15th Spring 522 AV – Alric’s Shack
He hadn’t had much sleep the night before, partly because he had been watching Lys to make sure she hadn’t stopped breathing, or something similar, but also because the young woman was using the only bed he owned in Sunberth. He had tried to curl up, close to the dying fire, using whatever he could find as a pillow, and his jacket as a blanket. To say he had slept was like saying he was still alive, there was a gradient of quality, all of its own, in such pointless statements. Still, his sparing rest had given him much time for thought, wondering upon himself and his feelings, upon why her staying alive meant so much to him. It wasn’t just the guilt of sending her away, without the miza she had pilfered that day, and likely causing the beginning of her ordeals – though he acknowledged that and felt its pang in his chest.
No, it was more than that. He knew what had happened to his parents, and alive or not still he had the hope of finding them, of getting past the darkness surrounding him and breaking free of fate’s yoke. He even remembered them, more of late as he tried to claw it all back with his meditations and other attempts – magical things included. He remembered how alone he had felt when he had not remembered, cast aside like a dirty and worn piece of clothing, consigned to the fire for no other reason than not being needed, or wanted, anymore. That pain was still there, despite his new knowledge, and would never truly be forgotten. What all orphans innately understood, that no others really could, was that they were outcast and they only every really had themselves to rely upon.
He wanted more than that for Lys. She could be annoying of course, in fact she had been downright purposefully hostile in her attempts to rile him altogether too often. Yet they shared the bond deep down and had always returned toe ach other as if things were born anew. Their lives had bene broadly similar, if years apart in their beginnings. She had never told him what had become of her parents, and he had never asked, but the anger he had seen in her suggested that it had not been a peaceful happening. Some at the orphanage had had parents that dies of disease or other things, they were the lucky ones. Other, like Lys and himself, were merely discards, left to rot wherever they were dumped. Entering his shack once more, supplies in his backpack, he looked down upon her and with one hand gently brushed the hair from her face, a soft look upon his own.
“You and me against the world Lys, I remember that fake promise a while back. You’ve probably forgotten, but I haven’t. I was the one who taught you, and those of your age, how to pilfer and sneak. Me and the rest of the older ones, back when it was just a game and laughter reigned over suffering. Seems only right that I try to make it right, in some way” he muttered, almost a whisper, as he put another log upon the fire and dumped his backpack upon the table.
He had purchased food and collected more water, retrieving the waterskins from the Outpost after making sure everything was secure and Twilight had enough water and food tossed about to survive for a number of days, he wasn’t sure when he’d be back there again. No other letters had materialised that he had seen, though he had read over the ones he had already to see if there were any mentions of this Tazrae knowing Lys, which had told him she probably didn’t. It was as if both of them had dropped out of his life and then returned within a score of days or each other. He didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t remember the one and the other was still in the midst of the battle for health and life. It was a strange synchronicity, but one he’d think upon another time.
Instead he busied himself with pouring water into his coking pot and setting it upon the table, ready for the food preparation. He had already boiled enough water to wash Lys’ wound with when the time came, leaving it to cool in another bowl to the side of the hearth. This one was now for food and he tossed out all of the things he had purchased upon the table, setting them all aside for now.
Turning back to see that Lys was still soundly unconscious he sat down and decided to tempt fate – he had to practise and she wasn’t likely to wake to see him do it.
He hadn’t had much sleep the night before, partly because he had been watching Lys to make sure she hadn’t stopped breathing, or something similar, but also because the young woman was using the only bed he owned in Sunberth. He had tried to curl up, close to the dying fire, using whatever he could find as a pillow, and his jacket as a blanket. To say he had slept was like saying he was still alive, there was a gradient of quality, all of its own, in such pointless statements. Still, his sparing rest had given him much time for thought, wondering upon himself and his feelings, upon why her staying alive meant so much to him. It wasn’t just the guilt of sending her away, without the miza she had pilfered that day, and likely causing the beginning of her ordeals – though he acknowledged that and felt its pang in his chest.
No, it was more than that. He knew what had happened to his parents, and alive or not still he had the hope of finding them, of getting past the darkness surrounding him and breaking free of fate’s yoke. He even remembered them, more of late as he tried to claw it all back with his meditations and other attempts – magical things included. He remembered how alone he had felt when he had not remembered, cast aside like a dirty and worn piece of clothing, consigned to the fire for no other reason than not being needed, or wanted, anymore. That pain was still there, despite his new knowledge, and would never truly be forgotten. What all orphans innately understood, that no others really could, was that they were outcast and they only every really had themselves to rely upon.
He wanted more than that for Lys. She could be annoying of course, in fact she had been downright purposefully hostile in her attempts to rile him altogether too often. Yet they shared the bond deep down and had always returned toe ach other as if things were born anew. Their lives had bene broadly similar, if years apart in their beginnings. She had never told him what had become of her parents, and he had never asked, but the anger he had seen in her suggested that it had not been a peaceful happening. Some at the orphanage had had parents that dies of disease or other things, they were the lucky ones. Other, like Lys and himself, were merely discards, left to rot wherever they were dumped. Entering his shack once more, supplies in his backpack, he looked down upon her and with one hand gently brushed the hair from her face, a soft look upon his own.
“You and me against the world Lys, I remember that fake promise a while back. You’ve probably forgotten, but I haven’t. I was the one who taught you, and those of your age, how to pilfer and sneak. Me and the rest of the older ones, back when it was just a game and laughter reigned over suffering. Seems only right that I try to make it right, in some way” he muttered, almost a whisper, as he put another log upon the fire and dumped his backpack upon the table.
He had purchased food and collected more water, retrieving the waterskins from the Outpost after making sure everything was secure and Twilight had enough water and food tossed about to survive for a number of days, he wasn’t sure when he’d be back there again. No other letters had materialised that he had seen, though he had read over the ones he had already to see if there were any mentions of this Tazrae knowing Lys, which had told him she probably didn’t. It was as if both of them had dropped out of his life and then returned within a score of days or each other. He didn’t know what to make of that, didn’t remember the one and the other was still in the midst of the battle for health and life. It was a strange synchronicity, but one he’d think upon another time.
Instead he busied himself with pouring water into his coking pot and setting it upon the table, ready for the food preparation. He had already boiled enough water to wash Lys’ wound with when the time came, leaving it to cool in another bowl to the side of the hearth. This one was now for food and he tossed out all of the things he had purchased upon the table, setting them all aside for now.
Turning back to see that Lys was still soundly unconscious he sat down and decided to tempt fate – he had to practise and she wasn’t likely to wake to see him do it.
