29th of Ash, 120
Everything was lost. All his dreams and aspirations were forfeit to the misfortune of his circumstances. There was nothing left for him, no reason or purpose to carry on. All it had taken was a bad night to see his whole world collapse, and he was powerless to stop it, or fix things. Liu, his mother, had been gone for years. She was the backbone of their plan at the beginning, the hardest worker, and the most dedicated parent. Cojack fell ill and their plan to leave Lorien for good fell upon her. Her income alone wasn't enough to support the family and save, so she resorted to stealing, which cost her her life. In her stead, Arkash took on the mantle and worked through poverty and frugal spending to ensure that they continued to save money for their new life in a faraway land. Six years of the grind nearly killed him with how weak and malnourished he'd become, and it was all so that a group of more privileged boys could beat him within an inch of his life, brand him, attack his sick father and steal his savings. When he fought back against the humans, he was sentenced to death. It had cost him his arm, his eye, and his father, but he lived on. What for? Why did he have to be saved? Why couldn't he have died when the hallows broke his bones and blinded him? Why did he persist?
Those thoughts and questions span through his mind while he laid awake in the dark of the abandoned factory. The ambient chirp of skittering rats and dripping water did little to stir him from his depressive torpor. Emotional exhaustion left him empty, numb. He'd withdrawn from the world almost completely, all that was left was his broken, skinny body. But that had to go, too.
Fayeth, the pale siltori, hadn't left his side. She'd watched him like a hawk since he and Asmodei returned from their venture to Outer Nivenhain, but he'd barely moved. He didn't eat her offering of rats; he wasn't hungry. Part of him thought, hoped, that his body saw fit to die. Perhaps his whole being just understood that there was no reason to continue living, that nothing could change from there, that nothing would change. He would forever be a victim of circumstance and misfortune, and there was nothing he could do to escape the rut.
No matter how hard he tried to make things work, they wouldn't work. He wasn't smart enough, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't fast enough. It was a game that the world seemed to play with him. A game in which he was measured for all the potential he could offer, where he would then be pressed beyond that limit, only to burn out and fail. He'd never won. Time and time again, he was measured and tested, and he was never good enough. He didn't want to play anymore. The comfort of knowing that the weight of the world would crush him was all he had, and he was content with that. He'd done his best, it was time to give up.
The pale lady lifted her head as Arkash turned to lay on his back. "...Ready to talk?" Came her simple question. She'd been trying to speak with him for a while, but he wasn't responsive. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to reason, think, or feel. All he wanted was for his story to end as it should have two months prior to that day. Fayeth sighed and shook her head. Though Arkash saw none of it, as she did so on his blind side.
Instead, Arkash watched the ceiling and peered through the hole in the corrugated metal sheets. He could see the sky and the clouds as they drifted by on that dark, overcast day. Even if he did die, that day or the next, the sky would remain. The world would continue. There were so few in the world that knew him, so few lives he'd touched. As much as the thought frightened him, it also brought comfort to know that even after the messy episode of his life was over, everything would carry on. He was inconsequential, insignificant, and he would come to pass without meaning.
The heavy metal and wooden door of the abandoned warehouse screeched as it opened. Out of reflex alone, Arkash willed his head to lift to see who it was, but he caught himself and returned his head to rest on the bedding. "I have it!" Spoke a voice triumphantly. It was Asmodei, Arkash knew the man's call anywhere. "It was a bit of work, but I managed to get my hands on a steak, freshly cut by the butcher. Don't worry, I wrapped it before I went through the sewers," he spoke with an audible smile, evidently proud of his work. A brief pause followed his declaration, and Arkash didn't move to look. "Is he still not talking?"
"Barely moving either," spoke Fayeth to his left.
Asmodei sighed, and the thump of heavy metallic boots shifted as the iron door was dragged shut, then he approached the two. "Arkash," he spoke sternly, but there was no reply. A heavy sigh flowed from the false argent's lips as he approached Arkash's sighted side. In the peripherals of his vision, he saw Asmodei draw near, then lean over his bed to look the lizard in the eye. "I'm not joking when I say it wasn't easy to get a hold of this," he started with a scowl. "I get you're upset, you're down, and maybe you don't feel like eating. But you need to; you're almost at a point where you can walk completely on your own, and you're throwing that away if you start laying around and refusing to eat."
Arkash considered that he could just turn his head to look away from Asmodei, but it didn't feel right. As the avialae had said, it would have taken a lot of work to get his hands on something like a steak. Both he and Fayeth had been nothing but supportive to him, how could he throw it back in their faces? So, he pressed his claws into the dirty mattress and sat up, finally. He didn't look at either of them, but Fayeth's expression took to surprise as the rathari complied.
"Thank you," returned Asmodei, who then laid out the large cut of meat on his lap while it remained wrapped in primitive paper. He didn't really want to eat it, but for his two protectors, he would try.
"Can I have my knife back?" He asked in vithmi.
"What did he say?" Returned Fayeth with a glance at the avialae.
"He wants his knife," clarified Asmodei. "What for?"
"How else am I gonna cu' 'iss?" he spoke in common with a gesture to the wrapped slab of beef.
"Ah, right." Fayeth and he exchanged a look before they nodded at one another. So, Fayeth drew his dagger, then handed it to him by the blade. Arkash took it by the handle, then began to fiddle with the wrapping with whatever claws he could spare.
Eating meat all the time had become boring. It was normally something Arkash looked forward to in the weak; a chance to eat some meat, but it was every day with nothing to break it up in Fayeth's and Asmodei's company. Perhaps Asmodei was just as poorly informed as his parents were? As both Liu and Cojack were surprised when Arkash began eating vegetables and bread. So, he pressed a section of the steak into the paper with his stump arm, and began to cut away with the edge of Bodie's dagger.
"I c'n eat veg, y'kno'," he spoke before a short silence. "No' tha' I'm no' gra'eful, but i' migh' b'easier to fe'ch me veg instead."
"Wait wait wait," spoke Asmodei with something of a grin. "That's... Not possible. How old are you?"
"Twen'y-three?" he replied with a furrow to his brow, then looked to Asmodei. What did that have to do with anything? Fayeth gave him a similar look.
There was a short pause as Asmodei considered, then his mouth parted with an accusation. "So you just decided not to tell us you're a Neoalt?" He pressed with a notable tone of frustration. It was obvious he was flustered, as though his pride in rathari knowledge had been challenged.
Arkash furrowed his brow at the accusation. "I don' even kno' wha' tha' is, Asmodei."
The response only furthered the avialae's bewilderment. "How do you not know what a neoalt is?!" he spoke furiously, only to pause as he caught himself. "You... didn't know about the grand family when I brought it up, did you?" Arkash shook his head. "Or the coming of age ceremony," again, the lizard shook his head. Asmodei smiled. "Okay, that makes a lot more sense! That's... really quite bizarre though. Did your- Ah, nevermind."
"...Wha'? Wha' am I missin'?"
Asmodei simply shook his head with a smile. "Nothing, don't worry. I'll have some weird tasks for you in the coming days just to be sure, but I think you're gonna be pleased if you are what I think you are." With that, Asmodei withdrew and brought Fayeth with him to some corner of the factory that he couldn't see.
Meanwhile, Arkash was left alone with his knife. And though he peered into the chrome of the blade and thought, he made no move to take his own life. He didn't know why, either. Perhaps he was destined to fail at that, too?
Everything was lost. All his dreams and aspirations were forfeit to the misfortune of his circumstances. There was nothing left for him, no reason or purpose to carry on. All it had taken was a bad night to see his whole world collapse, and he was powerless to stop it, or fix things. Liu, his mother, had been gone for years. She was the backbone of their plan at the beginning, the hardest worker, and the most dedicated parent. Cojack fell ill and their plan to leave Lorien for good fell upon her. Her income alone wasn't enough to support the family and save, so she resorted to stealing, which cost her her life. In her stead, Arkash took on the mantle and worked through poverty and frugal spending to ensure that they continued to save money for their new life in a faraway land. Six years of the grind nearly killed him with how weak and malnourished he'd become, and it was all so that a group of more privileged boys could beat him within an inch of his life, brand him, attack his sick father and steal his savings. When he fought back against the humans, he was sentenced to death. It had cost him his arm, his eye, and his father, but he lived on. What for? Why did he have to be saved? Why couldn't he have died when the hallows broke his bones and blinded him? Why did he persist?
Those thoughts and questions span through his mind while he laid awake in the dark of the abandoned factory. The ambient chirp of skittering rats and dripping water did little to stir him from his depressive torpor. Emotional exhaustion left him empty, numb. He'd withdrawn from the world almost completely, all that was left was his broken, skinny body. But that had to go, too.
Fayeth, the pale siltori, hadn't left his side. She'd watched him like a hawk since he and Asmodei returned from their venture to Outer Nivenhain, but he'd barely moved. He didn't eat her offering of rats; he wasn't hungry. Part of him thought, hoped, that his body saw fit to die. Perhaps his whole being just understood that there was no reason to continue living, that nothing could change from there, that nothing would change. He would forever be a victim of circumstance and misfortune, and there was nothing he could do to escape the rut.
No matter how hard he tried to make things work, they wouldn't work. He wasn't smart enough, he wasn't strong enough, he wasn't fast enough. It was a game that the world seemed to play with him. A game in which he was measured for all the potential he could offer, where he would then be pressed beyond that limit, only to burn out and fail. He'd never won. Time and time again, he was measured and tested, and he was never good enough. He didn't want to play anymore. The comfort of knowing that the weight of the world would crush him was all he had, and he was content with that. He'd done his best, it was time to give up.
The pale lady lifted her head as Arkash turned to lay on his back. "...Ready to talk?" Came her simple question. She'd been trying to speak with him for a while, but he wasn't responsive. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to reason, think, or feel. All he wanted was for his story to end as it should have two months prior to that day. Fayeth sighed and shook her head. Though Arkash saw none of it, as she did so on his blind side.
Instead, Arkash watched the ceiling and peered through the hole in the corrugated metal sheets. He could see the sky and the clouds as they drifted by on that dark, overcast day. Even if he did die, that day or the next, the sky would remain. The world would continue. There were so few in the world that knew him, so few lives he'd touched. As much as the thought frightened him, it also brought comfort to know that even after the messy episode of his life was over, everything would carry on. He was inconsequential, insignificant, and he would come to pass without meaning.
The heavy metal and wooden door of the abandoned warehouse screeched as it opened. Out of reflex alone, Arkash willed his head to lift to see who it was, but he caught himself and returned his head to rest on the bedding. "I have it!" Spoke a voice triumphantly. It was Asmodei, Arkash knew the man's call anywhere. "It was a bit of work, but I managed to get my hands on a steak, freshly cut by the butcher. Don't worry, I wrapped it before I went through the sewers," he spoke with an audible smile, evidently proud of his work. A brief pause followed his declaration, and Arkash didn't move to look. "Is he still not talking?"
"Barely moving either," spoke Fayeth to his left.
Asmodei sighed, and the thump of heavy metallic boots shifted as the iron door was dragged shut, then he approached the two. "Arkash," he spoke sternly, but there was no reply. A heavy sigh flowed from the false argent's lips as he approached Arkash's sighted side. In the peripherals of his vision, he saw Asmodei draw near, then lean over his bed to look the lizard in the eye. "I'm not joking when I say it wasn't easy to get a hold of this," he started with a scowl. "I get you're upset, you're down, and maybe you don't feel like eating. But you need to; you're almost at a point where you can walk completely on your own, and you're throwing that away if you start laying around and refusing to eat."
Arkash considered that he could just turn his head to look away from Asmodei, but it didn't feel right. As the avialae had said, it would have taken a lot of work to get his hands on something like a steak. Both he and Fayeth had been nothing but supportive to him, how could he throw it back in their faces? So, he pressed his claws into the dirty mattress and sat up, finally. He didn't look at either of them, but Fayeth's expression took to surprise as the rathari complied.
"Thank you," returned Asmodei, who then laid out the large cut of meat on his lap while it remained wrapped in primitive paper. He didn't really want to eat it, but for his two protectors, he would try.
"Can I have my knife back?" He asked in vithmi.
"What did he say?" Returned Fayeth with a glance at the avialae.
"He wants his knife," clarified Asmodei. "What for?"
"How else am I gonna cu' 'iss?" he spoke in common with a gesture to the wrapped slab of beef.
"Ah, right." Fayeth and he exchanged a look before they nodded at one another. So, Fayeth drew his dagger, then handed it to him by the blade. Arkash took it by the handle, then began to fiddle with the wrapping with whatever claws he could spare.
Eating meat all the time had become boring. It was normally something Arkash looked forward to in the weak; a chance to eat some meat, but it was every day with nothing to break it up in Fayeth's and Asmodei's company. Perhaps Asmodei was just as poorly informed as his parents were? As both Liu and Cojack were surprised when Arkash began eating vegetables and bread. So, he pressed a section of the steak into the paper with his stump arm, and began to cut away with the edge of Bodie's dagger.
"I c'n eat veg, y'kno'," he spoke before a short silence. "No' tha' I'm no' gra'eful, but i' migh' b'easier to fe'ch me veg instead."
"Wait wait wait," spoke Asmodei with something of a grin. "That's... Not possible. How old are you?"
"Twen'y-three?" he replied with a furrow to his brow, then looked to Asmodei. What did that have to do with anything? Fayeth gave him a similar look.
There was a short pause as Asmodei considered, then his mouth parted with an accusation. "So you just decided not to tell us you're a Neoalt?" He pressed with a notable tone of frustration. It was obvious he was flustered, as though his pride in rathari knowledge had been challenged.
Arkash furrowed his brow at the accusation. "I don' even kno' wha' tha' is, Asmodei."
The response only furthered the avialae's bewilderment. "How do you not know what a neoalt is?!" he spoke furiously, only to pause as he caught himself. "You... didn't know about the grand family when I brought it up, did you?" Arkash shook his head. "Or the coming of age ceremony," again, the lizard shook his head. Asmodei smiled. "Okay, that makes a lot more sense! That's... really quite bizarre though. Did your- Ah, nevermind."
"...Wha'? Wha' am I missin'?"
Asmodei simply shook his head with a smile. "Nothing, don't worry. I'll have some weird tasks for you in the coming days just to be sure, but I think you're gonna be pleased if you are what I think you are." With that, Asmodei withdrew and brought Fayeth with him to some corner of the factory that he couldn't see.
Meanwhile, Arkash was left alone with his knife. And though he peered into the chrome of the blade and thought, he made no move to take his own life. He didn't know why, either. Perhaps he was destined to fail at that, too?
