#// also all forsyth dialogue & gestures & such were provided directly by pat! <3

[aimlessarchery]

🐕-A memory of teamwork

(from the ‘more memories’ ask meme !)

Python pushes the flap of his tent (their tent, really) open, yawning widely enough to feel the stretch in his jaw. He steps blearily past the glowing remains of a campfire he'd set hours ago—the lingering chill of Wyrmstym hasn't quite dissipated, but it's far too high a risk to create a beacon bright enough to draw attention from any unsavory folk that might be lingering out by the roads. Forsyth had remarked on the increase in their numbers a year or two ago, and that was before a regicide could really stir people up into a violent fuss. True to his vigilant (high strung) nature, Forsyth sits with his back to the fire facing out into the dark. Python drops a hand on his shoulder as he approaches.

"Stand down soldier, your turn's up. Go get some rest before morning."

Forsyth whirls around at the touch, coiled tight like a spring. Or maybe pulled taut like an old, frayed rope, given the dark shadows beneath his eyes that can't be completely attributed to the low light of the fire. "Hwa--? Oh, Python!" A stubborn light still flickers in those hazel irises, shadowed or not. "No, don't worry about me. I don't think I could sleep if I tried." Python strides around to Forsyth's side and sits beside him, blithely ignoring his companion's assertions. "Yeah? Well I'm not interested in waking up to an axe in my back after your knightly nerves finally knock you out. Why don't you try anyway?" "…I will not deny that my perceptive ability is…hindered, right now." Forsyth fidgets with his lance, wearing the grimace that he always does when Python backs him into a corner in their arguments. "But that does not change that sleep will not find me in my current state." Python stretches his limbs in preparation for properly settling in. It's going to be a few dark, chilly hours before the sun finally rises to greet them. "You could go hide from it in our tent if y'want." He throws a sidelong glance Forsyth's way. "Either way. I'm makin' sure nothing else finds us out here." "Hide? Perish the thought." Forsyth's response is as predictable as ever. A small smile plays at Python's lips. What's slightly less expected is the warm weight against his side when Forsyth settles against his shoulder, so suddenly and quietly that it's unlikely he'd thought too much about the gesture. "Thank you, Python. I hope your own rest was fruitful." Python huffs a voiceless laugh. "Mine always are," he lies. Sleep was difficult enough on the regimented schedule of a soldier, with rough spun sheets awaiting him in the barracks at night when he could finally lay to rest. Now he'd traded the stone walls of a fortress for the thin canvas of a tent to keep out the elements for the past two nights; a simple bedroll his only sanctuary after hours of trekking halfway across the countryside. Following Forsyth is an exhausting journey—has been ever since he packed up and trailed behind him down the path out of their little village. The tent-pitching and fire starting and night watch bickering on the way to a new destination would almost, almost be nostalgic, if it weren't so damned miserable. The songs of crickets and frogs blur together into a high-pitched chorus, the only sound save for the sporadic pop or crack from the campfire. A gust of wind sets a shiver up Python's spine that's soothed by the warmth of the body next to him. He glances down, mouth open to comment on how surprisingly quiet he's been, and shuts it. Forsyth's eyes are closed. Python exhales with a helpless smile, shifting slightly to accommodate Forsyth's weight as his breathing slows. "Looks like it got you," he murmurs under his breath. "Relax. I'll make sure nothin' else finds you tonight."