65th of Fall, 513 AV
Warehouse and Docks District, Near The Broken Casket
20th Bell
Warehouse and Docks District, Near The Broken Casket
20th Bell
He never got tired of the salty smell that the Suvan Sea brought into the pathways and corridors of Syliras, and he enjoyed it much more when he was actually over near it. Unfortunately, that usually only happened when he was on a patrol, just like tonight. A cool sea breeze fluttered across the mostly quiet district; everyone was either at the Spinning Coin where a cage fight was set to occur tonight, or drinking away at the Broken Casket. Orion enjoyed neither of these luxuries, instead being tasked as one of the guardians of the area. There were plenty of other knights in attendance at the major events of the evening as it were. Orion was simply to make sure that the riff raff didn't get too rowdy throughout the docks.
For the troubled squire, it would prove difficult to stay focused on his task. With a mind that wouldn't think straight, Orion struggled to concern himself with the safety of the docks. Instead he found his thoughts dancing from point to point, highlighting everything that had fallen apart in the last season. He'd apparently tried to drink himself to death as a result of it, or so Lilly had told him.
Lilly..
She was something else, and she was partially to blame for the way he was now. Or perhaps it was all him; that was a reality he’d considered. Perhaps it was all him. Emily, Hadyn, Lilly. All of them suffered because of the choices he made. All of them were punished because of his foolishness. He wasn’t blind to it, and he was sure that none of them were, either. It wasn’t as though he’d long been unware of these truths. The thing that made everything all the worse was the fact that he knew he did and said horrible things, but never quite had the will to do anything different.
Heavy plate armor clanked with Orion as he strode down another corridor, eyes lazily searching for something to distract him. He’d pay to catch a couple of sailors fighting, so that he could deal with them and not have to think about everything which was eating at him. That desire would only live for so long, as piercing blue eyes wearily drifted downwards, losing their concentration on their surrounding. The brilliant orbs nearly glazed over as he lost himself again in contemplation.
I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore…Not that I ever really did. What am I supposed to do?
So many mistakes haunted the squire, wounds he’d caused and received sat there both new and old alike. Emily had gotten the rawest of deals; he wasn’t a father to her, he didn’t even know why he was trying. She despised him with every bit of her being. And why not? She’d gone from a loving, if unbelievably foul mouthed mother to seeing her father every few days while she stayed with a nanny full time. It was rotten that she had to suffer, but what was he supposed to do? The single father gig wasn’t an easy one.
The sounds of laughter and music drifted forth from a short distance away, likely from the entertainment at the Broken Casket. How he longed to throw this armor off, grab a beer, and lose himself in the stories of that night with everyone else. He wouldn’t do it, of course. The knights, or Dinah, rather, had uncovered that sense of responsibility and duty that lay under layer after layer of filth and debauchery. This hadn’t necessarily been a good thing, for in the right situation the best of intentions could be perverted, as they had with Orion.
Why else would the idiot have taken a job for Peyton Morothon?
That had been the beginning of the end. It had been eating at him since he accepted the job. Despite everything having hit him with the strength of Zulrav’s worst of storms, he’d managed to keep himself together with minor outbursts. He’d made some semblance of progress. Then a greasy man and his ponytail had undone it all. The things he’d done to get that job done, they were supposed to be in his past. The transgressions of his history reared their ugly heads again and it was too much. It was all too much.
He’d felt trapped, he’d felt despicable, and he’d felt like dying. A mage-squire, Lilly Grant had stopped him from making a stupid choice by aiding him in making a different stupid choice. Copious amounts of alcohol. If that wasn’t a mistake he’d made a million times on his own. And yet, despite her seemingly genuine and considerate actions, he’d managed to ruin that, too. She asked a few questions of him, just trying to see what had been eating at her, and he instead treated her like she was some common whore for him to pick up. He was pretty sure the slap mark still adorned his cheek.
Now Orion was here, fighting the urge to just quit. Rock bottom had been found nearly twenty days ago. There was no concern of rediscovering that. The struggle was in picking up the pieces which remained. Fragments of the life he’d left behind coupled with the shattered image of who he was to be battled in a conflict that only Orion was aware of. It was tearing him apart inside, but he’d done everything he could to keep it internal. It just wasn’t working anymore.
Orion slid down against the wall, outlooking the path which led by the Broken Casket. Deep breaths escaped from his lips as he struggled to take in the air his body so desperately craved.
Gods be cursed, I’m losing it.
He could feel his eyes welling up. How embarrassing. Was the great doctoring squire, Orion Michaels going to cry? He was the one who was supposed to leave the trail of tears behind him, but it looked like the tables had turned. This time he would be the one to start that path.