How long had it been since someone was just... kind to her?
Medea quietly watched the gentle rise and fall of the strange master's chest from her little corner of the room, cautious and for some reason, afraid to disturb him.
He'd asked no questions in making the contract with her, and then despite her insistence otherwise, stubbornly bandaged up her wounds before offering her his bed and plopping down on the couch to promptly pass out with his hat over his face with his feet kicked up.
She didn't even need bandages... or his bed... She'd insisted on that. She was a servant. But the stubborn man didn't care. He'd said something about being a 'man' and feeling bad, then proceeded to ignore her protests entirely.
It was odd. It was so very odd.
Was he just waiting for her to lower her guard and then strike?
But then... He looked so defenseless right now. He had to know she could kill him as he slept and run off. Maybe, he was just that confident about being able to stop her if she tried. He'd certainly shown the speed for it.
Why was he being nice to her? No, would he do the same if he knew who she was?
No single magus, no matter how accomplished, could sustain a contract with two servants at the same time without feeling the strain. They were figures of legend, and their strength and summoning in an era that wasn't their own was solely sustained by their Master.
Certainly, his other servant had felt their-... no, her supply being sapped away. Still, she was nowhere to be found, and Medea had no way to know if she was going to be a problem.
Medea watched her rescuer till the first rays of warm sunlight fell through the open window, signifying the break of dawn... but only to make sure he wasn't deceiving her and only that, nothing else. She had no other reason. Truly. She wasn't so gullible as to be infatuated with the first person who was nice to her!
"...Mornin'."
"Y-Yesh-!"
Medea covered her mouth with both hands, then cleared her throat and spoke again in a manner that befit a witch, "Indeed, good morning."
"I'll have breakfast ready in a bit. Wager that'll make that darn runt finally come back." He yawned and stretched his arms before abruptly jumping to his feet with none of the lethargy that came with humans and early mornings.
"Who is this... runt, you speak of?"
She followed his back with her eyes into the attached bathroom until he shut the door on her.
"For the life of me, I can't get her name right. Part of why she ran off. Well, that and her nasty mouth. Finding her is supposed to be my challenge or whatever but I ain't all too keen on chasing around someone."
Medea pondered in silence. His abode was humbler than what she was used to. A single bedroom apartment in a corner of Fuyuki overlooking the river that divided the city in two. Even now, she could hear the hustle and bustle of the iron chariots humans had come to use in place of horses and mules.
The information regarding the age the grail provided upon summoning was integral to her understanding of the time, or she'd have spent half the time in awe or confusion over the wonders of progress.
"Is there anything you can tell me about h-" Medea quickly averted her gaze. There was something about the way his wet blonde hair stuck to-... She cleared her throat again. "Does anything stand out about her?"
Wet footsteps schlopped across the apartment, towards the open kitchen adjacent to the living room.
"Horns. She's got horns. A big tail. She don't walk much either, just floats everywhere. And pointy teeth. Sharp too."
Medea was... no closer to the answer than she was before this new information came to light. His so-called servant had none of the traits associated with any of the servant classes save for some Berserker. But that was a servant class that was plausibly monopolised by someone in a much better 'situation' than her new master.
His choice in quarters was rather telling of his assets and funds for the war.
Her former master, the one she had killed, rented out the entire top floors of some high-rise skyscraper. While her new one, lived in some dingy apartment. Not to say, she held that against him. She even preferred his simple way of life.
The floorboards creaked under her when Medea finally got off the bed, not content with just waiting around for her new Master. Unfortunately, he seemed to be done the moment she stepped out.
It made for quite the odd moment when he smiled at her and she lost the indignity she had worked up. Her eyes wandered to his hands, and then to the portions he'd set up on the table.
She knew he knew that servants required no sustenance outside magical energy, but he had gone out of his way to serve her as well. Medea didn't quite know what to think about that. So, she simply sat down on the chair he gestured towards.
Her face burned.
Servants didn't need food.
He scratched the side of his head confusedly. "I can make something else if pancakes don't suit your taste."
"...They're fine." She managed.
Medea stared at her food. It was some kind of fried flatbread, topped with syrup and a white foam she couldn't quite place.
The Holy Grail that facilitated their summoning taught them the norms of the era, but it didn't get into the finer details like... how to eat. And so, the Witch quietly stole glances at her Master, trying to figure out just how she was meant to eat.
When she finally had enough, she lowered the hood that had been covering her face and got to eating. The taste was... nothing special. It was needlessly sweet, and she had definitely had better in her time as a princess... but it was enough. It was good. It made her feel weird, all warm and fuzzy.
Her concentration broke when her Master whistled.
"Darn shame to hide a face that pretty, ma'am."
Medea looked around confusedly. Then she realised he'd spoken to her and her face burned again. She quickly hid her face in her cloak but unfortunately, she couldn't quite hide her twitching, pointed ears.
He laughed.
She burned brighter.
Medea clenched her fists.
"My name is... Medea."
She expected his face to change, his laugh to stop and be replaced with disgust. She owed it to him to tell him of her nature. But, it never happened.
"James Sullivan." He tipped his hat like the night before.
"N...No, you don't understand... Medea of Colchis. The Witch."
"Bandera, Texas. Born and raised. I did grow up at a ranch though. Imagine that don't quite match up to a palace, princess."
Medea realised he knew who she was. She also realised he didn't care, at all.
"A...Aren't you afraid?"
He offered a sly wink. "Should I be, ma'am?"
"...No." Medea relented, and ate her food with her head hung low.
-
Hope you enjoyed.
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(@heroofwroughtiron, can you tell me about the guy who was acting like wannabe diddy? I need to curbstomp that shit in its infancy)