Ratatosk shot an in unintentional glare at Emil not realizing it was him at first and quickly adjusted to soften the gaze. He was leaning up against a tree covering one of the latest wounds he received with his hand while not caring if Emil saw the other cuts and bruises that plagued his body. How long did Ratatosk go missing in these woods, and if Emil is here, is he anywhere near to getting out of them. Out of them would be nice.
“No.” The reply was a bit cold and stiff, but Ratatosk didn’t have the energy to lie about his well being “Have any bandages? I ran out.”
“Uhn! I do. Just give me a s-second.”
Emil was quick to move. Getting closer to Ratatosk and pulling out bandages from his bag before pausing, glancing at Ratatosk, then to the bandages. There were a few things that Emil was unsure about here. One of which was Ratatosk’s ability to apply these bandages on his lonesome. After all, he was badly cut, even the harsh gaze hadn’t been enough to deter him from wanting to move forward and help the Lord.
The next was Ratatosk’s stiffness. There was usually some standing between them, the quickly force of a softened gaze, the inability to recognize his voice … all of that worried Emil. He didn’t know whether or not he should try to go for help ( ratatosk probably wouldn’t like that much ) or if he should stay and apply the bandages himself.
With a breath and a set jaw, the young boy moved inward, slowly. “Here,” his voice was soft, keeping the bandages to himself, “lean on me, f-for a little bit, then I can set you down o the ground. I’ll take care of your wounds this time.”
His words did not provide room for argument, green eyes were sincere in their response. It would be him taking care of Ratatosk this time, instead of the other way around.
In retrospect it all seemed so foolish, his every thought, his
every action. He had been blind, so completely and utterly consumed by his own
hatred that he couldn’t see anything. It was almost laughable did the very
thoughts not fill him with such self-loathing that he would wish himself from existence
if not for the friends who still believed in him. For reasons he still could
not understand, cared for him, saved him. He couldn’t disappoint them now.. he
had to keep moving, had to make the dream they believed in come true, for their
sakes as well.
Is the king alright now?
No. No he wasn’t. Some days Richard wanted to scream. He would
never be; never would the scars that he had wrought on this world fade from his
memory, nor the crushing weight vanish from his heart. Never would a nineteen
year old boy know how to carry the burden of living with those sins. He
desperately sought the path to atonement because it was all he could do. It was
the only way he knew how to live with the guilt of the blood on his hands.
“As alright as a king who might attack his own people could be, I
suppose,” Richard answered, his tone empty, disguising the emotions that ran beneath
his calm exterior. His own gaze remained fixed on the horizon, not trusting it
to meet the one he could feel regarding him. “He has not attacked his own lands
since the events that took place back then, but I imagine only he truly knows
what went through his mind when he did so.”
“Pressure…” he repeated, his gloved fingers twining as elbows
supported him against the rail. The clear sky overhead, the quietness of the
ship save the sound of the water, the calm might have made it difficult to imagine
those times and yet the voices rang so clearly in his mind.
Tell
me Asbel… what is it that I have done wrong? Why couldn’t he see it? You
betrayed me. Why when it was right in front of him. When blood ran from his
hands could he still be so blind. You betrayed me!!
“The previous king had only recently died, and a civil war over
the throne ensued between the current king and his uncle, the archduke. After
attacking Lhant, the king did not make any public appearances for near 6
months, and many say he was sick with grief over what happened. I suppose
pressure may have played its part, but that is hardly reason enough to attack
one’s own people.”
Lies… they all believed lies. This world. No one really
knew the full weight of his sins. No one knew the king they now celebrated was the
very same to condemn them. They would all hate him if they knew, of that much
he was certain. That was why… he had to atone. Not only for his mistakes,
but for the lies he lived each and every day.
“In the end I do not know if his reason accepted or not. The
current Lord of Lhant is friend to the king, so it is difficult to say if the
people have truly forgiven him, or if they simply follow the lead of their Lord
who holds their loyalty. I suppose only the people of Lhant could tell us the
answer to that.”
“Is that so? That’s unfortunate, it is not a tale I wish common.
None should have to experience such a thing. tell me, this person… did they
find forgiveness in the end? Or were they condemned for their crimes?” Richard
finally turned to Emil, his expression heavy, eyes suddenly carrying far more
than his nineteen years.
“Forgive
me, here I am prattling on when you look tired.” How quickly he had lost
himself in his own selfish thoughts, forgotten that his companion had collapsed
in the meadow and then been forced to battle monsters and travel without repose
since. “Forget I said anything, shall we see about getting some rest? It will
be a few hours to the capital assuming conditions remain optimal so there is
ample time.” Richard himself doubted he would get any such sleep, but it was no
reason to rob his companion of what was likely much needed.
It would not be his
first sleepless night, after all.
Emil was quiet then. He sat there, his head tilted down into the sea. His ears picked words, listened to hollow noises that appeared to be disconnected, yet personal. The apology spoke for it, and it took restraint not to question the apologies. Though no such thing passed his lips, his head lifted quietly. He was tired. He felt the strangeness in his skull that told him he was dizzy, the pressure from … whatever force had knocked him unconscious ( be it natural or unnatural ) taking its toll upon one half of the boy. Unable to speak clearly until both halves were fully conscious, he returned a half gilded stare to the man before him.
If Richard spoke from personal experience, then there would be ticks, tells, the fact he could speak freely about these subjects, disconnected from them … He would wonder if, perhaps, he should put into question.
Yet he simply offered his half smile, the warm counterpart to such a serious conversation. “I don’t know either, Richard.” Emil’s eyes flitted. “Y-you see … I left on very confusing circumstances a handful of years ago.” There’s a little laugh, scratching the back of his head. He did not wish to talk about the Guinnungigap. The place which brought nightmares to life, underneath eyelids living and breathing beneath his skin. Having to always be aware for ones life, never a moments rest.
Yet, with these limitations, nay, because of these limitations. To feel such a way as he was would be considered against protocol. Against the nervous system that pumped adrenaline into his body, waxing it’s strength until there was no more. “I hope he was … “ There’s a touch of wind, brushing his own hair back. “Because the world would b-be a worse place without them, despite anything they may have d-done.” Though little ever really thought of that. His head jerked at the suggestion and there was a little hint of weak laughter.
Sleep. Yes, he should be getting that, shouldn’t he? During these days where he could positively say that one person would not be scared by what they saw on the other side of the mirror. His hand offered itself to the unknown royalty. Smile brightening his features, as eyes close in an endearing fashion, open palms for Richard to accept or decline “Only if you a-agree to go with me. I’m not the only one looking worn d-down.”
His smile gives way to a grin. “You’ve been really nice to me, I’d h-hate to be a bother.” One half of a whole. Green slowly opened, calm. “Maybe we could talk more, too. Ah —.” there was a pause, finger moving to scratch at the edge of his cheek. “O-only if you’d like, of course. I don’t have a l-lot of stories to share, but it sounds like you know a lot, and it’d be m-my honor to hear.” There was an odd giggle, almost nervous in the back of his throat.
“N-not to mention, I’m going to be relying on y-you anyway, because I’m pretty sure we’re s-somewhere I’ve never been before.” He glanced to the side, “So, anything y-you tell me is important. And who b-better to tell me than you! This is Capital is your home, isn’t it? You’d at least know the sites, how to get around … ” Emil avoided talking about anything to have him talking about himself. Deeming it unimportant ( or attempting to ) for someone else. He would rather not have to go through an interrogation of ‘what you are’ from someone as kind as Richard.
After all, it wasn’t like he and Ratatosk meant to cause trouble. They just … Sort of landed into it!
Lifting the back of his foot, he scratched at it with his fingernails, bending down slightly to do so with his free hand. “S-so? What do you say?” He offered, what he hoped to be a well-received look, and gave a slight grin. “Oh! I could offer to trade a little bit of w-what I know? About monsters! I mean… after all, y-you did like my abilities … maybe, I could answer questions th-there and you could tell me about this place?” And ‘place’, he meant world.
The emphasis of the entire being around Richard, the way he spoke, the people he talked about. Everyone, everything. “It’s always the m-most interesting coming from another person instead of learning by experience.” He had to be careful, the words ‘another human’ near slipped into his speech. Getting re-adjusted with memories from a thousand years, prejudices and how he held them making his fingers twitch.
Being Ratatosk. No … being half of Ratatosk was difficult because of this. One half of his tongue was willing to use the slang, human, elven, monster, beast, creation, yet the other half struggled, not liking it. They were all near the same, some lived longer, some did not die and simply recreated themselves in forms that resembled crystals.
There are very specific things that Emil remembers.
The good people he meets, the rough pommel of the sword between his fingers, the warm blood splash across his face, the soothing remarks given by people who were terrorized, adrenaline zipping through his veins, the calmness of his heart … Sometimes people had difficulty understanding that. Sometimes they forgot to remind themselves that they needed help, and that help can come from a stranger. Gentle hands, worked hands, so like that of a mercenary, yet nothing like the rough men who fought for money. No bargain struck, only a smile …
Sometimes it was more difficult. Sometimes he grew drained, dizzy, tired, unable to continue going. Forced instead to rely on himself in a different way, one he typically avoided unless he drew too much from situation he knew too little about. Sensed the fear of monsters and men, but could not help … Pushed, pushed so hard that his body collapses — only to rise up a second later with a biting tongue. For, once kindness had it’s turn, it was then ferocity’s turn. Unfortunately, this had given some pause, some back-lashing to people who did not deserve it, leaving Emil in a precarious situation …
Waking up on the road, with nothing but his own mess to fix, his own faults to stand trial for, a man with a black eye, bleeding nose, and teeth knocked in staring him down as a monster.
Forever would he be glad to see the ruler afterwards. She who saw reason, was careful to calculate and offered him a chance to get back up. Perhaps he would visit her again! The thought had come precariously to mind, quickly dismissed as a thought ‘too unlikely’, yet, as he wandered through the crowded castle streets, spotting the veranda not too far, did a brilliant thought come to mind. He was here, was he not? Why not … go and see her?
Sliding his way inward, he grabbed a handful of flowers, the bouquet nothing elegant or fancy, but a sweet gesture. No romantic ties came from such an object, tied together with some ribbon that looked —perhaps— a few rupees at most. The flowers chosen? Well, there was quite a few, wild flowers, mostly, a few weeds in the mixing pot. Yet, he didn’t stop, didn’t let his gift readiness (or there-lack-of,) stop him. Instead, going to a guard and whispering in his ear (the plea of a young child was always so convincing wasn’t it?) that he wanted to see the princess just to give her a gift.
He was looked down on, and then, with a fluster of nods, was given permission. Emil however, glanced away a bit bitter. He was much older than most ever gave him credit for … the twenty-year-old summon spirit did not complain, however, as he was drawn towards a library-esque room, books stacking the walls, catching his breath in intrigue and curiosity. What was here? What knowledge was hidden in the depths of these shelves? Yet, biting back his awe, the guard knocked sagely at the entrance-way, calling out there being a person to see her Highness.
Emil’s lips softly turned upwards, a green gaze much, much older than his form looked. Awaiting an agreement or a disengagement at-which he would merely set the flowers down, apologize for his intrusion and leave. The boy understand nobility, where-as he would prefer to say he did not, yet every society attempted a monarchy at one point or another, and the young summoned spirit had certainly lived through a few.
