It was not a foreign sting, but that of a familiar pain. Striking every part of his soul as if that name had haunted him for many lost years. Hearing it was enough to give him goosebumps, however, there was always something missing from the real truth.
“Arminius Reichner.” The other returned the favor, providing a similar feeling that this Julien had not known before.
Quiet and still in a bow, until the next word that was said, Julien decided that he would not lift his head. From the instance of a battle between the warring lights of familiarity and unfamiliarity, he maintained his form of formality. But then a chuckle was heard. Breaking the stress of uncertainty. The foreigner lifted his head from humility and came to see that the alleviating sound came from the source of Arminius’s smile. Gazing at the clouds, where the ends of their white tails were just disappearing, leaving a soft saturated trail on the sky sea. Embarrassed, a red-faced Julien looked on, confused for whether he had done something wrong without knowing.
“Why are you being so formal?” To his newfound friend, Arminius noticed and did not shy away to ask, straightforwardly as was his norm.
Julien opened his mouth, ready to respond, but on a moment of conflict he stopped and sealed his lips again. The next word he could utter may change his smile into worry and betrayal, and for the curve of one’s lips was so rarely seen in his life, he decided not to speak what he desired to say.
Drab was his bookshelf of memories, shallow of anything worth mentioning, he came to forge an excuse that was hardly false. “It’s been…drilled into me…” Unsure of his own whole truth, Julien remembered. “By my grandfather.” After an unnaturally long pause, he named one to be the influence for his behavior.
Certainly, any family would wind up doing what was good in their own eyes, as Arminius understood. Solemn with his own memories, he raised his arm, that was difficult to straighten without ripping his repairing skin, over his head. Looking at his hand that was never given half the attention as he did then than before, every part of it had been wrapped in white, from his finger tips to his shoulder. The red flesh behind was unseen, and although his five fingers were still clear in shape, the two which were surgically fixed were forever morphed. Pushing his mind to its limits, sending millions of orders through his nerves to his hand, he tried to move it, but even so, it could not form even the slightest gesture. Barely twitching at best, he only came to realize then what he had become.
Arminius sighed, though not in misery, but disappointment in his self, and lowered his arm onto his blanket. “Your grandfather must be a statesman or something.” He turned to Julien with a guess.
It was however an educated one at that, gathered from how the foreign boy dressed. It was unlike that of a usual commoner and was somewhat similar to those worn by aristocratic delegates, casual yet proper.
“Something like that…” Julien returned, albeit hesitant about his wish to say any more.
Fidgeting with his hands which were clamped between his thighs, again, he could not bear a second of eye contact as if he was telling him and himself a poor lie. But Arminius thought that there was nothing much to think of it and that his savior was far too pure to tell anything but the truth.
“This was supposed to be his business trip.” Julien lowered his head, knowing the privilege of what he had said. “A conference, of sorts.” In mentioning, he added.
Dismayed, his tone changed for a third time, quietening once more, “He’s at the capital right now, but…”
The towel from the bowl was taken out and wrung, many times over before the cloth stopped dripping. Flowing into the vessel, dirt and blood was washed out. Folded into a pad-like pack, it was placed on Arminius’s head whose blood was cooled by a refreshing cold, preventing any fever from rising. He was always surprised by his perseverance and that feeling had not subsided for the boy who was not much younger nor older than him giving such great care like it was natural for him to have been born into this calling, unlike his first appearances. Whether it was by luck or misfortune that Julien was able to travel with his grandfather on business trips every season, that was not a luxury that many people was blessed to have. Even as a norm within the band of rich, land-owning folk, aristocrats would refuse to bring along their family in fear of evils, from plots, assassinations, and staged riots. It was all the more fascinating to Arminius, wondering what a life Julien had lived before that night or of who his grandfather was. Their conversations would only stir up more questions to be asked from both their brimming curiosity adamant for knowledge.
“Don’t worry,” Optimistically, Arminius moved his hand onto Julien’s knee.
Although he could not hold it, he provided a reassurance in thought for the other who was caught startled, looking down upon his touch.
“Every grandfather will live through their lives for the sake of anything.” Keeping their eyes in meeting, Arminius instilled a thought in his shy friend to believe. “Whatever it is, I’m sure right now, he’s got plenty to tend to.” The wrenching feeling in the heart of the listener was soothed by hearing such certain words.
The wind blew overhead and the seas howled violently. Fleets of clouds sailed as shadows and the sunlight exchanged their time on the stage of the hollowed church. Around them, the salted scent was no different than that before, as their world stayed unchanged. But one soul, within the crowds of hundreds did. Whose body was alleviated of all ill stress induced two nights ago, the smile from Arminius was cheerily contagious, and Julien had attracted his disease. As the corners of his mouth turned upward, slightly, as if he had forgotten how to smile, his demeanor relaxed. It was in him when the first time that he had portrayed something else, aside from fear and unending sadness, when there was a gladness within him that was gained from their meeting.
“Yeah, that sounds like him…” Julien’s voice became soft and was not from any shyness no more.
Opened from reservation, his hands were still. Not fidgeting. His fingers were not rubbing against each other until his skin was red anymore. Giving himself a minute to heal, they were removed from the safety of his legs as he let his arms rest easy, never noticing their soreness until his nerves had been granted leave. It was only natural that he felt to return the favor of assurance and turned to Arminius, who out of the billions in the world, found that only he was pleasantly able to converse with.
For long all he did was provide an answer out of a question from the other and when that cycle had ended, a question of his own sprung from the back of his mind, “What about your family, what’re they like?” It was a simple sentence, never too harsh he thought, that he had strategized to ask when it seemed most comfortable.
“Family…?” Arminius repeated, slowing into a slur.
Halted of any thoughts, he wondered what it was that was poking in his head. Answering alone, the same thoughts ran repeatedly within him. Then there was a surge in the pace of his heart, his blood warmed and his arm twitched from sensing an illness in the air. His breath shortened and his pupils constricted. A fear arose for once since his awakening and the pain in his chest expanded. His pair of lungs failed to work in intaking its air and the memory, so easily forgotten, cleared like a demisted pane of glazed glass.
Silently blaming himself, his thoughts began to collapse. “E-Elise…” Stuttering, Arminius called out for.
The positive sin of blame befell him that weighed down his heart. In an effort to replace his damaged soul by remembering, his spirit drove his elbows to be anchored on the floor. Lifting himself, firstly by his head, the weight of his body, bone, flesh and blood, was multiplied by his ripping injury. He struggled to rise further when the towel on his head, dried in a way that a desert would do, had slipped off. Grunting and panting, the strength of his spirit was not enough if his body refused to move. Trying at every angle, he could not budge further than an incline. With greater frustration placed upon himself, his rise became an endless struggle.
Caught by the shock in seeing his instinct to fight, Julien rushed to help. “Wait, your wounds will reopen.” Pushing a hand against his back to prevent any sudden fall, another would come upon his shoulder to halt his struggle.
“I’ve gotta find them.” Arminius leaned on one side and began to tip over.
Losing balance, he fell out of Julien’s arms and his back was slammed against the stone tiles. A dry cough was kicked out of him and from within, his wounds burned like an open flame searing his torso tearing apart. Shutted, his eyes in darkness hoped to quell the pain, as Julien panicked and tossed the towel into the bowl of water before raising the wounded’s shirt in search for blood seeping out of the bandages. In every fold and part, white it was as an overcast day, his checks concluded on a sigh relieved.
“That’s impossible, there are thousand in each clinic—” Julien told in the face of naivety, covering him with the blanket knowing it would have been worse for him to catch a cold.
“She should’ve been at home when it happened, surely…” Lying to himself with certainty and not daring to think otherwise, Arminius felt her aura whiff by, opening his eyes to a squinch. “There’s a chance that they—” Anchoring himself on the ground again, trying to raise his body alone with what lacking strength, he fought.
He ushered a cry, though it was thoughtfully soft enough not to disturb what many patients were there around them. His flank provided an unbeatable agony. But where there was an exterior of him that was telling of his fundamental weakness, there was his battle aura, awakening within. Not yet had it climbed the summit of anger or hatred, his eyes were burdened by the fire in his spirit. The youngster would never surrender to his injuries, even if it may be that they were slowly breaking him awide. However many times he suffered, through all the pain and enduring sorrows, Julien was suddenly reminded of his past. With a resolve to do anything to survive at no matter the costs. Who once felt nothing, the ice began to thaw in his heart. Bearing no more of his own inaction, he brought his hands into fists and scrunched his trousers.
Resolute and determined, the foreigner raised his head. “Let me help.” Julien sought to comfort the screams from another’s chest.
The struggle, helplessly, ceased. The grunts halted too. Unbelieving, the air loosened and his lungs seemed to untighten. Arminius’s breath paced regularly as his thunder submitted. His nerves and blood in his heated body was subdued and the aridness that formed from his skin was moistened by the seas again. There were still clouds of doubt, but by no comparison were they still striking with lightning. Eased from the turmoil by as simple as three words were, he let his arms be, trembling from weakness and exhaustion. Arminius laid his head on his pillow and faced the heavens before exhaling the stagnant air that had collected within him. Beside his friend, Julien bent his knees ahead and pushed himself upward, gathering ground beneath his feet. Watched as he rose, the foreigner moved around to the other side, careful not to trip or step over Arminius, in fear that it may spell ill-fortune, before he came to kneel again and was straight with his intention to offer aid. Even when in need, Arminius was wary of embarrassment, but as he had tried before alone to no avail, for once, he took what was freely granted to him. Swallowing his sense of pride, he wrapped his working arm around Julien, and in a count of three, pressed his weight over one flank and gained traction. It hurted less. With the combined strength of two, they ascended from the ground. Sitting upright firstly, Arminius brought his legs inward, though they had been numbed by no movement for a day and a half and had been purged of any sense on how to walk. Slowly, that feeling regained. Raised until they were standing, one mission had been completed and another, to search for the lost Reichner family, was at hand. Unknowing of where to head toward in the crowds and mazes of the church, Julien gestured down a path where they were most likely able to find his sister and his mother. That seemed to be the only hopeful road that he could follow as Arminius allowed himself to be led that way. Shuffling, he moved slowly before taking cautious steps, letting his spot in the clinic be taken by another more hideously wounded, as quickly as they had left. The blood stains and the water droplets merged in the gaps of the tiles and seeped into the graves beneath the floor, into the branches of the diverging rivers’ flow.
70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNuNANf5OtC
