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The Dofus and the Cabbages	By : bazile64 Category: +S through Z > Wakfu Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: wakfu is property of Ankama and not me, i make nor claim any profit from this fanwork.

Chapter List
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Tristepin stared dejectedly at the coins in his hands. The last of what maître Goultard had given him, just two little kamas that he’d managed to save from the bwork who’d robbed him on the road to Emelka. He wondered if he could negotiate Ruel down, or offer something else for the information. He normally would have been fine letting the old man horde knowledge over him, after all, he was used to people knowing more than he did about just about everything, but something the old man had hinted at afterwards troubled the guardian knight.
“That had better be one good secret, for five whole kamas.” He said, after thawing out from his icy plunge. He’d been putting the finishing touches on his new boowolf skin hat.
“If you ever plan to get serious about the lovely Evangelyne, it’s worth three times that.” Ruel leered, cocking an eyebrow conspiratorially.
Tristepin sputtered and coughed and glanced around to see if the girls had been paying attention before hissing, “What do you mean by that, eh? What do you mean ‘get serious’ eh? Who says I wanna get anything with anybody!”
The old man chuckled and smiled condescendingly. “Ah it always happens sooner or later on adventures like these. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” He glanced over at where the girls were laughing at a story Yugo was telling. “But if you have any plans on getting closer to Mademoiselle le Cra, I suggest you take up my offer. I promise, it’s a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry!” Ruel winked and sauntered off to join the main group, leaving Tristepin to his thoughts for the remainder of the evening.
Which brought Tristepin back to his current predicament.
He sighed, turning the coins over and over in his fingers. If I’d been just a little smarter about it, he thought, maybe I could have traded those furs to Ruel for the information. Too late now. He sighed, tapping two kamas together. Maybe I could ask one of the others for the remaining coins? No sooner had the thought appeared in his head he pictured asking Eva for the money, and her laughter from earlier rang through his head. not to mention she’d probably ask what he wanted it for, and that was.... suddenly, Tristepin’s line of thought broke. What would happen if he just asked her what the joke had been earlier? Would she guess his reason for asking? It wasn’t as if she’d heard Ruel’s comment from earlier. But then again, she was always so smart, so surprisingly quick to see through him. But it wasn’t as if she could read his mind and suddenly realise what he’d only realised for himself a few days ago, no one was that good.
He flipped a kama through the air. He could go ask Amalia or Yugo for a coin or two...but then he remembered that it was Evangelyne who held Amalia’s money, and asking a little kid like Yugo for cash seemed an action unbecoming of a knight.
So the choice was, ask Evangelyne for three kamas, or ask Evangelyne was the big secret was that somehow involved cabbages and eggs....again his thought line broke. Some not-often-used gears in his head had started to turn. Was the secret something to do with dragons? Or wait...they’d laughed specifically when he’d mentioned being born from a cabbage...maybe he was special, after all, maybe not everyone was born from a cabbage...perhaps that was why they had laughed. They hadn’t believed his story.
He had to admit he wasn’t the surest on the subject of where he’d come from, himself. Tristepin had taken it on faith as a boy when he’d asked, and as he was usually beaten for asking impertinent questions in those days, he hadn’t asked again. That was before he’d met Goultard, of course, Goultard never beat him without either a good reason or without giving him a chance to fight back. His memory was never the best from before his training. Everything from before he’s touched his hand to Rubilax’s hilt was a shaky blur, as if looking at the memories from behind a smeared windowpane.
But how could Ruel know something that specific about him? Tristepin’s head was starting to hurt, trying to keep up with who knew what and how. He reverted to thinking in black and white, his standard defense mechanism. White: ask Eva what the joke was, Black: ask Ruel, borrowing a kama or two from Evangelyne beforehand. He figured it would be far preferable to owe Eva two kamas than Ruel. Who knew what horrors the old man could concoct for those in his debt?   The flipping motion of the kamas matched the rhythm of his thoughts;
Ask Eva. Ask Ruel. Ask Eva. Ask Ruel.
And why did he even need to ask at all? What was it about the information that could possibly help him get closer to Eva? and when exactly had he decided to get closer to Eva?
Probably on Oma, when he’d been cheated out of giving her the kiss of life. After that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the opportunity he’d lost. Thinking of pulling her close and seeing if her lips tasted as sweet as they looked.
Or no, if he was really honest with himself, it was before that. When he’d been so sick on the boat. When she’d been graciously bringing him food, food he noticed, that was different than what the other’s were eating. She’d gone through the extra trouble of making special food, just for him. Food that would attempt to calm his stomach, like rice and bread and only a small portion of fish. He’d been listening to her complain about cooking all that week, and yet here she had gone out of her way to make him something beyond her responsibilities.
And when she served it, she stayed with him. She talked to him, trying to help keep his mind off the rocking waves. She even brought a bucket, and looked prepared to wield it, the way she watched him while he ate. Probably to make sure he kept it down, but there seemed to be just a bit more tenderness there, those last few days. It was a sure relief from the bickering they usually got up to. He’d expected (and got) the teasing for being seasick, but not the kindness, not the gentle concern. They’d been able to talk about things without getting into a fight, partially because Tristepin didn't have the energy to fight, and partially because she’d let him steer the conversation. Thanks to her gentle questions he’d come to feel confident enough to talk about the things he was actually good at, or had a decent knowledge base of. He’d told Evangelyne about shushus and their ranks, their powers, famous historic battles with them. It had felt good to finally feel like he knew something she didn’t, he actually feeling like she found what he had to say interesting.
She’d asked why he wanted to be a knight and he’d told her about all the heroes of yore he had always looked up to, and been delighted to find out they were some of her favorite stories too. They seemed to have an odd shared love of tragedies, of noble sacrifices and daring deeds in the name of love. For all she had teased him the past months, for all her sniping at him for being an idealistic fool, she had turned out to be quite the little romantic. One night she stayed up with him for hours and they watched the stars revolve in the heavens. They had related the stories of the constellations, both knowing some the other didn’t. Once or twice she’d let him watch her paint in the little notebook she carried. He’d been fascinated by her skill, and one day he vowed to have the courage to ask if she’d draw him. He got he impression she didn’t share that notebook very often, even with Amalia.
And maybe it was his imagination, but during that time her hands also seem to brush his more often. She would lean just a little too close to wipe a bit of food from his cheek, or check his forehead. If he wandered out of his bunk at night to go heave over the side of the ship, often times it was her who found him, threw a blanket over his shoulders and ushered him back to bed.
Once or twice he’d accidentally fallen against her when the ship pitched. Even sitting there in the cold, back to the fire for his turn on watch duty, he could remember the way she felt against his body. Tristepin hadn't been in much of a state to appreciate it the first time, but he could remember it now. How her hips had fit just so against his, how her breasts had pressed so softly against his torso, her cheek resting against his neck for a fraction of an instant while he righted himself. The second time they’d been in the stairwell to the lower decks, her arm around his, helping him down after a nightly ‘feeding-the-fishes’ session, (as Amalia so charmingly put it). The ship had rolled, smashing them against first one wall then another. Instinctively, Tristepin had curled around her and braced his shoulders for impact, taking the brunt of both blows. Fortunately he had just finished emptying his stomach, or the elbow to the belly Eva accidentally gave him would have meant disgusting disaster. He’d ended up with his hands on her ample hips, sagging over her on his knees. Eva had curled slightly into the contours of his chest, swept off her feet in the corner of the stairs with him. After a long moment of awkward silence, they’d jumped apart from one another like their skin was made of hot coals. They’d muttered ‘good night’s then scampered off to their respective bunks.
Tristepin wondered if he could have handled that one better.
Up to that point, she hadn’t been occupying his thoughts the way she had since. Yeah sure, he’d felt attracted to her from the very beginning, but when he’d learned she wasn’t a princess, and when he’d fought beside her and argued with her and been called cervelle de iop one too many times...She wasn’t exactly the shy, blushing beauty he’d read about in fairy tales. Plus, it was hard to think of her as a swooning, delicate flower when she could kick as much ass as he could. He’d gotten used to thinking of her as a comrade, a fellow guardian. She, guarding Amalia. He, guarding Rubilax and to a lesser extent, Yugo.
He’d felt the spark again with the castle of the ugly princesses, though. Just thinking of her somersault over the lava pit sent tingles up his spine, and that dress...his face heated up just remembering the way it hugged her curves. But once they were back on the road, arguing over the route and who’s direction the group was going to follow, it was hard to think of her as a potential girlfriend. They mostly fought about who got to lead, but also about chores, and tactics. He’d lead them astray more often than not and would stubbornly insist he was right even when he honestly hadn’t had a clue. She was always the first with a harsh word and a sharp tongue to point out his incompetency. Which, of course, would only make him more defensive.
He remembered all that still, but somehow those qualities were lovable quirks and flavor to the full seasoned dish that was Evangelyne. She’s learned to joke around more, and seemed a bit more forgiving and willing to part with a kind word. He wondered if the Evangelyne of a few months ago would have cheerfully thanked him for the fur he’d gotten for her, praising his thoughtfulness and smiling at him. He wondered if the Tristepin of a few months ago would have gone out into the cold to go track down pelts for everyone to be comfortable in. He knew that Tristepin wouldn’t have thought to borrow Az or tried to grab a special hat for Eva.
She is a beautiful warrior. The thoughts bubbled unbidden to the forefront of his mind. Her fierce yet beautiful face, concentrating hard on their foe, sweat glistening on the muscles of her shoulders and arms. The muscles themselves flexing and undulating under the smooth skin of her back, so powerful, so graceful in combat. and her thighs....the narrow strip of exposed pale soft skin, so tantalizing, flashing from in between the top of her boots and the bottom of her dress. The curve of her back, that smooth line to the swell of her ass...begs to be caressed.
It was a dark voice, similar to the voice that whispered to him when he was infuriated or scared out of his wits, (which usually infuriated him, so it was basically the same thing) but not quite. This voice had a soft, silky quality that the darkness of his anger could never hope to achieve.
She could be yours, she should be yours and yours alone. She should only look at you with rapture in her eyes, save that smile just for you. No boufball fame-monger should be allowed to hold her hand or breathe her scent.
He had forgotten about that guy, what was his name? Jay. Tristepin had ‘happened’ to have been nearby when they’d been on their date. (Right next to the giggling Amalia in the bushes, who had shoved him down into the hedge when he’d stumbled over her in the dark.) He’d overseen Eva kiss Jay on the cheek and been inordinately happy to leave for Oma the next day. Without, to his supreme smugness, Evangelyne finding it necessary to go tell Jay goodbye or even tell him they were going.
The Tristepin of a few months ago wouldn’t be sitting here, agonising over something he didn’t know, dying to find out what sort of secret was necessary before he could...could what? Could get closer to her? To get ‘serious’ about her? To *gulp* ask to be his girlfriend? Maybe that was it! Maybe the secret Ruel was hinting at was how to get a girl to like you? But then what did cabbages have to do with anything?
Suddenly the part of his brain, the iopish part that always sounded the most like Goultard, snapped. What are you moping around here for like a multoad? Are you not a iop, a iop of action? If you have a question, go find out! or beat someone smarter than you till they cough it up.
That decided him. As soon as Ruel’s turn at watch comes I’ll corner that old tightpurse and tell him three kamas or no deal! and if that’s not good enough for him I’ll just go ask Evangelyne what the big deal is tomorrow. It’s no good me sitting around trying to think!
The next day, after watching Ruel chase the baby phorror around for over an hour straight, Tristepin decided to take his chances with Eva instead.
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The Dofus and the Cabbages