Guardian Devil

     The snow crunched under Mikhail's boots as he trekked slowly through the forest to where his mother lived, his eerily light-footed companion not far behind. Sometimes it seemed as if Medic didn't even leave footprints, he was so quiet. Unusual.

     "Will we be there soon, my friend?" Medic asked, a hand sneaking out from where the cloak split to push his glasses up. "It will be night soon, and you know how I hate to be caught in the cold and the dark," he chuckled, the hand disappearing as quickly as it had come. Mikhail had spent many a night wondering about the unnaturally large and smooth digits of the fingers; even a nobleman should have had some calluses or blisters if they had spent enough time in the woods for the Fae to whisper magic in his ears and lace power through his blood.

     "We are later than expected," the words fell heavy out of Mikhail's mouth. God, he hated how stupid he sounded in Common. "Night may come before we arrive."

     Under his breath, Medic muttered a swear and began to complain. "Of course. Nothing ever works out when we travel together, does it?" He smiled bitterly, the eyebrows folded low over the face, and for a moment a view of the void flashed into Medic's eyes. Mikhail had seen it all before, though, and refused to let it unnerve him. "Do you think we will be travelling through the night, or will we stop?"

     "Is too far to travel through night; will be sluggish as babies tomorrow." Mikhail beat back some of the gnarled branches like hands snatching at his face and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. "You will summon tents again, да?"

     "Yes, I do believe I will."

     Travelling with a magic user had its perks, and one of them happened to be that Mikhail never had to carry a pack. Upon first meeting Mikhail, Medic had said something about a void that he could access and that Mikhail would never be cold again. At the time, he hadn't spoken Common well enough to understand most of what Medic was saying, but he got the gist: The Fae favored his companion that he had found at random in a... rather sketchy, now that he stopped and thought about it... tavern. Could one have hoped for a more perfect stroke of luck? The only term Medic had made him agree to after they talked and discovered that they got along rather well was that he'd never peek under Medic's cloak. And that was just fine with him. It wasn't as if he fantasized about what Medic might look like under the simple sheath.

     Just by looking at him, Mikhail could tell that Medic was tall and broad-shouldered. The way the fabric hung from the shoulders and how Medic moved told Mikhail that much. Muscular as well, as he'd seen him drag dead men for miles. Maybe it was all lean, and the strength evident could only be felt while running one's hands over bare flesh. Or perhaps, he was cut like a marble statue made by the old masters. Somehow he doubted that second one. And yet, Mikhail kept thinking. He wore nothing underneath the cloak. Undoing the delicate tie at the neck, Medic would cast a fine silhouette from the fire roaring behind him. He felt no shame, even without fabric to hide his form beneath. He'd slowly walk towards Mikhail, a devilish little smirk on his lips, and even though he wasn't a small man, he'd have to stand on the tips of his toes to-

     Mikhail stopped himself before he could get himself all hot and bothered. Disgusting. He was standing right next to Medic, a man he considered a fire-forged friend, and yet he would let his thoughts run rampant like this? The sun hung low in the sky at last, getting cozy in the space between two mountains on the horizon. "Now is a good time to stop," he announced, though there was only one who could hear. Medic appeared to have been lost in thoughts of his own, and jumped when Misha spoke. Frazzled, he fixed his now-crooked glasses and calmed himself with the gesture.

     "Shall I get us set up?" Without waiting for an answer, Medic murmured something below his breath that sounded like nonsense strung together. Mikhail had no room to judge the speech too harshly as two tents appeared where previously there was only snow. A roaring fire soon knit itself together from scattered sticks and fallen logs, and they both sat down across from each other. "So. Tell me more about your family." Medic crossed his legs and steepled his fingers, leaning forward.