Auvo fidgeted on the stool. He hadn't sat through a painting session since he'd lived in Kugane, though this was moderately better. It was nice to be able to wear armor and feel protected but...
"Stop squirming! He's almost done," Tataru chastised.
"Thought he was almost done a bell ago," Auvo grumbled.
"Well, he's almost done now, so hold still!"
Auvo still wished Alphinuad could've done the portrait. He didn't want to do it in the first place, but Tataru insisted that it would be good for finances. Now that the Scions were publicly disbanded, they had to keep track of their own gil and Auvo was bad at it. Oh well, another half a bell and he never had to think about it again. Who was even buying all these portraits, anyway? Having paintings of friends made sense, but Auvo wouldn't want to sell it to them.
A half a bell later, the painter was finally done. The Viera staring back from the canvas certainly looked like him, but the mismatched eyes stared blankly, and the ears were stiff and really, he looked like he was trying to make sense of a faerie's game. It was him, but it lacked entirely in personality. Not that he cared much. He wasn't buying the things anyway.
Ty’s back was facing Auvo but with his horns he was keenly aware the Viera was there. He just kept brushing out his chocobo and helping preen the dark feathers. Saladin was sporting his own bandage and was lacking his usual spirit.
"...thanks for getting me out," Auvo eventually said, "both of you."
The brush paused for a moment before continuing on.
"We'll need to work on those dives," the Xaela said softly, "so it doesn't happen again."
Ty’s protégé and friend, Auvo! Auvo is a quiet part of Team Two Braincells. He is technically my alt but his character is written, developed, and loved by @fan-of-many-stories
Opus 11, part 1: Office Vignette in Hurt-No-Comfort Major
Warnings: gunshot wounds, abusive relationships
Word count: c. 800
Summary: Lilac debriefs Auvo after a messy mission.
—
Once the bandages are on, Auvo doesn’t bother changing his shirt or cleaning the blood off his hands before reporting back to Lilac’s office.
He knocks on the door before entering. Although it’s a mere formality between the two of them at this point, it’s better not to upset Lilac with any further misbehavior.
She’s seated at her desk, making a good show of focusing on some papers, but Auvo knows his employer. She’s been following the field reports all day, even before the operation went sideways.
He shuts the door and stands patiently before her.
“You have a lot of nerve, walking back in here like nothing happened,” she finally says, snapping a folder shut and tossing it to the side. “I can only hope that getting yourself shot will be enough to teach you a lesson.”
The gunshot wound in his side aches at the reminder. Auvo ducks his head. He wants to agree, to confirm that he’ll do better next time, but it’s never a good idea to speak before Lilac indicates it’s his turn.
“You act like you have no idea what’s at stake.”
Auvo knows precisely what was at stake. He sat through the planning meetings for this operation with her, knows the exact value of the assets she has tied up in its success. Knows in perfect detail what he almost lost her, which is why he’s going to stand still and silent, and take any punishment she sees fit to administer.
“So far as I can tell,” she says, finally rising, “this fuck-up is entirely on you, but I wasn’t out there to see it. Is there anything I’m missing?”
He lifts his eyes to meet hers before he speaks. Deference is necessary when she addresses him, but it’s his turn now, and Lilac abhors a coward.
Auvo knows he could lie, and Lilac would take him at his word. It’s why they work so well together: he knows she’ll never doubt him, and in exchange, he will never give her any reason to doubt.
“No, ma’am. Nothing. It was my fault.”
Lilac nods, then walks over to him. She’s shorter than usual—probably kicked off her heels under her desk sometime earlier in the evening. It would be an adorable habit if she didn’t get so grumpy in the mornings when she can’t find them. He makes a mental note to pick them up when he leaves.
“Mm. Thank you for your honesty.” She takes his blood-tacky hands in her cold, clean ones. “I can always count on you for that—even if not for any other part of your job.”
Auvo doesn’t flinch or argue, merely accepts her judgment. He doesn’t make mistakes often, and he knows Lilac is aware of that, but in their line of business, even one mistake is one too many.
Lilac digs her nails into the backs of his hands. He doesn’t pull away. The slight pain is grounding; the contrast of her cold fingertips and the heat gathering in the curved imprints beneath them helps him focus, keeps him from swaying where he stands as the blood loss and exhaustion take their toll on his body.
His job is to be perfect. It’s difficult, but for Lilac, he’s willing to shoulder that responsibility.
She tugs downward briefly, and he folds to his knees, gaze fixed on her dispassionate face. The crescent indentations from her nails burn in an almost tender imitation of the burning in his side.
Lilac cups his face in her palms and hums, half-tuneless. She strokes his cheeks with her thumbs, and scratches lightly at his jawline with the rest of her fingers. Auvo doesn’t allow himself to relax into it; his punishment is still coming.
He doesn’t brace when Lilac lifts a foot, doesn’t try to dodge when she kicks her heel firmly into his fresh bullet wound. He falls, gasping, and lets the tears well up.
The rush of blood and his own panting fills his ears for a long moment, and he misses Lilac’s footsteps, unaware that she’s moved until her bare foot nudges him out of his curled position. Obeying her unspoken directions, Auvo finds himself laid on his back, with Lilac’s foot pressing gently down on the center of his chest.
He catches her eye, and she speaks, loudly enough to hear clearly over his labored breathing. “You may stay here as long as you need, but I expect you to get proper medical attention by morning. Turn the light off when you leave.”
She removes her foot and heads for the office door. Auvo hears her open it as he rolls back onto his side, curling in around the pain, stifling his groans in case she says anything else.
The last and only thing she says before closing the door behind her is “Good night, darling.”
