Pilot
“You look happy, father.”
The echo of Oropo’s voice almost caused Yugo, the eliatrope, to miss blocking his opponent’s weapon. Luckily, he had learned to do it by heart, his body responding even when he wasn’t paying attention, as part of his nature. His aggressor, however, was more than focused and engrossed in the choreography of swords. Triple his size and pure muscle mass, he had lunged at him with that huge vicious laugh, only to meet the small shield on his wrist.
“What do you mean?” he turned casually, the weapons made of pure wakfu, grinding as if they were metallic.
“Damn it, poet, can you stop interfering?” grumbled the huge Bouillon.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” the ghostly eliotrop levitated away from them, but sounded as if he was right next to them, “I’m just pointing out how energetic you are these days, despite all the activity you’ve had, I’d even say you look… revitalized, am I wrong?”
“Nonsense!” proclaimed the giant, pointing a thick finger at him, “He’s just as small and scrawny as always!”
Exasperated, Yugo rolled his eyes and with a swipe pushed his opponent’s sword back, making his shield disappear.
“The truth is,” he said, rubbing his hair, careful to avoid the wakfu wings protruding from both sides of his head, “I’m tired, but you already know that.”
He could sense him raising an eyebrow in his direction.
“That’s true, father, yet instead of enjoying a pleasant sleep, you come here, every night, since the defeat of the necroms. Every night you face one of us, after long days of controlling the damage of a war, instead of resting.”
“Pfff, I feel like he’s talking in riddles again,” Bouillon leaned back, resting against some invisible wall.
Yugo rubbed his eyes, then his temples:
“So, how do I seem revitalized to you?”
The eliotrop smiled, with that older and wiser version of his gaze.
“As if you’ve reached an agreement with yourself after so long avoiding it.”
“Pfff,” he mimicked the giant’s gesture, “now you’re going to make me agree with Bouillon.”
“See?” the aforementioned exclaimed effusively, “someone who understands me, that moves me so much!”
He noticed when Oropo slid with his usual silence to his side.
“Why did it take you so long?” the question came in a low flat voice.
Yugo glanced at him for a moment and resumed walking aimlessly, because he couldn’t stand still.
“There are more important things right now.”
“It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time.”
“And a couple of months will make a difference?”
“It’s been four, and yes, it seems to be making one.”
He stopped, and the presence next to him did too.
“How can I even consider it? Everything that exists, the world as we know it, is about to change and what am I thinking? If someone who has lost so much can accept someone else into her life, if she can accept me,” he sighed in frustration, “there’s no way I can put her in that position.”
Oropo’s silence only meant he was about to drop one of his reflective phrases or maybe one of his encrypted premonitions. And he didn’t disappoint, as usual.
“Is it her you fear won’t accept you, or are you the one who hasn’t fully accepted yourself?”
Yugo just rolled his eyes, while Bouillon ground his teeth impatiently:
“You know,” he spat with mockery, “some women prefer to take the initiative, but others get irritated if you don’t do it.”
“And since when are you the expert, Bouillon?” he gave the giant a crooked smile.
“I’m just saying,” he scratched his chin, “you’re overthinking something that’s already resolved,” then smiled from ear to ear, “just look at the face she makes at you, hehe. Did you want it more obvious? Seriously, if it were me, I would have already done something… and so much more with that piece of as-”
The wakfu laser almost grazed his temples, shutting him up. Some smoke lingered from the trail of the bright blue streak. Bouillon’s expression shifted from pouting at the sight of his charred hair tips still floating, to a sideways grin as he whistled softly:
“Well, well, someone is more possessive than he seems…Faster and almost more agile with their hands than with their sword, too. Good news for your lady, I should say, hehe.”
Indeed, Yugo’s hands were still glowing neon blue, and his face was an expressionless mask:
“And I’d watch my words when referring to her if I were you.”
For his sake, he decided to ignore Oropo’s barely contained snicker.
“Hey!” his opponent pointed an accusing thick finger at him, “I’m not the one always eyeing or handling her whenever he gets the chance!” he rubbed the scorched part of his hair. “At least now we know what sets you off. It’s not like we didn’t know before, right, poet? Being in his head doesn’t make a difference anyway, you’d have to be blind…”
“So typical of you to rub salt in an old wound.” Oropo said in a flat voice. Then he turned to Yugo, who was rubbing his temples hard, “Unless you’ve already gotten over it. But I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Please,” he stopped them, raising his hands, “I know you’re in my head and share my thoughts and emotions: but just a bit of privacy, it’s the only thing I need… I hope it’s not too much to ask.”
“Relax, father, we can’t go anywhere, but you can always ignore us. At least while…”
“Alright!” he exploded, but forced himself to take a deep breath to calm down, “I get it: you’re not going anywhere, I can live with that, really. But her,” he pointed at one and then the other in a severe tone, “you respect her! Is that clear?”
Oropo smiled.
“Crystal clear.”
“Pfff, whatever.” Bouillon just snorted, bringing his sword over his shoulder, “Are we going to fight again, or what?”
More relaxed, but not less irritated, the eliatrope used his fingers to push his hair back, his luminous wings flickering when he brushed them slightly.
“Nah, tomorrow. As you already know, I’m exhausted right now.”
“Riiiight,” Bouillon drawled, giving a knowing look to the other eliotrop, “we’ll have a busy day tomorrow too, right? Very, very busy.”
He was about to retort something sharp, but that would only make his sly grin wider, and he’d have time to wipe it off. Tomorrow, once he finished what he had to do.
What, surely, he couldn’t keep postponing.
If he was allowed to.
