Chapter Text
A little hum that Wild almost didn’t seem aware of danced upon the afternoon air as he stirred at the pot propped over the fire. His wooden spoon clack clacked against the metal edges of the cooking pot, and the fragrant scent of the herbal soup with mushrooms mingled with the impromptu music to create a comforting atmosphere that evening. Twilight stared at the kid over the campfire, chewing at a cuticle in thought as he listened. Ever since he’d met him about a month ago, he’d always been… quiet, for lack of a better word. No, there was a better word. That word was eerily, frighteningly, completely and utterly silent.
He didn’t make a sound around Twilight, if he could help it. He spoke solely in gestures that Twilight was only just beginning to learn how to translate, his body language guarded and his face near expressionless except for an annoyed scowl. Unflinchingly mute and stoic, he didn’t seem to voice a single verbal sound if he could help it—he didn’t laugh or cry or shout, didn’t even let out more than a few whimpers that one time a few weeks back that he’d gotten a monster’s arrow in his thigh and Twilight had been forced to dig out with no more equipment than a rusty dagger, a scrappy tourniquet, and a cheap bottle of alcohol. As time went on, Wild started to become more inclined to show that emotion on his face and through his posture—often in amusing mimicry of Twilight himself—but even then he was careful to walk and eat and even fight in near complete silence besides the clashing of blades in battle. Hell, Twilight wasn’t even sure if the kid farted. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
It had been a little better when he was only known to the boy as Wolf, but not by a lot. Wild still hadn’t spoken or laughed often, but at least when he moved he had a sound to him, rustling leaves as he walked past, humming or whistling songs that he seemed to have made up to himself. That was, until he’d discovered that Twilight and Wolf were the same, at which point he’d retreated into that stoic, almost unearthly silence around the both of them. One thing that Twilight had missed the most was the humming that Wild didn’t seem to realize he was doing now.
“Say, why’re you so quiet all the time ‘round me?”
The words were out before Twilight could reconsider their effect. And indeed, that hum in the air fizzled out abruptly, and the wooden spoon froze in its continuous circular path in Wild’s hand. The resulting look the kid shot Twilight over the cooking pot was guarded and icy, almost. His shoulders raised up to his ears defensively.
“I… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked ya that. None of my business.” Twilight backtracked mentally, cursing his stupid mouth. Uli had always told him to think before he spoke, but he never seemed to be able to catch up with his stupidest thoughts before they were already past his lips. Maybe he could just pretend he hadn’t said it? Twilight rubbed at the back of his neck as he averted his eyes, pretending to find something interesting in the line of the treetops at the edge of camp, as he asked as casually as he could manage, “Say, how long until the food’s done, ya reckon?”
Wild let out a little long-suffering sigh—still more than Twilight had heard from him in the last few weeks—and set down his wooden spoon. He stood, then moved to sit opposite of Twilight, his face set into a concentrated frown. Twilight cringed, and apologies began to spill from his mouth.
“Listen, I’m sorry, I’m real sorry. I shouldn’t’ve asked nothing ‘bout it, I didn’t mean no…”
Oh. Twilight trailed off when he realized that Wild was moving his hands in that odd, focused way he did when he wanted to say something. Sign Language, the gestures were apparently called. Most people of Wild’s world seemed to know it, which hurt Twilight all the more that he himself did not. When Wild did deign to speak to him, their communication was rarely true sign, and more a bizarre game of charades to get across what he wanted to say, but Twilight would be damned if he didn’t try his hardest to understand.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Twilight sat back, eyeing him carefully. “Start over. And just a little bit slower please.”
A twist of Wild’s lips. His hand moved through the first gesture again: a sign that looked similar to no, then a flick of his wrist out from it into… a pointing motion?
“Uh no…. not…” Twilight fumbled, repeating the sign to himself. “Not… not… not going? Like your voice doesn’t work? I’ve heard you before, that ain’t true.”
Wild shook his head vehemently, then signed a combination of two simpler words, both of which Twilight recognized.
“No… good? Not good?” Twilight said to himself as he mimicked the sign. That received a nod of the head from Wild, and Twilight’s brow furrowed. “No good? Wait, what’s not good?”
Wild tapped his voice box, raising an eyebrow in emphasis.
“Your speech isn’t any good? Like it hurts to speak? Or it sounds bad? Ah, I get what you’re saying!” Twilight said triumphantly. But when he only received another shake of the head, he melted in sullen disappointment, crossing his arms. “Well nevermind then. I’m sorry, Wild, I ain’t understanding you.”
Wild wrung out his hands and abruptly shot to his feet, apparently deeming it all nothing more than an exercise in futility.
“No, no, no, don't leave!” Twilight yelped, scrambling up after him. “Wait, please just say it again, I’m doin’ my best to understand ya, I swear. Come back, please, gimme one more try.”
Wild, as requested, sat back down with another long-suffering sigh of his. He signed through a completely different phrase, his fingers moving far too quickly for Twilight to follow.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Twilight sat up taller, waving at him to stop. “I wasn’t ready, I’m sorry. Slowly, please, I’m trying to understand. One word at a time, please.”
Wild’s frustration was nearly tangible in the air. Very pointedly, he tapped his own throat.
“Voice?”
A nod. Wild motioned pulling a sword from its scabbard.
“A sword… a—a weapon?"
This one also received Wild’s approval. The next word was a bit harder to understand. Wild signed no again, then made a grasping motion towards himself, like taking something in both of his hands.
“Has?” A frown of disapproval and a shrug. Close, then. “Needs…. wants? Okay, so…” Twilight ran back through the words in his head, piecing them together. “A voice, a weapon… does not need? A sword does not need a voice?” Twilight furrowed his brow, thoroughly confused by now. “What weapon, Wild? We don’t even know where the Master Sword is yet. Do you mean that one?”
Wild shook his head, then placed a hand on his own chest.
“You the weapon? Wild, you’re not a sword, you’re…” Twilight’s tone was joking, but he trailed off as Wild’s face flashed to ugly frustration. He very emphatically pointed at his own chest again, then turned away pointedly, signing something that Twilight clearly caught as You don’t understand.
“Okay, Wild…” The kid was upset, now, no need to make it worse. “I, ah… I understand.” He did not understand at all, but at the same time, he was starting to think that he did. Maybe this silence was to do with something to do with his past that he couldn’t seem to remember. “Is… is food done, do you think?”
Wild scoffed, clearly not falling for that lie, and stalked back over to the pot. He stirred its contents, nodded to himself, and began to distribute the servings into bowls. Twilight stared at the top of his head, lost in thought.
A sword needs no voice? Who in his past had taught him he was nothing more than a voiceless weapon to be pointed towards an enemy?
Whoever it was, Twilight was going to have words with them, whether it be in this life or the next.