Gouache Stained Monochrome

“That looks like something a constipated cat barfed up and a dog rolled all over it.”

The woman’s passive face fell into disapproval just as his lips quirked up in a sly grin. Granted, her picture wasn’t exactly as defined by his words, but the priest couldn’t let an opportunity to say something ridiculous pass. He knew well that it produced one of the livelier reactions he’d seen from her, however unhealthy it was.

“Hey it’s true-”

“Saint,” Kiara shoved him none too lightly and continued, “Your juvenile commentary leaves me appalled at how little you understand of the arts, not that it should be a surprise.”

The high priest refrained from rolling his eyes in exaggeration. “Hey, you asked me what I thought of, and that’s exactly what I thought.” He argued, pointing at orange-tipped finger at her. “You weren’t being specific with your question, Blue.”

For a moment, the crusader looked like she wanted to argue further with him. She opened her mouth, but at the last second snapped it shut and turned away. His curious gaze followed her as she made her way back to her corner of the room, which was ten paces away. Unbeknownst to her, a devious glint appeared in his eyes.

He cleared his throat, his smile turned for a smugger visage. “As a matter of fact, my lady, this lovely work of art compared to your dull interpretation of a children’s play,” He gestured to the canvas cloth on the table before him. Once her attention shifted to the canvas in his hands, he continued, “This has more life than any of your drawings combined have.”

Her face scrunched up in annoyance. “Are you that daft that you can’t see another style being used?” She snapped, nearly breaking the cheap brush in her hand in half. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “Priest, this is beyond simple ignorance of the arts. You are mocking me.”

Saint mentally smirked. “All I’m saying is that it’s black and white!” He replied, waggling his color stained fingers. “A lot of people think it’s cool and cost-efficient too, but it lacks so many things!”

“You’re mocking me.” She repeated, almost growling out the last word.

“Whatever gave you the idea that I was?” He argued back.

“Well you...” The crusader caught herself, shooting the man a look of exasperation before turning back to her easel. “You know what? Just keep quiet or leave, I don’t care what you do as long as you leave me in peace. Whether or not my drawings have life in it is up to me to decide.”

And that, it seemed, was the end of that. He tried starting up an exchange again, but any effort of trying to get her to reply to him ended up becoming a one-sided conversation. He could perhaps shake her easel, but that would just add to the count of bruises to heal.

“Great, now this just takes the fun out of everything.” He mumbled under his breath. His smug expression fell, though to an unbiased onlooker it would seem more like a pout.

The day had progressed calmly into midday and without incident, but that might change with the current streak of monotony he was trying to “remedy”. At this point, even something as childish as raising the ire of the only other occupant in the small room sounded like a good idea.

Earlier that day, a particular redheaded wizard had stressed the mischievous priest should not, under any circumstance, be left to his own devices outside the crusader’s field of vision. He had no other choice but to keep her company. Why did the wizard have so little faith in the man after all this time? That was something he couldn’t quite answer yet.

Decidedly at a loss of what to do, he dragged his chair over to her workplace and watched. Her strokes paused midway as she gave him a momentary glance, but resumed soon after. His arms rested on the chair’s backrest, and he laid his head on them as his green eyes watched her fingers grasped the brush, making it glide across the surface leaving long dark trails in its wake.

Mediocre beauty at best, but monochrome doesn’t bring out the best appeal possible. He mentally noted. Saint’s mind continued working as time slowly ticked by. Fingers drummed against the chair’s wooden side as he hummed an old tune that surfaced from his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from bothering the only person he found so amusing to tease. What could he say? Kiara was like a box of chocolates to him.

Her, his babysitter as the priest so kindly put it. It looked like the punishment sentenced onto them for that little incident on their first meeting hadn’t been lifted, even if it had been eight full months ago. She was a different kind of woman from the ones he was used to however that still that had been a problem for him along the way. Injuries abounded, stinging words were flung left and right, and so many feelings were hurt.

It wasn’t until the mission in the isolated mountains that had Kiara nearly killed did they finally made some changes to their opinions on one another. From then, things had turned better. He couldn’t imagine hurting her as much as he used to, but he still enjoyed pulling reactions from her. It just wasn’t the same if he didn’t.

Then it suddenly hit him.

“Hey what are you doing?!” She exclaimed, automatically reaching for the small canvas that was suddenly in his hands. Saint grinned, twisting just as she lunged. Her fingers barely touched the edges of the canvas. “Saint, don’t you dare smudge it!”

“Ah, au contraire...” The priest wagged one red tipped finger at the woman, his other hand held the prized item beyond her reach. “I have devised a brilliant plan to help you get a compliment from the stuck up redhead for once!” He grinned, using his body to shield the stolen canvas from her advances.

For a moment, horror fleeted through her eyes before the determination was rekindled, and so her actions doubled in effort. “I am not accepting any of your so-called help, you stupid priest!” Not that he could blame her for rejecting it so passionately. The last time he insisted on assisting her, their combined efforts sent a few people to spending a night in the infirmary.
“I said give it back!”

It came to the point where he had to keep her away using a leg, at least far enough so he could work on her drawing without her determined hands constantly within reach of it. His fingers dipped into the colors on the palette on the table, quickly working away. “Just a moment, I need to add some color to this-”

She gripped hard onto the beltline of his pants, pulling it with a snarl. “Don’t you dare! Saint, don’t you-!” A yelp cut off her sentence as they were both sent tumbling back into a shelf. The jolt sent the jars of water and paint teetering closer to the edge.

“Ah geez.” Saint groaned, rubbing his forearm that collided against a foot of a chair. Before he could react, Kiara had crawled over him and wrenched the canvas from his hands. She took one long hard look at her Saint-enhanced artwork, not concerned at all with her straddling position on the priest.

Needless to say, her expression was caught between her usual calm and building fury.

“It’s ruined!” Her voice was torn between cold rebuke and restrained anger.

The priest grumbled, gently pushing her off him and stood. “Stop being an ungrateful arse, Blue. You were the one who— ... Maybe I should add some pink highlights to the hair—” Saint never got to finish his sentence as he felt the sudden weight of the woman as his own body lurched forward to meet with the floor for the second time in a row.

The two wrestled, their combined masses producing mingled sounds of exchanged insults as they collided with nearby chairs, easels and the shelf. Items were shook, rocked and toppled over to the floor, the dull thuds the only evidence of it. But the two were too focused on their match. While Kiara had the stamina and power, Saint was faster in his wits and a natural gender advantage. Of course, neither had thought about that.

“I should have gelded you when I first met you!” Came the indignant shout followed by an elbow to the priest’s gut.

“Hah— Ugh! An empty threat considering you had so many chances!” He countered with a foot to her stomach but missed as she slid sideways, anticipating the move. He quickly pushed her off, intent on pinning her but instead was pushed down as she sat on his back and locked his head in her arms.

She snarled. “Hold still and I’ll make your death quick.”

Saint snorted, though he had to commend that her tactics were getting better. “Sinful little waif. And here I thought you were lawfully moral.” He managed to break free of her hold and pushed her away, standing up and eyeing her warily as she too stood and met his gaze.

“Ironic bastard, I should be asking you that.” She told him. The priest merely smirked, before the two rushed at each other.

Not ten minutes into the fight, he had her pinned and squirming under his weight, her wrists held above her hand in his hands.

“Unhand me!” She screamed, fixing her blue eyes on him with irritation.

Saint grinned, unaware of the fate decreed to him in the next moment. “You know you can never win in this kind of fight without fighting dirty.” A cascade of jars and liquid fell on them in the next second, drowning out their cries of surprise.

All was quiet for a scant few seconds. The dust settled around the two, just as cans unopened from the impact rolled away from their still forms. A groan escaped one of the forms, later followed by a disdained outcry.

“Oh great!”

***

It was going to take weeks to get that stain off her shirt, and even then there would be faded marks of what happened today. Covering the floor with old newspapers prior to working had been a good idea after all, so thank Odin she was spared the pain of cleaning all of it.

Kiara dipped the washcloth into the basin of soap and water, wringing out the excess water before returning to the priest. While she had the sense to wear a simple cotton tunic and pants, Saint had been wearing his full uniform. The crusader had thought, while the wrestling wasn’t expected today, he could have had the foresight to wear something that was easier to clean. She only hoped that he had more sets of it because his robe was basically a goner. Then again part of her mind told her he deserved it.

“I don’t understand why you always overreact.” Saint groaned, tugging at his robe with a disgusted look. Honestly, if she hadn’t known him for the cheeky man that he is, she would have thought him of simply wanting a fight, which was plausible too. The dark-haired Amatsuan has always been an odd mixture of appealing, unpredictable and infuriating.

She pulled another chair in front of him and sat. With less gentleness than the crusader normally would have used, she rubbed against a stubborn spot of red on his cheek. “I wasn’t overreacting.” She defended, ignoring his whining complaint. Eventually he stopped making a fuss of it when she didn’t react further, contenting himself with giving her the most potent glare he could muster. With his face covered in colourful blotches, the glare wasn’t so effective.

After a particular stubborn smudge was roughly cleaned off, Saint pulled his head back. “Odin, give that to me. The way you’re doing it makes me feel like you’re skinning me.” She didn’t stop her ministrations however.

Kiara kept the cloth away from his reach. “We don’t have a mirror in this room, so just put up with it for a while, idiot priest.” The crusader answered, without much bite to it. “It was your fault that this had to end this way.”

“You could have stopped it by accepting my help.” He argued.

“I don’t recall your help being helpful at all.”

He frowned, furrowing his brows. “None at all? You must have poor memory then.” As per expected, she slapped his arm and graced him with that trademark glare. Saint returned that look with a passive face, unfazed by its warning by now. “You really need to stop abusing me, you know. It’s very unladylike.”

“If you stopped being such an attention-deficit imbecile, then perhaps I will consider.” Of course, that was a half-lie and he knew it. After a moment, the crusader sighed tiredly and added, “Let’s not continue this. The sooner I get you cleaned up, the sooner I can get back to the task at hand.”

“So a painting is more important to you than little ol’ me?”

Yes and no. “Hold still.”

The crusader was met with much appreciated silence from the man. She continued cleaning the rest of his face, though gentler. When she had done with that, she moved to the ends of his hair that had begun to clump together from the drying sticky paint, letting him bury his forehead into the crook of her neck as she patiently pulled off chunks of paint.

He wasn’t moving all that much as she was expecting. Likely it had something to do with their nearness. But as long as he kept his hands to himself, she was fine enough allowing him this close. Her fingers became sticky with the patches of wet paint from his hair but a quick wipe on the wet cloth removed it until she went through his hair again. Diligently, she kept cleaning his dark tresses until she removed all that she could. The rest he had to clean himself.

“Why are you doing this?” He suddenly asked, the priest’s temple still resting against her neck.

“Doing what?” She noticed the softer, more curious change in his tone, but deigned to not think much on it.

“Cleaning me up.”

The statement puzzled her. “Why not?” She paused long enough in her inspection to ask that.
Saint snorted. “I could just take a bath, you know.”

“And have you walk to the bath all covered in paint? I think I’d rather clean you up enough so you don’t look like such a mess.” Not to mention Kiara certainly wasn’t going to have him drip paint while he walked to his destination too. More work and explanations she would rather avoid.

Saint chuckled, his smile partially hidden by his hair but she couldn’t see his face anyway. “Is that really the reason? Or do you want to just keep me close and baby me?” He said, his tone suddenly playful.

Kiara paused and frowned. “You really need to stop flirting with me.”

At this, Saint leaned back. His eyes were half-lidded with sly amusement dancing in his eyes just as his smile grew wide. Kiara immediately drew back in suspicion.

“What’s that look for?”

The priest let out a light chuckle and shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just that you sound so frank with that statement.”

“You are doing it to me, I’ll have you know that.” She argued. Oh she knew flirting when she heard it. Growing up in a guild half-filled with men who couldn’t still their tongues from pouring forth honeyed words towards the opposite sex did have its advantages. No matter what form they sometimes took.

“I’ll let you think what you want.” The smile lessened, but the amusement was still there. An awkward silence settled around them for a time after that, though not for long as a slight creak from the crusader’s chair broke it.

“Priest, you’re going to have to take that robe off.” She tried to change the subject. Saint looked at her, frowning in confusion at first before the frown gave way to another smile.

“You’ll need to take it off me.”

Kiara stared at him. “Take... what makes you think I would do that?” She almost burst out. He was nuts. An idiot. A flirt! Wait, why was he trying to be a flirt with her? That didn’t make much sense. They hated each other and always had.

Saint looked to the side. “I don’t know.” He looked at her again, baring his trademark smile. “Maybe I’m hopeful that you would take me up on my challenge.”

The crusader shook her head and stood. “Well, this is one challenge I’m not going to take you up on.” It was just too surreal to be anything but a joke for his own pleasure.

She stood over the basin, concentrating on cleaning the cloth and nothing else. While she heard the scrape of the chair against the floor, she didn’t count on him moving behind her so quickly. He just stood there, not once moving and it greatly unnerved her. She spun around to face him, words meant to insult dancing on the tip of her tongue when they toppled as he suddenly pushed her against the wall. He wasn’t too rough, but his grip immediately told her that he wasn’t playing around.

She glanced at the hands on her wrists, before looking at him. “What... are you doing?” She asked.

“You know, this is a scenario most people find themselves in.” Saint’s face was carefully schooled into an expressionless mask compared to moments prior. “You’re rendered immobile, with a man towering over your smaller form. Much as you think you can gain the upper hand in this fight, you don’t exactly know just what this man is capable of doing. He could have his way with you, defying whatever struggles you put up until you wear yourself out and ultimately you are rendered helpless. Or he could just kill you, whatever his preferences are.”

What was this guy thinking?

“Take away everything you have now. You see? You’re only a human girl— made of supple flesh and sturdy bones with blood running red through your veins.”

Fear and anger instantly made itself known in her eyes, but she never made a sound. Immediately, a foot shot out to nail him in the knee but he moved back, barely in time as the tip of her foot brushed against his leg. This she used to push against him, using the wall as a boost and sending him off balance again. The two tussled again, though this time they avoided hitting any of the objects or the stained floors, which left them little space to move around in.

“Ergh!”

How many times was it now that she had to stare up at his face looking down at her today?

“That’s about the second time you pulled your punches.” He said between breaths of air.

“I’m not pulling punches!”

“Being a crusader means you can at least hand me my arse.”

“Watch that tongue, priest. And I happen to be mindful of the things in this room!”

Saint let out a breath, running a hand through her short hair comfortingly. She swatted his hand away out of habit. He remained unfazed.

“... I would never do that, Blue. You know that.” A fleeting smile appeared before it disappeared again. His eyes looked to the side for a moment, seemingly contemplating something before returning to look down at her with an unreadable look in them. “But I can’t deny that you look fragile. In a good way though.”

“There’s nothing good in being fragile, priest.” She found herself saying before she could think. She didn’t even want to think about the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks. “Now if you would be so kind as to remove yourself?”

He didn’t look like he was listening to her.

“Don’t you get tired of such a strained life?”

“Huh?”

He blinked down at her. “I meant the drawing... painting, whatever.” His voice sounded slightly distant, maybe even a touch wistful. She couldn’t fathom how her painting had anything to do with her life though, neither the sudden mood change in her charge.

A can must have fallen on his head. That was the quickest explanation she could give herself with the way he was suddenly acting.

“I’m not tired with the way my life is.”

“You could stand to loosen up a bit more—”

“Could you get off me?”

“— And maybe stop being so demanding of yourself and others.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

A quiet laugh. “In a moment. I like you this way.”

What the hell is he doing? What the hell am I doing! Which about summed up the thoughts running amok in her mind. She wanted to duck away from him. Her better judgment screamed to push him away, or run from the room. She did none of those.

“I think I'm beginning to understand more things about you.” He muttered. His breath ghosted over her lips, making her hair stand up as if electricity had run underneath her skin. If he dipped his head that last few inches, she would-

“You know you’re going to have to clean this mess up.” A voice from the doorway stopped froze the two. They simultaneously looked towards the source, seeing their vice guildmaster looking back at them with an unreadable gaze.

“Warrior! You’re such a mood killer!” Saint huffed, his attention had shifted towards the red-haired man. While he was distracted, Kiara quickly rolled out from under him, making sure to keep a respectful distance from the priest as much as the clean space available could offer. She refused to meet any of their eyes, especially that of the wizard towering over them both.
Despite being only the second-in-command, his word was the law within the guildhouse. He was also her surrogate brother, though it did nothing to give her any real advantage over him. It’s not to say that he didn’t care about her, but first and foremost he was her commander, their commander.

The wizard threw a scrutinizing eye about the room, noting the hastily cleaned cans of paint, the colorful splatters on the newspapers and the dirty appearance of the two.

“I gave Kiara an assignment about three hours ago. A simple assignment that didn’t have to do anything with getting physical with anyone or anything—” He trailed off, letting the rest of his unspoken words hang in the air like an accusation. Neither of the two looked ready to argue with that. Moments passed in uncomfortable silence before Warrior –it was his favoured alias- decided enough time was wasted.

“What am I ever going to do with you two?” His tone reflected a certain exasperation one could associate to a father scolding his two children.

“You can start by shutting the door and leaving us to work.” Saint laughed, much to the redhead’s surprise at his words.

“What?”

Saint just grinned sheepishly and continued, “Hey you want quality work? You’re going to have to let us work together in peace.”

“And what I saw a few moments ago was quality work...?”

The man looked between the two, his gaze momentarily calculating. But after a while, Warrior rolled his eyes, and then turned from the room. “Whatever you’re planning, just make sure I have that poster by tonight!” He called back, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Kiara and Saint exchanged glances. “Us?” Kiara was first to utter.

“Yeah, us.” Reaching for her hand, he gripped it in his tightly. His trademark smile was back again on his face. “I think we’d finish faster if we worked together, and better than last time.”
Kiara looked terribly unconvinced. “But-”

“I happen to be able decent enough with my painting skills. I’m serious about that!” He added the last part upon seeing the doubt in her eyes. “It’s not as good as yours, but in this case two heads are better than one, right?” He walked over to where her painting had last dropped and picked it up then returned to her side.

Lifting the painting up, he said, “Look, I know black is your style but it won’t be so attractive as a painting for the orphanage. I can color in a few parts to at least make it appealing enough to the eye. How does that sound?”

She made a show of scrunching her nose at his offer, but she can’t deny that the partial coloring did breathe some life into her otherwise lifeless drawings.

“—Perhaps it would work.” She said after a while.

Without a second thought, the dark-haired priest tossed the ruined canvas into one corner of the room. “There. Now that’s done, let’s try working on something better.” Much to her amusement, she watched him pull out a clean canvas from amongst the clean pile on one side of the room.

Kiara could never understand him, or how easily he made her feel so strange. Maybe she never would. But she realized she was content with this kind of mystery surrounding their equally odd relationship.

In a sudden fit of compulsion, she patted his head, a small smile appearing on her face. “You’re incorrigible, priest.”

Saint’s chest rumbled with his laughter. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, smiling broadly with the sudden rush of red on her cheeks.

“Thank you. I try to be.”