-I think the whole fandom agrees that he has some sort of OCD, I imagine it manifests in his need for cleanliness (I think in the book it says that his house is extraordinary clean?) - both on his home and himself (boi needs to shave everyday, he doesn't tolerate stubble); in his supersticions, his need for perfection and an obsession with being in control and checking everything (did I lock the door? did I turn off the stove? is my knife still there? that kind of stuff)
-I also read that symptoms of OCD can include impulsive thoughts of aggressive or sexual nature (random thoughts about stabbing people when stressed? I'm afraid that fits Basta all too well)
-I also imagine that Basta has some sort of social anxiety, though he hides it behind his aggressive and commanding, authoritarian facade
-we've seen his tough exterior crumble when he lost his position of power and was put in the dungeon, boy was a mess
-he fears judgement from others, but when he faces critique he shrugs it off as if it doesn't bother him, but inside it pierces his heart
-boi is a class act, he knows how to conceal his true feelings with indifference
-but it adds up and every once in a while he cries through half the night, tortured by feelings of rejection, unworthiness and fallibility; on bad nights he self-harms; the next day he's even more irritated than usual, snapping at everyone who breathes too loud
I'm sorry, when I'm coming up with scenarios, I can only imagine them with my OC Zera, but imagine the following: after another one of those nights, Basta comes to the kitchen, just to get some breakfast because right now he doesn't care to eat with the other men, he's waiting for the girl who packs his food when Zera comes over to get some racks when she notices blood trickling down Basta's sleeve; she brushes past him and says to him discreetly "You're bleeding"; he panicks because he doesn't want anyone to see, Zera notices and beckons him to come with her; she leads him to the nurses room and orders him to sit down and show her the wound; he takes off the jacket but refuses to take of the shirt - the sleeves are soaked with blood
"Basta, how am I supposed to help you if you don't let me?"
"I didn't ask for your bloody help" he snaps at her.
They have a moment of standoff, then, without a word, Zera rolls up her sleeves and shows her own, old self-harm scars
"It's nothing to be ashamed of. That's just how you deal with certain emotions."
Basta is stunned but reluctantly rolls up his own sleeves and let's Zera bandage his cuts
"You know, there are other ways to deal with it than this" Zera says while she's working on him
"Like what?"
"You can talk with someone instead of letting it all boil inside of you until it overflows."
"There's no one I can talk to about this" Basta mumbles somberly.
"My doors are always open - that is, until you lock them, key-keeper."
Zera finishes her job and brings a clean shirt for him to put on. He's changing awkwardly while she's stoking the fire in the oven.
She comes over when he's finished and takes the bloodied shirt, but Basta grabs her by the arm, coming close to her face and muttering grimly "If you tell anyone about this-"
"I won't" she cuts him off and takes the shirt over to the oven where she burns it.
They watch the flame for a moment before she accompanies him to the door. Before he takes a leave, she keeps the door closed and says "The next time there's something boiling inside of you" she puts a hand on his chest, the warm feeling of her palm startling him, "you come to me before something like this happens again."
It sounds like an order. Basta doesn't take orders from maids, but he's too dumbfounded to bark a sharp reply.
anyways - for sleep Basta only wears his underwear, but he's always wrapped up in a blanket (do you know that fear that some monster is gonna grab any part of you that's sticking out of your blanket? yeah, Basta fears the very same even though he knows this world has no monsters like the inkworld, but well, he's Basta, king of fears and supersticions)
-also: wouldn't it be funny if Basta did the same salt-over-the-shoulder-thing like Bruno Madrigal from Encanto? or jumping over cracks? or knocking on wood?
that's all it for today, now I really need to get off this platform
just some ideas and scenarios I imagined/wished Basta could have had if he had found someone who loves him without exploting or manipulating him T_T my HCs take place during the time he lived in Capricorns village in our world because that's the setting I like the most
-as soon as you got together, he made you move into his house, there was no way he was letting you stay at the mansion under the old hag's watch (assuming you were a maid or other kind of servant) - he didn't want you to suffer any more abuse from Mortola or any teasing from the men you had to serve
-speaking of which - the moment he started to notice you, he gradually made sure none of the men was laying a hand on or make a move on you, taking some to the side when he noticed them treating you badly, playing his little knife game and threatening to cut off some stuff if they ever messed with you again (always stating it was a crime to damage or try to claim what belongs to Capricorn, trying not to make his infatuation with you known)
-he couldn't do much against Mortolas abuse while you were still under her watch, but he made sure to ask you regularly (but still nonchalant, as to not make his feelings too obvious) if there was anything he could do for you, bring you bandages or ask for your service to take you some time away from Mortola
-When you two became a thing, every man in the village knew not to tease you, talk to you, get too close to you, or do anything else that might provoke Basta's wrath or jealousy
-he made you move in with him, but he'd never ever force himself on you, he made you sleep in his bedroom while he slept on the couch until you were comfortable enough to share his bed
-he'll have a stiff neck every morning, but he shrugs it off
-he also adjusted his furnishing, getting a second chair for the dining table; getting some cooking utensils so you two could cook at home, making room in his closet for your stuff
-he likes to give you his white shirts for nightwear (also, the creep would smell it, taking in your scent because it made him feel close to you if you weren't ready for intimacy yet)
-just imagine him going upstairs to change, seeing the worn shirt on the bed and basking in the scent
-boi is PINING
-even if you already are a couple, he needs TIME to open up to and trust you, always fearing you might fall in love with someone else (hence why he wouldn't let you near any other man)
-I won't lie to you: there's gonna be a lot of fighting and accusations coming from Basta at the start of your relationship, he's just so distrusting and alert by nature, it's hard for him to grasp that you would actually like and stay with him
-but if you keep calm, don't further provoke the dispute and keep reassuring him, with time it will get better, he will start to actually believe and trust you
-also: the scars - when you started to get intimate, he wouldn't take off his shirt, it needs a lot of time, work and bonding before he trusts you enough that you love him and wouldn't leave him to let you see his scars
-you better kiss his arms up and down when you two get to that point
-and when you do, he cries, overwhelmed by the feeling of being accepted like this, first a little, then a lot when you start to comfort him
-the next day he's mad embarrassed about it, but he won't let go of you for like forever, staying in bed with you even though you're both hot and sweaty (Italy is hot, you guys), kissing you all over the face
-dude's been mad in love with you before but now, you're his all and everything, he can't stop thinking about you, he can't take his hands off of you, boi is obsessed (which would bring him into trouble with Capricorn, but let's not talk about this now, this is a happy place)
-Basta's really into domestic stuff, doing the dishes together, cleaning the house (do you know that scene from Up, where the old couple cleans the window together and they smile at each other from both sides? yeah, that cute shit)
-he also loves to sit in the backyard together in the evening, you read to him, his head in your lap, admiring how your eyes dance across the page
-when you cook, he'll stand behind you, head on your shoulder, drawing circles on your hips and stomach
-when you take a bath, he ALWAYS asks to join you, not neccesarily to get sexual, but boi's not missing one opportunity to admire your body (also, he really likes to help you wash yourself, scrubbing you back, washing your hair and stuff)
-if he could, he would totally write you love letters, but instead he always brings you flowers (maybe not the prettiest ones because he can only pick what's around the village) and other stuff you might appreciate (maybe something sweet he got from the kitchen, etc), when he comes home to you, he ALWAYS brings you something
-he likes to brag about you to the other men
-he LOVES to brush your hair
-he loves it even more when you help him shave
-on rainy evenings, he likes to slow dance with you in the kitchen
-it takes some time, but your presence in his life starts to change him just a little, he's still Basta, he still has anger issues and violent tendencies, but somehow he becomes softer, enjoying it less and less to actually kill or cut people, shouting less often with the boys, not taking any more interest in teasing the maids or Darius
-he likes it much more to tease you (but playfully), tickling you while you're doing something, standing in your way and demanding a kiss to let you pass; sneaking up from behind and grabbing you while you try to wiggle your way out of his hug, like a playfight
-in the morning he wakes you up with a kiss on the nose and a compliment on your beauty, no matter how messed up you look
-you pack him snacks for when he leaves for a mission/task, but he always leaves some leftovers to share with you when he returns
-I won't go into specifics about sexual stuff, but he has CRAVINGS, he craves you and craves to please you and will do his best to learn how to make you feel loved
that's all for now, feels free to add HCs or share your thoughts!
yo imagine the following: Basta and a girl standing together, she closes her eyes and leans in towards his lips, but Basta panics and before they touch he goes: "Errr-wait!" he turns his back to her, takes out an oral spray, sprays his mouth, turns back around with this nonchalant look on his face, pouting his lips and he goes like "Where were we?"
-he hates the smell of cigarettes, especially when it sticks to his clothes - no man in the village has his clothes get washed as often as he does
-when it comes to the cleanliness of his clothes, he is very fussy in general, not tolerating even the lightest stain on his meticulously white shirts (poor maids, all the effort)
-he doesn't enjoy killing, he does it when he has to/when he's ordered to, but he prefers fear, manipulation and blackmail to achieve his goals
-one reason why he doesn't like killing is his fear that the ghosts of his victims will haunt him
-that's why he keeps the bricks of the houses they've burned down in his home - he thinks the ghosts avoid what reminds them of their death
-he also doesn't want to get stains on his clothes
-when it comes to the taste, he prefers cocoa over coffee
-he prefers to listen to classical music rather than modern genres like rap or pop (when it comes to certain genres like techno or heavy metal, he has no understanding of why anyone would listen to this 'abomination of music')
-Just imagine him, in the car with a couple of blackjackets, on their way to destroy a few lives, and him insisting on switching on the classical radio, threatening anyone that tries to switch the radio station
-'You turn off that shite right now" whenever the boys are listening to any loud, modern music while hanging out on the street
-he also enjoys operas and similiar music, it reminds him of Roxane
-he doesn't know when his birthday is because in his childhood, there was no one to tell him and no one to celebrate with him, so the concept of birthday celebrations is completely foreign to him
-he always wears long sleeves, not just because of his old scars, but because of the new ones as well - sometimes he self harms
-his main love languages (on the receiving end) are words of affirmation, physical touch and quality time
-but the physical touch one is really tricky - on one hand, he really craves it, a warm embrace, backrubs, touching hands; on the other, he's really not used to it, he tends to back away because it makes him feel vulnerable (because he MELTS from a good touch, it makes him grow lightheaded and want more and he HATES craving things and not being able to think clear)
-words of affirmation is tricky too because he don't trust no one - you say you love me? -what are you trying to gain by enticing me with your words?
-with quality time, he would go above and beyond to ensure you two having a good time; maybe preparing a picknick somewhere quiet and peaceful, setting up candles and shit; or he'd take you to the next village sometime in the evening, when the sun sets and the streets are quiet, you'd stroll around until you reach the beach and walk barefoot on the shore - whatever and whereever it is, spending time with his s/o alone gives him so much joy and peace
-coming from his need for a well-groomed appearance, do you know what he'd REALLY love (at least when you've reached a point where he somewhat trusts you)? you shaving him and taking care of his hair, cutting and styling it, also: buttoning up his shirt in the morning
-and when it comes to giving, his prefered love languages are physical touch, gifts and words of affirmation
-oh boy he'd shover his s/o with kisses, hugs and massages and sweet words, you'll never hear the end of it (also, he loves to call his s/o by nicknames like dove, dewdrop, my love/dear; kitten, etc.)
-When he leaves the village to do something, he always brings something for his s/o; little trinkets, maybe a nice dress he saw hanging on a clothesline; a book he randomly took out of a shelf, sweets or other
I headcanon that sometimes Basta prefers to eat alone in his house to eating in the church with the other blackjackets because not many care to sit next to him because, well, he's Basta
when dogs learn from the wolf - a quick Basta-short
"They look up to you, you know? You have to be careful what they learn from you"
Basta, who was leaning against the car and watching the boys she had brought with her playing with the guard dogs, turned to look at her. She kept her eyes on the boys, something clouding her gaze. Was it sadness? Or concern? Basta couldn't tell.
"Do you think Capricorn has a use for some homeless blokes who can't even shoot? I can't just let them live here without-"
"I'm not talking about the guns. Or the fires. Or the raids. I know that they have to pull their weight so they can stay here. I'm talking about the women. And those who are weaker, like Riccio, or Darius. The boys watch you, watch how you treat them, and they'll do the same as you. If we ever want to have a chance of a reasonably peaceful coexistence, the men must stop harassing the maids and treat them with respect and kindness. You have to set an example for them."
Basta didn’t answer right away. The boys jumped around the dogs in the glare of the headlights, their shadows leaping with them. The dogs barked once, then ran off into the darkness.
The boys followed, hollering, sticks held high like swords. Basta’s jaw twitched. Maybe Zera was right. He had trained them to hold a blade, to set a fire, to fight—but not to think. Not to build, only to destroy. Maybe because he himself had forgotten how to.
He glanced sidelong at her. Even with the dirt smudging her cheek, the fraying apron, and the faint bruise that hadn’t quite faded under her eye, she stood like someone who remembered what dignity felt like. Someone who had chosen not to forget it.
"I guess I can see your point," he said after a while, "and what will you have me do? Do you expect me to pick flowers for the kitchen girls? Or Darius?"
"For the start, it will be enough if you stopped teasing them. And stop waving that knife around whenever you're bored or sour, it's making people nervous."
Basta scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the car. His fingers toyed with the hilt of his knife out of habit, then—perhaps consciously—he slid it back into its sheath with a low snick.
“I’ll try,” he muttered, barely audible.
Zera raised an eyebrow. “You’ll try?”
He exhaled, long and low. “Fine. I won’t wave the knife around. And I won’t tease Darius, or kick Scipio's arse again.” He paused, smirking slightly. “Even if he deserves it.”
Zera didn’t smile, not quite. But the tension in her shoulders eased. She turned to leave, but stopped, glancing over her shoulder.
“If you really mean it,” she said, “then maybe tomorrow, you can help me in the garden. We need to remove the frost-bitten roots.”
Basta groaned. “First no stabbing, now gardening? What’s next, embroidery with Mortola?”
Zera grinned faintly, walking off into the night. “You might learn something.”
Basta stared after her. The dogs barked again in the distance. One of the boys screamed—not in pain, just the wild thrill of pretend danger. The kind of danger that hadn’t yet carved into bone.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “What am I becoming?”
But still, he didn’t draw his knife.
The morning came slow and grey, mist clinging low to the ground as if reluctant to let go of the night. Basta wasn't sure what had woken him—the dogs barking, maybe, or the cold seeping through the thin curtain in his room, or another nightmare he couldn't remember—but once he was up, there was no sense in staying in bed.
Zera was already in the garden, her sleeves rolled to her elbows, hands deep in the dirt. A basket sat beside her, half-filled with limp leaves and frost-burnt roots. Her breath fogged in the cold air, but she didn't look up when he approached.
"You came," she said simply.
Basta crouched beside her, squinting at the wilted plants like they were a puzzle he had no business solving. "I did."
Zera passed him a trowel without a word. He stared at it like it might bite, then took it. The dirt was hard, but not frozen yet. He loosened the soil a little and then reached for the dried up roots, but they broke when he tried to rip them out. Basta cursed under his breath and tried again, but the plant crumbled in his fist before he could get a hold of it.
"Wait, let me show you." Zera said and came to crouch beside him. She loosened the soil with her bare hands, took hold of a root and pulled it out in a circling motion, all in one piece.
"Now you try" she said as she dug up another root. He grabbed at it and wanted to start pulling, but she stopped him and adjusted his hand. He flinched at her touch, but let her guide him. "Grab it here and pull it out gently."
This time, Basta managed to pull out the whole root. He threw it on the pile to the others.
"If that's how it's done, this is going to take forever."
"Probably, these things take time and care. All broken things do."
"Then why bother doing it? Why don't you just start planting somwhere else?"
"Because with some work and patience, it has the potential to turn into something wonderful. You can always start over, but working to turn something rough into something... else, it shows that there are still wonders in the world."
They worked in silence for a while. Basta grunted every now and then, his movements awkward, but he didn’t complain. Not out loud, anyway.
Zera, for her part, pretended not to notice the way he kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, as if waiting for praise or mockery—maybe both.
It was almost peaceful. Until the shouting started.
Basta’s head snapped up. Voices—young, angry and close.
"That's coming from the town square" Zera said, but Basta was already making his way, she limped after him.
The shouting grew louder as he reached the edge of the square. Basta’s boots crunched on the frosty cobblestones of the street, his hand brushing the hilt of his knife—but he didn’t draw it. Not yet.
In the square, a group of boys stood in a loose circle, fists clenched, faces red with the kind of fury that burns hot but short. In the center, one boy was on the ground, one arm raised to shield his head. Basta recognised the blonde, shaggy hair - Riccio. His lip bled, and his jacket had been torn at the sleeve.
Across from him stood Carlo, one of the older boys, taller and heavier, his chest heaving as if the effort of being angry took more out of him than the fight itself.
“I told you not to take it!” Carlo snarled. “That’s mine!”
“I didn’t!” Riccio spat back, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “I was just looking!”
“You’re a liar,” one of the others said, stepping forward. “Always snooping around, never listening.” He raised his hand threatingly into a fist, ready to strike.
“Enough!” Basta’s voice cut through the chill air like a blade.
The boys froze. Even Carlo turned, pale now, like a boy who’d realized the game he was playing has gone too far.
"What's going on here?" Basta snapped and made his way over to the boys. Carlo started to stutter a sentenced, but Basta interrupted him before he could finish "You know what? I don't even care."
Zera appeared behind Basta, breathless, her leg aching, but calm.
Basta stepped into the circle and offered Riccio a hand. The boy hesitated—then took it and scrambled to his feet, still scowling, but he stood straight. Basta turned to Carlo.
“You want to fight?” he asked.
Carlo blinked. “What?”
“You want to fight?” Basta repeated, stepping forward until he was nose to nose with the boy. "Then fight someone who knows how. Or you don’t fight at all.”
Carlo looked at the ground. “I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t care what you meant.” Basta’s voice was cold. “This—” he gestured around, at the other boys, “—isn’t how we keep order around here. You think you need to show how strong you are by beating up someone smaller than you? Someone from your own pack? You think Capricorn’s keeping you around because you’re good at beating up little boys when they’re down?”
He waited. No answer. The boys stood still, eyes downcast.
Basta turned to Riccio. “You touch something that isn’t yours again, and you answer to me. Got it?”
Riccio nodded quickly, eyes wide.
“Good.” Basta straightened. “Now get back to your tasks, all of you. And next time you think about starting a fight, you think about how fast I can make you wish you hadn’t.”
The crowd broke up slowly. Muttering. Shuffling. Avoiding eyecontact.
When the square was mostly empty, Basta turned to Zera.
“Is this what you meant? About being better?”
Zera looked at him a moment. Then, to his surprise, she smiled.
“It’s a start.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bloody hell. If this keeps going, I'll go soft before I know it.”
"Maybe that's a good thing." Then Zera turned, walking back toward the garden.
Basta watched her go.
He didn’t follow.
Not right away.
Maybe that's a good thing.
He replayed the words in his mind, like a song you couldn't get out of your head. He wasn’t sure he liked the tune.
The knife at his hip felt heavier than it used to. Not onerous—just... real, different. He thought about drawing it again, just to remind himself of who he was. To see the familiar reflection of his eyes in the steel, the very same steel that has drawn the blood of so many people, the same eyes that had watched houses and everyone in them burn to the ground.
But instead his hands reached for the cigarettes in his pockets. He always hated the smell of smoke, especially when it clung to his clothes. But somehow, it helped him block out the bad memories that crept up his spine, into his heart and mind. It seemed to him as if the images vanished into thin air along with the smoke.
After a while he left the square, not to go back to his house, nor to join the men who were slowly gathering in the church to have breakfast. He walked toward the garden.
Zera was already on her knees again, cold hands moving through the soil like they belonged there. She didn’t look up.
“You didn’t have to come back,” she said.
Basta didn't reply, he came to kneel beside her. His joints popped, a reminder that violence aged a man faster than the years ever could.
“Carlo’s trouble,” he muttered. “Always has been.”
Basta picked at a clump of roots, frowning. “He’s not like the other boys. That one… he’s got venom in him.”
Zera didn’t answer immediately, nor did she look up, but Basta knew she was listening. She was just searching for the right words.
“That Venom - it's just anger that's being kept within,” she said at last. “And boys like him—if they don’t find something better to hold on to, they’ll hold on to their hate like it’s all they’ve got.”
Basta fingers dug into the cold soil, sending pain and shivers through his bones. It felt like penance.
“What if I mess it up?” he asked quietly. “What if I make it worse?”
Zera paused then. Her hand brushed his as she reached for the same root. She didn’t pull away.
“Then you try again.”
He looked at her, at the dirt under her fingernails, the quiet steadiness in her face. Not softness—but strength of another kind. The kind that didn’t need a blade to prove it existed.
They worked until the frost began to melt. Until the sun crept low and golden over the rooftops, turning broken windows into fire. Basta didn’t say much after that, but he didn’t leave either.
And when one of the younger boys—was it Dante? or Elio? Basta couldn't remember the lad, he hasn't been around for long—crept to the garden’s edge with a sheepish look and asked if they needed help, Basta didn’t bark or snarl or wave a knife. He handed the boy a trowel.
Later, when Zera rose to wash her hands, she watched Basta guiding the boy how to dig, awkward but determined and patient.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
Because something was changing.
Not fast. Not all at once. But like roots under the earth, it was there.
And for once, it seemed that Basta didn’t run from it.
So i got the German ‚Study aid‘ for kids who read Inkheart in school and have problems understanding the characters. Theres a task where you gotta match different descriptions to Basta and Capricorn
- ‚Chews peppermint leaves to mask his bad breath‘
Basta bad breath confirmed???
- Superstitious, wears amulets around his neck to ward off evil spirits (rabbit‘s foot, A CHILD‘S FINGER??? UM I DONT THINK SO)
- has burned arms (and fear of fire)
they just HAD to add that
- low self-esteem, initially held the keys and authority in the village, but lost this power to Mortola - gradual loss of status and influence (‚No one listens to me anymore!‘)
Sooo I cant stop thinking about your basta drawings they are so good🥹 And i had a sudden flash of an idea… Remember the scene where Basta and Flatnose found Meggie in the coastal village and arrive at Fenoglios door, completely soaked from the rain? I cant stop thinking about a wet basta in your art style lmao😭 Youre such a great artist thank u for your work<33
he enjoys training the young boys the blackjackets pick up on the streets to add to their little mafia-army - unlike the adults, who only respect him out of fear, the boys somewhat look up to him for his skills in knife-combat and his macho-demeanor (of course they still dread his anger and short temper and their adoration fades as they grow older - but one or two of them keep their attachement to Basta, maybe because he reminds them of their own fathers or because their understanding of a healthy mentor-mentee-relationship is so twisted they can't detach themselves properly - who knows?)
he reeaaally craves to have a family on his own - he would never admit it or tell anyone, but he often lays awake at night, imagining a different life, one where Roxane chose him instead of Dustfinger, where he didn't reach for the knife but for the hand of the women he loved and took her with him, somewhere far away where neither the fire raisers nor the adderhead could reach them and where they'd start a little family on their own little farm
at the same time he has really conflicting and binding feelings towards Capricorn - he's like his father, his saviour, he gives him purpose and power and a home and I think during inkheart he's too far gone that he'd still consider running away with the woman he loved - he'd rather stay in the position he is, as Capricorns first in command - but preferably with someone who loved and cherished and supported and believed in him, someone who'd wait for him when he got home after a long day of tormenting people, someone who'd keep him company - who'd ENJOY his company, who'd bring him meals and coffee when he had bridge duty at night, someone he could show off to the other men and who wouldn't withdraw when he throws his tantrums, but someone who'd stay and bandage his bruised hand when he'd hit the wall in his rage, someone who'd kiss him goodnight and goodmorning
that someone would have to be tough, patient and restrained - because putting up with Basta is NOT easy, he's short tempered, easily jealous, distrustful, desensitized to violence, nasty, unsocial, impulsive, sadistic and a HAND FULL of work
but he's also immensly loyal, and cunning, and resourceful, and courageous, and relentless, and dedicated, and intense and passionate, and confident (at least he acts like he is), and aware to details, and protective of the ones he loves
he's the kind of guy who would stay with you no matter what - I don't think Basta would be capable to leave his partner for another (not only because there wouldn't be anyone else who would put up with him, but also because once you're his, he only has eyes for you, you're his and he's yours, and that's it)
he'd remember every little detail he noticed about you - the gum you liked, the songs you hummed while working, the soft way you'd say 'okay' when you didn't want to argue but were still hurting, how you'd lit up for the tiniest joys like spring rain or a lovely flower he picked up for you, the way you'd tuck your hair behind your ear when you were about to read something to him you loved
he would think of all these little details when he was away from you, running errands or looking for copies of Inkheart, and his heart would ache for you - he'd give you the longest and tightest hugs when he got back to you, taking in your scent, enjoying the familiar and comforting feeling of your body against his
he'd also grow terribly anxious that someone else would hit on you while he was gone, or that you got hurt or something else happened that would take you away from him (he'd always have one of his boys back in the village to keep an eye out for you and let you talk to him on the phone)
yes, he's a cruel, hateful and violent (fictional) man, but he's also human (even if only imagined) and he's craving the same as everyone else: love and acceptance
Warnings: english is not my first language, also: might be out of character, it's late and I can't think straight; also also: fluff and vulnerability (that shit hurts)
"I feel terrible"
"Well, you look terrible, too." Zera said jokingly to Basta, who had just woken up from his feverish slumber. But Basta was in no mood to joke around.
He caught a cold two weeks ago that got pretty bad due to his poor immune system, and he's been bedridden for five days now. The symptoms slowly subsided, but since Basta hardly slept the entire time he was sick, he was incredibly exhausted.
Especially the last two days he could hardly rest, his thoughts were constantly circling around that night and he was unimaginably nervous whenever Zera was around. Neither of them spoke about the kiss, Zera didn't know that Basta was wide awake when she fulfilled his birthday wish and Basta didn't dare to bring it up.
"Come on, stop whinig around and sit up. Breakfast's ready." Zera said and put down a tray with bread and eggs on Basta's lap. When Zera left for the kitchen and came back with a cup of hot coffee, he still hadn't touched any of the food.
"Why aren't you eating?" asked Zera, confused. Basta didn't look up as he mumbled: "I'm not hungry." even though his stomach was gurgling with emptiness, as if it wanted to digest itself.
He didn't feel like eating. He felt awful, not only because he was hungry and tired and sore from lying around in bed so much without getting any rest, but also because he felt dirty. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a proper bath and he hasn't been able to shave in the last few days, so his face was covered in stubble. He felt disgusting. And ashamed, especially because Zera had to see him like this.
"Of course you're hungry, you've barely eaten anything in two days. Your body's just sending you mixed signals because you're exhausted. I could fetch you something else, if you don't feel like eggs-"
"I said I'm not hungry!" Basta snapped at her and threw the tray off his lap, sending the plate of food flying onto the floor. He regretted his outburst immidiately and finally looked up to meet Zeras eyes, expecting an anxious or maybe even furious expression on her face. But instead, she looked neutral, almost indifferent. She looked Basta straight in the eyes and stared at him, he felt more and more uneasy until he realized that she was contemplating.
After what felt like an eternity, she said, "You should shave. And you should go outside, you didn't have any fresh air since you got here.". Then she took the chair which was standing next to Basta's bed and left for the bathroom. Basta heard her rummaging around at the sink but didn't know what to do, so he just stayed seated on his bed, staring at the mess he created, cursing at himself. He clawed at the blanket beneath him, he wanted to kick himself, angry as he was. His rising fury fizzled out when Zera stepped out of the bathroom, standing in front of Basta, startling him.
"'Think you can walk?"
Basta nodded puzzled and got up without asking any questions. Zera led him to the bathroom and gestured him to sit down at the chair she put in front of the sink. Basta couldn't surpress the brief look of shock when he saw himself in the mirror. He really did look terrible.
"You know, it could be worse," Zera started when she caught Basta's look, "you could look like Cockerell."
Basta huffed at that, but he had to smile at the joke. Then he went solemn again "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Zera turned away to get the materials she prepared. "No I'm not. I'm not that nice."
She came back with a make-shift shaving set. There wasn't any shaving cream, but she managed to mix something up out of the soap she had at hand. She put a towel over Bastas' shoulders, startling him with the sudden movement, and placed the shaving set on the sink. Basta hadn't yet processed what was happening when Zera came to stand between his legs, leaning against the sink, soap in one hand, Bastas' chin in the other, spreading the soap on his face.
His face felt rough beneath her fingers, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, she almost enjoyed tracing the sharp edges of his face. The enjoyment faded when she noticed Bastas wide eyed look, like a deer staring at the headlights of a car, not knowing wether they meant danger or not. There was something else to his gaze she couldn't name. She stopped her movements and stepped aside to make room for Basta to shave himself.
He took the blade with a shaking hand. At first she thought he was shaking out of nervousness, then she realized it was probably because of his weak condition. She stopped his hand and took the knife from him before it touched his cheek.
"Wait, let me do it." she said, shaking her head.
But Basta recoiled from the knife, first anxious, then furious.
"The hell you are doing! You really think I'd let you get that close to my neck with a knife?" he shouted at her, standing up to make himself bigger. He couldn't let her realize how weak he really was. Unfortunately, Zera wasn't intimidated by Basta, especially not when he looked like a rabid dog, with all the foam on his face. She would have laughed at the sight if she hadn't been ireful herself.
"And you really think I'd kill you or watch as you kill yourself, shaky as you are? You know damn well that Capricorn will have me killed if his second in command dies on my watch! Either you let me help you or you can go back to bed." Zera shot back, arms crossed.
Basta stared her down angrily, but he knew she'd stand her ground no matter what, and he didn't feel like fightning, right know he wasn't strong enough for that. Exasperated he yielded, sitting down, arms crossed, tilting his head away from her. Zera came to stand between his legs again and he squirmed, when she took ahold of his face. His breath quickened along with his heartbeat and he had to fight the urge to draw away.
"Relax, I'll be careful." Zera whispered and began to draw the blade gently across his face.
Basta hated to admit it, but he found pleasure in her caresses. Of course he couldn't let her know that.
He hated how weak she made him at times, and if she knew, she'd use it to her advantage, undoubtly. That is, if she didn't know already. She had to know, why else would she be so caring towards him? She's manipulating you already, idiot! On the other hand, she was caring towards everyone. That's something he hated and admired about her. She was tough and fierce, but also caring and attentive, even to those that did her harm. Even to those stupid brats, that were intentionally clumsy just to have an excuse to come see her and be babied by her. Even to him. Of course she takes care of you, that's her job! She's got no other choice! Yet... her ministrations still felt good to Basta, even if they were forced.
He struggled to keep a stern expression, but secretly he was in heaven. His hard stance gave way for a second as the gentle touches made his body tired and his head heavy, so he leaned into her touch. Zera surpressed a soft giggle and used her hold on his face to tilt his head the other way and shave the other side of his face.
She felt that this form of self-care was good for him, despite his stiffness and tough demeanor, and that he desperately needed it. She didn't take it personally that he lashed out at her. Apart from the fact that he was very temperemental in general, he was also very weary at the moment, which made his fight or flight instincts kick in early on. He was on constant survival mode, that's something she noticed about him early on. She supposed that's bound to happen when you live in a hostile environment such as Capricorns community, and as far as she could tell, no one had Basta's back. He was cross with everyone, most likely even with himself. That drains a person, isolation and loneliness, and even though he would never admit it: he longed for company. That's probably the only thing both of them shared.
Basta's cheeks and mouth area were shaved smooth, now only his neck was left.
"Tilt your head backwards" Zera said as she cleaned the blade.
Basta blinked rapidly, as if waking up from a dream and taking in his surrounding again. He eyed Zera for a moment before he did as she bid. Zera took hold of his shoulder and shaved his neck. She saw him swallow hard, he brought his hands down to his legs and clawed into his trousers. It must have been really hard for him to be in such a vulnerable position. Zera decided to try to lighten up the mood.
"Have you heard what happened to Scipio yesterday? He and some other boys did some arm wrestling and he managed to break his arm. I didn't even think that was possible, but yet here we are. Sometimes I wonder how some of them made it this far down the road. They seem like the kind of people who would cut off their ears to find out if they could still hear when they did."
It made Zera smile to hear a low chuckle from him.
"And the other day Amario wanted to give a flower to one of the kitchen maids, but he picked something poisonous, both his hands were red and swollen and then somehow he got it in his eyes too, he looked like a blown up tomato."
The mood did lighten up a little and soon Zera was finished with the shave. Basta dried his face with the towel and looked into the mirror with satisfaction.
"There, all nice and smooth." Zera commented, leaning against his shoulder, content with her work, "I kind of miss it, a little stubble suits you." Zera gestured Basta to leave the bathroom and started cleaning up. Her last comment upset him a little and he almost regretted letting her shave him, but he felt better than before none the less. He stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back, contemplating what to say. He rarely ever thanked people, but he felt this was the right time to do so. Still, he couldn't bring the words out, he just stood there, mouth open but no words coming out.
Zera beat him to it and said "You're welcome. And now clean up the mess you made outside."
