her mouth. The waitress brought both women their drinks and Mila as usual took one of her tea pouches and plopped it into the warm mug.

"Best thing to help with the hang over is water. Lots of it. Alcohol dehydrates you." She continued to speak in a semi-monotone. She tilted her head over and took a look at Yorick, then over at her arm. Her mind replayed Yorick's burst of anger as she punched the hell out of the gargoyle who hurt her. This was something that needed to be adressed. And while she appreciated the sentiment, was quite touched by Yorick's feelings, the mage felt that her comrade needed to get a better handle of her emotions. An outburst like that at the wrong moment could be disastrous. Then again she was also known to leap into danger herself for the sake of her friends safety. A light pain started to creep up on the mage's forehead, her head was not ready to solve ethic's problems so early in the morning. The fruit that came with her meal was blueberries, too which the mage gleefully added to her bowl of oats.

"Oats help too. Absorbs what's ailing your gut." She ate another bite again.

"Yorick.." She sighed softly before turning herself so she could be face to face with her friend.

"Back.. there with the gargoyle... with you punching it till it died.. Uhm.. thank you." She had a light blush on her face.

[Yorick]

Yorick sighed, long and quietly, as Mila lectured her. She’d heard it before, but she never really could change. It was too ingrained into who she was. She had to fight, and then she had to drink. The drinking made her want to fight, and fighting made her want to drink. It kept her going, kept her sane, kept her from despairing. Fighting was where she could truly be herself, show herself as the person she was, without the barriers of writing and reading or the social constraints of the land.

“Yorick…”

The General looked up, her gaze focusing on Mila as her friend and guildmate gave her a quiet, heartfelt message of thanks.

“Don’t worry about it, Mila.”

Yorick’s voice was similarly quiet, and she gave a small smile to her mage friend before beginning to talk, tapping her fingers on the bar as she mumbled, thinking out loud in a way.

“I don’t know what happened there. Something…snapped. When I thought that you might possibly be hurt, or killed, or turned into a zombie…I felt the bloodlust, the ‘Rage of the Sea,’ as they call it, and it came over me like a tide. All I cared about was destroying whatever had threatened you. It might seem crazy, but I think you’re the only person I’ve met here on the mainland that I care about. And so I won’t let you down, Mila. I might not be able to read well, or write well, like you can. And I might be crass, and rude, and rough-hewn. But I won’t let you down. I’ll be here, protecting you. Whenever I can. I won’t bug you, or hound you, but when we fight together, I’ll shield you from harm. I’ll take the blow, so that you can keep going.

You’ve got so much life in you, Mila. For me, life is this cycle of fightin’ and drinkin’ and it always will be. I’m a warrior, born and bred, and that’s my calling. But you can do so much. You have to have the chance to make your mark.”

Yorick fell silent after her odd outburst, breathing out slowly and taking a long draught of water.

[Mila]

Mila listened to Yorick speak. It wasn't often she heard her like this. Mila was used to seeing her talk like a sailor or shout at a monster before she piled one of her weapons through it's skull. It was nice to hear her speak calmly. But, her words bothered her. Yorick was a woman used to fighting. She was used to throwing herself at danger. In a way it reminded her a lot like Duma. How he would throw himself out in front of her to shield her from a blow from a weapon. He had always done that. She closed her eyes. Her mind recalled the day he got his scar. She watched him fall to the floor with his hand over his face and his screaming. The blood. The blisters. And she felt something inside her something that felt like burning. Something, she felt like she had held back for a while, and was only now able to express it in words.

"It's.. not right. I don't want you to willingly throw yourself into the fray like that for my sake. What good is a life full of living if I know i'm responsible for your death!" She had raised her voice. Her face felt hot. She didn't know why. But, she wished she hadn't seen Yorick punch the beast in the face. A horrible image emerged in her mind of seeing Yorick like she did her brother.

"Yorick, we're a duo. Your my friend. I want you to keep on living with all your limbs and head in tact. You've got to make your mark in the world too."

[Yorick]

As the mage raised her voice, Yorick sat, taking it in and not losing her composure at all. In fact, she felt more calm in her sore, headache-suffering, bruised and battered state. It helped her to think more logically.

“Mila. You will not be responsible for my death. When Death comes for me, I will meet Him head on and willingly go to the great beyond. It will be my time. I don’t intend to throw my life away.”

Yorick was deadly serious, and she intended to show Mila exactly how far she was willing to go to protect her mage friend. She had thought about this long and hard, and she was convinced that she had the truly best solution to the whole affair.

“I am changing. Changing my style, changing my approach. No longer shall I move with the speed and the flowing motions of the Halberdier.

If the Halberdier is the water of the sea, then I shall become the rocks upon the shore, Mila. And just as waves must bash themselves upon the shore, falling and wearing the jagged stones slowly to smooth pebbles over many years, so too shall enemies fall before me, wearing me down, but never destroying me.

I shall clad myself in sheets of steel, Mila. I will surround myself with a curtain of iron, and from behind the visor of my war-helmet I shall be impervious. I will take up the armor and the towering shield of the General. Gone will be my sword, and in its place I will become a wall. Behind my bulk, you will be able to cast in safety. I will be an aegis, a defender for you. Because it is as you say. You are my friend, as I am yours. We are a duo. Together, we are stronger than we are separately. And…I treasure you, Mila. Your wisdom. Your ability to make me feel happy even when I feel beat. The way we can fight together and then laugh together. You’re like a sister to me, Mila, one that didn’t die or betray me or disappear into the streets. You have shown me a way to live for friends. I am happy, now, since I’ve met you.”

Yorick smiled, a small smile.

“This is my mark on the world, Mila. I want to fight monsters, to clean these fiends from Elibe. Maybe then my name will be known, as a brave warrior who fought to protect her friends and make a better, safer world.”