I know I know. but this needed to be done!
::..::
He smiled as his keen ears picked up the sound of little feet on the stone floor.
Thump...Draaaag...Thump...Draaaag.
So he was limping again. From the sound of it, the boy seemed to have lost his sandals too.
The older man stood up and ascended the stairs at a sedate pace. He opened the door into the sham that served as his living quarters. Curled in the small corner of the comfy abode was a little boy, about eight clutching a swelling ankle.
"Seiya," he sighed under his breath comming over the the child who was wipping furiously at his eyes. Try as they might they could not get rid of the streaks of dirt and tears streaked across the sullen face. "You are early for your lessons today."
"I'm..."
"That's good. We have quite a bit to catch up on." the older man smiled, readjusting his tunic and patting the chocolate brown curls."Come let's get that dirt out of your eyes, I can hardly teach you that way."
"Thank...you Jocaste sa - sorry...lord...Jocaste?" The child said hesitantly.
"Your Greek has improved at least," Jocaste nodded in approval, ushering the child to a wash basin and then carefully dabbing away at the smeared dust. "Soon You shall be speaking like a native."
When the boy was clean they proceeded back inside to a comfortable old day sofa. They took their seats on the amongst the cushions as Jocaste procurred a thick volume. He had copied each page himself, gingerly from the acient parchment rolls and compiled them into codex form. Almost affectionately, sure slender fingers leafed through the anthology until he came to a red silk ribbon bookmark.
"We will begin here," he took the child's hand in his own and placed the little figners on the beginning of a paragraph. "Go ahead Seiya."
"...S-so cuni-cunning Odysseus King of I-Ithaca...stopped...stopped?...stopped his croo...mate's ears with wax..."
As always Jocaste let the old powers of the gods fill him, permeate his very being and saturate the air in the Record Hall. He concentrate wholly on a feeling of security or peace, of protection. It was not long before the child settled contently against him reading his history...their history. Seiya's stunted, fragmented Greek grew steadily smoother, easier and the boy became more relaxed, his lips murmuring the words as if he'd been speaking them for years.
::
Jocaste chuckled a little as he laid pinned to the rock beneath.
It was strange.
All he could remember was those reading lessons with the little foreign boy. Compared to that, the steel digging in his stomach was a minor annoyance. He wondered at little Seiya's face when the boy would come for his lesson, and find his teacher gone.
He will be alright. By now, the child would know, that the fate of all saints was to die in service of their Goddess Athena. He would get past it, like he got past his language problems, like he got past the bullying...like he would get past the putrid rotting heart of Sanctuary. Seiya was a dreamer; his dreamer.
::
Pegasus bronze saint knelt, head bowed at an unmarked grave on the hillside, fingers clenched in his lap. Silently he cried, tears slipping from glittering brown eyes, lighting up in the golden hues of dawn. His friends and role model knelt respectfully beside him.
"It has taken us too long," Aries Mu began, a note of melancholy laced in his smooth comforting tone, "To pay our dues to those that have fallen in light of Santuary's corruption...even years before the battle. We come to honor you now, our mentors, our martyrs, our friends, and the guardians of our legacies. May you find eternal peace."
Though his shoulders shook Seiya's salute was respectful and firm.
"Good-bye Jocaste-san," he whispered "...Thank you."