◇A Pair Led By Fate?◇ ((Argenthill/GunsN'Roses Medieval Au 🔫🌹))

8 - Hospitality

The confines of Argenti's home was not as bad as Boothill had imagined. The knight was *very* hospitable, even as far as preparing food for someone he knows is a criminal he should be taking to the dungeon by now. But Boothill ain't complaining, not when theres free food, a necessity he lacks most of the time making him resort to stealing. And also, not to mention that the house was adorned in many plants.

Aside from all the greenery, there wasn't really much going around. And because of the fact he just moved in the kingdom about recently. It was obvious even without the knight's clarification.

And about the knight, he was too talkative for Boothill's liking. You could even say he overshares most of the time, constantly yapping about some sort of queen from the kingdom he was from, which he is in pursuit of. Boothill could care less, but he found himself uknowingly taking note of some things the man was saying.

Argenti, a former knight of a long destroyed kingdom in search for his missing queen, Idrila. Likes roses, or anything beautiful to be exact—even the most absurd things. He went to serve in this kingdom because he figured that his queen would be somewhat near. He also told him all the lessons he had learned from his time as a knight, his moral code and everything. Boothill wasn't sure why he was telling him all this, but he couldn't deny he was enjoying hearing about the man's lore.

The plate Boothill had been eating in was now empty, and he let out an involuntary burp which made Argenti chuckle. "Was the food to your liking? I just realised you haven't spoken much to tell your thoughts."

The knight was met with a somewhat unamused look from the chuckle he just let out. Boothill then replied with an indifferent tone, "Yeah, yeah 't was good... anyway, ya' seem ta' like sharin' yer' past with a dangerous criminal who'll probably attempt to kill ya' when given the chance. Ain't exactly a good idea ta' waste yer' breath like that."

Despite the somewhat challenging tone in Boothill's voice, the knight only responded lightly, "Oh, you wouldn't."

Argenti then stood up and took both their plates. The fugitive had a suspicious thought, making him raise his brow.

"Wait, ya' didn't put somethin' in my food, did ya'?"

A soft sigh escaped the knight's lips as soon as Boothill stated his suspicions. He turned his head as he glanced back at the skeptickal fugitive whilst carefully placing the plates on the sink, "Of course not. What would I get out of doing such vile things?"

Boothill placed a hand on his stomach, as if trying to concentrate on seeing if he was getting sick or feeling funny. A frown overtook his lips, regretting eating the food the man cooked now that he had such suspicions. He should know better than to trust anyone, especially knights from this damn kingdom...

Now attempting to stand up, the wound still stung, but it wasn't as bad as before. Despite everything, he had to be greatful, he owes him his life after all. "I still find it hard trustin' ya'. I'mma go screw off now, don't want ta' be a nuisance to yer' peaceful rich-y house."

"Leaving already? Are you most confident that you can walk?" Argenti walked over to Boothill glancing at the wound that has thankfully stopped bleeding out slightly. The bandage he covered it with helped. "Such a enthusiastic man you are, cowboy." Boothill couldn't tell if those words were sarcastic or not, but he let out a snicker as he began to walk over to a window, inspecting the outside of the house. It wasn't raining anymore, but it was sure as hell to pour about later.

"Gimme my gun back, knight." Boothill called out, glancing back at Argenti with a stern and demanding expression. If anyone tries to keep his firearm away from him for a prolonged period of time, he is sure to decimate said person... if he could.

Argenti hummed, "Oh, right!" Then he walked over to the cabinet to fetch the firearm. But not before admiring the intricate and easily portable design. It had a few scratches from years of use, yet it remained as smooth as the ones used in their own kingdom.

He glanced back at Boothill, a curious expression on his face. The cowboy was growing impatient, he could tell. But he was curious to learn about the origins of this gun. "About your priced firearm... is it some sort of pistoleer or anything of the like?"

"Ha?"

A brief moment of silence overtook the room as Boothill tried to ponder what Argenti was talking about, " 's that what it's called? Ain't got no clue. Now stop wastin' time askin' questions and hand it over..." He beckons for the man to give him the gun already.

Finally, as the knight handed him the gun, Boothill turned his back and opened the window, leaning against it to get a proper view of the outside surrounding as to see if there were any knights around. Seeing this and knowing absolutely well that the man would jump out through it, the knight spoke up. "I do suggest walking through the doorway..."

Boothill placed the gun onto his holster, frowing as he looked back at Argenti once again. "Nah, too obvious. Those bastards would see me right away." The knight gave a little nod, "You have a point."

Sitting on the edge of the windowframe as he began to prepare himself for a fall. It was fortunate that the direction this window was facing is out of view from the public, which served as a big advantage.

"Before you leave, cowboy..."

Boothill halted once he heard the knight speak up once again. He furrowed his brows. "What?"

"... I should remind you that once you leave my house, my pursuit of you shall continue on. I cannot abandon my duties." Argenti continued, which made Boothill laugh out loud and roll his eyes. "Of course... but I ain't lettin' ya' get the best o' me no more." He finally jumped through the window, landing onto the hard cobblestones with a thud with his feet. It hurt, considering the window was a few feet above, but it was nothing he could handle. He ran off to the distance out of Argenti's sight.

"Oh..."

Argenti hummed, leaning his chin against the palm of his hand as he stared off into the distance Boothill ran off to.

"Looks like a forgot to give him a rose."

[Later...]

Boothill's mind was all over the place. The constant flashback and nightmares of his past, the weird hospitality of the knight he swore to despise, and the wound on his chest that was still hurting as hell. Not to mention he... had murdered someone yet again.

The sight of the ruined pile of wood and roof in the middle of the forest made him sigh in relief. He's finally back in the long run down wooden house—which isn't even a house at this point—that he took shelter in. It wasn't much, but its better than nothing.

The inside was dirty, but he tried his best to atleast get dirt off the corner he slept in. The smell was really filthy aswell... he, himself was confused as to how he managed to live in this lump of wood. How ironic that he asked the same to the last guy he killed...

And that crimson blanket...

That crimson blanket was the last thing he wished to see in this state he was in, a physical memory of what he couldn't protect. He can't deal with this shit.

He stormed off outside of the shelter, breathing in the fresh air as he stepped onto the grass. The clouds were still blocking the sunlight, making for a dull and somewhat sad atmosphere. The grass underneath him was damp with rainwater.
He hates the storm.

Out of the corner of his eye, a small flash of deep red appeared, and he immedietally glanced to see what it was. He was met with the sight of a... rose? It was growing naturally from the ground and roses never grew around these area, so it was weird. But he wouldn't complain... it was a refreshing sight from the sorrowful vibe the forest gives.

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(( Ahhhhhhh I havent posted for awhile 🥹. Anyways, hope you enjoyed this short chapter lol. Feel free to give constructive criticism ))