Blueprint

16: Survivalists

Synelis hated his fate being in another's hands. He liked to be in control of his destiny. He liked to have total control over every aspect of his own survival. And, yet, here he was again, his life placed entirely in the hands of a certain Amari Alantar.

"Shh, sh, don't move."

Synelis let out a long groan, turning his head to the side. The arrows had hurt when they first landed, sure, but now, after the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel nothing but the radiating pain that was so unnaturally deep in his body. He'd been wounded before, but never like this.

"I said, don't move."

Synelis had shifted a bit, aiming to put himself in a more comfortable position. He was splayed out on his stomach, and he could feel each little touch of the wood elf as he fussed over the wounds. Synelis supposed, of all people to be in the care of, he'd lucked out pretty well.

"The one in your back isn't too deep," Amari observed, "but the one in your shoulder is. I'm willing to pull out the one in your back, but you'll likely lose a lot of blood. Do you—do you want me to?"

Synelis considered his options in his head. He hated the feeling of the arrow in his back dearly, but the amount of lost blood would most certainly be enough to put him out of commission for the night, if not longer.

But then, leaving the arrow in his back would likely lead to a festering infection, and its removal could aid in his rest—he'd be able to at least lean against a tree without plunging an arrow further into his back, even off laying flat on the ground wasn't an option with the shoulder wound.

"Do it."

"Alright," Amari sighed, "I'll bandage it with your cape. Is that alright, too?"

"Yes," Synelis breathed, wincing as a sharp pain shot through him. The arrows' very presence pained him, even when they weren't being manipulated.

"Here," Amari pulled a small handkerchief out of his pocket, "bite this."

Synelis did as he was told, allowing Amari to place the cloth between his teeth. He bit down, mildly disgusted with the knowledge that it was a handkerchief in his mouth, and shut his eyes. He could hear the cloth tearing as Amari ripped a strip of fabric from his cape.

"Take a deep breath."

He did so.

"And out."

Synelis soon became very well acquainted with the reason that Amari had told him to bite the napkin.

He screamed—or well, would have screamed, but all that came out was a muffled whine—when the arrow was torn from his back. His breath quickly turned rapid, desperate, even, as Amari pressed his hands tightly into the wound.

"You're okay," Amari said gently, "that was it."

Instinctively, Synelis' arm drove itself into the ground, clinging for purchase in the dirt. He let out another whine, this one longer. It whistled around the cloth, in and out, quick with his breaths. The pain was immense, far worse than it had been when the arrow was going in. Soon, he felt Amari wrapping the wound, coercing the cloth under and over him so that it was snug against the open lesion.

"Shh, shh," the wood elf soothed, and Synelis felt a hand press against the back of his neck. "It's over. Don't move." A soft caress ran in slow, comforting circles across the nape of his neck. "I... I'm here."

In any other scenario, Synelis would've been angry. He was never the one who needed comfort, not in bed, not in his line of work. He would never willingly submit to being treated like this in any other case.

But this?

This, he supposed, was acceptable. He might've even appreciated it, but he'd never tell Amari that.

Synelis spat the rag out onto the ground, still breathing heavily. His eyes remained shut, even as that soft touch left his neck, and he soon found the embrace of sleep to be beckoning his name.

"Amari," he whispered, his voice seeming so far from him.

"Yes?"

"Why?"

Before he heard Amari's response, the darkness swallowed him.

Synelis awoke to dappled light on his face, peeking through his eyelids. His brows pressed into a scowl, and when he opened his eyes, the warm light of morning called him to stretch. So he, in his infinite genius, pushed his arms out to the sides. He felt immediate regret as pain shot out of his shoulder. He groaned before forcing his legs under himself to stand. He staggered, nearly collapsing against a tree before finally righting himself.

"Amari?" He began, blinking a few times.

The wood elf was nowhere in sight.

Dread filled his stomach. He—he'd been left behind. Of course he'd been left behind. Amari wasn't there to coddle him. He'd wrapped his injury, which was already too kind an act, and left. He'd kept his end of their arrangement—he'd gotten Synelis out the castle—and yet, a part of Synelis was gravely hurt by his disappearance. A large part.

He sighed, turning about a tree and nearly trampling the man curled up on the other side of it.

Synelis jumped back, blinking quickly to clear the bleariness from his eyes. There, tucked into himself like a babe, was the inventor. His hands were bloody, and his face was marred by dirt, but he looked peaceful.

His heart warmed at the sight.

Synelis had been so ready to accept that he'd been left behind, and yet, there the elf was. Amari was peculiar, in that way. Sharp as a tac, and yet, so trusting of a man who'd tried to rob him. If Synelis were in his situation, he never would've agreed to hide the thief, let alone escape with him. He would've been gone in the forest mere moments after the thief had fallen asleep.

Synelis would make sure the inventor didn't regret that kindness.

He set himself down once more, sitting next to Amari's curled form. They were in a forest, with little rays of sunlight peeking through the dense leaves. It would've been almost relaxing, were it not for the fact that the entire Verbornian guard was looking for them. They'd have to move soon. Synelis wouldn't wake the inventor just yet, though. He deserved his rest.