Malefactor Redux

[Gildarts]

A few days rest did a man and -particularly a Prime- wonders. His wounds had sealed, his ribs had more or less healed, and any day now the pain would finally yield.

On the bed to his left lay the orc, who had had take a gnarly rock to the head. He had only just awoken this morning. He had slept so long and deeply, his slumber resembled that of a coma. Whompt had risen while Gildarts was gnawing on a small bite of bread and steak. The scent had stirred his senses and sparked the hunger of his stomach. A meal was sitting next to him, which he took reluctantly. The two Primes broke their bread in silence while the Orc huffed down his plate.

After the slurping sounds had passed with the final close of the orc's chomping jaws, he flexed his fingers, muscles in his hands to the tendons in his toes and grunted as though to say, "good enough" before the other prime in the room finally caught his eye. "Oi."

Gildarts looked up, he had finished his meal much quieter, and much faster than the Orc who had not eaten for days. By the look in the mercenary's dark eyes, Gildarts could tell that Whompt remembered what had happened. The burns on is green skin had been covered with ace bandage and gauss, which he was now unraveling with ambivalence where little to no traces of pain touched his face.

After the rolls of white had been removed, and the last shedding of his mummified wraps lay in a mound in the ground, Whompt wordlessly sized Gildarts up, and put two and two together. Based on the serene yet bracing expression that hung between the lines of the Fairytail wizard's face, Whompt knew that after Gildarts had driven the Malefactor from the orc's infested body, that he had taken possession of it. And it was not the other way around. It was not as it had been for the Orc, for Gildarts wasn't transformed into... Well, a bloodthirsty monster that was no better than a nameless fiend.

A few steps carried Whompt over to Gildarts' stretcher, but now, he too had risen. The warriors' eyes met, their shoulders stood stern, as their confidence's static met man to orc, filling the room.

On Whompt's lower lip, a curl pulling downward was formed, it resembled dissatisfaction, and just as Gildarts seemed like he was about to say something regarding what had happened, the Orc shoved his hand out and took Gild's good one, seizing it to deliver a powerful handshake. "We will meet again, wizard."

The words were not a threat, and Whompt bounded out of the room after collecting his gleaming axe. His steps seemed to be weighed slightly with a heavier pride, for his wounds managed healed a bit faster than Gildarts' had.

"What was that all about?" Piqui's head shot out of the pillow case as Gildarts moved into a stretch.

"Ready to go?" He asked her.

"Sure but I was ready three days ago, there's this other cat here who thinks she owns the place!" Piqui squeaked and made her way up to Gildarts' bandaged shoulder, "And you were ready too, what kept you? Or was it because you wanted to see Whompt off? He didn't even say good bye to me, I-"

She was silenced by the telling look in his eyes. "I know," he began but never seemed to finish.

"So shall we go?"

"Let's."



... After a long creeping silence, the nurse came in and exclaimed a shriek of terror, "BOTH MY PATIENTS ARE GONE!"