All 14.1 - Schism

A chill wind blew through the little village, sweeping up fallen leaves and swirling them about. It was well into the evening, and warm firelight spilled from the windows of the houses and businesses, illuminating the single cobblestone street and casting deep shadows. The street was largely empty, save for the occasional individual flitting from one building to another.
Sprawled out in a grassy clearing, not far from the bright lights and laughter of the town’s single tavern, a teenager lay paging somewhat disinterestedly through a book, seemingly oblivious to the coolness of the night air. The breeze stirred his dark hair, blowing long strands across his face. He brushed them away impatiently before turning the page.  His outlandish attire and dusky complexion marked him as a West Northlander, while his book, a well-worn tome detailing the life and habits of the red-breasted merganser, hinted at the reason he was so far from home
The slam of the tavern door caught his attention, greenish eyes flicking to peer over his book in the hopes that just maybe Copper Moon had decided to call it a night at a reasonable time. For once. As the man exited the bar and passed before the bright window, the features illuminated were dark, heavy. A stranger. But of course. With a slight roll, his eyes dropped back to his book, but he kept one ear trained on the sound of the stranger’s heavy footsteps. Clomping loudly on the cobbles, they came closer, closer, passed by, then stopped. His eyes froze on the page, his full attention given to listening. Two, three clomps as the man backtracked, and then a voice, thick and clumsy with drink,
“Hey kid, whatcha doin’?”
His stomach dropped. For the love of the spirits. Not this shit again.
“Hey, kid. I’m talking to you.”
Play it cool, ignore. He’ll lose interest.
When no response came, the footsteps resumed their approach, becoming muffled as the man stepped onto the grass.  The boy’s muscles tensed, ready for action. The footfalls continued to advance.
C’mon you stupid oaf, piss off. Really not interested in talking to stupid drunks. Or fighting stupid drunks.
“Whatcha doin’ outside so late? An’ all alone…”
Something about the tone set the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Alright, too far.
In a single, fluid motion the boy slammed his book shut and was on his feet. He opened his mouth to answer, an excuse about having to find his teacher on the tip of his tongue, until his eyes met the stranger’s bleary, lecherous gaze.
Oh, fuck.
Fear crept through him like icy water, goose bumps rippling across his skin. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for something, anything to bail him out. All he found was the wind rattling amongst the dead leaves. Backing away slowly, the churning of his gut only increased as he assessed the odds. They didn’t look great, the guy was easily twice his weight, and had a good few inches of height on him. The only thing he had working for him was a reasonable amount of space between them: a head start. 
He rapidly backpedalled a couple steps. Treeline or bar...? Trees’r closer. Go!
He spun and took off at a run, and had made it about halfway there before an impact between his shoulder blades sent him sprawling face first into the earth, winding him.  His thoughts were a fog of confusion as he tried to catch his breath, struggling against a weight on his back. He tried to scramble to his feet, but found himself hopelessly pinned. All at once, realization and a bolt of terror ripped through him, a deep flood nausea following in their wake, making him gag.
“Get the fuck away from me, you son of a bitch!” His voice was shrill with panic as he clawed at the earth, trying in vain to escape
Mustering up every ounce of concentration he could manage,  he clamped his eyes shut and began a spell, his whispers frantic and quavering. Taking the youth’s sudden stillness as a sign he’d given up, the man roughly flipped him onto his back and was immediately hit with a sudden, blinding flash of light. As he recoiled with a yell from the dazzling brightness,  the boy shoved him backwards with all his might and scrambled out from under him, already starting into a run as he regained his footing.
He didn’t get more than a single step before he came crashing back to the ground, and felt himself dragged backward. Rolling onto his back, he kicked viciously at the hand around his ankle, to no avail. In a flash, the man was on top of him once more, snarling, “You wanna play like that, little shit?” The words were punctuated by a sickening crunch as an enormous, scarred fist connected with the boy’s nose. He choked as hot blood began to spill down the back of his throat, his vision obliterated by dancing stars, his thoughts sent spinning by the impact.
As his mind began to clear after a few moments, he became aware of clumsy fingers fumbling at the buttons of his pants. His stomach heaved violently, and he retched, clawing at the man’s face with a wordless scream. He was answered with another punch, this time to the jaw. Coughing, he spat a mouthful of blood into his assailant’s face and brought his knee up in a savage swing between his legs. With a roar equal parts pain and fury, both of the man’s hands shot out and wrapped themselves around the boy’s neck.
His hands flew to his throat, trying futilely to pry the vicelike grip from his neck as blackness began to creep in from the edges of his vision. He threw the other out and began to fumble frantically, trying to find the hilt of his dagger trapped somewhere between himself and the cold dirt.
Where the fuck is it!?! Where the fuck is it?!?! Fuck!
After what felt like an eternity his hand closed around the familiar wooden hilt. With his vision almost entirely obliterated, he pulled the blade free of its scabbard and loosed a vicious, blind swing. There was a sickening ‘thunk’ as the blade buried itself to the hilt between his assailant’s ribs. The man recoiled, belowing, his hands flying towards the blade buried in his side. With a ragged gasp, the boy ripped the dagger free and swung twice more, tearing deep gashes in the man’s the gut. Scrabbling frantically backward he took a final, wild swing at the man’s face, catching him in the corner of the mouth and tearing a deep gash through to his ear.
As the man fell back screaming, hands flying from his torn stomach to clutch at the mess that used to be his cheek, the druid scrambled to his feet, stumbling headlong into a panicked run. He hadn’t gotten more than a few feet before his knees buckled and he fell to all fours, gulping the cool night air into his burning lungs. A sound from behind him had him on his feet again in an instant, charging toward the forest.
His feet took him deeper and deeper into the trees, crashing through the dry leaves and skittering over hidden rocks. More than once he stumbled, barely keeping his footing after catching his foot on a root or slipping on a moss-covered rock. Without the faintest idea where he was going, he charged deeper into the woods, his panicked mind intent only on putting distance between himself and the other man.
----
The sun was well up in the sky the next morning before a voice snapped him from a fitful doze and pulled his attention to the foot of the tree.
“Ooh yes, there he is! Very good, very good, aren’t you the clever one?” Tickling the breast of the chickadee perched on his shoulder as he spoke, the bespectacled man gave a laugh. “Thank you for all your help, my friend, it was lovely of you.” He wished it a good day when it responded with a lively twitter before taking wing and darting off into the trees. He turned his attention to the greenish eyes glaring stonily down through the spruce boughs. “Good morning, boy! I was wondering where you’d gotten to; I almost got a wee bit worried, you know?  I’m glad you found someplace comfortable to spend the evening.”
The eyes maintained their silent, baleful gaze from their lofty perch, offering only a slow blink in response. The other man didn’t seemed terribly bothered by this, his gaze attention soon wandering; it wasn’t long before he was inspecting a patch of lichen growing on a nearby tree.
“Mmmh, If you wouldn’t mind coming down, I figure it’s probably time for us to be moving on, don’t you think? We don’t want to get too far behind those wonderful birds, do we? You should take a look at this little fellow first though, once you’re down here: it’s really quite an interesting critter.”
He was met with only continued heavy silence, and after a few minutes, glanced up, adding, “…Boy? Did you hear me?”
Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath through gritted teeth, the younger druid began to slowly make his way down through the tangle of branches. As he dropped lithely to the ground from the final branch, the older man looked him up and down, concern colouring his expression, “Oh…Oh dear. Lucca, this is not alright. You can’t-“
“Shut up. It’s none of your business,” he snapped as Copper Moon took in the blood and dirt that spackled him almost from head to toe, cutting his teacher off with threatening finality. Without making eye contact, he pushed past the older man, the acrid tang of last night’s booze wrinkling his nose.
“No…no, I do believe it is my business. And I have asked you before not to speak to me that way, that’s no way to treat someone.”  He followed after the boy, continuing, “We’ve talked about these fights you get into before…you can’t keep doing this. Someone got really hurt last night, and I was hoping you hadn’t been involved…I said to myself, ‘No no, Copper Moon, your Lucca wouldn’t do something like that. I mean, sure he has a bad temper, but he’s not the type to actually hurt somebody. Not like that, anyway.’ But now here you are and-  Lucca, boy, are you listening to me?” He reached out and caught the younger man by the shoulder.
In a single motion Lucca spun and slapped his hand away, snarling,  “Back the FUCK off, you useless fucking drunk! What the actual fuck is the matter with you!? You think this shit is my fault!? Fuck you!” He turned and began to stalk off again, the other druid falling into step behind him.
“Again, I’d really rather you didn’t speak to me that way! And no, I’m not saying that, of course not. It takes two people to have a fight; it’s not entirely your fault.”
The younger man let out a low growl through gritted teeth at this, his hands balling into fists as Copper Moon continued.
“But if you would just use your words…if you would just…check your temper, be the bigger person once in a while and walk away…there is no need for such violence in this world. No need, do you understand? That man is likely to be scarred for life, is that really fair? No, no of course not. I’m sure you had some sort of reason, but it can’t possibly justif-“
“Look at me!! You stupid fuck! Look!!” Spinning to face his teacher once more, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them and fixing the man with an accusatory glare as he took in the extent of his injuries: the angry bruises around his neck and under his eyes, busted nose, the deep split in his lower lip, dark blood beginning to ooze from it once again as he spoke, “Do you honestly think I’m the bad guy here?! That I just came out of nowhere and stabbed some guy just because?! Holy fuck, man! Get your head out of your ass for once!”
“Lucca, please, I didn’t say that. I will heal you up in a moment, I’m sorry for not offering sooner. But we really need to talk about this; I’m worried about you. I-“
“NO YOU’RE NOT!”
Slowly, in stunned silence, Copper Moon reached up to wipe at the droplets of blood splattered across his glasses.
Breathing heavily, the younger man continued, his voice quaking with rage, “No. You. Are. Not. If you actually gave the remotest ghost of a shit about me, maybe you would have, oh I don’t know, not spent the entire fucking night getting loaded? Or ooh! Maybe bothered to check to see if I was okay!? Before fucking what?” he glanced up at the position of the sun, “Almost goddamn noon!? You could have at least asked what the hell happened, for fuck’s sake! Or if I was okay! But you didn’t! And you never do! You have never once given the slightest fuck, especially not once you set your sights on a fucking bar!”
“Boy I-“
“I AM NOT FINISHED!”
He took a deep breath, “ I am beyond done with this shit. I am done with waiting for you to have 'just one glass', that somehow always takes till morning. I am done with having to find my own place to eat, and sleep, when my goddamn teacher should be doing that! I am done with getting the shit kicked out of me by stupid drunks when they get thrown out of the same fucking bar you’re sitting in, for fighting! I am done with getting bitched out for defending myself! I am done with the rats, and the dogs, and the whores, and the creeps, and all of this bullshit!” he stopped to catch his breath before continuing, his tone slightly more collected , “I appreciate everything I’ve learned from you; you’re one hell of a druid and I will never say otherwise. But you’re a bogus teacher, and a hopeless drunk, and it is frankly more dangerous than it’s worth for me to stick with you. So I’m not going to. Next big city we hit, I’m out.”
“ You can’t be serious…Lucca, listen to me, you’re not ready to go it on your own, you’ve only just been ordained,  there’s so much left to learn. You can’t. You have to stay with me, for at least a while longer. I’m sorry, but you cannot go-“
“Shut up! I’m not asking you, and we aren’t negotiating.” He spat at Copper Moon’s feet before turning and heading off once more, “There is no rule says I can’t leave; I’m a full druid now, I can do what I want. The rest of it…I’ll figure it out.”
The older druid just stared after him for a long time, his mouth moving wordlessly before jogging to catch up.
“Listen to me, please. I-“
“How far is it? And which one is closest?”
“What?”
“The city.”
“…Arlington, I believe…about two week’s walk…but never mind that, listen…”
He tuned out his teacher’s continuing pleas for reconsideration and quickened his pace. Squaring his shoulders he moved with a renewed purpose, his lips moving to repeat the unfamiliar name.
“Arlington. Cool.”
-----------------
"So, that's when I went to Arlington. Was there about...7 months, I guess. Worked for CSIS. You know the rest." Lucca finished. He sat blankly, tossing a twig into the small fire in front of him, the shadows of the flame painting eerie shapes along his unearthly white skin. His tattoo had finally been completed for the second time, but until it had a chance to heal, he was prevented from taking his familiar appearance, leaving his natural shape exposed. Huddled in the dark forest night and lit only by flames, he sorely looked the part of a fey. Victor sat nearby, listening, with his son sleeping soundly next to him. With the ceremony and tattooing completed, they would start heading back to Asanon next morning. Victor sat silently through the story, and continued to do so now that it was done. His expression was odd: it was distant, and hard, and sad. 
"...I would say how sorry I am, that you had to suffer that," he said finally, quietly, "but, as you often point out, I shouldn't apologize for things that I didn't do." He looked at the fire for a moment before continuing, "I can't even imagine your fear, what you went through. I've never felt fear properly to begin with." His gaze wandered about slowly, "...I wish that I could do something, or could have done something, as ridiculous as that sounds to say. No matter how scarred that man is, it's not enough payment for his crime, though I suppose there's little more that can be done about it now. As for your teacher...I apologize for the amount of contempt I have towards him, seeing as how I don't even know the man, but to cover yourself in such saccharine ignorance and hurt someone in your care so badly." A very dark look passed over his face quickly, "There is a time for placidity, and peace. And there are times when it is unacceptable. And it is never, ever, acceptable to break the trust of someone who depends on you." His gaze turned back to Lucca, and it was both ernest and slightly sad as he added, "I hope, sincerely, that you never feel fear or betrayal like that ever again."
The younger man's eyes flicked over to meet his gaze for a moment, a deep bitterness mingling with his exhaustion. "Mmmh, you talk too much, old man," he mumbled despondently, adding after a long pause, "...thanks, though..." He shot him a brief, meaningful look before returning his gaze to the flames, rubbing absently at his arms as if to ward off a chill despite the warmth of the evening.
"I always have talked too much. Probably always will." He added with a faint smirk, "But I suppose one of us has to, if much of anything is to be said at all." He looked at Lucca inscrutably for a moment before standing up. He moved around the fire until he was beside the druid, and sank down again to kneel. "Don't hold that bitterness. Drunken animals don't deserve to hold sway over you. And I still promise what I've promised before: to always do whatever I can." He inclined his head, "Thank you for telling me your story. I cannot do anything about the past, though I wish I could, but please, know that you don't ever have to face things alone again."
"I..." he stopped and bit his lip slightly, unable to find the words he was looking for, eventually offering weakly, "I...thanks...thank you..." What his words lacked, his expression made up for: a rather intense and unfamiliar mixture of vulnerability and gratitiude suffusing his features as he spoke. Quickly breaking his gaze, he shifted slightly, self conciously.
Victor leaned forward and hugged Lucca tightly. "Anytime," he said simply. 
With a small, startled noise the druid reflexively flinched and made pull away but stopped himself as quickly as he had started. After a moment he relaxed, and closing his eyes tightly, hesitantly moved to return the guesture.
Category:Advent of the All