W is still sleeping when Ines gets up, burrowed down into her sleeping bag with only the hint of red antennae peeking out from the top. During these long winter months, it's always a struggle for Ines to pull herself out from the warmth of her bedding and force herself to get ready. Even more so, on days like today. Ines was assigned patrol duty, so she needs to leave camp before the sun rises if she wants to complete her rounds before nightfall.

Ines bundles herself up in a heavy cloak, doing her best to not disturb her tentmate as she prepares to leave. W is, notoriously, a very light sleeper.

The sun has long set when Ines returns to their encampment, lanterns casting long shadows against the mottled snow. She makes a beeline for the communal dinner pot. Hoederer, in an apron, is handing out bowls of stew to the handful of stragglers still shuffling in.

Ines downs her portion quickly, she'd had hardly anything to eat during her patrol. Hoederer places her empty bowl into the tub of dirty dishes, and then pours her another.

"Take that back to W for me, will you? She hasn't come by for dinner yet. Seems like she isn't feeling well." Hoederer pauses for a moment, before saying softly, "I think it's something you'd be better at handling."

Between Hoederer's hushed tone, and the—frankly, alarming—amount of painkillers Ines has noticed W taking a few days out of every month, it's not difficult to guess what affliction W is probably suffering.

Poor W. Ines is grateful her periods are short and generally painless, but even with that blessing, the peculiarities of mercenary life can still make dealing with it particularly complicated.

Ines trudges across camp and uphill to her and W's tent. She can see lantern light illuminating the inside, so W must still be awake. Ines unzips the flap with one hand, balancing the bowl of soup with the other.

W lies on top of her sleeping bag, curled up and clutching her pillow, her usually lively tail instead wrapped tightly around one of her legs. Her eyes are open, but she seems dazed; she hardly reacts to Ines entering the tent and sitting down beside her.

"Hoederer told me to bring you this."

W finally glances over, and grimaces when she sees the bowl. "You can have it."

"Don't be a child. You need to at least eat something."

Ines is struck by the fact that W is clad in only her t-shirt and cargo pants, and hasn't even wrapped herself up in her blanket. Surely that can't be helping.

"Aren't you cold?"

W turns away. "...A little."

"This'll warm you up."

That gets no response. Ines decides to try another angle. "Do you want me to spoon feed you? If you don't cooperate, I'll have no other choice."

"Fine, fine! I'll eat it!" W pulls herself upright and snatches the bowl from Ines' hands. (Miraculously, without spilling any in the process.)

Ines watches W slurp up the soup—with a surprising amount of enthusiasm for someone refusing it just a minute ago.

"So, you don't have any painkillers?"

"Didn't stock up in time. It took me by surprise." W grumbles. "And we won't be anywhere near a village for days. Goddamnit."

"Mmm. I used to get them too, when I was teenager. Not really anymore."

"Wow, lucky you!" W twirls her spoon in annoyance, flinging tiny droplets of soup in Ines' direction. "I swear it's only gotten worse the older I get..."

"Oh." Ines swallows, feeling guilty. "Maybe it's different for..." She trails off, realizing too late that it's better to stop herself before she says Sarkaz.

"No shit." W turns her attention back to her dinner. Ines wishes she was better at this. She probably shouldn't have said anything at all.

"Is there... " Ines chooses her words carefully, "Anything I can do that would help?" She prays for it to come through in her voice that she's being genuine. Watching W suffer can be enjoyable, Ines won't deny that, but it loses the fun when W hasn't actually done anything to piss her off recently. Ines really does feel bad for her.

"Hmmm," W frowns, before stating matter-of-factly, "you could stab your staff through my back a few times. It'd be a good distraction."

A distraction.

"Right." Ines contemplates for a while. "So, it's mostly in your back?"

"Lower part, yeah." W sets her empty bowl and spoon down next to her boots, a reminder to return them to Hoederer in the morning.

"Would massaging it help?"

"I mean, If you're offering," W doesn't sound particularly convinced. "I guess it's better than nothing."

W stretches out and rolls onto her stomach. She props up her head on her arms, which she has wrapped around her pillow. Kneeling down beside her, Ines pushes up the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

W's back is smooth, and populated by no small number of scars. Ines traces one of them with her finger, a deep zigzag pattern that leaves her guessing what weapon could've possibly left it. Not that she'd ever ask. And if she did, would W tell her? Does W even remember herself?

"Where does it hurt the worst?"

"Around where you're touching, I guess."

Ines presses her fingers into W's skin, as light and gentle as she can. W whimpers, burying her face into her arms, tail swishing.

"Is that good?"

"God, shut up!" W groans, muffled by the pillow. "Apply more pressure!"

Ines digs her fingers in harder, moving them across W's lower back methodically. She presses down as hard as she can, continuing to repeat the process. W starts to kick her feet back and forth, her face remaining firmly planted in her pillow.

Honestly, it's a little bit fun. And it seems to be helping? At least, if Ines was only making things worse W would say so. She isn't coy about these things. When Ines switches to using the flat of her palm, W's tail starts to thrash violently, but she still doesn't make a sound. Ines wonders if she's making a concentrated effort to stay quiet.

After several minutes W lets out a long sigh, like a deflating balloon. "You can stop."

Ines hurriedly lifts her hands away. "Is the pain gone?"

"If only." W rolls onto her back, and puts her arms behind her head to support herself, avoiding eye contact. "But it's better than before."

"Oh, that's good." Ines feels the sudden need to disentangle herself from the situation, to get away before she says anything she might regret. "I'm going to bed then. It's been a long day."

"Suit yourself."

To give each other space, or more accurately, to avoid unnecessary conflict, Ines and W keep their sleeping bags and belongings as far apart as their tent allows. Ines has hers parallel to the longer side of the tent. W's is placed perpendicular to hers, making their sleeping bags form an L shape together.

Ines strips down into her underclothes, turns off the lantern, and finally, climbs into her sleeping bag. She closes her eyes, and attempts to block out the sounds of W shifting around at the other end of the tent. Ines would think she'd also be eager to get to sleep, but apparently not?

Some time passes, and W breaks the silence with a sudden declaration:

"I'm moving over there."

Ines pulls her head up from her pillow and glances over her shoulder to see the shadowy form of W, true to her word, pulling her sleeping bag across the floor of the tent.

Ines watches as W lays her bedding out right next to hers, and proceeds to tuck herself in. After taking a moment to get comfortable, W turns on her side to face Ines, and almost seems confused to see that her tentmate is staring at her. She sticks out her tongue in response.

W then scoots her sleeping bag down a little further, and drapes an arm loosely around Ines' shoulder. The new position allows W to comfortably rest her face right against Ines' chest, which she does without a hint of shame.

Ines isn't really sure why she lets W do it. There's a limit to what she can allow with the excuses of practical obligation or pity, and it's clearly been exceeded.

Ines wordlessly slips her hand into W's partially unzipped sleeping bag, and starts to rub her back again. W sighs, which then turns into a giggle.

"For as useless as you are in combat," W nuzzles further into Ines' warmth. "At least you make a decent pillow."

There's still a part of Ines that wants to defend herself, and snark back at W. But she's acting so docile, toothless jabs aside, that it seems pointless to rile her back up. Maybe that's why Ines can't turn her away. Not to mention, W seems to have finally distracted herself from the pain enough to relax...

Ines decides to say nothing. She bends down just a little, so she can comfortably rest her chin on top of W's head. W hums, a low sound coming from the back of her throat. Ines wishes she could run her fingers through W's hair, but she knows W wouldn't want her to stop rubbing her back. Her breath feels so hot on Ines' skin. She continues to hum. Actually, is it humming? It's more like—the thought makes Ines lightheaded—W is purring with content.

It's rare for them to hold each other like this. They have sex, sure—and they'll cuddle for a bit afterward, but W gets bored of it quickly. If W doesn't want to go for a second round, she'll crawl back to her own sleeping bag after a few minutes, preferring to spend her afterglow checking over her gear or touching up her manicure. (Ines on the other hand, is left to spend it alone with her thoughts.) It's nothing like how W is acting now, an alley cat unused to humans, sated at last.

Perhaps not sated completely, however. Ines feels a sharp pain at her collarbone, the unmistakable prick of W's pointed canines. Ines takes no pride in the fact she could probably recognize W from her bite alone. She's been on the receiving end of it often enough.

Ah, she must've stopped rubbing W's back for a moment. Oops. As an apology, Ines presses harder than usual when she starts back up, making W sqeak.

But it's not long before W's purring again. Ines hopes she can stay awake long enough for her movements to soothe W to sleep. She deserves the rest.

W is gone when Ines wakes up. It'd been W's turn to do patrols today, come to think of it. Her sleeping bag still lies next to Ines', physical proof that W really did spend the night before snuggled up to Ines' tits.

Ines rolls onto her back, and tries to ignore the hazy thought that her arms feel empty without W curled up in them.

W should be far away from camp by now, right? She would've left at dawn, and when Ines opens the tent flap slightly she can tell that the sun has been up for a while. There's no chance of W coming back any time soon...

Ines picks up W's pillow and hugs it close to her chest. It's still slightly warm.

Not as warm as W was.

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