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“You sure?”
Wise asks for the nth time since Belle had volunteered to. He looked at his younger sister with worry behind the counter, Belle was never one to readily volunteer herself to count numbers and figure out stock unless it interested her. That was more or less his job when it came to managing the video store, every time Belle had to do calculations she would sit and complain the whole time.
“Yeah,” Belle tries to assure with a smile. “I’ll be fine, it’s just some numbers! What’s the worst that can happen?”
“We don’t make the electricity bill…” Wise mumbles. “But seriously though, is there something wrong? You hate doing this stuff.”
She’s not surprised that her brother can see right past her.
Things have been still for a while, nothing new or dangerous since their last stint with Girtablullu and Dracaene almost becoming an Enchainer and being illegal with Remielle. That’s why they were able to return to New Eridu and Sixth Street, anyways. Things were going fine, calm, peacefully, but Belle couldn’t help but feel on edge considering the recent events.
It’s been so long since they’ve had a proper break.
“Just… restless, I guess,” she says. “I feel like if I’m not doing anything I’ll go insane.”
Wise’s brows furrow, worried, “Hey, we’ve all been through a lot. You should try and rest, Belle.”
“I know,” Belle sighs.
It’s just that she can’t.
Silence that drags on for too long unnerves her. She’s always waiting for alarm bells to start ringing, for something to go wrong. It’s been so long since things have gone right, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself on still nights like this.
Wise sighs, knowing that his little sister won’t let up. He drops a hand on her head, ruffling her hair affectionately, “Just don’t stay up for too long, it’s not good for you, okay? And if you need me, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Wise,” she smiles.
“Goodnight,” he pulls his hand away.
“Goodnight,” she nods.
—
She runs the numbers she got from Eighteen, lining them up with what tapes had yet to return as well as memberships sold. Business was pretty normal, slow but consistent enough to keep the lights on. Looking through the clipboard of names and rented out movies, she can’t help but smile knowing that some of their friends had passed by while she and Wise were up in Roscaelifer.
Yanagi, to rent out some really bad movies that Belle didn’t even know they still had; Jane for whatever horror-flick interested her that week; Caesar for her sappy romances; Vivian who seemed to be coming almost every other day according to Eighteen’s logs.
Everything seemed so distant now, a past that Belle couldn’t touch. Things are so different, she looks at her hand, mind briefly wandering to the glowing gold veins that had appeared during the fight in the Lemnian Hollow.
The same ones that appeared on Remielle’s skin.
She hadn’t seen the retired Void Hunter since their last meeting in Amber Hall where Remielle came to bid her a temporary goodbye as she was headed towards Vyrium to recover from overuse of Thaumiel. She wonders how she’s doing, if she’s holding up well or not.
Belle let out a sigh, scratching down another number onto her clipboard.
There was still so much she didn’t know about her power, about Pyrois, the ocular implants, Helios, her teacher.
She wishes she had her answers.
Knock, knock.
Belle blinks at the sudden sound, head snapping up to the door. She glanced at her phone’s time, it was a quarter past midnight now. Fairy had gone into rest mode and all the Bangboo were changing overnight for tomorrow’s use.
Sixth Street didn’t have many people roaming the streets at night, save for the one drunkard trying to make his way home and the stray cats around. It was unlikely for anyone to be making their nightly visit anywhere, especially considering how late it was. None of her friends had messaged her anything about coming to visit either, but her curiosity got the better of her.
If it’s a robber, she can just summon Pyrois to kick them. Her Etheric Other, while only listening to her sometimes, very clearly refuses to have her in danger or injured.
Belle moves away from the papers and numbers, slipping away from the counter and unlocking the front door, opening it.
“Hello~ I hope I’m not disturbing you too much?”
Belle’s eyes widen and she freezes.
“R-Remie?”
The woman in question smiles at her and Belle takes a couple of seconds to truly process what’s going on.
Remielle is dressed in her black dress and outfit from before, the one that Belle first met her in when she used the name ‘Ramiel’ to get around. There was a small cut on her cheek, red, but not bleeding, fresh and–
Oh.
Belle’s body acts before her mind does, grabbing Remielle by the wrist and pulling the older woman into the video store with no questions nor qualms. A noise of surprise escapes Remielle as Belle shuts the door behind. Her hand is still wrapped around Remielle’s wrist and she takes the moment to look at Remielle and her state.
Her skin was pale, dried blood on her face, and clear signs of a fight. Belle couldn’t tell because of the black color of the dress, but she was certain that Remielle was also bleeding from her abdomen too, or at least there was blood there. Cuts were littered across her skin was exposed and the more Belle looked, the more she didn’t like what she was seeing.
“Warn a girl before you pull her into your home, could you?” Remielle’s voice is teasing as always, light and airy, but even her exhaustion is clear.
“You look awful,” Belle frowns. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing much,” Remielle says and Belle furrows her brows.
“This doesn’t look like nothing much,” she says, not caring about the concern that seeps into her words and face. It’s hard to swallow down what she’s feeling right now, “Were you in a Hollow? Or…”
Did someone do this to you?
For a good second Belle thinks she nearly sees red at the thought.
Remielle is strong, very strong. She’s en exceptional fighter and possibly the best fighter that Belle knows. She was a Void Hunter for a reason. But right now, she’s also not in the best state. The Karma Core in her was chipping her every time she used Thaumiel, everytime she fought, she was losing a bit of herself.
She just doesn’t like the idea of Remielle getting hurt.
“I suppose I was just caught a little off guard by the Ethereals,” Remielle says like it’s nothing, like her clothes aren’t soaked in blood and she’s standing in the video store withholding a limp.
“I’ll get you clothes, can you walk?” Belle asks, letting go of Remielle’s wrist.
Remielle nods and Belle quickly leads her into the employee only room, ushering her onto the couch.
“I’ll get you clothes,” she says. “Do you need anything?”
“Perhaps a med kit?” Remielle responds.
Belle nods and quickly heads upstairs, grabbing some comfortable and clean clothes for Remielle to change into. She directs the retired Void Hunter to her bathroom before heading to find the med kit that Wise and her stashed in the video store.
Their friends coming back a bit bloodied and injured from commissions wasn’t an unusual thing. She’s cleaned Nicole’s wounds and bandaged up Anby more than she can remember. But it doesn’t mean that she likes doing it, if anything, this was the least favorite part about her and Wise’s line of work.
She knows the work is dangerous, going into Hollows always is. The moment you step into one, your life is already on the line, and you have such a limited time to get your job done before the Ether corruption could break you.
Remielle had to have encountered something in a Hollow for her to be that injured. There’s just no way that a person could do that to her. She was too strong, too smart, too quick for that. But then that also begs the question of why she was even in a Hollow to begin with? As far as Belle was concerned, she should be in Roscaelifer recovering from her symptoms and stabilizing Dracaene’s condition, not going into Hollows and getting stabbed.
Belle grabs the med kit, does a check of the supplies. The last time they refilled it was when the Hollow Champion Competition was going on. Everything seems to be fine and in stock and Belle genuinely hopes that the most Remielle has is cuts.
The idea of gashes and bruises swelling makes her stomach churn and not in the queasy way.
“If you keep frowning, you might get wrinkles,” Remielle comments when Belle enters the back room again. She’s sitting on the couch, looking comfortable amongst the cushions and in Belle clothes. She looks tired under the dim lighting, like the exhaustion from whatever happened had finally settled in her bones.
Belle hates it.
She hates how Remielle acts like it’s nothing when her blood is on her shoes.
“Haha, very funny,” Belle rolls her eyes, although it makes her feel a little better, that Remielle is okay enough to be teasing and joking around with her. She kneels in front of Remielle, setting down the first aid kit.
Her legs are relatively uninjured, but Belle can’t say the same for the rest of her upper body. Now with fresh eyes, Belle can see the cuts and bruises beginning the swell and it makes it hard to breathe.
“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Remielle calls out gently, a hand reaching out to Belle. She cups Belle’s cheek in her hand, her touch warm and gentle; grounding, almost, “Really, I’ve been through worse.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Belle shakes her head, already pulling out supplies. She has resigned herself around, it doesn’t matter what Remielle thinks about her injuries, she’s not leaving until they’re taken care of. The pink haired woman pulls away as Belle organizes; she stares at white gauze and alcohol prep pads and she feels something winding up in her throat, “Just let me help you.”
Something in Remielle’s face softens; her eyes swimming with something wistful and melancholic, like she’s seeing a ghost of her past. Belle doesn’t know but the more she looks at Remielle the more she just wants them to be okay again, not sitting in the middle of the night in the dim lighting of the employee backroom of Random Play where Belle and Wise get up to their proxy jobs, with Remielle and her unknown injuries on the couch and Belle sitting in front of her with a first med kit.
She just wishes that Remielle hadn’t just come to her with a teasing smile and odd questions and funny things to say to get under Belle’s skin rather than hobbling in, bloodied and bruised.
“It’s rotten work,” Remielle says quietly after a moment. “You’ll stain your hands.”
She says it like her existence is a sin.
Like her very being is one that shouldn’t. Something wracked with sin and strife, Remielle says it like she could destroy the world at any moment and burn the people in it. She says it like the guilt that flows in her veins will seep into Belle’s hands and kill her. She says those words like she’s afraid of dragging Belle down into the abyss.
Like she’s a monster waiting to inch closer to her deathbed.
But none of that matters anyways, because if Remielle thinks she’s a walking form of sin, Belle will argue that she’s the existence of a human who has loved.
“It doesn’t matter,” Belle responds easily, “if it’s you.”
Remielle doesn’t say anything, leaving the moment open and vulnerable. She doesn’t say anything because it looks like for once, Belle has rendered her speechless. It’s nothing really, a couple of words, but for some reason, the retired Void Hunter looks at her like she had just opened up the world and asked her how she would like it. And Belle thinks she feels her heart squeeze when Remielle shakes her head, a small but fond smile gracing her lips as her cheeks tint ever-so-slightly pink.
Just for a moment, the world stops.
“Charming, aren’t you?” Remielle asks, her tone light. The air between them slips back into their usual routine, light-hearted and easy.
The world resumes around them.
Belle exhales, shaking her head.
“So what happened?” she asked.
“I went into a Hollow,” Remielle says casually. “I was just caught off-guard by the amount of Ethereals. And well, I’m not necessarily in my best state right now…”
There’s a sinking feeling that lies in Belle’s chest, reaching into her lungs and falling into her stomach. She thinks about Remielle in a Hollow, doesn’t matter which one, just any, caught-off guard and ambushed. Remielle is strong, she’s the strongest person Belle knows, probably, but she’s not in her best condition. And the idea of Ethereals attacking her and her having to flee makes Belle sick.
The idea of Remielle’s blood on the ground and–
She makes a noise to distract herself, reaching to take Remielle’s hand, finding a cut on her knuckles. Her skin is warm and it’s not bleeding, but an open wound is an open wound and Belle takes an alcohol pad and gently presses it against the wound.
Remielle lets out an unfavorable hiss but doesn’t pull away.
“Sorry,” Belle mumbles before putting a bandaid over the wound.
“I would feel much better if you just kissed it better instead,” Remielle sighs, something teasing in the back of her throat.
Belle furrows her brows. She stares at Remielle’s face, something between amusement and affection in the pink haired woman’s expression then back at the now bandaged wound. It’s late at night, something past midnight and Remielle’s hand in hers is warm, fingers delicate but calloused with experience.
Against her better judgment, Belle presses a kiss against Remielle’s knuckles.
Her lips barely grazes the retired Void Hunter’s skin, mostly meeting the wound Belle had just bandaged.
Quick and fleeting, Belle pulls away without any further decor.
Remielle blinks, pleasantly surprised.
“Oh.”
She sounds almost breathless.
Belle feels her face warm, ignoring it, she continues to analyze Remielle’s arm, not bothering to look at what kind of expression on her face.
“If you keep doing things like that,” Remielle begins, her tone keeping it’s playful disposition albeit Belle can hear the softness at its edges, “I might just start falling for you, Belle. Be a little easier on my heart, won’t you?”
“Who even says that?” Belle mumbles, trying to hide the redness on her face. “Let me see the rest of your arms.”
Remielle doesn’t fight her on that, outstretching both arms for Belle to assess the damage. There was a long cut on her right, bruising on her left. Belle is quick to disinfect despite Remielle’s protests about the alcohol wipes and bandage after applying an antibacterial ointment. She quickly gets it all done, she doesn’t want to look anymore than she already has to.
All of this already upsets her.
Of all things to be doing, she never thought she’d be bandaging Remielle in her home like this.
Couldn’t they meet on regular circumstances?
“Is there any others I should know about?” Belle is looking at Remielle’s stomach when she asks, eyeing the likely injury underneath the shirt Belle had let her borrow.
Remielle’s hands fidget where they sit in her lap, her mouth stays closed, she hesitates. A fine line between wanting to properly get patched up but also not wanting to worry Belle any more than she’s been bothered.
She’s already troubled her poor proxy enough tonight.
“Remie,” Belle frowns. “Take off your shirt.”
“Hey, wait, at least take me out to dinner before you ask me,” Remielle teases, eyes twinkling. Belle shoots a glare and Remielle folds without any further pressure, “Okay, okay. Just… don’t get too upset, okay? It’s not a good look on you.”
Remielle pulls the shirt over her head, leaving herself just in a bra and sleep shorts. Belle tries to not actually gawk or look because Remielle is unreasonably gorgeous, but then her eyes catch sight of the gash that stains her skin. It’s on the right side of her torso, a long cut that stretches to her side.
It’s not deep enough to require stitches, but large enough to require attention. She swallows past the unfortunate closing of her throat and grabs another roll of bandages.
“Beli used to do this,” Remielle reminisces and it makes Belle stop for a moment. The retired Void Hunter chuckles, lightly, “Really, I wasn’t very careful back in the day. She’d always scold me… drag me wherever and make me sit.”
“Did she?” Belle asked.
“Mhm,” Remielle smiles, she lets out a wince when Belle meets the wound with an alcohol pad, carefully disinfecting it. “Ow—still hurts.”
“Of course it does,” Belle shook her head. “What else did Colonel Vike do for you? It sounds like she just took care of you.”
She looks at Belle for a moment, eyes softening with something like longing.
Just like you do.
“She did,” Remielle says instead. “She really did.”
Belle’s thankful it really isn’t that deep, Belle doesn’t think she could stomach stitching up Remielle like how she and Wise did with Anby that one time. Afterwards, she had to vomit in their bathroom, just a whole mix of too much in her throat and lungs.
She doesn’t know what she’d do with herself if she had to do the same with Remielle.
“You’re pretty good at this,” Remielle comments, taking a look at the wrappings once Belle is finished. She pulls her shirt back on. There’s this small look of awe on her face as she looks at Belle’s work, “Is this a part of your job description as a proxy?
“No,” Belle shakes her head.
She grabs a bandaid just before closing the med kit shut. She stands up and takes Remielle’s face in her hands wordlessly, tilting it so she can find the cut on the pink haired woman’s cheek. Her skin is soft and warm, and Remielle doesn’t say anything, surprised at the gesture, cheeks tinting red as Belle gently presses the bandaid onto her face.
“This stuff happens to my friends too,” Belle says, pulling away.
She thinks of Anby and Billy and Nicole hauling her into the video store, a large gash on the side of her torso. She and Wise had learned very quickly how to stitch up wounds that day. Hugo and Vivian stumbling in after one terrible infiltration; the Sons of Calydon after what happened to Pompey, the injuries and burns on Caesar. Even in Waifei too with Yuzuha after saving her from the Miasmic Fiend, and Manato’s injuries after escaping Ferox; Shunguang after the fight with the Primordial Nightmare.
As their proxy and friend, Belle has been long relegated to the sidelines where she plays navigator and medic. A part of it has always sickened her, the inability to help any further than what she was allowed to.
And perhaps this is why they—she and her brother—have found themselves so wrapped up in the mysteries of New Eridu and its past since unraveling their powers.
Because she’s sick of standing by and doing nothing.
But even then, when she looks at Remielle, her gaze is easy and her usual smile back on her face, bandaged, and injured, bruises blossoming on her skin, Belle still can’t help but feel that despite everything,
It’s not enough.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Remielle pulls her out of her thoughts, a wing passing over, tilting Belle’s chin up. The feathers are soft against her skin and Belle looks away, averting her gaze.
“I just don’t get it,” Belle mumbles. She stays standing, hands balling into fists at her sides, “This is so casual to you, but you’re hurt.”
“It just is,” Remielle tells her. “I’ve dealt with worse, Belle.”
Remielle thinks to her partial fusion with Thaumiel’s core, to killing Beliora with her own hands. To the etches of gold on her skin when she’s exhausted herself past her limit. Her life a hundred years ago, with her companions, pushing back the Dark Wall. She thinks back to Hollows and blood and people she couldn’t save and the person she had to kill.
And she looks at Belle, her blue hair and teal eyes, and upset expression.
She wants to hold Belle quietly and smooth out her worry. Something wells in her chest when Belle’s brows remained furrowed, unyielding from the clear concern that lies in her.
“Can’t you just be a little more worried about yourself?” Belle requests. Her voice is small, pleading almost, “Enough with all your self-destructive tendencies and trying to die all the time, Remielle. Would it kill you to care a little more about what happens to you?”
Remielle’s expression softens.
“It… It doesn’t matter in the long run,” she says quietly. She pauses, her breath soft before looking up at Belle, years of sorrow and lost memories in her eyes. The grief of a woman who had to wake up to the realization that the world had left her behind and so did everything else she loved, “Everything I’ve known, the people I love, the memories, it’s all gone. Nothing is left here for me. I don’t have a home to return to like you.”
“Let me be your home,” Belle tries. “Let me be something you can return to, isn’t that why we’re partners?”
Remielle laughs, a gentle melody. Her eyes are full of something that looks like adoration and speaks with love, something mixed between her grief and loss, and she shakes her head, fondness in her movement, “You never fail to surprise me.”
”I’m being honest,” Belle frowns. “I care about you. If you don’t think there’s anyone left in the world who cares about you, I do, I’m here and I care.”
”Just, please let me in.”
“Belle…” white wings flutter and Remielle takes Belle’s hands in her own, thumbs brushing along her knuckles. “What’s with you? I told myself I’d do what I needed and not get attached, but here I am, with you.”
“It’s like fates are always pulling its strings to bring me back to you.”
“And what’s so bad about that?” Belle asks, squeezing her hands.
Remielle laughs, lighter, easier.
Like the weight of her years of grief have briefly settled into something just a bit more bearable. Like she can hold and touch Belle without feeling sorry or like she’s betraying their carefully crafted relationship.
And against her better judgment and the wills of the world, Remielle pulls Belle into her, arms choosing to wrap around her dear partner-in-crime as she lets herself relax and have a chance of a solace her heart had been yearning for.
If anyone could get cut on thorns and still pick the wilted flowers and love them all the same, it would be Belle.
Belle’s surprise lasts a good two seconds before she wraps her arms around Remielle, returning her embrace and the pink haired woman nuzzles into Belle’s neck, taking in a deep breath of jasmine and cedar. Remielle is warm and soft, Belle finds, quietly sinking into the embrace and Remielle holds her tighter with the feeling of someone who hadn’t felt this kind of affection in years. Her wings pull in around Belle, cradling her like Remielle was afraid to let go, now that she had finally let herself succumb to the aching, crying feeling.
“I’m sorry,” Remielle mumbles into her neck.
“You don’t have to be,” Belle says softly.
“You were worried,” Remielle sighs. “What kind of partner would I be if I didn’t feel bad?”
—
“Are you staying?”
They’re in Belle’s room now, having moved from the downstairs back room. Remielle sat on her bed comfortably, as if she belonged there.
“You should take me out to a date after all this,” Remielle teases and it makes Belle’s face redden. The proxy has half a mind to kick Remielle out of her home and then her eyes land on the bandages she just applied and the thought effectively ceases, “If you’ll have me.”
“I’ll always have you,” Belle sighs. She lies down beside where Remielle sits, patting the spot beside her, “Come.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” Remielle comments, but nonetheless obeys, lying down beside Belle. She turns, an arm wrapping around Belle’s waist and pulling her closer. Belle blinks at the action, but nonetheless lets herself get pulled as Remielle takes the chance to bury her face into Belle’s shoulder, taking in her jasmine and cedar.
“Remie?” Belle blinks, unable to hide her momentary surprise.
Sure, they were hugging earlier on the couch for a good while, but she wasn’t expecting for Remielle to also want to cuddle in bed.
“You were too far,” Remielle pouts. “I’ll have you know, I’m very clingy and needy.”
Belle’s brain pauses.
“You should’ve been prepared,” Remielle teases and Belle lets out an incoherent noise that makes her giggle into the crook of Belle’s neck. Warm and comfortable, Remielle lets out a satisfied sigh. She tugs Belle a little closer, ensuring that she can feel the proxy’s warmth everywhere.
“Comfortable?” Belle’s voice is soft, her hand brushes over where Remielle has held her.
“Very, I’m enjoying myself,” Remielle hums into Belle’s shoulder.
“Ah,” Belle swallows, “…okay.”
“No debate?” Remielle inquires. Something pulls in her chest, in her heart; it’s warm and adoring and she thinks she wants to keep the feeling and tuck it away somewhere safe, “You usually always have something to say.”
“Not tonight,” Belle shakes her head. She rolls over to face Remielle, teal eyes twinkling with something that looks like affection, “You can do what you want, you know?”
“Can I just hold you?” Remielle asks. “And stay for a little?”
There isn’t a word strong enough to explain this moment. The feeling of having someone to hold in your arms after restless nights of wondering what could’ve changed. How inexplicably safe Remielle feels with Belle right in this moment. The world is turning and spinning and she wants nothing more to breathe in Belle’s jasmine cedar scent and bask in her sunlight.
Her regret lingers and her grief follows, but when Belle looks at her, something tender in her gaze, Remielle feels like she can breathe normally.
She can let herself rest and feel human again.
For tonight, she can pretend like the world and its secrets doesn’t worry her.
And just for tonight, she can lay in Belle’s bed with the woman in question in her arms and sleep peacefully.
“You can stay however long you want,” Belle says, before burying herself into Remielle’s collarbone, returning the embrace as retired Void Hunter’s arms automatically tighten around her, “I’ll be mad if you don’t.”
Remielle smiles.
“We can’t have that now, can’t we?”
“Nope, not at all.”