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2nd of Frost 120
“Julian? Son...?”
It wasn’t uncommon for the young man to be woken up by Thanasis calling for him. However, moments like this were always met with urgency, as it always meant that the older man needed his help. Julian had to learn early on to sleep with one eye open and his clothes on in case an emergency called for him to leave the house in the wee hours of the night.
Little did he know, this was going to be one of these emergencies.
Julian practically lept out of bed from his position near the back door of the townhouse, making a bee-line to his grandfather who laid in front of the Hearth. He appeared atrophied and weak, the sheets of his bed flung off of him and his large fingers deliriously fumbling with the front of his shirt. Unfortunately, this was nothing new. Julian placed his hand over his, soothing the agitated movements.
“I’m here, Thappa.” He replied in a hushed voice, kneeling beside him and bringing his hand up to rest against the man’s forehead. It was clammy and cold; it seemed as though the last few glimmering embers of the coals weren’t doing him any good to make him feel warm.
“You have a fever.” Julian confirmed his own suspicions, a breath of a sigh on his lips. Thanasis was hardly was able to get another word out, as the younger man stood up and went into the other room immediately in search of some water. That would be the first step in getting him regulated.
He made his way to the cast iron stove in the other room. To the side of it was a pantry where they kept their water and scarce food supply, which Julian knelt beside. When he opened up the door and lifted the jug that they stored it in, he found it to be almost completely empty. When he shook it, he could only hear the tiniest bit of liquid sloshing around inside, certainly not enough to quell his grandfather’s dire thirst. He'd have to take a trip to the well, something that he dreaded doing in the middle of the night.
“Shit…”
“Mmm?”
Julian lifted himself from his crouched position on the floor and limped to the back door. There, he grabbed his pistol and threw on his boots, slinging his crutch under his arm as he carried the jug in the other.
“We don’t have any water.” He said, opening up the door with a creak. “I’ve got my pistol… Stay here, and I’ll be back.”