Thread: The Witch and the Alchemist (closed)

The old woman sighed and looked at the doorway where the weary alchemist had left and nodded her head somewhat sadly. If she knew Landon as well as she thought she did, the man never showed weakness in front of others. That he appeared so completely fatigued must mean that he was barely able to stand and about ready to lose consciousness. Abigail felt her mothering instinct kick in and a desire to look after him. She knew the girl was right of course and she did feel badly about being so angry with him and especially hitting him where she knew he was most sensitive. And despite knowing she'd had good reason to, it didn't make her feel any less remorseful for saying it. Making up her mind to go help him she was momentarily distracted by Dorelia's questions. She sighed and thought for a moment on how to best phrase things, so the girl would understand but not judge the young man. Landon has had a hard time dealing with his faith, in regards to the profession he's chosen, she said calmly. He likes to convince himself that all his little equations and medical diagrams can explain every little thing. If he knows why the body does a certain thing, then he expects it to always respond in the same way. There's always an answer, a solution to the problem. But, sometimes, people die. Her eyes looked down sadly, remembering times she'd been by his side in this very room in emergency situations. Otherwise normal, healthy people die despite all he does to find the problem and fix it. When it's a person's time to go, then they leave the body. Lan has trouble coming to terms with the fact that the Lord decides when a person's time is up, not him with all his sciences and medicines. He struggles against the urge to even give God credit and takes it upon his own shoulders when lives end under his watch. And then there's that whole thing with Father Justin... she shook her head and rolled her eyes at the priest's name. He won't admit to being angry with God, but with the way he rejects displays of faith, I know he is. She gave the girl a small smile and stood and helped her get dressed. The first gown was an old one I owned. She paused in speaking while putting the dress over Dorelia's head. It belonged to my niece. She then gave the girl a smile and straightened out the newly put on dress, while helping her take off the remains of the other one. When I left earlier, one of the women was walking by with her laundry and offered me this one. After the trial today, I don't think you'll need to worry about people's support anymore. She patted Dorelia on the shoulder and started to fold up the tattered cloth in her hands. I'll bring by some breakfast, after I tend to Lan. And with that she hurried from the room. When Lan walked through the room and out, he'd stalked at a pretty brisk pace, letting his hurt pride and anger propel him forward. But it used up a great deal of the reserves of energy he'd gathered from sitting down for those few minutes, and as soon as he entered the hallways, where no one could see, he slowed drastically. He leaned heavily on the wall as he inched along, his feet feeling like they had weights attached and his shoulders feeling like he was carrying something that weighed twice his own body weight. His head felt full of cotton and his temples pounded with exhaustion. It was several minutes before he made it to the door to the hospital and when he got there he slumped against the door frame, aching at the prospect of walking home on his own steam or what was left of it. He knew he wouldn't make it, even though his house was just beside the laboratory and merely 100 feet from where he was standing, the way he felt now from just walking down the hallway, he knew it was too great a distance. That's where Abigail found him, leaning against the doorway, with a look on his face like he was trying to think through concrete. Before, she'd been ready to apologize, but seeing him again, she was still somewhat angry. But she was willing to help and stepped forward to do so. He turned his head and looked startled to see her, and there was no anger or hurt in his eyes merely a Help me expression on his face. Sighing as she lifted one of his arms over her shoulders and held him up, she carried him home supporting his weight while he walked.