[FLASHBACK] Incrimination (Oluse)

[Paragon]

But the news was not what Oluse had expected. Adarin had built up certain expectations in the boys mind. He expected illness, disruption, but nothing more. His actions had been a statement, something clear to shake his father, and make him see the son he so often forgot. Yet the words came like a dirge. Dark, sodden, heavy. Oluse listened numbly, at first confused. "Dead..." The conversation went on, certain words highly audible above others. One thing was clear. His dosage had not caused minor damage -- they had led to the death of his father's patient. Oluse had blood on his youthful, innocent hands.

[Oluse]

Words were exchanged after that word, but fell on Oluse's deaf ears with little significance. Nothing, likely in all of Oluse's life, would hold as much significance as that one words. It sunk in dully, numbing, almost distant, as his mother and father both collected their things to go examine the body. They would know what killed him, and they would know what medicine he had taken. And, he started to cry, he couldn't stop it. It was a slow start, it wasn't fought back, the boy had nothing for this. He was exposed, completely vulnerable, to this surprise. He had always hated surprises, and this one was to be his undoing.

He ran, his mind falling farther into his dread logic. There was only a handful of people in Denval that had medicine that strong, that pure. His father had fashioned that, and would know without a doubt it was missing when he looked closely at the vials that he replaced his bounty, stolen. He couldn't even begin to fathom what would happen to him, it was beyond him. He was dominated, completely and utterly by his emotions. To the point where it took till he nearly ran into the closed door itself before he realized himself, red faced and gasping between sobs at Adarin's door.

He pounded, hard smashed from weak and desperate limbs. He tried to scream Adarin's name but it came out no more than a wail. He was making a scene of himself, and when he saw a neibor approaching to sooth him, to inquire what was wrong he suddenly froze. His emotions of helplessness and fear turned to solid fright. He was prettified. He felt cornered, and his only escape was into Adarin's home. He disregarded niceties and ripped the door open, using more force than necessary, being so accustomed to his own home, and burst into Adarins place of living. He went to call for Adarin again as he slammed the door behind him, but found his voice still frozen in his burning throat. His face felt full of water, utterly saturated.

[Paragon]

Adarin gave a start from his chair. The wails and shrieks, the banging at the door. He had no doubt who it would be. He allowed the boy a moment to revel in the horror of the situation, scrubbing a hand through his dark hair. Even Adarin would admit he was surprised when the boy broke the door down. There was more fury and rage in that boys heart than he'd ever predicted. He looked up, feigning anger. "How dare you break into my house, you petulant boy," he growled. Oluse's face was a mess, cowled in tears and shame and rage. He had destroyed the boy's entire world -- that much was obvious. Very soon, he'd destroy the boy's parents world too. "What on Mizahar is the matter?" Inside, he smiled.

[Oluse]

Oluse wanted to run to Adarin, plead and beg for him to fix everything, curl up within his strength and hide from his own mistakes. And in return he received the quite predictable aggression of his Denvali accent, rough and commanding, and a sailor's growl of bravo. Oluse was quelled.

"I'm sorry!" He let out, for the intrusion. And beyond his knowledge much more. "I- I don't know what to do! That man, I did ask you asked," He stopped trying to push the pieces together for Adarin, trying to organize it all in his mind so that he might have a chance to share the abstract of his thoughts with the inquiring man.

"But, but. The man, he came to my home. And he said, I think he said," Oluse suddenly wondered if perhaps he was wrong, perhaps Adarin would tell him he was wrong, that it was just an accident. "I think, he is dead. That the man died, after I..." something in his mind flared, but it was beyond him. His sentence petered off, as they often did, and he was lost to pool of concentrated thought, panicked and overwhelming for Oluse. Saying it, however, as beginning to organize the mess h had created for himself.

[Paragon]

"Dead?" Adarin asked, feigning shock, "He's dead? What did you do? You must have done the dosage incorrectly. Oh, you stupid, stupid boy." He shook his head, all hope for Oluse draining from his eyes. The boy was panicked, like a frightened animal, muttering words, composure shaking. "You are a fool," Adarin repeated, making sure the message was clear, "and now how do you get out of this mess, young Oluse? I don't think your father will ever forgive you for this, will he?" Adarin waited a moment, allowing the brutality to sink in. Finally, he gave the boy a wan smile. "You'll have to leave. Leave Denval, I mean. There is no other way boy."

[Oluse]

Oluse was suddenly angered, and was unsure what to do with the emotion.

"No..." He said, though with significantly much less gusto than he had intended. He wanted to argue that it was impossible. He was careful, after all. The dosage was perfect, and the man was not allergic, not to the main ingredient. He knew this, for his father kept a keen record of such thing. No, a misdosae was impossible.

Though Adarin's following words left him numb, specifically in the face. He felt as if he was fall backwards, he felt unsteady and frantic.

Adarin was right. Oluse knew it. There was no way for him to prove it wasn't a misdose. And even if there were he father would still have his head. Some children would be over reacting to say their father would have him killed. But, for the obvious exception of his marriage, Oluse's father had always been a severe Denvali man. He would have Oluse turned to the guard so fast. So fast... And, he wouldn't offer a word of support, a single plea for forgiveness on the boy's behalf.

After a moment, hair bristled, and eyes staring straight into Adarin's, and right on through, Oluse said something. He would have looked down, or away, but he knew not how. Even in his timidness a Denvali child was trained to be bolder than that. Never look away from what you fear.

"I didn't kill him, Adarin. An overdose was impossible, and an allergy. I did everything perfectly. The alcohol, it didn't effect the drought. It was perfect." He knew this, because his father's experienced and trained hand had made it. Never did he make a mistake, at least to Oluse's knowledge, when mixing concoctions.

Emotions still churned chaotically within Oluse's gut, threatening to keel him over if he let them take hold. He was frantic, and knew not what this all meant. What leaving really meant. Still, steadily Oluse's eyes refocused upon Adarin's looking for guidance. He knew better than to look for comfort.

[Paragon]

Adarin frowned as Oluse seemed to muster some sort of logic, talking himself out of guilt. The boy looked right at him, perhaps staring beyond. He was wild, feral, caught on the off foot. But what had happened had happened. No one could change it. A man was dead. "And yet... he still died. A mother's love is truly tested by her son's misdemeanours. And a killing... can anyone come back from that Oluse?" Adarin's face scrunched up a little. "Tell me - you know your mother better than I. Could she forgive you? And your parents reputations as medics. In tatters. No, Oluse. You must leave. It will be their only salvation." It was raining outside, as it often did in Denval. How appropriate, he thought. For soon enough, the Denvali boy would be walking through that rain towards a new life, unwittingly inflicting pain to his mud-blooded mother and clueless father.

[Oluse]

Oluse had gone on unaware of the intense pleasure this all caused Adarin as his plans fell perfectly in place. He had blood on his hands, but spilled blood for his community for Virates for all of the Denvali pure bloods only brought him satisfaction.

Something in the Denvali boy did click, however. A foreigner crops up and Adarin, the severe Denvali loyalist concoct a plan, one that goes awry. But, it was Oluse's absolute trust in Adarin's abilities that queued him to the treachery. Adarin was too smart for one of his plans to fail. No, if a man ended up dead it was because Adarin meant the fate for him. And, if Oluse had to flee. A sudden dryness left Oluse's tongue like sandpaper in his mouth and along his throat.

Adarin had planned it all.

For the first time, the sensation of betrayal met the boy's heart, and it was crushing. He felt so low, so helpless. Most of all he felt shame. Adarin had told him he had a place in Denval, that he could recompense his father's foolishness. But, now he knew what Adarin truly felt, the truth, his father could recompense if he wished but blood is stronger than free will. He was tainted... irreversibly.

The boldest part of him wanted to scream at Adarin, to command he march to the Captain to reveal to all his acts. However, the rest of Oluse felt he deserved this for trusting to begin with. How foolish was he to let himself be strung along, to hope beyond truth that his existence could be overcome. No, hope could not undue one's body, the only undoing was a slow death of seasons stretching on with the knowledge that he was no Denvali. Not truly.

Tears plumetted from Oluse's eyes as he looked into Adarins, and perhaps Adarin knew that he had figured it out, or perhaps he simply looked like a broken ignorant child. Both were equally true. Oluse would not, no could not say a word to Adarin, his bravery was not enough. If he professed his epiphany Adarin may react with anger, kill Oluse, or what's worse deny the claims. Oluse had no room in his heart for more lies, for more doubt. He knew, beyond logic, beyond proof, what Adarin had done, and he could not risk shaking that conviction.

He turned in his place, and bolted for the door as Adarin commanded, fore Adarin's plans always worked exactly as he wished, and he wished for the boy to leave Denval now, and leave Denval he would.

The rain seemed colder than before as he barreled through it, trying not to slip upon the slush filling the streets. Oluse's mind had ceased to work, numbed by so much inundating it. He simply ran, and when he reached his house he knocked the door open for the last time with a single thunderous blow. He had expected reprimand from his parents, to have to lie to them, that his sisters would fear he get hit. The weight of that thought that he could have to look his father in the eye and lie as only dwarfed by the crushing silence that met him. His home was empty of people, and he realized that he would not see his father nor his mother nor his sisters before he left. Just as well, he wouldn't know what to say.

With haste he made for the family safe, a well crafted tomb of metal set into the floor on the first level. It took no lock picking as he reached behind the reading shelve, stacked with his parent's reference books, journals, medical records, and billing information. It took the casual brush away of a waking spider from the cold season but he found the long heavy key. As he moved to erect himself and return to the safe he saw, floating before him only a few inches away, set at the top rung of the short bookshelf, his father's medical journal. So much information his father had compiled. Oluse felt temptation, but resisted, was it not bad enough that he was stealing his father's pride, that he had failed as a first born son, but now he contemplated stealing his life's work. No, he couldn't.

He gathered the leather pack from the wall and filled it with basic survival tools, then went to the safe and took a deep breath, quivering under the weight of his emotion. He needed to. He told himself this several times before pushing the key in shaking it as the old lock demanded then twisted to pop the lock open. With some effort he pulled the heavy door open and looked down within. His parents were wealthy, though they spent much to support the family, and even more to help the community. Still, Oluse only took one pouch of heavy coins from the safe, he would count it later. He felt so much shame as he dropped it into his pack.

Just before dropping the heavy door down tight again he spotted it, revealed by the purse's extraction, glimmering in the filtered sunlight from outside. Inlaid with beautiful blue topaz the bright metallic surface of the heavy pendant of Aquiras shone with brilliance. The sight caused Oluse to stop crying, only intermittent sniffled filling the air around him. He reached down and drew it out, feeling it's weight for himself. Aquiras the god of travel, who his people once worshiped, who's pendant had been handed from first born son to first born son for as long as any could remember. He knew he did not deserve it, though at the same time he felt anger toward his parents. Locking the symbol up in the safe as if it were some dusty outdated heirloom. Aquiras may be gone, but his domain was not, he should still be important. What use did his xenophobic people have for such a relic. Indignantly he pulled the chain over his neck and let the pendant fall to his chest. He closed the safe and stood, moving tot he dusty family mirror set into a near by wall.

What looked back at him seemed somehow foreign. He was no longer the passive boy with dreams that he always saw there. He looked horrible. Cold and wet, warm and salty from the eyes, his face was inflamed and he was a thief, with that bag of stolen goods by his side, his family's heirloom around his neck. He was to be different now, a traveler, and it was all Adarin's doing. Oluse wanted to scream, but he didn't. It was time to go.

Without pause he ran to the docks, his lungs straining against his haste. He unabashedly purchased the ticket, and was surprised that the sailor asked no questions, just gave him a dubious look. Had Adarin arranged to have his exit from Denval be as smooth and silent as possible? No, if someone who knew him caught him, which was most everybody, he would be in trouble. Pendant now tucked secretly into his shirt he set out to find somewhere more private to wait till he left. He knew just the place, but his blood boiled at the thought. Danger was his life now, and he would have to accept risk to survive, this he wouldn't lie to himself about for a moment.

He knew where one person that might be willing to help him might be. He ran as quickly as he could, side screaming, to the Chapel. He stopped at the front door, panting, and waited to half catch his breath before quietly entering, hoping the rain concealed his pain. Silently he searched for the Symestra.