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“... ... ...”
The Silent looked particularly exhausted this go around. While her face was covered by the Nemesis' skull, the Merchant could easily see the bags under her eyes. Her movements were slow and sluggish. She even nearly dropped a shiv.
It was strange to see her like this; out of everyone, the Silent was usually the most resilient. Not much got to her. Even when she came to his shop battered and bruised, she never paused. She always moved ahead, resolute and firm in her convictions. Now, though ... not so much.
His eyes wandered, taking in the sight of her relics for this climb. There were plenty; he could see the small torii clipped onto her cloak and the gremlin horn poking out of her cloak. Once his gaze wandered just a bit lower, he noticed the coffee dripper on her hip. Remnants of coffee pooled at its edge, then fell to the floor.
Ah. That explained it. That relic was quite the siren song -- one did need energy, but sacrificing sleep for it? Not worth it, in the Merchant’s opinion. But it wasn’t his climb, nor did he know the Silent’s circumstances. Best to not judge.
“No rush. No rush.”
The Silent gave him a look -- one he couldn’t quite parse. Was that contempt? Bafflement? Just plain old disbelief? He didn’t know, but for once, the Merchant surprisingly cared. One gets fond of people one sees over and over again, he supposed. To see them in a state like this ... why, it almost hurt his heart.
And, quite frankly, he didn’t know how to process that.
Much to the Merchant’s surprise, the Silent sat down across from him. She had her legs crossed, and her cloak cascaded across the floor in a most graceful manner. After an awkward moment of silence, she pulled out a small meal ticket and held it out to him.
The Merchant nodded in understanding, then pulled his massive bag of supplies over. It was mostly filled with cards and relics, but there were also some potions inside. Laying on the bottom, however, was some of his food for the week. He never minded giving these heroes some; it would just reappear when things reset.
Today’s offering was something that the Ironclad would have enjoyed more, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, protein would give her more energy. Some chicken legs with mushrooms -- no, not those mushrooms -- would be quite the hearty meal.
He rose, then walked to the campfire just a few feet away. Of course, he kept an eye on his shop. The Silent was an honorable woman, but one could never be too careful with their stock. Losing all of that now would be horrific! No, it simply wouldn’t do.
One glance, and she hadn’t moved. Good.
The Merchant crouched by the dimming fire and held the chicken over it. He turned it slowly, making sure that each and every inch of the chicken would be nice and piping hot for his guest.
He took another look. The Silent’s head had moved forward just a bit, then jolted back into place. She was staring ahead, seemingly vacantly. She must be more out of it than he had presumed.
Once everything was ready, he took the meal back to the Silent and handed it to her. She took it, then stared at it for a few moments. The Silent said plenty with a slight tilt of her head and the rise of an eyebrow. The Merchant just shrugged and took his place back across from her. Either she ate it and got her strength back, or she didn’t and wasted a perfectly good relic. Her choice.
In the end, the SIlent bowed her head in thanks and began to eat. It was unnerving to see food just disappear under that massive skull she wore, but the Merchant could easily just not look at it. Besides, staring was quite rude.
The Merchant wished that he had someone back then to look after him, even if it was only in a businesslike manner. If he had been able to buy things, it would’ve made his climbs a lot easier. It would’ve made them less lonely, too, for that matter.
Still, though, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of familiarity anyhow. The Merchant remembered these climbs and how exhausting they were. They took everything he had and more -- each one left him exhausted just like this. And each time he prayed for release, some way for this all to stop, Neow just brought him back again.
It was almost purgatory, in a way. A purgatory that no one deserved.
“... I used to be like you,” he said wistfully.
The Silent tilted her head up to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. The Merchant stared blankly back at her, arms tucked away in his robes and feet firmly on his not-for-sale rug. She was dying to ask questions -- he could tell. But surely the Silent knew that he wouldn’t answer any of them.
So, they simply sat together. The Silent ate, and the Merchant not-so-subtly flashed his merchandise to her, trying to get a last-second sale in these tense times. The Silent wasn’t biting. What a shame! Usually that just meant he had to try harder. And if she wasn’t in such a sorry state, he would be pushing.
But just seeing her this tired made him feel sorry for her. So, for once, he’d lay off. Just this once, though. The woman deserved a peaceful meal before the trials ahead -- trials he had never gotten to.
After finishing her meal, the Silent rose to her feet. The Merchant could tell that she was just a bit steadier in her footing. A good thing.
“Heading up?”
The Silent merely nodded, adjusted her skull, then walked ahead. The Merchant simply watched her go, trepidation in his eyes and gangly blue fingers clinging to his cloak.
This would determine so much. Would she beat the corrupted heart of this Spire? Would she be able to even get there? What would happen to him? So many questions, and no answers to be had. Ah, karma.
The Merchant wanted to pack up his store, but where could he go? The City was far, far away from here, and it wasn’t like there was any way out of ... wherever this was. So maybe it was best to wait. Wait, and see.
And if there was one thing the Merchant was good at, it was waiting.