Born Enemies

Chapter Ten: Cel

Cel was a sweaty and hungry mess by the time he got to the cave in the order he desired. He'd explored the little space, which turned out to be a little bigger than he'd originally come to believe. He quite liked it. It was not only perfect, but also an easily defendable and manageable space. Since neither of them knew how long they were going to be living there, Cel had taken the liberty to eitch some defensive runes and security spells around the walls of the cave and its floor where they wouldn't easily be removed by them walking over them. After securing the stability and durability of their shelter, he then turned his attention to making it look more welcoming. He rearranged their bedding, bringing them closer to each other on one side of the fire, but left enough space between them for the sake of... he wasn't sure. On the other side of the fire, he set a pot for cooking, dirty washing, and preparing medicine, and whatever else Amara wanted to use the space for. In one corner of the cave, he'd created a washing room by hanging up a set of curtains he'd originally bought to separate himself and his male friends from his female friends if they ever found themselves having to share sleeping quarters. Thus, it offered them the privacy they needed when bathing and/or changing their clothes. To help brighten up the dim cave, he created lanterns with the few longest and thickest sticks he could spare until they could gather more wood. All in all, he felt that the morning was well spent. As a reward for himself for his hard work, he took out another medium-sized barrel of water from his storage ring and set it inside the washing corner. He went back to the fireplace and squatted down before the flames. He took three fire stones and placed them on the edge of tbe fire place before picking up a sturdy stick and used it to nudge the stones deeper into the flames so that they sat in the middle of the dancing orange, red, and blue flames. While he waited for them to heat up, he sat back on his heels and took out a comb from his storage pendant. He pulled the end of his waist-length hair over his shoulder so that it hung down his chest, the end brushing against his lower stomach. He leisurely untied the ribbon at the end of his braid and began gently teasing the woven knots undone. As he worked, he glanced around the now livable cave, making mental notes of things he felt needed to be changed or things he could add to make the place feel more homely. It took him ten minutes to finish unbraiding the mass. He took his time, pausing here and there to comb out some particular bad knots with his fingers. Just as he finished combing through the last knot, the fire stones he placed in the fire began to glow a deep orangeed color. They were almost ready.

Tossing the loose mass over his shoulders so that it hung down his back out of his way, Cel picked up the stick he'd used earlier and began to tease the stones out from the flames to the edge of the hearth. Once they were out, he grabbed his fire resistance pouch and slipped the stones inside. He walked back to the bathing corner behind the curtain and dropped the stones into the barrel of water. The water hissed loudly, bubbling up as steam rose thick over the rim. As he waited for the stones to work, heating the water, he began to strip, his fingers working the ties holding his robes loose until the layered fabric hung off his slender shoulders before the last knot holding them together was untied, causing the weighted clothes to slide off his shoulders and pool around his ankles on the ground. Cel stepped out of the pool of fabric around his feet, bent down to pick them up, then folded them into a neat pile further away so they wouldn't get wet. He squatted down beside the barrel and picked up the pouch of scented herbs and flowers from the ground. He took out a small pinch and sprinkled it into the steaming water, almost instantly releasing the healing, calming scent of his creation. Gathering his hair on top of his head to get out of his way for now, and dipping the clean cloth he'd torn earlier from an old robe he'd ripped into rags, he began to bathe, unaffected by the scorching water.

After washing his entire body, he released his hair once more before grabbing the bar of scentless soap. He used the cup he'd drank his tea in that morning to scoop out water to wet his long hair before slathering it with soap. It took him a bit longer than usual to finish washing his hair because it was far dirtier than he'd expected.

Cel felt refreshed and rejuvenated after his bath as he slipped into a different set of clean robes. He shook his hair out to dry, running his fingers through the damp strands. He came out from behind the curtain and jumped, his hand flying up to cover his mouth as his heart froze for a split second before racing uncontrollably. "Y-you...?" He cleared his throat and forced himself to calm down. He straightened his back. "When did you return?" He asked more calmly as he began to turn away, returning to what he was doing before being frightened out of his wits.

However, he stopped abruptly, his body whirling back around to face him as what he saw registered. Amara sat before the fire, all dark, boarding, and silent. His long braids were messy. Several dozen strands hung free around his face. His sword blood rested on the ground beside him as his other hand clutched at his side. His clothes were torn and covered in mud and leaves, as if he'd been rolling on the ground. Cel felt his heart lurch with sudden, unnamed fear against his ribs at the sight of his disheveled appearance. His healing instincts kicked in while his fear recided to the back of his mind. "Really?" he hissed as he rushed over to him and dropped to the ground beside him, his hands knocking him away from his side. His sharp biting tone, words, and hostile attitude were all a veil to hide his lingering fears as he quickly tended to him. "You are no good to me when you're f*****g dead." He muttered, his fingers trembling unconsciously when they became drenched in blood as he tried to inspect the damage done to him.

"Cel..." He ignored him, but it didn't stop him from continuing to call his name.

"Celestine", the sound of his full name being called, froze him as a different kind of dread welled up inside him as bad memories were pushed to the front of his mind's eye, escaping from the box he put them in. He slowly became aware of his right hand being held tightly within his grasp. "His hand is so big," he noticed distractedly as his lips parted. "Say my name one more time and I'll happily watch you bleed out." His eyes slowly rose from his entrapped hand to hold his gaze, his eyes as hard as stones and cold as ice. Amara's features remained expressionless, but after several intakes of tense silence, he nodded once.

"Good, now what did you want to say?" He pulled his hand free from his grasp as his eyes softened their glare.

"The blood isn't mine." Amara's voice was forced, as if she was trying to hold back something.

"Oh..." Cel gently returned his hands to work, the tight icy grip of fear loosening somewhat at the knowledge. "Whose blood is it then?" He needed the soothing, distracting flow of their conversation to help him focus and be grounded. Cel finally managed to lift the soft but sturdy leather, his brows drawing together when exposed to the huge, rapidly discolored bruise that covered nearly his entire side.

"I don't know," His large body flinched under his probing fingertips and he bit his tongue. "You're bruised pretty badly. I think you've got a couple of ribs badly bruised. Luckily, none were broken. " Satisfied that there weren't any broken ribs, his hands moved on to investigate the rest of his body. Amara remained silent and still as he worked. Over 20 minutes later, Cel sat back, blowing a hard breath to blow loose strands of hair damp with sweat from his face. "Your right wrist is broken, and your left ankle is twisted pretty badly. You might be suffering from some head injuries, but I won't be sure until you make it through the night. For now, let's get you cleaned up and comfortable. " He left him briefly to retrieve the water that was left in his bath. Cel dipped a couple of fingers to check its temperature. It had cooled down to comfortably warm. Grabbing a hold of the bottom, he carried it over to where he sat. "It must have been a large animal to cover you almost entirely in blood." He mused as he washed him down while stripping him of his cape and leather armor. "It was" he winced, his body stiffened as if to hold himself still. "Tell me more about it." He quickly flashed him an encouraging smile, his hands never stopping their tender care.

With a halting but unwavering voice, Amara began to share his adventure outside the walls of the cave.

******************************************

When his voice finally trailed off into silence, Cel was serving the hot vegetable soup he'd made into a bowl. After stripping him and cleaning him of all the dried blood that covered him and bandaging his wounds, he settled him into his bedding, then whipped up a quick, easily digestible dinner that would not only warm him but also speed up his healing process.

"I think we need to rethink our plans." He said as he carried the hot soup back to his side. Amara nodded his head silently in agreement. His vocal cords needed a break after being used more than they were used to. Cel lowered himself onto his knees beside him and rested the bowl in his lap. He stirred its contents a bit to cool the steaming substances before scooping some up and holding it to his lips. Amara looked at him, his eyes unreadable over the spoon that separated them. Cel also remained silent as he waited with the spoon he held in his mouth. Those dark eyes continued to hold his gaze as his lips slowly parted, allowing him to feed him.

Something, both familiar and unfamiliar, stirred inside him as he stared unblinkingly into those cool liquid black eyes that gave nothing away and yet, invoked a feeling he'd buried deep inside him, a feeling he told himself he would never feel again. A feeling his lover took for granted and used to hurt him deeply. He was the first to look away. His mouth suddenly felt as if it was filled with cotton balls and his hands trembled slightly with the effort of shutting down those haunting memories of broken promises and pain. He continued to feed him until the soup was gone and his emotions were under control once more.