The rumble of engines fades to a standstill as the line of vehicles shift into idle and shut down across the line. Voices chatter loudly in auxiliary, their conversational tones colored with relief and the occasional anecdote as hard boots strike unpaved road. Their footfalls drum like a landslide as the many workers crush gravel underfoot in their haste to disembark. The air about them is relaxed, lighthearted. The compound stress accumulated through hours of hard driving in hostile terrain has been given an outlet know that they are safe behind the settlement's wood parapets.
Standing in the bed of the lead truck, arm clasped tight across the frame, the young man glances back to the crew of lumberjacks as they begin to unload themselves and their timber into the neatly organized rows and columns stacked inside the yard. In that moment of observation, he shuffles his feet, stamping out the numbness and working fresh blood into his extremities.
The drive was long, and as of late, uneventful. The local population of hostile wild life were unusually quiet these past few runs, the reason for their withdrawal was as mysterious as it was undoubtedly nefarious. For this he took no solace in their lack of appearance. Despite knowing such tedious expeditions are exactly what the people of this town hoped for, that does little to dull the incessant boredom of these lengthy journeys and only reinforced his concern of a future worry. Regardless, their arrival was cause at least for an alleviation of his duties and offered a separate outlet to curtail the tedium. Supervising the safety of the workmen convoy was but one of his many responsibilities and there were yet other tasks in the multitude that he could use to occupy his attentions.
Shifting his grip to the side of the truck bed, he heaved himself over the end and hit the ground at a brisk pace, pursing his lips into a sharp whistle as he maneuvered through the throng of workers hastening to receive their latest shipment for refinement and exportation.
The piercing twang cut through the cacophony of noise proliferous across the lumber yard, drawing more than a few heads towards the loud commotion that rose from the truck behind him. Summoned by the call, another figure leaped from the vehicle parked behind the lead, its rapid quadrupedal gait closing the distance until the animal slowed to a leisurely stride aside its master. Other than a few glances from those nearby, this was largely ignored as a sight long familiar to the laborers.
The boy glanced down at the beast with a subdued smile, threading his fingers through the fur atop its scalp in greeting. In reply the wolf huffed contently, welcoming the deft appendages that appeased an incessant itch.
"Allister!"
A familiar voice shouted for his attention, and the young man turned in answer. His sharp eyes quickly identified the burly presence of the foreman of the yard as he forded his way through the throng, worn clipboard in one hand, and the adjacent nursing a hot mug of coffee that trailed wisps of silvery steam into the early morning air. The foreman was well known to Allister as the liaison coordinating his operations with the local lumber association. And thus far there was little he could find in complaint. The man worked hard at his job, was consistently punctual, and happened to be built solid like an oak tree, owed to previous years of labor in the field. Now he was weighed down by a little pudge around the stomach, not that anyone would care to remark on his more sedentary lifestyle. The man could still swing his axe with the same ease he sipped his coffee, as Allister could attest to on at least one occasion.
"Harry…" The young man hailed the older with a slow incline of his head, the deep volume of his hood and the concealing nature of his mask obscuring his less than usual features to the benefit of those present. His appearance often made the townsfolk uneasy, and the wearing of coverings to placate them was a simple matter, other than some minimal discomfort that was effortless to ignore.
The wolf at his side was not so understanding of trifling irritation, and separated itself from him to wander leisurely towards the entrance to wait, seemingly disinterested in the imminent conversation. This, they were both used to.
The foreman watched the lupine as it trotted off, his apparent unease lessening with the growing distance between them. He made a motion with his hands, what Allister had come to understand as something with religious significance, though he knew the foreman was anything but a spiritual man. "That is a strange beast you have there, lad." Harry muttered sourly, though his tone lingered on the precipice of droll amusement. "Too smart for its own good I say."
Allister did not rise to the familiar bait, though he acknowledged that the foreman's opinion was a popular one with a succinct nod, before extending his hand expectantly. Otherwise he remained silent. Business was best conducted with swift deliberation and minimal prattling.
Harry looked to the protracted appendage and sighed long-sufferingly. One-sided conversations were a typical aspect when attempting ordinary interactions with the boy. Though he had not yet grown weary of trying. "Aye lad, you'll get your due, same as always." He nodded sternly as he extracted a stack of assorted, colored, plastic tokens from the satchel strung to his belt. The young man accepted the assortment of multihued marks gracefully.
And Harry watched, perturbed, as Allister swiftly tucked them out of sight, the lien vanishing into the sewn pouch of a bandolier with such suddenness that his eyes almost did not track the movement. And then bereft of the usual polite platitudes, he turned about and made a straight line for the entrance to the lumberyard. Those in his path, whether they were between work or hauling stacks of roughly cut timber, made conscious effort to avoid interposing.
There was something… animalistic about him, a litheness to his mannerisms that was on the precipice of predatory, that was able to intimidate even full-grown men hardened by long seasons of cutting lumber in forests rampant with Grimm. Harry watched the young man leave with a half-formed frown. Allister did not so much walk, as stalk, his gait as swift and silent as a forest cat, and all the more unnerving for it.
And the foreman wondered, like always, at the lad's strangeness. Answers were hard to find, as the boy was voluntarily mute and avoided prolonged conversation with an aversion that was inhuman. His grasp over the spoken tongue was scarcely used in conjunction, and he seemed content to communicate through concise gestures and short statements, to the frustration of more than a few colonists over the months of his less than harmonious integration into their daily lives. The only times Harry had ever heard him utilize full and fluent English had been when the town faced imminent crisis. And in those moments, they were damn glad to have him.
And so, like always, the foreman came to a familiar, bygone conclusion.
Allister was an oddity, but a welcomed one.
And with that Harry turned and went back to work.
With this new delivery came several tons of fresh timber that needed to be unloaded, processed, and seasoned, and the town didn't pay him to laze about speculating.
XX-XX-XX
Allister left the lumberyard promptly, his sensitive hearing relieved to be rid of the incessant churning of industrial machinery and the raised voices of busy workmen. The average hustle and bustle of the townsfolk was a delicate gradient he found tolerable, if not entirely agreeable, when levied by comparison.
The lumberyard, buttressed as it was under the reassuring overhang of the township's wooden parapets, remained far enough from the centralized portions of the village that its residents did not mind its presence overmuch, not nearly as much as they did his own anyways. The fact that the mill was the town's sole source of profitable income might have also had something to do with their acceptance.
Much like he, they had learned to adapt to the ever-present cacophony and organized chaos that arose when running a lumber operation at all hours of the day, and often into the small hours of the night. These folk were hardy frontiersmen, willing to risk the looming presence of pervasive peril for the chance at a better life away from the stifling grasp of the kingdom's great city.
And for that he respected them, if he was not overly fond of their boisterous spirit. The knowledge that he was there to protect them did much to bolster his lenience in his dealings with the townspeople. This was the first town he had allowed himself to stay for any considerable length of time. Things here were different than the environment he was raised into. He had cautioned himself about this and yet simple words could not have prepared him for the unanticipated reality.
But he digressed, such considerations were a distraction, a familiar one that had not been shaken these following months after his arrival.
His musing had occupied his attention along the dirt path connecting the yard to the village proper, dropping him at the crossroads just outside the center of the town, amidst the outlying buildings reserved for storage and other community services. In the distance he could see the villagers going about their errands and whatever it was people were liable to do in the early morning. His focus on them was merely cautionary, a quick glance to ensure that all was in order and that his presence was unneeded. Therein he reached into his voluminous cloak and withdrew a battered and well-worn notebook, opening to a page littered with neat scribbles and half drawn sketches of various architectures. Reaching into his cloak a second time, he produced a pen, scratched and dented by age and use in this roughshod environment, and applied it to paper, jotting down his thoughts and examinations of the exterior wall that he had gathered on their approach returning from the outpost.
The solid fortification of hewn oak was formidable, and did well to keep out the dangerous creatures outside the walls. But it was aging. Weathering had weakened some of the segments and threatened collapse of part of the structure, if not its totality. This was abstained only by continuous, and rigorous repairs made by the local townsfolk, at significant personal cost. Elden Pine was an old colony, built before even the walls of the capital had been finished. And while such an enduring settlement of such prestige should have befitted the use of stone walls, those in the capital did not see the expenditure needed to augment the current defense to be a viable use of the kingdom's finances. Given that Elden Pine was Vale's premier exporter of lumber to the other kingdoms, and therefore a vital bastion of economic security for Vale as a whole, Allister would have argued heavily against their dismissal.
But he was just one voice, and an unwanted one at that. So instead he kept watch of the wall, made his notes, and reported his findings. This in turn he delivered to the mayor at the start of every quarter, which she then submitted to the council review board where it was, as always, ignored.
Allister was a man well in control of his emotions by stringent necessity, and yet he could not deny that it was one of his greatest exasperations. The very thought of the inconsiderate ignorance of geriatric politicians, leagues distant, behind the comfort of their mighty walls and lofty positions of power, was enough to rile his otherwise measured passions.
Such frustration was familiar to him and had caused many moments of unfocussed reflection, yet while he was content to ponder and fume, the furred beast at his side was less so enthused by its companion's lethargy. This was brough to his attention at the impatient whipping of the wolf's tail, as it battered against his side like a cushioned truncheon. He glanced down, stirred from his notetaking, and looked into an acquainted pair of golden eyes that flickered with the slightest hint of bemused irritation.
Allister sighed, and closed his notebook with a finalistic thump of worn pages. Perhaps such notes and thoughts could be addressed later when he was not so predisposed towards other matters, possibly over his evening meal. Giving the animal a nod, he returned his instruments to the satchel under his cloak and set off with a suitable direction in mind.
In turn the lupine barked sharply, and hopped to step beside him. His focus shifting away from the tedium of planning and notetaking. He turned his gaze to the wolfish creature loping merrily aside his hip and gave it more attention. The animal was huge, a great beast amongst canines, more an adult pony than a large dog. Its jaws were massive, with the strength to shatter bone and crush metal, which he had seen used to great effect many times. In spite of its outwardly intimidating appearance, and the fact its ears were nearly level with his abdomen, they were a fond place for idle scratches when the mood struck.
Yet there was more to the beast than its size or strength, or even affability that he valued, he cared instead for the familial intelligence in its gaze that he knew so well.
The thought soured his mood as always, and he felt a weary sigh bridge the silence as he brushed a palm over the animal's snout. The tactile sensation of fur was comforting, even if an unsubtle reminder of what had been lost to them both.
The wolf whined softly in reply toward his attentions, and he felt the brush of its tongue on his hand.
Allister hummed gently, and removed his hand with a parting pat on the head. And when the lupine looked to him curiously, he smiled, though the weariness of his grin could not be seen under the mask he wore. And though he wore many, this particular facade was more literal than most.
Ahead of them loomed a foreboding edifice of ligneous ramparts and dour defenses, a wooden stockade carefully designed and prudently constructed that ensured the continued welfare of this town and its inhabitants. He had become intimately familiar with is makeup in his time here, a portion of his responsibility to this town adjourned to the fortification's maintenance and upkeep. Here he once more drew upon his notebook, though a warning growl from his companion was reminder enough to keep his mind from wandering.
Allister slowed his pace from a fast walk to a leisurely prowl as he scouted the perimeter, comparing the notes he had taken the week before to those he had written in haste the previous morning. In such he did not see anything that hinted to a wider than average differential. There was some sagging here on the east corner, owed to some of the timber rotting, which was ultimately unavoidable due to high saturation of moisture that was not uncommon in arboreal conditions. Elden Pine was deep in Vale's heartland, a landscape overrun with sprawling forests and seasonal rains carried by immense storm clouds that decanted on its inhabitants like an incessant deluge.
Over all it was nothing of considerable concern yet. A few logs from their own lumber store and maybe a day's maintenance with a handful of the more experienced carpenters living in the Pine and it was a situation easily remedied.
Allister made a notation in the margin of his notebook, citing the placement of the section of wall and the materials required, when he heard someone's approach. Given his senses, he had detected the lumbering footfalls of someone far distant, but only now, given the placement of sound and dispensation of heavy trod boots on gravel, that the owner of this disruption was moving towards him personally. His sense of smell however, gave him some idea of the who.
He was not impressed with his findings.
The flowery aroma of well laundered clothes, the harsh scent of body wash and shampoo usually associated with male hygienic products, and the cloying odor of cologne were all indicative enough. But it was the unmistakable and bland scent of freshly printed paper that solidified his suspicions.
"Undersecretary Crane…" Allister uttered quietly, his voice expelling from his mouth in a grated growl as he turned to face the one in question.
"Allister." The sharply dressed man spoke in reply, cradling a scroll in his stiff grip. There were few places one could find the undersecretary where he would be unaccompanied by the seemingly vital piece of technology, or so at least Allister had heard.
As of yet he had not seen it for himself.
Truthfully, there was little love lost between them. Even an impartial observer would be able to tell at a casual glance. While Allister found most everyone in the town to be unobjectionable, if not entirely amiable, Crane was an exception to the rule. He had too much in common with politicians, which was understandable in a way, considering he so happened to be one of a sort. It was also a fact that Crane had lobbied extensively and with great vigor to see him removed from the town, and thus made his first few months here more irritating then Allister had already anticipated. Furthermore, atop such closeminded interference, Allister was confident that the man had something to do with the dismissal of the town's request for more permanent walls and a stronger garrison. It seemed as if Crane was fighting him every step of the way despite all his efforts being in the best interests of the community.
One then might see why a grudge existed.
Allister locked gazes with the slightly rotund administrator squeezed into his colorful and pretentiously foppish suit like a sausage bursting from a tube.
And with effort Allister inclined his head with a modicum of respect afforded to a man of his position, and no more.
Elden Pine's superintendent wheezed a breath patronizingly as he looked to his scroll. "Mayor AlGreen has requested your presence in her office. It seems that she has need of your unique… insight." The word rolled off his tongue with the distaste of a particularly odorous draft of morning breath.
Allister answered with silence, not unfamiliar to Crane, and watched as the puffed-up dandy muttered darkly to himself as he turned to leave. At the best of times Allister operated under a policy of minimal usage of spoken tongue. Those he deemed deserving he offered the usual platitudes expected of another member of society. He would greet them, he would listen to them, and he would learn their intentions with as few words as possible so that they might depart forthwith. To Allister, conversation did not often carry with it an appreciable value. It was too often inundated with superfluous tangents and meandering topics that failed to alight his interest. He cared not for idle gossip, of the perilously described slopes of romance or personal slights unforgotten, only to burst like a virulent tumescence after the imbibement of numerous alcoholic beverages in the town's singular tavern.
He cared for few things in his life, his experiences having narrowed his priorities considerably, his job was one of those few. Thankfully, it required little interaction with the populace, not that he held any resentment towards the townsfolk. Though any that might be privy to his inner thoughts would be inclined to posture otherwise. In spite of this their wellbeing was important to him, it was why he endured such constant discomfort. The kingdom did not care about them as anything more than as a margin on their spread sheets. Towns fell and rose up with the fickle impermanence of sand castles, overrun by Grimm or bandits, or simply abandoned as unsustainable. Lives were lost, the histories of entire communities trampled by the crushing impetus of time.
The kingdoms of Remnant had long accepted this as the standard, a simple if harsh reality of the waking world.
Allister disagreed.
He believed the world could yet fall under sway of the dominion of man, all that was needed, was vigilance and sacrifice. That was the reason he remained in this town, listened to their prattling and endured their mistrustful stares and low mutterings where they thought he could not overhear them. He could tolerate their discontent. It was an easy price to pay for their willingness to let him stay in their town. They need not enjoy his company to partake in his protection, and this he minded not.
Crane was the rare exemption.
Fouled by Crane's presence, he did not lighten his musings until the man was out of sight around a bend in the road. He then looked to his companion, who was not as patient. The wolf at his side still had its hackles raised, though it was too conscientious to growl, the sound bubbling from its throat was more akin to a grumble.
Allister chuckled, the harsh bark of laughter from a throat hardly used to it, distracted the lupine from its grumbling. "Come Remus." He grunted wryly as it turned to him questioningly, his answer was delayed, as he took the road back into town, though the lupine followed faithfully nonetheless.
"The Mayor calls."
He wondered at what the Mayor might have need of him for.
"It had better be worth my time."
Remus huffed in agreement, although in hindsight, that might have proven to be a poor choice of words.
Fate was a capricious animal, it often manifested in ways beyond mortal understanding. Allister did not believe in fate, not personally and not in the way that people ascribed it. Fate was a word used by desperate and disillusioned men who lamented the lives they felt they were forced to live. It was a word used by the weak, by those who did not possess the strength to forge their own paths. They did not change; they did not rise to the occasion amid the panicked and rank stench of desperation. They bemoaned, they wailed, that they had no choice, that it was out of their hands, that there was nothing to be done that it was simply their fate. He had seen it, in the helpless eyes of those watching their world burn down around them, in the terrified expressions of those who stood helpless, frozen, as the unforgiving hordes of Grimm descended upon them.
He had seen it in the unseeing eyes of raving madmen, who foisted the blame for their crimes upon the cruelty of the world.
Fate was a crutch that crippled.
Faith, however, was something he did believe in. Faith not in religious idols or ardent worship of gods who did not exist or looked upon their suffering with indifference, but in the potential of mankind. It was faith that led them out of the darkness, and it would be their faith in brotherhood, not their subservience to the whims of fate, that staved them from the brink of destruction.
It was faith that led him to find his purpose in life.
But it was fate, and a chance meeting in the mayoral office of Alicia AlGreen, that sealed it.
XX-XX-XX
It was not his short and unpleasant interaction with Crane that warned him that the day was turning sour, though he could have been forgiven for being so earnestly misled. Instead, the premonitory warning of his imminent misfortune was born aloft muffled voices behind great oak doors, doors which Allister approached with due caution. He could discern several distinct speakers, though owing to the deadening nature of the heavy slabs of carved wood, even his ears could only make out the audibility of the words, if not their formulation and intent, and that was enough to get a rise from his hackles.
He was, by nature, a suspicious creature. In this world there were only two things he trusted, one of which happened to be an animal, the other, himself. Such confidence did not extend out to envelope the people of this colony. He was here to ensure their safety. And from experience mutual trust was a nonfactor in their security. He did not need the people's trust to do his job, merely their cooperation.
Therefore, he was wary of situations without due precedence.
The Mayor did not often entertain visitors. Despite Elden Pine's importance to Vale's economy they rarely hosted guests of any degree of importance. The roads were much too dangerous for the occasional traveler and bullheads were too expensive. There were not many people that would risk the danger of the Grimm to visit a backwater settlement like Elden Pine.
To those in the capital, visiting the Pine was a punitive assignment, a castigation that was avoided with frantic alacrity. Considering the lengths these people were willing to go - as he heard from the Mayor - it was little surprise that they did not come here with any regularity. The last visiting dignitary had only been a week prior, and the one before that had been several months previous. To say that he was surprised to hear the Mayor had guests so soon after the last would be understating his confusion. This was highly irregular, enough to make him concerned.
He paused at the doors, turning to the secretary at the desk.
Unlike the undersecretary, Peridot was not an abscess of society. Allister found her to be a tolerable young woman in conversation when forced under the auspice of necessity. Which given his frequent meetings with the Mayor regarding the Pine's security, was, understandably, quite often. As such she had become somewhat knowledgeable in regard to his peculiarities.
The girl nodded with a flick of her hair, a rather pleasant shade of jade that responded well to the sunlight streaming in from the windows decorating the small interior office, and Allister felt the tension ease from his shoulders.
The gesture told him everything he needed to know for the moment. He thanked her quietly, returning his focus upon the doors as she went back to her scroll with a humored smile. Thinking of his modest home and a warm meal cooked by the fire, amenities he had been looking forward to, now refrained by the Mayor's insistence, Allister pushed through his reservations and opened the doors.
The hinges were oiled regularly by the building's maintenance staff, masking his entrance into the Mayor's office.
Not that they could have heard his arrival over all the noise.
"How much longer must we entertain this woman's lunacy? Every moment we sit here waiting is another we are forced to tolerate this nascent backwater."
"Miss Schnee… please."
Allister was hit with full force of heated discussion in mid-swing as the slabs of wrought oak separated at his insistence. He paused, doors half open, as he looked inside to a scene of inexplicable madness.
He sighed, weighing his options.
Mayor AlGreen's office was, despite the importance of her position, small, with an artistic design that adhered to the rusticism favored by the community. It was, unsurprisingly, composed mostly of varnished wood paneling and pleasantly arranged porcelain on high shelves. It had been designed to accommodate her possessions of office and the occasional guest, not in fact four energetically charged adolescent girls and one very tired looking man.
It was, without doubt, the strangest scene he had ever come upon.
And in his shirt life he had seen many such things.
The room was crowded, even with the Mayor sitting behind her desk looking somewhat disheveled. The only other adult in the room, a rather twitchy man with vibrant green hair and a thermos clutched tight to the chest, seemed no more enthused to be there than the Mayor was at having them. He had been the second voice Allister had heard, and judging from the character of his speech he was attempting to mediate, though his efforts were received poorly as the first voice seemed no less inclined to continue.
"Forgive my disrespect…" The girl continued, though her icy tone suggested she was far from repentant. "But we are here on an important mission, a mission you are hindering by detaining us."
It was a sentiment of dislike they both seemed to share.
"You are not being detained." The Mayor answered coolly, her detestation of the word revealed in the sour turn to her expression as she eyed the sharply dressed girl practically leaning over her desk. "As the elected official of this town it behooves me to ensure that your operation here is coordinated and administered by myself to the best of my abilities. Thusly…" AlGreen rose from her seat to her full height, a stature that had her a head and a half taller than the pale, slender girl in front of her.
To the girl's credit, she did not waiver from her stance, though her eyes did lose some ferocity as she looked up to the unexpectedly imposing figure of Elden Pine's Mayor.
Many before her had reacted similarly at such realization.
"I will not allow students to run rampant through my community without proper supervision." The glare leveraged against the girl, while not enough to make her stagger, did give her reason to reevaluate her stance, and the white-haired hellion retreated a few steps until she bumped into the person behind her.
The Mayor smiled thinly, turning to the adult in the room as she settled back into her chair. "That is, if you'll forgive my impertinence, Professor Oobleck?"
"That is quite alright, Miss AlGreen." The man assured with a relieved nod and a somewhat awkward smile. No doubt he was simply glad he did not need interfere himself. And Allister was certain that whatever the reason, he was questioning the circumstances that brought him to this moment.
In that they shared a transient bond.
Nevertheless, while this was all very amusing, Allister had no intention of playing the bemused spectator. He had neither the inclination nor the tolerance. The Mayor had seen fit to interrupt his carefully arranged timetable, knowing that his work was vital to the continued security of this town. For that he could only assume that whatever she needed from him must have been of equal importance, and he had a dark feeling that this bizarre cadre of delinquents had something to do with it. And the only way to know for sure was to get answers. He had found, in his experience, that unwanted social interaction was not entirely unlike pulling teeth. It was best done bluntly, without unnecessary procrastination.
"Mayor AlGreen…" He made his presence known with words spoken in little more than a punitive growl, the cadence of his speech strident and uneven. Such sound was unusual to find in the throat of a young man, but then communication had never been one of his strengths. One could also, through inference, attribute his harshness of voice to the pale scar that swathed his throat like a jagged smile, though the bodysuit he wore covered such ugly blemishes from sight.
His barked interjection was the execution of all current conversation.
The two speakers, once vehemently opposed, turned towards his sudden intrusion. The Mayor, for her part, looked relieved at his appearance, and eased comfortably in her seat, no longer stiff backed and defensive. Undoubtedly, she was relieved to have something else to draw the girl's wrath.
He could not fault the woman for that.
The other, upon close inspection, was surprising in her familiarity, a recognition that caused his emotions to spike, before he smothered the rise. Though he had never seen the girl, he nonetheless raised an eyebrow speculatively. Pale white skin with clothes to match, and a pair of piercing, fiercely blue eyes, clothing and appearance unmistakable to a corporate dynasty well known for their oppression of faunus. Hers was a unique glare he could recall with some passing intimacy. It was a trait as inherent to her family as the wealth attached to their name.
A Schnee, named before but only now believed.
How… interesting.
But ultimately… unimportant.
His skin itched.
She was ignored just as readily as the other intruders to the Mayor's office. They were not his focus, though he believed them to be the reason behind his summons. Marshaling his resolve, and loosening the unexpected tightening of his muscles, he strode further into the room.
His boots, hard leather capped with steel, rebounded from wooden floorboards with a dull echo, and the shift of chain links jingled quietly in the silent room as he approached the desk, his sole objective. He passed the man and the other three girls, a cacophony of colors that burned his eyes with their vibrancy, green, yellow, black, and red, such adherence and dedication seemed less a stylistic choice and more of a statement of intent he could not interpret.
A scent caught his nose in passing, something vaguely feline, and his ear twitched.
His bewilderment was fleeting, curiosity crushed and discarded as he stopped at the head of the Mayor's desk, hands clasped behind his back so tightly that the leather of his gloves wrinkled audibly.
"Mayor AlGreen." He repeated lowly, head inclining ever so slightly in respectful reception. There was only one person in this town that had a say over his operations, and they were currently seated before him. It was her acceptance of his arrival that allowed him to remain in this town and offer his services, despite his… dissimilarities with the populace. For that alone she had earned his respect. That she was easy to work with was merely an unanticipated advantage.
It spoke well of her character when the woman looked up at him, covered as he was in the austere panoply of his trade, hard leather, heavy chain, ebon plate, and the overbearing menace of his hooded features, and offered him a smile.
"Faolán." Her tone was soft and welcoming, pleased, and not entirely as a result of his arrival sparring her from further conflict with the Schnee. In the half year he'd spent as the Pine's chief enforcer of civil authority they had come to an understanding. And while he would not say that they were friends, they were, at some level, associates of good standing.
What came next was to be expected.
"You came?" She inquired with a grin.
"You called…" He grunted in reply.
AlGreen laughed softly. "As verbose as always." She mused with a glint of mischief in her eyes that engorged a flicker of agitation in Allister. She always did seem to find amusement at his expense. "Yes, I did call. I have need of your talents."
His hood shifted to the Schnee, who was observing their interaction with a tight-lipped frown, and then to her entourage, busy whispering heatedly amongst one another.
He looked questioningly to the Mayor.
She in turn looked to the green haired man.
Who in turn looked to him.
Several moments passed in silence before the Mayor coughed lightly into her hand, gesturing indicatively with her head. A noiseless conversation of gestures passed between them that was something along the lines of…
This is the guy.
Who? Him?
Yes him.
Oh!
He watched the exchange in bemusement before the man exploded into a maelstrom of kinetic energy with such sudden unexpectedness that Allister half reached for the haft of the weapon on his back. It was only the placid, if slightly amused expression of the Mayor's that kept it sheathed, that and the giggling of the Schnee's teenage companions, which was far from threatening.
And then everything descended into madness.
"Good morning Mister Allister – my what an unusual name- my name is Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck – a rather unusual name as well I suppose- and I was told that you were somewhat of an authority on the Grimm in this area – rather young for it though, curious – and the Mayor – a rather nice lady I must say – has offered your assistance in this matter – you see we are on the hunt for a rare and quite dangerous species of Grimm – an exercise for the academy with the students – more of a field trip – don't you know and your help could prove to be invaluable – and I must say your appearance does make me curious perhaps you might have a free moment to answer some questions before we depart as long as that is alright with you?"
"…"
"…"
"…"
Allister was possessor of a uniquely calculative intellect, he'd been trained to process information at speeds that would almost be considered preternatural, a trait solely responsible for his continued survival. The torrential flood of information that spewed from this man's flapping orifice, he struggled to comprehend. It seemed little more than babbling insanity, an inundation of verbal sewage so incomprehensible, so inconceivable, that his mind blanked before its immeasurable convexity.
His salvation came in the form of a tiny voice.
"Good morning, I look forward to your assistance, and maybe some questions, if you have the time."
Allister looked to the speaker, one of the Schnee's companions, a small girl adorned in bold black and red highlights, pale as the heiress of the SDC, though she bore the warmth of a nervous smile and none of the frigidness reserved to the heiress' frown.
She shrugged; the motion as awkward as her obvious discomfort at speaking out. "It's what he meant to say, anyways."
Her explanation was a cool relief, the cipher to the code, and he sifted through the man's words to learn that, indeed, such was the intent of his ardent diatribe.
He nodded his thanks, and her smile deepened, crossing into the realm of friendly. He shifted, snapping his attention back onto the inexplicable man afflicted with motive diarrhea, who at the least, had the propriety to look embarrassed as he shuffled awkwardly.
"Ah yes…" The one known as Oobleck winced. Clearly this was not an unusual situation.
"That is a suitable approximation."
Allister looked to the Mayor, but the curl of amusement to her lips, and her continued silence in the face of this absurdity, told him that he would have to deal with this matter bereft of outside support. Unfortunate, but he could adapt.
He could be eloquent if the situation so required.
"Not today. Tomorrow, early morning. Be ready." Allister turned on his heels with a sharp click. If he worked quickly, he could still fit in his regular duties and maybe some of the others for tomorrow. He'd have to collect Remus from the cabin and make a quick run around the walls, stop at the home of the militia commander, and resupply at the clinic, all before lunch.
Allister moved towards the door. He would need time to prepare. The man, Oobleck, had babbled something about Grimm, so he'd need equipment for an outing, and he'd have to draw up a plan. Then there was that scent, feline, tickling his nose again like an unreachable itch. He'd have to figure what that was about as well.
"Hey!" A voice called out, shattering his contemplation.
He turned.
Blond, blindingly so, with sharp lilac eyes and an irritable demeanor.
He raised an eyebrow, the action pointless under his apparel, but was otherwise mute.
"That's it?" She demanded with a sharp intake of air, presumably in disbelief, or in preparation for a scathing lecture. The man, Oobleck, raised a hand as if to intervene but was overwritten by her continued complaining "No introduction? No plan? No explanation? No telling us where we are supposed to meet you? No answer as to why we have to wait a whole day? We sat in this stuffy office for three hours waiting for you. And all you can say be ready?"
She huffed noisily, exasperatedly.
He knew not where her irritation bloomed from, and cared less to discover.
Something flickered in her eyes, a flash of red.
Curious.
He'd have to make a note.
Still, she asked a question.
"Yes." He answered, turning to continue on his way. However, he didn't get more than a half step before a hand clamped on his shoulder.
Hard.
He seized.
And the world darkened.
"Listen he-"
His form rippled, and a snarl simmered in the back of his throat, bubbling up his esophagus like acidic bile. Malformed remembrances of sinister figures flickered in the periphery of his eyes, taunting and malevolent. He inhaled sharply; his teeth clenched so tightly there was an audible crack to his warping perception. His appendages strained against the ethereal ligature tearing and rasping against his skin, as ephemeral as the shades that sneered and mocked him in unintelligible whispers.
Memories, as devastating as they were cruel, compounded upon the fraying filaments of his conscious mind with the force of a hurricane. His senses were overwhelmed, transporting him back to the constricting walls and tepid dark. He heard the trickle of water on stone.
And Allister howled.
"Do not touch me."
The atmosphere of the room plunged into free-fall. The blonde flinched away and tore her hand from him as if she had been burned. And the fourth girl, as of yet to speak, reached behind her for something with a metallic glint. The others were so stunned by the sudden shift that they had yet to react.
Allister's body shivered, and he snatched the haft of his glaive in a death grip, preparing to draw the sword-spear when a voice broke the chaos.
"Faolán!"
It was one of passing familiarity, sparking recognition and reigning the call of reason that had so errantly strayed. The snap back to reality was sudden and powerful, forcing the boy into a stagger. The claustrophobia of walls long abandoned dissipated, and the light of the windows chased away the trappings of the dark that had nearly drowned him. Lucidity told him where he was, and informed him of the company he was keeping. And Allister remembered where he was, and where he was being kept no longer.
Like water dousing a campfire, his sudden rage evaporated into smoke, and the boy was left standing there, his body trembling at the memories and shadows of specters long dead digging claws deep into the core of his emotions. The sensation of helpless rage vanished, leaving him hollow, and bereft. The piercing jab of desolation plunged deep into his core like the metallic length of a blade that had slithered past his guard. Yet the hollowness did not linger long before it was replaced by something equally as unpleasant, a rot, a deep shame that he knew would remain and fester for a long time to come.
He had… lapsed.
Allister had thought, foolishly, that distance and time might blunt the edge of this sword, that forcing himself to live in a community would allow him to conform, to impart a normality he sorely lacked and desperately desired.
He had thought, that it would fix him, that it had fixed him.
He had not expected to be proven wrong so egregiously.
Allister pried his hand away from the haft of his weapon, forcing down the instinctive, wrongful desire to murder the girl that had touched him. He pushed it down to rest at his side along with the other, unable to quell the shake lacing through his digits. Allister inhaled deeply, the lip of his hood quavering silently as he made a conscious effort of will to calm himself. His entire body trembled, energized by adrenaline and an influence he had thought he had been beginning to control. He felt the fresh track of a tear pull down the side of his face towards his chin, cool and moist against his pallid skin. The affliction upon his mind receded as clarity returned, allowing embarrassment to soon join the shame branding his thoughts.
He took a step, in retreat, raising his arms a breadth and splaying them in a manner he hoped would be construed as non-threatening.
"Apologies…" He muttered to the girl that had grabbed him, his voice husky and harsh, walking the fine line between an intelligible whisper and an animalistic growl. It was difficult to appear apologetic after acting so discourteously. "I… do not react favorably to physical contact."
Allister glanced towards the Mayor, her expression more concerned than angered, and offered a tentative nod of gratitude. What little he had offered to her in explanation of his prior experiences was enough for the woman to possess some remedial understanding, and had only been given in strict confidence for situations exactly such as this. He had thought such a precautionary measure would not have been needed.
He was wrong.
Allister turned to the blond girl, who had taken half a dozen steps away from him, confused and defensive.
"Your answers." He spoke slowly, struggling to articulate himself in a manner that was meaningful, and unable to properly look her in the eye as he withdrew towards the door. His fight or flight instinct was bold and raging, pushing him to extremes. In avoidance of what would have been a senseless crime, he forced his body to consider the latter before the former. "I must scout the paths, find where the local Grimm population has migrated, Finish preparations, for the journey. Tomorrow is earliest possible opportunity."
This time he mustered the resolve to match her gaze, though for mere moments only. He could not endure the widened stare of her lilac eyes.
"This I swear."
Allister removed himself from the room and the incredibly awkward situation he had created, his hood bowed low in supplication until the doors closed before him and the Mayor and her guests were out of sight. That exchange had been… less than satisfactory, and that was given his already low expectations. He had just not considered that he would have been the one to so utterly compromise the discussion.
He turned to leave, ready to be done of this and focus on something else to distract himself from remembering, only to be met by the curious visage of Peridot, who had moved from her desk to stand at the doors, presumably upon hearing the Mayor's exclamation.
"Faolán? Is everything alright?" She inquired as she took in his pronounced hunch and the watery glint of his eyes. His answer was not forthcoming and she reached out, only for him to recoil, lurching aside in aversion toward her comforting outreach. And though he always reacted this way, the sight pained her, as it always would.
"I… will be well." He answered after another lingering moment, the silence carrying on long past the point of awkwardness.
She watched as he gathered himself, re-adorning his mantle of disinterest. Though, his shoulders did not wholly cease their tremors he, eventually, turned to her.
"Thank you, Miss Peridot. Your continued concern and compassion speak well of your character." And while his features were masked, she could at least hear the gratitude in his voice.
It was quite pleasant.
She blushed. "Your kind words and deeds speak well of yours, Faolán."
A gusty sigh, muffled by his disguising attire, whispered through the silent foyer. And she watched as he turned to leave, his bearing lacking the stiff resolve that had been so prevalent at his arrival.
"If only, Miss Peridot." He uttered softly to himself, though she was not sure it had been intended for her ears.
"If only."
XX-XX-XX
Peridot's eyes followed his departure, feeling the same pang of sadness and the sense of a missed opportunity that always rattled in her mind as she watched his comings and goings through the office and around town. Faolán was, by all appearance and empirical evidence, a solitary soul, a drifter that had wandered into town one day, and for whatever reason, saw fit to loiter. The only one that seemed to genuinely enjoy his company was the overly large wolf that followed him like a faithful hunting hound. And that beast was even more disinclined than its master. There was of course the Mayor to consider also, who had grown rather fond of the boy. And there was, maybe, herself to consider as well, she admitted with a rosy tint to her cheek and a girlish giggle.
He was sweet, in his own, strange, strange way. He'd never been rude to her, and he always treated her courteously, though it was true he treated everyone with consideration and respect, except for Crane. But that was understandable. No one liked Crane. She had to think there was a little more to his kindness, at least towards her. After all, she and the Mayor were the only ones permissible to utter his name, all others were lumped in a category of individual that was forced to rely on the appellation of his family, at least as he said it. That suggested some form of intimacy, or at least, affection.
It was what she liked to hope, as she rather enjoyed the fantasies of having him for a boyfriend. Unfortunately, he had shown little interest in her carefully worded lures. Faolán did not seem remotely attracted to the concept of a relationship, much to her disappointment, and maybe that of a few other young girls in town, though she did not like to dwell on that.
However, to be fair the town did not often receive new blood, and certainly none that were within courting age. The fact that he was wolfishly attractive and tempestuously mysterious was only icing on a studly cake.
She sighed dreamily, waltzing to her desk and sinking heavily into her seat to fiddle with her scroll. There was little else to do in this town, or the office, and with Faolán gone all that was left really before her shift ended was to browse the net. She might as well post her update to Remnant Online, after all, she had several thousand followers to entertain.
XX-XX-XX
There was silence in the Mayor's office, events previous depriving the chamber of chattering voices for the first time since the party from Beacon had shuffled in through the doors. This was welcomed, if not for its reason. Their silence was understandable. Allister's sudden eruption from awkwardly mannered, to psychotically violent had been a volatile surprise. There were undoubtedly ruffled feathers that would have to be soothed.
Fortunately, she had prepared for this.
The one mostly affected by proximity and through the fact of her part as initiator in this debacle, was the first to react, turning to the Mayor with an understandable ferocity. Her expression, red lips twisted into a grimace and lilac eyes wide with disbelief, was a chimeric union of anger and confusion.
"What the hell was that about?" She demanded with a singular digit peeping from an enclosed fist, thrust in the direction of the doors that had closed around the departing figure of their supposed guide.
In answer the Mayor sighed, her gaze centered on her desk as she idly shuffled a stack of paperwork. She always found the motion therapeutic, a calming ritual to settle her nerves, in this instance after they had been shaken by her advisor's meteoric outburst. She had prepared for something like this, and yet even so, his outburst was still beyond her expectations. There was a darkness in that young man, a feral wildness that had done more than startle her. In the time she organized her sheaf of documents detailing updated building codes and zoning laws, she searched her thoughts for a suitable reply.
"You'll have to forgive him." She spoke after a moment, her voice softened as she reviewed her memories. It would seem his repugnance of physical contact was on a level she had not been ready to see "Faolán is… troubled."
"So it would appear." The Schnee heiress remarked sardonically. AlGreen had no personal reservations about the girl, despite her sharp tongue and imperious demeanor, but the business practices of her father's company were well known across Remnant, and in her personal opinion, distasteful.
Or so at least that was the politest way she could phrase it, even in her thoughts.
"Yes…" Oobleck hummed to himself, the man's grip on his thermos loosening only now that he had a topic to apply his intellect. "Such a fascinating reaction I have not seen such a severe case of Haphephobia in all my years." He took several steps forward, presumably to pace and monologue, before his shin cracked against the Mayor's desk, scattering her recently organized paperwork. He was reminded, by the woman's lackluster stare, that he was not attending students in a lecture hall. The man coughed into his fist and mumbled something along the lines of an apology.
"Like I said." The young blond woman pressed on, ignoring the musings of the others. "What the hell was that about? Cause he seemed about ready to go full blown axe murderer."
"Glaive…." The young girl beside the fiery blond murmured, her previous excitableness cowed by Faolán's sudden and violent outburst. "He had a glaive. Glaive murderer" She mumbled unhelpfully
The blond did not look all that impressed.
AlGreen shook her head slowly, looking out the window to her left as she attempted to deduce the best way to clarify the peculiarity of reality to her guests, and dwelt on the insufferable nature of huntsman. It was not easy, as the boy's story was complicated, and she was only privy to what little information he had offered her, and much of that had been in confidence, a confidence she would not betray. He had earned her trust, after all he had done for her town, inexplicable eruption notwithstanding. It would be difficult to ask for forgiveness in his place without accessing the information she had been given, but it was a small price to pay for his loyalty.
"As you have already witnessed, Faolán is not socially… adapted. He's been like this since he wandered into town seven months ago."
"Wandered?" The blond girl asked incredulously.
AlGreen could understand her skepticism.
"Indeed, Miss Xiao Long. One late evening, right before the gates were locked for the night he simply walked out of the darkness." The Mayor chuckled. "He caused quite a stir. I'll tell you. To this day I don't know where he came from. The nearest town in the area is several days journey by vehicle, and such expeditions are dangerous, even for fully armed trading convoys."
She smiled in remembrance, thinking back to the first time she met Faolán. He'd been on odd sight in his menacing apparel, and blunt to the point of insolence. He'd had no care in regards to her status as the Pine's foremost officiary.
"When questioned he answered plainly that he had made the journey alone, and in turn inquired about supplies, some general information, and a warm place to board up for the night. For all this, he assured me his willingness to pay up front. I saw no harm in it and agreed, despite some grumblings from my aide. The boy stayed around town for a time, offering his service for odd jobs and wandering the streets at night. His presence was, at first, unwelcomed."
She grinned.
"As you saw for yourself, he is not exactly a sterling conversationalist and he was often belligerent at his best. However, in time, his odd jobs became less odd and more valued. He started to regularly cull the local Grimm population and began to accompany the loggers during their shift changes. Not much long later I asked if he would be interested in a job with more defined outlines. He seemed pleasantly surprised, and had been quick to accept."
At this point Oobleck felt the need to interject. "While I am all for the distribution of information. Your explanation seems to have devolved into a tangent."
"Yes, I suppose." She agreed. "I just felt that you deserved to know anything that could be considered relevant, after all he is going to be your guide outside these walls. I felt it only fair that you be properly briefed.
"Wait. Hold up." Yang threw a palm up. "You're still planning on letting this nutcase lead us into a forest full of Grimm? He nearly went berserk when I tapped him on the shoulder. And you expect us to trust this guy out there?"
"I do not expect anything of you." AlGreen frowned, cutting the rambunctious blond a withering glare. "To be blunt, I trust that nutcase, as you call him, far more than I trust a pack of bickering adolescents from Beacon. Yours is the first huntsman presence this town has seen in the last thirty years, and they send children."
The direction in tone the Mayor's voice traveled made her personal opinion on the matter quite clear. The woman huffed, pulling open a drawer and yanking out a weighty sheaf of papers that she dropped onto her desk with a dull thump.
"Requests." She continued dryly, opening another drawer. "For huntsman assistance."
"All denied."
She retrieved another bundle of documents, a positively enormous parcel held together by stressed rubber bands and inundated with little paper squares of hastily scribbled transcripts, the notes as messy as they were emphatically inscribed. This she dropped onto her desk with a far weightier sound.
"Death Certificates, thirty years' worth. All killed by Grimm, and most avoidable if we were only just given even one huntsman at our request." The look she leveled at the Beacon teacher and his students was dangerous. "Because of that nutcase," she continued dangerously. "I have not needed to touch this file in nearly a year. My predecessor resigned after having to record new certificates on a weekly basis."
Not one of them could look the Mayor in the eye.
"As I see it." AlGreen frowned unappreciatively. "You are here to help him. I don't know why Beacon has finally showed interest in our town after thirty years of neglect. And I could think of a few choice words to say, considering that your arrival coincides shortly after I did not file for assistance following the quarterly review. Faolán, for all his faults, has done more for this town and its people then Beacon ever has. And if I can use you to help keep that boy safe, I will."
She gestured toward the doors.
"So go, do what you came here to do. Kill a few Grimm, make your presence known. Try to convince the people here that the kingdom hasn't forgotten them, and then kindly get the fuck out of my town."
XX-XX-XX
They stood outside the government building, a squat structure of roughly hewn stone. It was designed to weather the environment and to act as a foothold in the event of a massive Grimm incursion. Its purpose gave the structure an overall utilitarian appearance that was strange to anyone who had not grown up on the frontier. The gathered group outside the Mayor's building was subdued, their silence broken by a curious voice.
"Professor Oobleck?"
"Yes, young Ruby?" The teacher asked.
"The Mayor doesn't like us, does she?"
For once, the professor did not regress into a long-winded lecture. Instead, the man sighed as he removed his glasses and produced a cloth from his coat, wiping down the lenses as he came to his answer at a speed that was, for him, unusually measured. "It has nothing to do with like or dislike I'm afraid."
"What you call that then, Professor?" Weiss interjected; her question perilously close to a demand.
"That, is the unpleasantness of our work, Miss Schnee." Oobleck hummed thoughtfully to himself as he balanced his glasses on his nose. "I suppose now is as good a time as any for this particular lesson."
"And what lesson is that, Teach?" Yang asked curiously as she leaned heavily on an annoyed Blake, elbow propped atop her head and ignoring the girl's indignant sputtering.
"Huntsman are not always a welcomed sight, especially on the frontier." The Beacon professor answered, his cadence assuming the familiar and unwelcomed tone he often used in the classroom as he began to pace down the street. The team of huntresses-in-training, long used to his wandering monologues, followed after him promptly, though the thought of another lecture had their attentions wander. "We are too few to properly protect the many scattered settlements outside the reach of the capital. All too often pleas for assistance go unanswered, or arrive too late. I myself have come to towns only to find broken walls and empty houses."
While as interested as one could be at the prospect of an academic sermon from Oobleck, Team RWBY found their attentions splitting between his itinerant oration and the logging community as they walked along the roadside. This was not their first time outside of Beacon, and Both Ruby and Yang had been raised in Patch, a small island town off the shores of Vale that was not entirely dissimilar. But it was their first time seeing a frontier settlement in person. Elden Pine was different from the hustle and bustle of the capital. The crowds were smaller and buildings were made of wood and stone, not steel and concrete.
They also noticed, rather quickly, that their presence did not appear to be all that welcomed, although their less than pleasant departure from the Mayor's office had evidently been a preamble into their stay here at the Pine.
"Professor…" Ruby mumbled softly, noticing the less than happy stares they were receiving. The townsfolk were not hostile, and they looked far off from gathering pitchforks and torches, but it was obvious that the residents of this town did not think all that much of their arrival.
Oobleck, who had been up till that moment, lost in a detailed retelling of some sort of strung along tangent vaguely associated with whatever topic he had begun, continued on heedlessly.
Noticing the plight of her sister, Yang thought to help, in her own way at least. To those that were not Yang Xiao Long, her manner of help was… subjective. She eyed the road, picking out a nicely sized pebble from the gravel. Cupping the innocuous nugget of granite in her palm, she bounced its heft and nodded with a smirk.
This was gonna be good.
XX-XX-XX
"Is this everything?"
Allister glanced between the herbalist and the piteously small bundle of brightly colored herbs on the wooden counter. The frankly pitiful assortment could not fill a soup bowl, let alone cover his requirements. Considering their importance in his day-to-day existence, he was anything but pleased by the sight in front of him. Reflexively, his expression darkened, the edge of his mouth twisting harshly in dissatisfaction. With his mask clipped to his utility belt, the fullness of his discontent was made evident.
His scowl was only partially hidden, the extension of his hood draping a shadow across his face that left his twisted grimace and bared teeth quite visible.
"I'm afraid so, Sir." The pharmacist nodded empathically, wringing his hands fretfully under the less than impressed stare of his customer. He then swallowed, audibly, as he glanced at his client's unusually prominent canines.
Allister remained motionless for a time, uncaring of the unease he disseminated into the store owner as he ruminated about his unfavorable turn of fate. The scarcity of his reagents was cause for concern, putting him well under his most comfortable projections. Although, in truth, this was not all that unexpected. The content of each order had become increasingly sparse in these past weeks, likely as a result of unsustainable harvesting.
And though he was angered by this recession, he had planned for the eventuality. The concoction could be watered, stretching his supply for another week. That was the most he was willing to dilute the formula, and even so, it was less so willingness and more so desperation. And while that was no great allowance, it was seven more days to devise a palatable solution.
In that spirit, even this pitiable allotment would offer some bolstering to his current provisions. Regardless, he was in no way satisfied. He did not like skating the edge so perilously at the best of times, certainly not when something so importing was suspended so precariously in the balance.
Allister finally gave attention to the nervous shopkeep, his lungs swelling and then shrinking as he took a deep breath to arm his heavy sigh. "Very well…" He grunted tersely, extracting the allotted payment and slamming it to the countertop. Allister ignored the man's wince as he swept up his purchase in a fist and stored it in the uppermost satchel of his bandolier, dusting the flakes and splinters from his glove.
Returning his gaze to the owner, he offered only the barest courtesy as he turned about and excited the shop at a furious pace. His lengthy legs gave his stride considerable distance, even at a leisurely stroll. Given his current mood as it was translated into his pace, he cut a path to his next stop at a speed that gave the residents cause to avoid his unswerving advance. The people of Elden Pine, familiar with his belligerent personality, paid little attention to his irritable stride, simply making the proper adjustments to their schedules around their moody guardian.
In turn Allister kept aside, walking in the gravel beside the paved walkways adjacent to the rows of wood and stone housing on either side of the street. He was unwilling to cause disruption or otherwise befoul their day-to-day activities, despite his foul mood. Notwithstanding his aversion towards the niceties of civilized society, he did enjoy, to a degree, the atmosphere of the town. The people were earnest and rough, and undoubtedly more accepting than the likes he would find in the capital.
His existence here, from the earliest onset, had been a personal social experiment, a means to see if he was capable of adjusting to the social order. He'd never been the beneficiary of a standardized education, and most of his knowledge had been gleaned second hand, or through the lesser portions of his childhood that he struggled daily to keep buried.
He'd worked most his life, perhaps not in the way as these people, but nonetheless work was all he had ever known, and his period of… incarceration, had eventually taken even that from him. His time spent then had honed him to a different set of skills and abilities, things that he had put to better use in the time after.
Allister mused, a he was ought to do with some frequency, on the peculiar nature of his existence, wondering of there was anybody else in this world that might possibly be able to understand him. Knowing what he knew, and having experienced what he had, Allister found that it made for a lonely life, though the acrimonious paroxysm of loneliness had long since evaporated, desiccated and emulsified by the lingering bitterness of a legion of other hurts and aches.
And then his stomach lurched abruptly.
Startled, Allister suppressed the immediate desire to vomit and slowed his stride, stopping completely when the world shifted, its color blurring as if submerged underwater. He took a moment to steady himself from the unexpected assault, his mind severing the errant strain of curiosities as he tasked it with deducing this inexplicable anomaly, though, in the honesty of his soul, it was with dread that he knew the answer.
Denial made a fierce arrival, as he stubbornly refused to accept the cause, but such tenacious disavowal was immediately struck aside not moments later by a piercing ache behind his eyes, like a hammer crashing into the back of his skull.
Even with his struggling faculties he could diagnose the symptoms of his more… intimate affliction.
He very nearly stumbled, catching himself seconds from making a scene, eyes widening as he forced himself to recognize the cause behind his sudden illness. Recalling his morning, and events preceding his arrival, he realized that the interspersed interruptions throughout his daily schedule had thrown off the inflexible dosing of his treatment.
His head twitched as he looked for a secluded corner, lurching into activity as he spied a narrow corridor between two adjacent buildings. Moving swiftly, he covered the ground, squeezing himself into the slim alleyway, uncaring of the sharp pang in his shoulder as he slammed it into the wall.
His sense of balance vanishing, he pressed his back against the partition of the closest building and curled forward at the overwhelming bout of nausea and abdominal cramping, the feverish flesh of his forehead pressing against the cool stone of the building in front of him. The relief was only momentary as he heaved, his torso jerking as his muscles tightened and flexed. He felt something hot and acidic rush up from his throat and he gagged, watching as a black substance ejected from his mouth, splattering wetly against the dirt between his feet.
Allister reached into his cloak, arms trembling with seizures, grasping the cool metallic grip of a small injector gun. As he heaved a second slurry of blackish fluid, he drew the device, the dull amber of the fluid inside the vial swirling in his hazy vision.
Jutting his head towards the sky he pressed the barrel of the injector against his jugular and depressed the trigger. Their was a sharp prick, and then, after nearly a minute of agonizing pain he felt it… blessed relief. The reflexive tension in his muscles dissipated, and he slumped forward, falling hard to the ground with an airless gasp.
There, hidden from sight, he rode out the aftershocks, involuntary spasms tearing through his frame with increasing infrequency. In a minute he steadied his breathing, thirty seconds more, he could start to feel his numbed appendages, and a full three minutes after that, he was able to get them moving. Though he accomplished little more than curling up into a huddle, wrappings his arms across his knees and crushing the overwhelming desire to burst into a sobbing mess.
He felt weak… used.
Violated.
But that was nothing new.
It was never the pain that got to him. Images of searing white corridors and padded rooms, the sanitized scent of leather straps and metal gurneys, experiences from time past had long since numbed him to the pain of the body. It was the ache deep inside that left him feeling hollow, made him feel unclean, like there was filth in his soul that he couldn't scrub clean.
Allister took a deep, shuddering breath, and wiped away the wetness from his lips. He glanced at his glove in disgust, glaring hatefully at the rancid black bile that clung to the leather like oil, leaking darkness up into the air, a reminder of the sickness inside him that could never be cured.
And at that moment, he really did begin to cry.
AN: Somewhat of a passion project for me. A very interesting idea that struck me while I was musing on the origin of modern fairy tales. They are much darker than the idealistic nonsense they feed to children nowadays. And so a very abstract project came to mind, and to put to to death a long winded explanation, this is the culminated effort of several weeks of rambling conjoined into a hopefully feasible story.
This will be a little different to what I usually try in my writing.
For one I don't think there will be a happy ending planned