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aqueluna · 2 years

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Prompt 25 (Extra/Free) - Entertain

CW: Mention of illness

“W-Wow… you must be really tired,” a squeaky-voiced stutter crept out from across the candlelit infirmary, contents as shielded from the sun by the thick, almost florally spiralling hoarfrost as they were by the fact that it had set a good hour or so ago. “You’ve yawned maybe um… twenty-eight times? Twenty-nine? Um, a lot in the last f-five minutes.”

Another, cavernously dramatic yawn rolled forth from the pyjama-clad Raen quite at odds with the alert, expectant glint to her luminescently ruby limbals, gaze wandering the room predominantly, though ever returning to observe the Veena sat across the room at her, crooked hand gently swishing, flicking and swirling as she dabbed paint across another canvass. Another yawn…

“Oh… I’m boring you a-aren’t I? You’re trying to g-get my attention without asking for it,” the rangy woman occasionally known as Spins mused, drumming the bottom tip of her paintbrush against her chin. The sickly detective scowled, face curdling from the veritable wooden mask it’d been before, ripe with offence so grave an onlooker might think her entire lineage slighted.

“Nonsense, your theory has three grave flaws. Firstly - you’re wrong. Secondly - I command attention with my presence, my grace, my delightful face, I needn’t “try”,” Chiho began, thick, aristocratic Hingan drawl oozing from her lips, concluding with a huff, “Thirdly - I only want attention from attractive people.” Holding up a pale, dainty finger as if to lend her words a sliver of gravitas.

“Oh… that’s true, I’m not r-really pretty,” the wretchling offered lightly, as gently and lacking in the craved offence as if the Raen had offered talk of the weather. A flicker of disappointment wending its way up Chiho’s visage as her insult fails to land. It wasn’t in truth, that the notion didn’t upset the Veena as a whole, but coming from -her- of all people? It had ceased to mean anything.

The arrogant, affluent brat was simply impossible to take seriously, too quick to resort to slinging insults, fish for arguments and to grandstand - words that had once stung so thoroughly that the notion of even being in the same room as her had been frightful utterly dulled.

“You were right about one thing though - you -are- boring me. Entertain me,” Chiho demanded, volume and bombastic energy draining from her voice as she reluctantly observes the ineffectuality of her barbs, deflating slightly. Had she truly fallen so far that even the hideous twig of a creature before her refused to rise or crumble beneath her words?

The wretchling considered the request finally given briefly, dim, dark gaze glancing across to the old, longcase chronometer then offered a hesitant nod, piping up, “O-Okay, I think it should be fine, it’ll be a little while until d-dinner time and I don’t r-really mind.”

Truthfully? The scrawny amnesiac didn’t mind, the foul-mattered brat she’d found herself lingering in the company of, treating and otherwise reluctantly assisting was unpleasant, but with the worst of her tuned out that which remained was so dreadfully pitiable… Company she’d once dreaded, now just scarcely preferable to nothing.

Chiho’s expectant gaze upon her, Spins mused on exactly how she might entertain the heiress. A joke perhaps? But she wasn’t especially funny. She’d gotten about as far as working out that laughing at other people’s quips even if they were dull endeared her to them. Thoughts eventually congealing around one of her favourite subjects, one to which the library that housed the infirmary was prodigiously well-equipped to sate.

“W-We could read a book together? What sort of books do you like, Chiho? I c-could go fetch one if yo-...” The wretchling began, only to be cut off by another terrible yawn.

“I know how to read, I don’t need you to do it for me. If I felt like reading, I’d do so without you Spoons.” followed the interrupting detective bluntly.

The sting of the rejection of one of her favourite hobbies, one the waifish bibliomane scarcely got to indulge with others nearly as often as she liked, was utterly diminished by the ridiculous blunder of the name she was in the process of considering a replacement for.

“You know that’s not my n-name, but the more you s-say it, the more I like it, maybe it should be,” Spins snickered, subsequently placating, “I know you c-can read. Sometimes you f-fall asleep with the book on your f-face, reading books with p-people isn’t about um… ability? It’s f-fun to experience t-together and do the voices.” Gentle, ocean blue doe gaze at odds with the glimmering bright rubies of Chiho’s own as she considered her.

“B-But something else then,” Spins ultimately surrendered lightly, a brief, pensive, fleck of guilt dancing across the pit of her stomach. For all her boasts, pomposity and ludicrous claims of legions of lovers, she’d found while running errands, fetching things for and treating the detective that she loathed sharing her personal space, and absolutely despised being touched, bristling defensively and recoiling rigidly. Reading a book together would not be kind to her.

Adding a few brushstrokes to the portrait of the chipped old mandragora vase she’d been working on, bringing to life the azure hue of the royal blue oldroses nestled within, the wretchling offered another suggestion lightly, “Do you l-like to paint, Chiho? You usually h-have a lot to say when I p-paint.” It was true enough, she’d often brought her paints into the infirmary as to indulge in her second-favourite hobby and not leave the sick Hingan unattended too long and the effort was usually enough to prompt a conversation.

“I like it well enough,” Chiho conceded, the waxing tenseness in her form ebbing slightly at more agreeable suggestion, eventually drawling pretentiously in elaboration, “I’d call it a singular aspect of a far greater art, lesser for its incompleteness, but not entirely without value for the facet it represents I -suppose-...” A sweetly mellifluous giggle rang out from across the room, the bookworm unable to help but chortle, the sound wrinkling the heiress’ nose, prompting her to huff, “What’s so funny?”

“Y-You are. You can’t e-even say you like something without having to p-put it down to b-barely be worth your attention or lift it up to be o-only something you are good at, it’s so r-ridiculous!” the chortling amnesiac managed to creak out in between wheezing breaths.

Chiho’s scowl returned with a vengeance, cheeks inflating into a brief, distinctly puffy-cheeked pout, rocking in place to better push herself into sitting up all the more, eventually exhaling, “My papa says I’m funny… but also says I’m not to be mocked. The fact of the matter is that I am a -phenomenal artist, drawing from the inspiration that forever flows free from my bosom, a living piece of art myself.” Pointing an accusatory finger at the lanky Veena, the plaster pale Raen barked, “I had thought to spare your feelings, but I see you need to be “taken down a peg” as you Eorzeans say. I challenge you to a painting contest!”

“I’m not E-Eorzean, I think I a-already told you that,” Spins frowned, a long, leporine ear lopping limply to the side as she craned her head to stare gormlessly at an angle, eyes briefly crossed in fixation upon the challenging digit. Unfolding her scraggly, bony body up from her chair, a smile crept its way onto the wretchling’s face at the notion, returning the gesture with a crooked digit of her own, squeaking, “As long as w-we’re done before dinner though, I accept. What are we p-painting?”

“Portraits. Each-others. I’ll do you that much of a favour - I dare say if it’s of -my- face, even you could come up with something that might be valuable someday. Such is my confidence I will win, I’m quite happy to lend you that advantage,” the boastful Raen offered, remnants of a pout twisting into an awfully inflammatory sneer. Despite her mannerisms in offering the notion, the prospect ultimately agreeable enough to prompt a nod from the wretchling.

“Aaaaand, aaaaaand!” the increasingly excitable Raen barked, stifling a cough into her pyjama sleeve, continuing after a few shallow breaths, “If - no, -when- I win. I should like a prize.” At the curious cant of a head from the sunny-maned Veena, Chiho elaborated, gaze gleeful at the notion, “I have something I think might… improve your look - such as it is.” Wrinkled nose as the wretchling is considered leaving it quite clear indeed exactly how it was.

“I’d like you to wear it for a few days. I am magnanimous, yes? Even in my imminent victory? Chiho Amada the Eleventh - always considering the needs of her lessers,” the arrogant, self-absorbed detective laid out.

Restraining a snort, the wretchling murmured amusedly, “W-Wow… I sure hope it isn’t embarrassing… I’d h-hate to be lesser -and- embarrassed I t-think.” The excitement coursing through the sickly heiress was, in truth - ever so slightly refreshing to behold amidst day after day largely dominated by lethargy - she didn’t terribly like Chiho, but it was hard not to think well of such an improvement in one’s patient, even for a failure of a chirurgeon’s apprentice.

“What of you then? For fairness’ sake even if the outcome is nigh impossible it’d only be proper for you to choose a prize too,” Chiho insisted, offering a few suggestions with a lackadaisical sweep of a pyjama-sleeved arm as her opponent-to-be considered the question, “Coin? An autograph? A kiss on the cheek?”

Spins shook her sunny-maned head, stuttering up with the choice that’d best amuse her and she supposed, be good for the self-absorbed Raen, “N-No… I don’t really want any of t-those. If I win, I w-want you to say one n-nice thing to every person you meet for a w-week when you f-feel better and it h-has to actually b-be nice. No t-technicalities, no put-downs, no c-comparisons to you.”

The notion soured the heiress’ countenance, just as she expected it would. “Of c-course, if you can’t do that… I wouldn’t blame you for giving up,” the wretchling offered, off-handedly, the kindling that ignited the competitive, crimson glare cast her way.

“I -can-! I can do it! Don’t you dare think I can’t! I’ll blow you away with how truly heartfelt the niceties are!” hurriedly barked Chiho, eager to defend her own capabilities, puffing up pretentiously. “Of course… that requires that I lose and I don’t think that likely. Enough bloviating, face me.”

The wretchling’s lips curled into a grin as she divided her paints and brushes into two, a spark of competitiveness taking root in her own heart.

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