[1] WEEPING MONK // you're not what I was looking for

15| Fire and Water

═ 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 ═

[TW// grief, referenced murder and discussion of religious based self harm]

Tensions rise in more ways than one as Ari, Lancelot and Squirrel make camp in the snow for the night.

They had made a camp beneath the dying sunlight, having been unable to find any other suitable shelter like they had been so lucky with before. Lancelot was keeping his distance and Ari couldn't work out why. He had walked out as soon as they arrived with the bow and managed to catch only one rabbit in the dying light for them to share. Fortunately, they also had some scraps of cheese left in the saddlebags from the abbey to pad out their supper. As the evening cooled and the snow hardened, Lancelot watched intermittently as Ari taught Squirrel a game that they carved into the snow with sticks. It did not seem difficult but the boy got frustrated every time that he lost, which was often. Ari eventually decided to let him win a few rounds on purpose and Squirrel soon perked back up again.

Lancelot felt a shiver move down his spine from the chilling air, he knew that if he was somewhat cold, then they definitely would be too. He stood and went over to the horses tied at the side of the camp, placing the arrows he had been sharpening back into the quiver. He walked back over to them with one half of the blanket in each of his hands.

"Percival," he said to get the boy's attention. Squirrel's eyes widened almost comically as he looked up and took the thick fabric from the man's outstretched hand willingly, wrapping it around himself. Lancelot stepped closer to Ari and offered her the other half, not knowing quite when he had genuinely started to care for her welfare. She looked up at him as he towered over her.

"You'll be cold," she refused, prompting for him to take it.

"I'll be fine," he rebuffed. Out of the three of them he was the one most suitably dressed for a night out like this with his many layers. The Paladins had dressed him as such to be able to carry any clothing that he would ever need with him in whatever weather he came across. Ari arched her eyebrow at him but Lancelot did not back down, he flicked his wrist and gestured the blanket to her again.

Ari sighed reluctantly and lifted her hand up, her fingers brushing along his accidentally as she took it from him. She saw the bandages that she had tied around his palms looking a little worse for wears, she had almost forgotten about them. Ari's eyes looked up quickly to his cloaked figure as he walked away.

"How are your hands?" She asked the air.

"They're fine," he deadpanned, barely acknowledging her as he continued to walk back to his spot in the snow. Ari frowned, she could tell from his tone and the way his actions had stiffened since the morning that something was bothering him.

"It's been over two days, let me check them," she told him, finally stopping him in his tracks. 

Lancelot sighed, turning back slowly, there was no point in arguing with her. He was a little annoyed at the attention, nobody had ever been so bothered about his welfare. They were only small cuts and nothing actually worth worrying about, but she had done, and she had tended to them in the barn. He came over and stood far enough away for her to be able to reach his outstretched hands. She glanced up at him as then twisted to a better position, peeling the two wraps of cloth she had tied around his palms a few nights before.