JANUARY 5th, 2017, SOUTH FLORIDA
ALFRED'S POV
I awoke to the sound of Arthur closing the door. I rolled over to my side and propped myself up, looking towards him. He looked tired and not too happy.
"Morning." he greeted.
"Artie, you don't look too good. You okay?"
"Fine, just that I didn't get as much sleep as I would have liked. You should hurry and get out of bed if we're going out to practice my aim."
I nodded and jumped off the side of the bed, wandering to the corner to find my boots and lace them up. Arthur himself had already dressed up in a bulky trench coat. He had a bright red scarf tucked into the hem.
"Do you really need the scarf and stuff?" I asked.
"For Florida, today is a surprisingly bad day. I've overheard the guards outside saying it's going to be really quite cold."
"Jeez, perfect weather for the war. Alright, go wait outside. I'll be out in just a sec."
Arthur wordlessly left, leaving the door open behind him. I threw on my trusty bomber jacket and quickly followed, shutting the door behind me. I found Arthur milling around by the entrance, looking up at the barbed wire at the top of the fence.
"You ready?" I asked.
"Yes. Where will we be going?"
"There's a lake just a while behind the camp. There's a little gallery nearby with archery targets on the wall outside so you can practice."
A stoic-faced guard opened the gates for us and we began to head out, and just as they shut behind us, Arthur started to look hesitant.
"Is it safe to be out here?" he asked.
"If it wasn't, you think they'd let us out?" I countered. "I promise, it's absolutely fine. I'll protect you!"
Arthur scowled. "I'm twenty-three years of age, therefore I think I can look after myself."
"You don't look a day over eighteen." I smirked, turning and leading the way.
I heard Arthur exclaiming over my comment, but following nevertheless.
The walk towards the little lake was quick, but we took our time. At the front of the camp it was grey and dull, bordered by half-broken buildings and abandoned attractions, but behind it was coloured with exotic reds, yellows, browns and greens. A comparison of then and now, as if this place was the only sanctuary remaining.
Tall trees surrounded the narrow dust path that we walked, leaves spiralling around gracefully. I would stay here forever if I could, and I'd make Arthur stay with me.
For the sake of company being company? Maybe. The wall Arthur put up around himself was beginning to erode away. Perhaps I was jumping to conclusions, but this was the start of a friendship.
Okay, so I'd known the guy for about two days, and he didn't tell me much about himself. That being said, I felt that if I could dodge Arthur's insults and complaints, then maybe I'd find a lovable person underneath who would be a loyal friend. I made a note to coax out some information about him while we practised.
It probably wouldn't be easy, but a hero doesn't give up.
... ... ...
ARTHUR'S POV
I gathered that Alfred enjoyed taking his time with his walks, especially when a variegated scenery was provided. I often forgot how much I treasured landscapes like the one we were trekking through, landscapes that I thought only existed in fairytales.
I also took my time, falling a few paces behind Alfred to find myself lost in this beautiful forest-like world.
If I closed my eyes, I could hear more clearly the sharp breeze that brought with it sharp chills, responsible for the opposite of ordinary Florida weather. I loved the crackling sound of crisp leaves under my boots, and the distinct scent of a woodland territory - musk and bark, a faint hint of smoke, all coming together to create a wonderfully earthy smell that I discovered I actually quite liked.
Then, I open my eyes and see the rich summer colours, contradicting the winter-like chill. Amber and bronze leaves plummeted down in small typhoons, dancing haphazardly on the breeze. Despite the notable coldness, the sun nevertheless shone brightly, casting golden rays between the trees and patterning the ground with pools or orange and yellow.
Perhaps if we were not in the midst of a war, there would be many other places like this, and better.
The picturesque forest seemed so much like the forests in old English fables and legends, and suddenly I find myself thinking of England. My old home - is it still standing? The army - are they winning or losing, alongside American and German soldiers? Everything I once knew - would I ever know it again?
I missed what it was like before the war, almost forgot, but I could always keep a grip on an inkling of the memories and experiences.
I sucked in a breath, looking straight ahead at Alfred, putting a stop to my thoughts. If I continued reminiscing, I would do myself no good and end up throwing myself into depression if the war did not manage first.
So I focused on Alfred.
Alfred was strange one, to say the least. Having known him for two days, I couldn't really pin a definite persona about him. I had learned that his elevator did not go to the top floor at the best of times. It was not a default trait, but he had resorted to being awkward in any given situation as I had seen once or twice. He was very patriotic. He had some sort of obsession with heroes, and I often wondered if he was the type of person who hid his nerdy side under a charming and energetic mask.
As for his appearance, he simply screamed 'American', complete with sun-kissed skin and that perfect shade of blonde hair that nobody else could positively capture naturally.
My favourite feature of any person I know is always their eyes.
Alfred's eyes were quite captivating. I haven't had one good chance to properly look as of yet, but I know for a fact that the shade of blue in his eyes is a shade I have never seen before. I can't use a word to describe the colour. Turquoise, cyan, teal, royal, none seem to fit accurately. At times, I glimpse bits of sky blue, as if the colours between clouds had been gathered together just for his eyes. Other moments, I see patterns of deep blue, like the waves of the ocean had been captured, just for his eyes.
But any other time he looks straight back at me, I see blue fire. Cerulean and sapphire flames ignite his irises and captivate me. After our gazes break, I feel as if I have been burned in some way. I tell myself his look is only slightly intimidating in some ridiculous way, and then I back out of my pathetic assumptions and tell myself I was caught off guard.
And yet, through the non-existent burns, Alfred's eyes do not fail to entice me back to glance and attempt to name the beautiful colour.
As I reassess my reactions to Alfred's features, I realise that I tend to observe a lot more than others. Perhaps if I was an artist, I'd attempt to capture human beauty and transfer it to paper. If I was a writer, I'd spend hours searching for the perfect words. If I was a photographer, I'd only take pictures of everyday people in their everyday worlds, catching the essence of people's nature and their often misleading looks.
"We're here, Artie."
Then I realise I have not observed Alfred as much as observe a general person. I swallow and continue looking off into the distance. Am I afraid of what Alfred would say? How he would react? What he would think if I attempted to delve into his mysterious personality and give him more than a once-over? He is ultimately fascinating, my brain settles on this thought.
"Earth to Arthur. Hello?"
I make a note that I forget who Alfred is when I look at him at the camp. I often feel as if I'm looking at a character of someone's design rather than a bona fide person who is guiding me around in the middle of war. It's almost a sad thought.
"Arthur!"
"What?" I asked, startled from my thoughts.
"Jeez, you looked a little hypnotized there for a sec. Was worried you'd drifted away into another world or somethin' freaky." Alfred said, laughing a little nervously. "You're okay, yeah?"
"Yes, I'm perfectly fine," I dismissed, turning my attention fully to the little building beside us. "Here?"
Alfred nodded, and disappeared within for a moment. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to remember not to drown in my musings whenever I was in company.
Where was I even attempting to go with that thought process? I was generally a quiet person who preferred to keep to my silence and observe the people who were more out-there than myself, I had gathered that much. I suddenly wondered if Alfred was so contemplative about me. He always looked wrapped up in talking about the most random of things, so I quashed that thought instantly as Alfred himself came back with a large bow and some arrows.
"Is that a recurve bow?" I took it as it was handed to me.
"Uh..."
"It's a lot like a longbow, but not as large. These curves at the end are too pronounced for it to be a compound. Hand me the arrows, please."
Alfred looked dumbfounded as I pulled back the string to test its durability. I was almost surprised by the strength of the bow, as it looked as ordinary as ever. I snapped my fingers, hurrying Alfred to pass me an arrow.
"You sure know a lot about this." he noted, watching me position the head of the arrow carefully against the string.
I gripped the string in a professional way, elbow up and positioned it at eye-level, and I pulled back as far as it would go. I turned slightly, aiming at one of the targets that was sturdily hung upon the wall. Alfred was silent behind me.
I let go and the distinct sound of the arrow piercing the wind met our ears, and it landed not a centimetre or two away from the middle. Satisfied with my first shot since at least fifteen years ago, I lowered the bow and glanced at Alfred.
He had a slightly hesitant smile. "Beginner's luck, huh?"
"You wish. I used to take archery lessons when I was eight."
"Eight? Dude, I was still spinning in circles to pass the time when I was eight. What, did you read all of Shakespeare's novels by then too?"
I gave Alfred a serious look, and his face turned from shock to awe.
"Artie, you're a child prodigy!" Alfred gawked, running to the target to prise the arrow out. "You're awesome, y'know - wow. That's like-"
"Alfred, calm down. I only shot an arrow."
Despite my words, I felt happy that Alfred thought of me in such a way. He took the bow off of me and attempted himself. Just as he was about to pull the string back, I tapped his arm.
"Elbow up."
He followed my instructions and after some tweaking of his position and aim, he fired the arrow. It landed on the inner blue ring of the target.
"Is that good for a first shot?" he asked.
"Considering you didn't end up shooting yourself in the foot or into the lake, yes, that was a surprisingly good first go." I nodded, retrieving the arrow.
"So, you took archery lessons?"
I pulled back the string and aimed at a target further away. "Yes, when I was eight. Because I always stayed at home with my nose in a book," I fired. "My mother always told me to get into some kind of sport. Then again, I hate strenuous physical activities, so I asked for archery lessons. I had to deal with my brothers claiming it wasn't a sport, just a hobby for lazy, stuck-up people."
The arrow had landed on the outside of the yellow centre. I went there again to take it back.
"Yet they were pretty supportive, proving money for extra lessons," I went on. "I'm not sure I thanked them for it. Nevertheless, I finished my lessons and even got into small competitions when I was ten."
"You won, of course."
"Second place, actually," I corrected, nodding my thanks to his assumption that I was the best anyway with a small smile. "And after the competitions, I kind of abandoned it altogether. I promised my mother I'd try something, not that I'd stick to it, after all. But it looks as if I still remember what I was taught."
"Well, duh. It's like ridin' a bicycle, you don't just forget how to do it." Alfred muttered. "You're still really good at it. I don't know why we're bothering to practice."
"You tell me. I get the idea that you are better with handling guns?"
Alfred's face lit up, and he grabbed my wrist. "Heck yeah! C'mon, there's a shooting range inside."
... ... ...
A/N: is this chap longer or shorter? Ugh words
I hope the bit about recurve and compound bows made sense. Google didn't help much XD
Nevertheless, we got some assessin' going on here. I hope its cool that I write more in Arthur's pov. I like being descriptive like that. He strikes me as a person that carefully observes the littlest things.
Yeah.
Reviews welcome~ thanks for faves and follows guys!
Much love! 3