Work Text:
Wyll believed he did the right thing. He knows he did. If he hadn't Karlach would've been unfairly slaughtered, all because he had stupidly decided to take the word of a devil. Him of all people should've been able to figure out the con. Still, he did the right thing by refusing to hurt her.
But that didn't mean he liked the consequences. Being dragged through the nine rings of hell had been such excruciating pain, feeling his own skin burn and twist until those horns had sprouted from his head and his vision darkened into a sickening red revealing the corrupted eye. She had taken the one of the few things that was his own, his body, his identity and changed it into something unrecognisable. Something that makes people turn their head away from in fear. He hated it.
Now he had to live with it. Something he is trying to accept. even when part of him was convinced this was all a dream, that he'd wake up and all would be well, and his body would be his own again. But that day never came. So he endured, he ignored the looks the people he had once considered friends gave him, ignored the way he could never fully look at his own reflection, and he ignored the aching feeling of something being wrong.
One thing he could not ignore was sleeping. A thing that he had once been able to do in a heartbeat. Living on the road, you had to be able to fall asleep quickly, but with the huge curling things attached to his head, there was no way he could get comfortable. And when he did those blasted things tore up the pillows he used. He spent days tossing and turning until he gives up and spends the night off by the water. Only going back when the others had awoken.
This night was no different.
Wyll had been sitting in his tent staring up into the night sky, the stars out here were so abundant they nearly took up the whole sky. The fire had died down to a simmering flame, no more than candlelight now, it was peaceful enough. Yet it did little to calm the restlessness he feels, the aching loss he has yet to accept. He tried not to focus on it, but after such an event it is hard not to be fixate on it, on the loss- or gain in his case. Wyll shifts from his place on his bedroll, trying to ignore the thoughts, they always led back to the same place. The day he had lost everything, and he despised think of that night any more than he has to.
It takes him far longer than it should've to notice the footsteps. When he does he's met with the view of Clytestra, the usually jewellery that adorns her horns, head, ears, every part of her body had been removed, leaving her completely exposed. Wyll has the foolish thought of turning his head to give her some privacy but he resists it.
"You should be sleeping. We need your strength." Clytestra motioned to his bed roll. Her tone of voice was plain, almost commanding but he knows her well enough to guess she did not mean it as a command.
She does not make any move closer, and some part of Wyll doesn't want her to. He had been the first person she told about her condition, and he had vowed to help her. But then he had woken up to a distraught Cytestra standing over a bloody Alfira, sobbing to herself.
He had failed in keeping his word.
They hadn't really spoken since then, she obviously thought he was scared of her now. And he would be lying if it wasn't a little true. The aftermath that she had left, he'd have never known it was Alfira if she hadn't admitted to the kill herself.
"I'm alright. Just a little restless." Wyll lied, she doesn't look convinced.
"You haven't been sleeping this whole week." She had explained plainly.
Wyll cocked his head to the side, failing to keep the concern out of his voice, "Have you been watching me?"
Clytestra simply nods, her hair, as white as the snow that used to cover his fathers home during the winter, falls over her horns. Distantly he feels bitter, she managed to make those so beautiful. A foolish thought, she had been born with them, they weren't a punishment from a contract broken, they were allowed to be beautiful.
It's only when Clytestra begins ruffling through her pack that Wyll realises he hasn't responded, just stared at her horns like some creep. He moves to apologies but he's momentarily shocked out of it by the sight of her holding out a pillow towards him-Of all things! It's thinner than the usual ones he's seen before, but almost as thick as the ones in his old room when he was still welcome, made with some fabric he does not recognise.
Most likely seeing the confusion, Clytestra shuffles forward a little awkwardly, "It's for your horns." She stops grimacing, "I know you're not used to them, so this should help."
The gesture is so unexpected, so randomly thoughtful Wyll almost completely forgets how to respond to it. He feels heat rush to his face, at being caught so plainly or something else he did not know. Didn't feel ready to ask himself yet. Instead he only dumbly repeats, "It should help?"
Thankfully, the confusion in his tone doesn't throw her off. She tries to smile, it comes off a little forced. Most of her expressions have been like that since Alfira, "It's thinner and made more durable- to avoid getting ripped like skin on a blade- I don't know how sharp yours are, but mine tend to do that a lot. It's easier to just try and avoid getting them near the fabric." She's still holding it out for him to take, "Other's like to stuff it with really thick feathers, so then it raises you're head off the ground more, makes it less likely to get mud on them- it's a pain to clean off. I thought you could use it for now. Until we can find a shop to purchase some oils to aid you."
"You didn't-" Wyll pauses, slowly he reaches out to take the pillow, holds it in his hands as if it's a precious jewel, "I can't take your stuff from you."
"It's not mine," She responds easily, looking a lot more at ease now he's taken the gift, "I bought it off of one of the Tieflings."
Wyll wants to protest some more, but finds he doesn't have the energy. Days of not sleeping have left him more than exhausted and it was nice. To be payed attention to like that. He hasn't had that for a long time, "Thank you. I won't forget this, I already owe you so much."
She doesn't smile, but it gets close enough, "You don't owe me anything, Wyll. You deserve a good nights sleep, especially after…" She trails off, as if she doesn't have permission to say her name or she's asking permission to bring it up.
"After Mizora," Wyll finishes for her, the bitterness in his voice surprised even him. But she doesn't seem phased, "I should've known she would've pulled a stunt like this sooner or later but I made a choice-"
"Did you?" Clytestra interrupts.
Wyll pauses, looking at the Tiefling with concern, "What?"
There's something far away in her expression, like when she goes into the bloody hazes in battle. Wyll almost doesn't want her to continue, "If there's anything I remember about devils, it's that they don't play fair. I don't know how you made your deal but they most certainly had something to do with why you signed that contract."
A small laugh makes it's way out of his throat. He doesn't mean for it to happen, doesn't fully know why it did. It startles Clytestra out of her daze, she now looks worried. He doesn't want her to be, don't want to start dissecting one of his proudest moments into something it wasn't, "You sound like you have experience."
It sounds curler than he intended it to be. Clytestra flinches back, she does not look at him when she responds, "I have experience with cruelty, that's all."
Everyone here seems to have experience with their own kind of cruelty, Wyll is starting to understand. But he knows now is not the time to try and unearth those kinds of demons. Maybe that's why he does what he does next, but he can't lie to himself that much, "Want to help me set this up?"
Once again Clytestra jumps, this time her voice is unusually high, "Help…you set up?"
The way she says it makes it sound a lot more scandalous than he had intended it to be, he can't help feel the tips of his ears heat up. He pretends it's from embarrassment, "We need to see how if it works right?"
It takes a moment for his words to register, Wyll has the privilege of watching Clytestra's white eyes widen in understanding, a similar heat rising in her cheeks, making the freckles that dance across her face stand out even more, "Right" She nods to herself a couple times before crouching down to Wyll's level, "I can show you that."
Gently, she takes the pillow from his hands, for a second barely a second, their fingers brush. The pale blueish freckled skin meet his dark scarred skin and Wyll is practically transported back to when he was a bumbling kid with a crush. He resits the urge to chase her hands and instead lets her replace his old pillow for this new one. His gaze flicks up to watch her concentrate with the placement, brows furrow like when she was delivering a blow to the goblins they fight.
"I usually have mine to the side, but yours will be fine like normal." She fluffs it up and opens her arms in a mock presentation, "It should be stuffed enough to keep your horns off the ground. If not I'll flay the skin off of the man who lied to me about this."
Despite himself Wyll laughs, "I'd be more funny if I didn't know that you're serious."
This time the reminder of her nature doesn't bring shame, she seems almost amused. Wyll feels strangely proud it's him whose helping her get through this. Like he had originally promised.
Clytestra nods towards the bed, "Try it, you need it."
"Don't be so bossy," Wyll chastised, he lowers himself to the ground. For once, the uncomfortable press of his horns against the dirt doesn't interrupt him, instead the stuffing placed in the pillow manages to swallow the discomfort and make it a lot more manageable from him to rest easily. It's almost embarrassing how he melts into it but he does not have it in him to feel ashamed when this was the most comfortable he has felt in his body since the change.
"Is it alright?" Clytestra asks, although it's pretty obvious that this is more than fine.
"Yes," He almost breathlessly replies, he should probably get up but can't find it in himself to do more than turn his body in Clytestra's direction. She's looking quite pleased with herself, looking down at Wyll with a satisfied look on her face, "Thank you for this. Most people would not have even thought to do this for me."
The Tiefling scoffs, yet it lacks any heat to be considered mocking, "Most people wouldn't risk the wrath of a devil for some woman they don't know." Her tail lazily moves from one side to another as she holds her knees close to her chest, "Think of it as an apology…for Alfira."
As soon as her name is uttered, the atmosphere turns sour. Wyll want's to- he doesn't really know. Be this any other person he would've chewed them out for even trying to apologies for something like that, but he had seen the way Clytestra had sobbed to herself, trying and failing to wipe the blood off of her hands until her skin was red. She clearly felt guilty for that. And he doesn't know what to do with that. Monsters where always so simple, they killed for evil and were punished accordingly. But could he punish her for this evil? Could he even do that now? He was a devil after all, tainted by the Hell's almost as vile as Mizora herself. Was he allowed to decided these things anymore?
He had told her that she wasn't a villain or a monster and back then he had believed it. It's heartbreaking to think he may have been wrong about that.
Wyll signs, running a hand over his face, categorizing each scar, each person helpless and lives save and those he couldn't, "I'm not the person you should be apologising to."
Her tail goes entirely still, her voice blank when she replies, "I tried asking Withers to bring her back- he can't…This is the best I can do now is contain myself until we find a cure."
No, Wyll had been right that night when she told him of the urges, she wasn't a villain or a monster. She was something else, something he's never seen before. Someone wholly unpredictable, an enigma he had never faced before. Yet she still remains determined to try and do good. And here Wyll is trying to judge her when he's a walking reminder of failure, of tainted blood and skin.
"I'm sorry too," Wyll whispers, she still hears him from the way her brows furrow in confusion, "I made a promise to try and help you if this affliction got bad and yet, when you needed me most I was not there."
Suddenly, Clytestra's face is inches away from his own, her expression one of fiery fury reflected in her blank white pupils, "Don't say that," She practically growls the words out, "You cannot keep blaming yourself for other's failures, least of all mine. I made the choice to not talk to anyone about this and that was what got Alfira killed, not you."
"Clytestra," He starts but he cannot find the words. Her claws where gripping his shoulder in a way bordering on painful and she was looking into his eyes as she was attempting to set him on fire by gaze alone. Eventually he finds the will to speak again, "If that's what you wish."
"It is," She says almost immediately, before realising just how close they have become. With Clytestra practically on top of Wyll, knees pressed up against the side of his left leg, their noses practically touching. She makes the sporadic move to pull away, yet does not coordinate it correctly as her horns bash directly into his. Akin to the way bulls horns get stuck while fighting.
"I did not," She grunts as she fails to get a grip on the ground beneath them, her face has gone pink, most likely mirroring his own, "Intend to do that- apologies."
Despite the clear embarrassment she must feel, Wyll laughs, "I'm just glad you removed you're jewels before coming here. Would've made this quite the predicament."
"It would've," Clytestra almost laughs, more like a small chuckle. He still considers it a win. She decides to try again, slowly lowering her head until their horns are no longer touching, freeing them both from the trap, "I could get you some of your own. If you'd like."
Wyll, who was a bit too caught up over losing the unexpected closeness they had just shared, does not completely catch the Tieflings words, "Pardon?"
She motions towards her own white pointed horns, "The jewels. I could get some for you. If you'd like that, makes it a lot more fun."
The idea of…embracing these horns. The very thing given to him as a punishment. To dress them up in fancy things as if they were a part of him. Had never accord to him before. It didn't feel natural to him, didn't feel like it was an option he deserved.
Clytestra seems to see his hesitance and back off, "It's perfectly fine if not. Not many Tieflings like to do it or can afford it."
"No," He finds himself yelling. Despite his thoughts, the idea seemed nice and he would be a fool to dismiss something that could help him with embracing this new side to him. Clytestra had called him a handsome devil when he had asked, not once has she shown any disdain for his traits. He shouldn't dismiss her so suddenly, "…I'll think about it. How about that?"
Satisfied with his response, Clytestra nods in approval, "If that is what you wish. You'd still look handsome no matter what."
She looks at him a while longer,one glowing eye and horns doing nothing to deter her gaze. Before she gets up to try and get some of her own sleep, foolishly Wyll wants to grab her and ask her to stay. But he does not. Even if she says all of these kind things, he did not believe them. This was a punishment, and should be treated as such, he couldn't start dressing them up as something they aren't. And he would not want to push when she was so clearly dealing with her own issues from the memory loss.
Wyll continues to watch her go until she disappears into her own tent, only then does he lay back down. As he suspected, it's the best sleep he's had since the change and by morning he finds it's a bit more easier to look at his reflection in the mirror.