34th of Searing, 120
Sleep. A state of warm, comfortable stupor that carried away the consciousness on a voyage through the recesses of the mind. A time in which the body took time to heal all the trauma that passed on a preceding day. It was a time where energy could be restored, and minds could unwind. A state of ultimate relaxation, where the stress of day-to-day life didn't exist. It was an escape, a short-lived peace between the chaotic crashes that the world dealt on the regular. For Arkash, sleep was precious. But like almost all precious things, it was far beyond his grasp.
It was the middle of the day, and Arkash had finished with his nightshift some few hours ago. He needed sleep, but between Cojack's ragged, raspy breathing which became frequently broken by harsh coughs, and the general chatter of the street outside, sleep was unattainable. A hard swallow saw him clear his mouth of stale spit and venom before he quietly sat up in his fur throws. Perhaps, if he could find a way to put his mind at ease, he would be able to sleep easier? As his yellow eyes looked about the room, they settled on the loose floorboard that rested beside the hearth. A deep exhale deflated his chest, and he carefully slid from the furs of his bed to creep toward it, one step at a time.
There were advantages to working during the night, of course. One of them was that his wage was higher, which helped in all sorts of ways. The second was that he was able to avoid the Thompson brothers, who prowled the streets in the hours before the sunset, usually. The night was too dangerous for them in the gutters of lower Nivenhain, and they didn't dare tempt the urchins they so ruthlessly extorted without their eyes to guide them. It had been nearly two weeks now since their last visit, and Arkash was still healing. Faded bruises ran down his ribs, and scrapes covered his knees and side from where he'd skidded across the ground. Part of him thought it miraculous that they hadn't broken any of his bones, another part of him...
A shake of his head dispelled the darkness in his thoughts, and he took a sore knee at the floorboard. Careful claws gently pried at its edges and popped the one nail free. He moved it aside and placed it with the nails facing the floor so that he didn't stab himself on accident. A deep exhale flared his nostrils as he gazed at what laid beneath; the jar of his savings, and something else that was wrapped in rags. His glands were releasing a steady stream of spit and venom, which he made sure to slurp and swallow as necessary. His trimmed, stubby claws reached down to bring the jar of their savings from the cold, crisp earth, and he placed it in his lap. There, his lithe frame wrapped tightly around the glass and held it close to his chest. Against his body was everything they had; all the money they'd saved over their entire lives with endless, long shifts of back-breaking labor, days of starvation, and terrible living conditions.
Against his body was their only chance of making it out of Lorien; without it, they wouldn't be able to afford the equipment they needed to survive the long trek across the northern realms. Arkash was especially vulnerable to the climate due to his cold blood. Without expensive, heavy winter clothing and reliable external heat sources along the way, he would perish. Without a steed of some sort, his father wouldn't survive the journey either. With his mother's passing, everything had fallen into place to make the journey the most difficult and dangerous task they'll ever face. Even with all their preparations, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be attacked by some wild animal on the road, or bandits, or worse.
The future was so uncertain, and it brought Arkash to tears while he sat there with the jar held tightly against his dried, broken scales. It would just be a couple more months, and they'd have the funds they needed. He could survive the Thompson Brother's beatings, the starving, and the sleepless days until then. It was just a bit further. "Arkash..." Spoke his father's voice over the quiet sobbing that trailed tears down his cheeks. A sniffled and a slurp saw him wipe his eyes with his arm, though he kept his back to the sickly horse. "Yeah, dad?" A pause followed the sound of his almost-composed voice, and the horse sighed. Confused, Arkash turned to face his father. He was laying in bed, staring upward at the broken panels of their roof. "What is it...?" He asked again as he carefully stowed the money jar back in the earth's cold grasp. His shaky claws shifted the plank panel back into place, and a hard thump of his balled fist set the nail in partially, making it blend in with the rest of the floor.
"You need your sleep, boy... You work tonight," he spoke through hard and heavy huffs, that almost always threatened to leave him coughing blood. The sound brought his heart to ache, and he shook his head before wiping his eyes with his arm. "I'll be fine, dad. I slept earlier," no he didn't. "Sleep more," the boney Rath ordered, "you always... Feel worse when you're tired..." That was true. Did everything feel bleak and gloomy just because he was tired? Though he wanted to believe that were the case, most of him knew it not to be true. Exhausted and defeated, he stumbled back to his throws and laid down in the cool furs. Cojack, who was naught but skin and bone sat up a little to rest against his bed frame. There, he met with Arkash's eyes and exhaled deeply before he wiped his lips clean of some rust-colored drool. A smile took his lips while he gazed at the lizard, and he laughed a single raspy breath before he coughed hard into his boney fingers.
Arkash winced a little at the sight but didn't rise from his throws. Instead, he parted his lips to ask a quiet, concerned "what's so funny?" To which, Cojack replied with a sigh. "I see so much... Of your mother... In you, you know?" The observation made the younger Rath curl up a little beneath the furs. What did that mean? "You think I don't see it, but..." He wheezed, "you work real hard, son... An' you do it without... Whining or nothin'." Arkash's brow softened a little and he muttered a quiet "dad..." while he laid there. "You've been so good to me, Arkash... You never wake me up, and never forget to feed me, even if you go without..." Cojack pressed with his confessed observation. How did he know all that? "We didn't want this life for you... It was meant to be better."
"Dad, stop... You gave me the best you could." Cojack shook his head and coughed hard into his balled fist. "I can do better," spoke the older Rathari cryptically. To that, Arkash sat up in his bedding and looked over his father's glazed expression. "What do you mean?" There was a distinct furrow to his brow. "I mean... You could go now." Spoke the sickly rath with a moment's hesitation. What? "A rathari needs to travel... See the world, meet others... You need to find your purpose." Arkash fell silent, and tears welled in his eyes. Cojack didn't look at him. His weak eyes stared at the mess of saggy skin and bone that his body had become. "...I'll only slow you down out there, son. I'm dead weight." Don't say that. "And I can't stand... To see you in pain like this-"
"How do you think I feel?!" Snapped the younger Rath, who was streaming tears and drool while he faced his father. "Don't say that, dad. Don't you ever say that!" Cojack too cried at the words of his son. "You and mom could have left me and gotten out, but-"
"I could never," sobbed the older Rath.
"Well, neither could I!" Arkash cried, then hung his head in sorrow where his tears dripped to the wooden flooring. "You're my father. I'm doin' this with you... Or not at all." Despite the burn in his throat and the exhaustion that weighed down in his eyes, he managed to lift his head to find the broken horse crying into one of his hands. Ragged, miserable breaths filled and emptied his lungs where he sat. Arkash wept another few breaths before he climbed from his throws and wiped the wet drool, snot, and tears from his long face. Once he wasn't in danger of poisoning the sickly Rath, he sat beside him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm not leaving you," spoke the reptile quietly while he wiped his father's tears from his cheeks. The weak equine could do little but nod carefully, and mutter a soft "Okay..." Under his breath.
Arkash held his head a moment longer, then released him. Both sniffled almost in unison, then shared a short-lived laugh before Cojack spoke again. "Well, least I can do is... Let you sleep in peace... For once," Arkash perked a brow ridge again and pulled away from his father so that he could see the older man's face. What did he mean? "I can keep myself awake... You should sleep. You work soon." Arkash shook his head. "No, dad. You're always in pain-" The horse shushed him with a finger, and continued to speak. "I'll be fine with another dose, don't worry." Arkash knew it wasn't so simple, but a selfish part of him thought it was tempting... "Are you sure, dad...?" he asked, feigning uncertainty. The horse nodded with a warm smile. If he didn't know better, he'd be inclined to believe the old horse.
With a nod, the lizard fetched his father his medicine from a bottle on the floor and spoonfed him the sickly green fluid in the recommended dosage. As always, Cojack grimaced as he swallowed, then hummed afterward as the aftertaste claimed his palette. A hard cough later saw him nod to the lizard. "Sleep, boy," he coughed again. Arkash nodded, then slid from his father's bedside, and wrapped himself in the throws. While he laid there, with his back to the horse, he spoke a quiet "I love you." Cojack replied with an "I love you too," followed by a "sweet dreams, kiddo." Within seconds, the distant chatter of the street faded into silence, and sleep claimed him.
Sleep. A state of warm, comfortable stupor that carried away the consciousness on a voyage through the recesses of the mind. A time in which the body took time to heal all the trauma that passed on a preceding day. It was a time where energy could be restored, and minds could unwind. A state of ultimate relaxation, where the stress of day-to-day life didn't exist. It was an escape, a short-lived peace between the chaotic crashes that the world dealt on the regular. For Arkash, sleep was precious. But like almost all precious things, it was far beyond his grasp.
It was the middle of the day, and Arkash had finished with his nightshift some few hours ago. He needed sleep, but between Cojack's ragged, raspy breathing which became frequently broken by harsh coughs, and the general chatter of the street outside, sleep was unattainable. A hard swallow saw him clear his mouth of stale spit and venom before he quietly sat up in his fur throws. Perhaps, if he could find a way to put his mind at ease, he would be able to sleep easier? As his yellow eyes looked about the room, they settled on the loose floorboard that rested beside the hearth. A deep exhale deflated his chest, and he carefully slid from the furs of his bed to creep toward it, one step at a time.
There were advantages to working during the night, of course. One of them was that his wage was higher, which helped in all sorts of ways. The second was that he was able to avoid the Thompson brothers, who prowled the streets in the hours before the sunset, usually. The night was too dangerous for them in the gutters of lower Nivenhain, and they didn't dare tempt the urchins they so ruthlessly extorted without their eyes to guide them. It had been nearly two weeks now since their last visit, and Arkash was still healing. Faded bruises ran down his ribs, and scrapes covered his knees and side from where he'd skidded across the ground. Part of him thought it miraculous that they hadn't broken any of his bones, another part of him...
A shake of his head dispelled the darkness in his thoughts, and he took a sore knee at the floorboard. Careful claws gently pried at its edges and popped the one nail free. He moved it aside and placed it with the nails facing the floor so that he didn't stab himself on accident. A deep exhale flared his nostrils as he gazed at what laid beneath; the jar of his savings, and something else that was wrapped in rags. His glands were releasing a steady stream of spit and venom, which he made sure to slurp and swallow as necessary. His trimmed, stubby claws reached down to bring the jar of their savings from the cold, crisp earth, and he placed it in his lap. There, his lithe frame wrapped tightly around the glass and held it close to his chest. Against his body was everything they had; all the money they'd saved over their entire lives with endless, long shifts of back-breaking labor, days of starvation, and terrible living conditions.
Against his body was their only chance of making it out of Lorien; without it, they wouldn't be able to afford the equipment they needed to survive the long trek across the northern realms. Arkash was especially vulnerable to the climate due to his cold blood. Without expensive, heavy winter clothing and reliable external heat sources along the way, he would perish. Without a steed of some sort, his father wouldn't survive the journey either. With his mother's passing, everything had fallen into place to make the journey the most difficult and dangerous task they'll ever face. Even with all their preparations, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't be attacked by some wild animal on the road, or bandits, or worse.
The future was so uncertain, and it brought Arkash to tears while he sat there with the jar held tightly against his dried, broken scales. It would just be a couple more months, and they'd have the funds they needed. He could survive the Thompson Brother's beatings, the starving, and the sleepless days until then. It was just a bit further. "Arkash..." Spoke his father's voice over the quiet sobbing that trailed tears down his cheeks. A sniffled and a slurp saw him wipe his eyes with his arm, though he kept his back to the sickly horse. "Yeah, dad?" A pause followed the sound of his almost-composed voice, and the horse sighed. Confused, Arkash turned to face his father. He was laying in bed, staring upward at the broken panels of their roof. "What is it...?" He asked again as he carefully stowed the money jar back in the earth's cold grasp. His shaky claws shifted the plank panel back into place, and a hard thump of his balled fist set the nail in partially, making it blend in with the rest of the floor.
"You need your sleep, boy... You work tonight," he spoke through hard and heavy huffs, that almost always threatened to leave him coughing blood. The sound brought his heart to ache, and he shook his head before wiping his eyes with his arm. "I'll be fine, dad. I slept earlier," no he didn't. "Sleep more," the boney Rath ordered, "you always... Feel worse when you're tired..." That was true. Did everything feel bleak and gloomy just because he was tired? Though he wanted to believe that were the case, most of him knew it not to be true. Exhausted and defeated, he stumbled back to his throws and laid down in the cool furs. Cojack, who was naught but skin and bone sat up a little to rest against his bed frame. There, he met with Arkash's eyes and exhaled deeply before he wiped his lips clean of some rust-colored drool. A smile took his lips while he gazed at the lizard, and he laughed a single raspy breath before he coughed hard into his boney fingers.
Arkash winced a little at the sight but didn't rise from his throws. Instead, he parted his lips to ask a quiet, concerned "what's so funny?" To which, Cojack replied with a sigh. "I see so much... Of your mother... In you, you know?" The observation made the younger Rath curl up a little beneath the furs. What did that mean? "You think I don't see it, but..." He wheezed, "you work real hard, son... An' you do it without... Whining or nothin'." Arkash's brow softened a little and he muttered a quiet "dad..." while he laid there. "You've been so good to me, Arkash... You never wake me up, and never forget to feed me, even if you go without..." Cojack pressed with his confessed observation. How did he know all that? "We didn't want this life for you... It was meant to be better."
"Dad, stop... You gave me the best you could." Cojack shook his head and coughed hard into his balled fist. "I can do better," spoke the older Rathari cryptically. To that, Arkash sat up in his bedding and looked over his father's glazed expression. "What do you mean?" There was a distinct furrow to his brow. "I mean... You could go now." Spoke the sickly rath with a moment's hesitation. What? "A rathari needs to travel... See the world, meet others... You need to find your purpose." Arkash fell silent, and tears welled in his eyes. Cojack didn't look at him. His weak eyes stared at the mess of saggy skin and bone that his body had become. "...I'll only slow you down out there, son. I'm dead weight." Don't say that. "And I can't stand... To see you in pain like this-"
"How do you think I feel?!" Snapped the younger Rath, who was streaming tears and drool while he faced his father. "Don't say that, dad. Don't you ever say that!" Cojack too cried at the words of his son. "You and mom could have left me and gotten out, but-"
"I could never," sobbed the older Rath.
"Well, neither could I!" Arkash cried, then hung his head in sorrow where his tears dripped to the wooden flooring. "You're my father. I'm doin' this with you... Or not at all." Despite the burn in his throat and the exhaustion that weighed down in his eyes, he managed to lift his head to find the broken horse crying into one of his hands. Ragged, miserable breaths filled and emptied his lungs where he sat. Arkash wept another few breaths before he climbed from his throws and wiped the wet drool, snot, and tears from his long face. Once he wasn't in danger of poisoning the sickly Rath, he sat beside him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm not leaving you," spoke the reptile quietly while he wiped his father's tears from his cheeks. The weak equine could do little but nod carefully, and mutter a soft "Okay..." Under his breath.
Arkash held his head a moment longer, then released him. Both sniffled almost in unison, then shared a short-lived laugh before Cojack spoke again. "Well, least I can do is... Let you sleep in peace... For once," Arkash perked a brow ridge again and pulled away from his father so that he could see the older man's face. What did he mean? "I can keep myself awake... You should sleep. You work soon." Arkash shook his head. "No, dad. You're always in pain-" The horse shushed him with a finger, and continued to speak. "I'll be fine with another dose, don't worry." Arkash knew it wasn't so simple, but a selfish part of him thought it was tempting... "Are you sure, dad...?" he asked, feigning uncertainty. The horse nodded with a warm smile. If he didn't know better, he'd be inclined to believe the old horse.
With a nod, the lizard fetched his father his medicine from a bottle on the floor and spoonfed him the sickly green fluid in the recommended dosage. As always, Cojack grimaced as he swallowed, then hummed afterward as the aftertaste claimed his palette. A hard cough later saw him nod to the lizard. "Sleep, boy," he coughed again. Arkash nodded, then slid from his father's bedside, and wrapped himself in the throws. While he laid there, with his back to the horse, he spoke a quiet "I love you." Cojack replied with an "I love you too," followed by a "sweet dreams, kiddo." Within seconds, the distant chatter of the street faded into silence, and sleep claimed him.
