There was was a heavy mist hanging over the fjord that morning. Thick and dewy and a bit too much like rain for Lukas's liking. It fell onto him, dusting his cloak as he waited outside of Berwald's house.
Eventually a hand opened the door, or at least most of a hand. The fingers were nothing but stubs anymore, but this was normal, Lukas was used to this, and soon enough the hands came with a face. Tall, with dark blue eyes and a thatch of blond hair. He would have been handsome if it wasn't for his illness.
As he entered the house Lukas could almost hear the whispers starting up again. He knew what the villagers thought, he knew they trusted him less because of it, but it had never stopped any of them from coming to him in their times of need, and so he kept going. As far as he was concerned, Berwald, sweet and soft spoken, was the last man on the planet to be in league with the devil. The fact that he had leprosy certainly didn't change that.
He sat down in a chair across from Berwald and began to pull ingredients out of his basket. He ground some oatmeal in his mortar and pestle and mixed the now powdery oats with comfrey and hot water. The resulting concoction was slimy and the type of thing most people would rather not touch. Lukas smeared it over the lesions on Berwald's skin before getting up to wash his hands.
"Now let that sit for a bit,"
"I know. Thank you."
"I'm just doing my job Berwald."
...
There was quite the commotion going on in the village and as Lukas made his way out of Berwald's shack he couldn't help but be disturbed by it.
As much as he hated the racket he figured he should know what was going on. He was always being asked about one event or another by his patients, and so, heaving a heavy sigh, he wandered over to where the noise was coming from.
There in the half dirt, half cobblestone village square stood a cluster of horses, and atop of them a cluster of men in ridiculously heavy metal armor. Lukas gave them the acknowledgement of a raised brow, but he simply couldn't bring himself to be interested. It was probably some announcement from the king. It didn't effect him. There was no point in being here.
As he turned to walk down the bluff a loud clank hit the ground. He pushed forward, ignoring it, but the sound of metal being shaken against itself only intensified as he went. Suddenly there was a grip on his arm and he spun around with a glare.
The man before him was young, no doubt only a few years older than Lukas himself. His hair was preposterous, sticking up to an unbelievable height and his eyes held too much delight for someone who fought in wars.
Lukas jerked his hand away and addressed the man with a hiss, "what do you want?"
The man grinned as his arms fell back to his sides, "I'm very sorry, it's just I saw you in the village and I wanted to tell you how pretty your eyes are."
Lukas scoffed, was this really necessary? He needed to get home, it was early and his brother would be waking up soon, "Yes, I'm sure they're lovely, now why don't you go back to your friends and play with your pet horsie."
The man gave a pathetic, dog like frown, "But-"
"Just let me be will you? I'm busy," and with that Lukas strutted off in a huff.
AN: So I'm starting a new story! I'll try to update regularly, but I haven't written this much in a while so forgive me if I'm not supper on top of things. I have no darn clue where this story is going, so suggestions are a big help! Okay, I hope you like it~
I don't own Hetalia