If you'd like to see sketches, ideas, heads up for chapters, or if you have a question for me or for a character, check the blog out here!
www_._diablo-that-first-spark_._tumblr_._com
(Important notice: once Act III is finished, I am planning to move the TFS blog away from Tumblr entirely. Keep an eye out for updates about that!)
Chapter 71
Let it be known that Tyrael had never wanted to flee like a coward from a conflict in his long, far too long life. Until today.
Once inside the massive gates of the city, Zei bid them farewell as well, leaving only the three of them now.
- Best of luck down the long road – the god bowed his head to them, and Tyrael couldn't help but feel that "long" was said specifically to him.
He wasn't quite sure about that, to be honest. Then again, he did say he would have to show a good example to Rathma… although it is more than likely the nephalem wasn't even paying attention. So why would he need to try, even?
Because Sophie deserved the truth.
Tyrael sucked in the air loudly as they were walking towards the Westmarch hospital. It was almost a surreal experience to once again weave among every day normal people who were just minding their own business, blissfully unaware of what had happened on the other side of the world. The mortal angel wondered how many of them thought of Johanna The Nephalem as their savior, as a true hero… and the fact that those thoughts used to be true only made things darker.
- Tyrael, breathe please.
Lyndon's voice knocked him out of his daze. Tyrael instinctively gasped for air, realizing he had been holding it back as he was pondering over the people around them.
- Yes… thank you – he sighed, regaining his senses somewhat.
- Are you skerd? – Quiet looked at him with worry.
He seemed fidgety, the buzzing of the city around him perked him up, but he was clearly controlling himself.
- I… yes, I am – Tyrael nodded briefly, straightening out and looking ahead.
Terrified would have been the better word, but he didn't have the strength to clarify. From the looks on his companions' faces, they knew that anyway.
- Do you want us the leave you alone? – Lyndon offered.
A good question that Tyrael couldn't answer right away. On one hand, he felt immense shame at his own behavior, and he did not want witnesses to his struggling – on the other hand, he most definitely did not have the strength to face this alone.
- I… would like you to l—to stay… please – he finally pressed the words out of himself.
- You'll be good – Quiet patted his large hand.
-… "Fine" – Tyrael blurted out the correction before he could stop himself.
- That's a good sign – the scoundrel grinned, sharing a knowing glance with Quiet.
Tyrael might have commented on the dastardly ruse of these two, but just then the main entrance of the hospital finally came into view out of the crowd and he grew roots to his spot. There was Sophie, standing close to the gateway, the shawl from Lut Bahada draped over her shoulders. She was lost in deep conversation with another nurse who came to take over her shift for the rest of the day, probably giving her pointers about the tasks at hand. By chance she looked in the direction of the group, and immediately snapped her head back at them with wide eyes. Tyrael wanted to do something, wave, call out, anything, but he remained mute and frozen. Still Sophie quickly excused herself and rushed to them, her strides quickly turning to running.
- Tyrael! – she screamed in tears, almost tackling him to the ground as she threw herself at him.
The mortal angel caught her instinctively. Sophie kissed him deeply before he could get a word in, and his body was filled with warmth. She pulled away, only to crush him entirely against her, crying in his shoulder. Finally, finally Tyrael's brain caught up. He returned the embrace as tight as he could, brushing his face against her hair to hide his tears. He wanted to stay like this forever, he finally felt safe for a brief moment, but Anu help him, this would be the last time he could experience this. He realized he was sobbing "I'm so sorry" incoherently into Sophie's ear over and over again. As he readjusted his hold on her, his eyes caught Lyndon's by his side.
"Let her decide", the scoundrel mouthed to him, looking at him expectantly. Tyrael already knew how Sophie would decide… but she deserved to let it be known herself, that much was undeniable.
Sophie pulled away after minutes, cupping his face with her hands.
- You are alive! But you lost so much weight, oh my goodness, what happened! – she gasped, looking over him with expert eyes.
- Sophie – Tyrael tried to speak, but his voice failed him.
The woman flocked to Lyndon and Quiet next, clearly overwhelmed and unable to steady herself just yet.
- You two! I'm so happy to see you as well! – she babbled, hugging them individually. – You all look beat-up! It is alright, I will help, don't worry!
She staggered between them, holding Tyrael's and Lyndon's hands as she began pulling them towards the hospital.
- Marika! Marika! – she shouted after the woman she talked to earlier, who was ready to disappear in the gateway. – Get some strength potions, quick! Do we have kvass ready? Bring that to room 3, please!
A few moments later, the four of them were sitting in a vacant room. The walls were covered in furs to dampen sound, the floor tiles creaked under their boots. Sophie would hear none of their protests, she pushed Lyndon and Quiet into chairs and Tyrael to sit onto the bed, while she fussed over them:
- What is this splint?! This is a terrible splint! Quiet is lucky his arm hasn't moved. Lyndon, you have a massive bloodshot on your entire belly, did you get rammed by a Beast? How are you still standing! Goodness, Tyrael, you are so thin, what has happened?! You had your ribs cracked? What salve was used, they might still be damaged!
The kvass Marika brought in was a yellow cloudy drink, about the same color as the rye it was made from. It had a strange sweet-sour taste, and Sophie practically poured it down their throats herself.
- Yuckie drink – Quiet grimaced, setting his cup down onto a small table next to the chairs.
- Not my choice of beverage, either – Lyndon grinned at the child.
- It is good for you! – Sophie insisted.
- Quiet's an angel, Sophie, I'm not sure—
- It is good for all of you!
Tyrael just dutifully followed the instructions without much fuss. For one, he knew damn well from experience that nothing would ever stop Sophie from doing her job. For two… he just didn't want to think. He didn't dare to think, more specifically. But tension was piling up inside him, he could tell, and he wondered if he was going to throw up any minute now. It certainly felt like it was about to happen, although what could possibly come out besides the kvass, he couldn't guess. He barely ate anything as of late.
Once Sophie deemed everyone sufficiently fussed over, she plopped down next to Tyrael and let out a massive breath while trying to brush her hair out of her face.
- Oh my goodness, do I even want to know what had happened? – she asked, defeated.
- Well… I know ignorance is a bliss, but maybe not in this case – Lyndon offered half-heartedly. – It's a long story, though…
- Very strange and skerry too – Quiet added.
All the stress suddenly piled up in Tyrael and rushed forward. But instead of vomiting, he lost control over his mouth:
- Sophie, I need to tell you something! – he blurted out, so fast he himself barely understood the words.
Sophie turned to him quizzically. By Anu, she had no idea what was coming. Lyndon's eyes flashed up green with understanding. Without a word, he gently and silently pulled Quiet onto his lap, then teleported out of the room. Tyrael gave himself no time to think or ponder, he grabbed Sophie's hands.
- I'm so sorry f-for failing—I failed-failed you—failed myself, I lost control over myself, I shouldn't have—I should have run, but I didn't and—and—
- Tyrael, you are not making any sense! – Sophie squeezed his hands to drag him back down, her face a mixture of fear and focus. – What happened, please tell me! You are scaring me!
Tyrael froze up, staring at his love. His eyes opened wide, his body shook, for a second he felt like his heart would give out, but it kept pumping. He needed every muscle in his body to finally press the words out of himself:
- I… I killed Eirena.
Suddenly strength left him entirely and he slumped forward slightly. His hand fell off of Sophie's. He gave up the fight and let shame and despair flood him entirely. There was nothing left to hold onto.
- The young witch from the Enclave, if you remember – he went on in a low voice, casting his gaze down. – She… she was my friend. She betrayed me… led me to a trap but—but I should have run. I should have left her. But I didn't. I turned around and I… I killed her in blind rage. I lost my humanity. I am a monster…
That was it. Nothing else to add. The truth did not needed detailing. And Tyrael waited for the inevitable, not even having the backbone to witness it. It flashed through him that he should claw his eyes out, and somehow he knew he could do it without trouble.
But then Sophie's hands reached into his vision and they cupped over his limp fingers, weighing them down despite their light touch. He glanced up. She was crying, but she held onto him, and her face was of more determination than fear. And no disgust, even though it should have been there.
- I… am so sorry, Tyrael – she breathed, almost visibly powering through her emotions. – I'm so sorry it happened to you… and I feel so sorry for Eirena as well, she had such great promise. I don't—I don't know what could have happened… but I know it is terrible. I need to hear the full story. Everything that happened, e-everything you left out of your letters—because I know you left so much out, I know you! I know you went through some awful things! And I know you would have never killed her under any other circumstance!
- Sophie…
- Don't start. I know what you will say, I can see it in your eyes. You want to give up. You have broken under the stress and now you want to let it all go. But I'm not letting you go, Tyrael, you hear me?! I know you are not a monster. I will help you climb out of this abyss, even if it's the last thing I will ever do!
- Sophie, you cannot help me…
- If it's the last fucking thing I will ever do, do you hear me, Archangel of Justice?! – Sophie leaned in closer, glaring through her tears. – And if I have to remind you that you are a fighter and a hero every day, then I will! I love you!
Their foreheads touched. Tyrael felt like crying… no, he was actually crying, he realized with a slight delay. He wanted to push Sophie away, to tell her to run and save herself while she still could. But he didn't have the strength… and deep down he knew Sophie would have stayed anyway. She had made that clear, even for his ravaged mind.
- I love you. I love you – she whispered to him, hugging and gently rocking him left and right.
Tyrael returned the embrace. He felt safe. Utterly lost and without a future… but safe. And Sophie was still there with him, despite his complete and utter fall from grace. He didn't know why, he couldn't fathom how she could choose this path.
"Let her decide."
And there the decision was, it seemed. Against all odds or logic.
- I'm so sorry. You deserve so much better – he managed to choke out through his tears. – But I love you too.
oooOOOooo
- Papaaa?
- Yes, firefly?
- Why did we leave?
Lyndon sighed deeply. After teleporting outside of the hospital (scaring some citizens), they headed towards Tyrael's and the Horadrim's home. Lyndon was holding onto Quiet's healthy hand tight as he navigated the child among the crowd and preferably away from carts and horses. He had completely gotten used to being alone on the road, Westmarch felt rather overwhelming even to him now. Still, his attention did not waver, especially not where Quiet was concerned. The little angel was clearly energized by the buzz, but he seemed to be restraining himself as much as he could, sticking by Lyndon's side. He was definitely moving his broken arm more and more, it was slowly healing already.
- You know, Quiet, sometimes certain… events, or—or interactions between people need to stay private. Which means they are not meant for others to see – the scoundrel massaged his neck.
- Why not? Teeriel looked like he needed help – Quiet glanced up at him.
- Why did you not ask for my help when you set out on this long road? – Lyndon smiled down at him.
- I'm sorry – the child immediately casted his gaze to the ground, his wing drooped.
- Quiet, it is alright – Lyndon stopped and crouched in front of him. – I am not mad at you, I promise. I understand you felt like you had to do this on your own.
Quiet glanced back up at him shyly.
- I'm just making a point that this situation is similar to yours – Lyndon went on. – Sometimes we all face problems or questions, or we see others in similar situations that we feel that they need to tackle alone. We aren't always right about those feelings, and usually we get better at spotting those moments as we grow older and experience more in life. For Tyrael, I felt that he and Sophie had to have that very hard and sad talk only between themselves. It affects their relationship very strongly, you see, and it isn't really our business to know, as outsiders of that relationship. Do you get it?
Quiet shuffled in place, lost in thought for a minute.
- So… like when you were very angry because I killed good people in that big stone building, and you told me how to be good and not to be bad… that was only with the two of us, and that was good, because it was supposed to stay private? – he asked then, the pieces falling in place.
-… Yes, like that – Lyndon nodded reluctantly, he wished the kid didn't bring up that bad, but admittedly on-point memory. – I'm very sorry I had slapped you that day, but you were acting really bad. I'm so happy to see you have learnt well since then.
- I try to do good! – Quiet said with ultimate conviction, looking straight at him. – And I understand.
- You have grown much, firefly. I knew you would get it – Lyndon smiled as he stood up. – Now come on! I need to do something important in Tyrael's home.
After a couple more minutes of dancing around the city life, they finally reached the massive mansion that towered over a side-street, but close to one of the main roads of Westmarch. The hole in the wall Kormac had left behind was long repaired, plastered and covered with fine masonry work. Walking up the couple of steps before the main entrance, Lyndon grabbed the big iron door knocker hanging from the mouth of a wolf decoration. After a few seconds, the door almost flew open, revealing Lorath Nahr in a basic street tunic.
- Tyra—oh. Lyndon? – he blinked in confusion.
- Lorath, it's been a while! – Lyndon smiled at him.
- Hi! I am Quiet – the little angel dutifully waved as well.
- Uhh… can I help you? – Lorath looked over them, no doubt noting the terrible state of their attires.
- Why, yes! I'm bringing some really important news, and I need your help to gather all the Horadrim from under the earth itself, if we have to – Lyndon quickly said, comfortably waltzing into the house with Quiet.
- I mean… of course I want to help, but I don't think I can make such a decision without Tyrael – Lorath scratched his blonde hair, trying to keep up.
- Tyrael is here in Westmarch, currently with Sophie at the hospital – Lyndon quickly added. – He is alive and… alright-ish.
- Alright-ish?!
- We travelled here together, and it's a really goddamn long story that all of you need to hear to its fullest. Can you summon all the Horadrim in the next couple of days?
- Alright, I will try, but first I need to see Tyrael! – Lorath quickly grabbed a traveling cloak hanging from the side and tied it around his shoulders.
Lyndon stood in his way, however. He made sure Quiet was safely on the side, lest Lorath decides to just push his way through. Granted, the scoundrel could easily stop him, probably not even feel the effort, but he preferred not to throw his nephalem weight around constantly. Instead he tried to reason:
- I don't think he is in an emotional state to—
- You don't get it! He told us he would go on a quest alone with a mysterious angel to Kehjistan, of all places! – Lorath explained hurriedly as he tried to duck under the arm stopping him.
Lyndon quickly grabbed after him and hauled him in front of him with such speed, the young man completely froze up from surprise.
- Listen, Lorath – the scoundrel looked at him sternly. – I understand you want to see Tyrael again, it's been ages and he'd disappeared without much explanation. I know, trust me. But I'm telling you, right now he is going through some very personal problems with Sophie, and he is completely in the gutter as far as emotions go. Give him some time, please. For his sake.
-… Is he…?
- No, he is not corrupted. Or cursed. Or whatever. But he had gone through a lot…
- Very lot! – Quiet nodded seriously as well.
-… and trust me, he has no strength to handle anything else – Lyndon finished.
Lorath let out a long loud breath, but he eventually hanged the cloak back on its rack.
- Guess I have to take your word for it – he said defeated.
- Hey, have we not worked together during Malthael's attack? – Lyndon let go of a half-smile, going further inside with Quiet.
- I was mostly a distant observer, but… yeah. I guess. Sorry about that.
- Don't worry about it.
They arrived in the main hall of the mansion. Quiet's former artistic works, the pillars in the middle that held up the ceiling, were mostly gone, except for three – the metallic pillar, the one shaped like a perfectly symmetrical tree and the diamond vase one. The rest got destroyed by Kormac's ambush, but the damage had been completely repaired, new wooden pillars and beams erected.
- Forgive those weird pillars – Lorath waved tiredly. – We honestly have no idea how they got changed. But we figured we should keep them for their sturdiness, if they could survive Kormac.
- Hey, I like them – Lyndon shrugged, sharing a quick smiling glance with Quiet.
- Me too! They are pretty – the child nodded along.
- Where did you get that child, by the way? – Lorath glanced over his shoulder as he led them to the dining hall.
- Leendonn is my papa! – Quiet stated with the outmost conviction, slightly yanking on the man's arm as emphasis.
- Wait, really? – Lorath stopped and stared.
- Yes, well… it is part of that really goddamn long story you all need to hear – Lyndon quickly tried to put a stop to it.
- I am guessing he is not the only one out there, huh? – Lorath crossed his arms disapprovingly.
- No, it's not like that! – Lyndon screeched, his face growing as red as a tomato in seconds.
- Like what "that"? – Quiet tilted his head to the side.
- Nothing, kid, nothing – Lorath finally snickered, dodging the subject.
Lyndon got caught between feeling grateful and wanting to kick the brat in his shins for this one. Lorath offered them seats at the long table adored with fine carvings on its legs and an intarsia of geometric shapes and a pretty impressive depiction of a hunting party on horseback in the middle, all created from light grey wood within the darker colors of the table.
- I will get you something to eat and drink, then we can talk – Lorath rushed off.
-… Was I the mysterious angel Loratt talked about? – Quiet glanced up at Lyndon after the young man was gone from the room.
-… I reckon, yes. Good on Tyrael for not spilling the beans right away. But it's gonna come out soon enough anyway – Lyndon nodded, lost in thought as he looked over the hall.
- Teeriel had beans on him? I didn't see them!
Lyndon couldn't help the short laugh erupting from him. He explained the phrase to his son between giggles. As they sat and talked, Lyndon realized he was indeed feeling a bit more refreshed and energized than before. Perhaps the kvass was doing its job after all. Lorath returned with some dried fruits, seasoned pork jerky, bread, mead and water. Quiet happily threw himself at the fruit while Lyndon scarfed down some much needed meat finally.
- So… what happened, exactly? – Lorath tried again after letting them eat for a bit.
- Like I've said, it's terribly long and I am not going to tell it twice, because I will die of old age before I can finish both – Lyndon smirked at him. – It has a few ups, a lot of downs, and you all need to hear everything. But to summarize Tyrael's part really briefly… He did go to a journey with… with an angel, yes. And the journey was successful from what he had told me. Only full of peril and some terrible upsets.
- You said you traveled with him.
- Correction: I and a team of mine have joined at the very end basically, and we wound up in a massive fight against… well, you'll see.
- A very bad fight full of dead people and bad things – Quiet added.
He glanced at his prone wing but quickly averted his gaze again. Lyndon was finding that habit a bit troubling, if he had to be honest with himself. But he had to worry about that a bit later.
-… Aaaalright? And now Tyrael is… – Lorath tried to see through the muddy allusions, clearly growing frustrated and Lyndon couldn't blame him.
- Tyrael is alive, but he went through a lot, and he needs to be alone with Sophie for the time being. Among many other things, for medical care. I have a feeling he can be visited in a few days maybe, but right now he could barely hold himself together.
- Right. And you need me to summon all the Horadrim I can in those few days.
- Everyone, Lorath. I don't care how. I will help, if you want. This needs to be heard by everyone.
Lorath's face grew longer a bit with dread.
- What the hell did you guys run into? – he whispered.
- A handful of things.
- Bad people, and some stoopid people – Quiet said.
- Wait, the kid was there with you?! – Lorath snapped his head at the child.
- I helped fight!
- You?! You barely reach up to the table!
- Again, he is part of that big story – Lyndon quickly interjected, finishing his meal.
- You are going to kill me with this suspense, scoundrel – Lorath frowned at him.
- Can't have all the fun for yourself, now can you?
- Yes… I remember that sharp tongue from a year ago.
Lyndon snorted with glee. He had basically no connection to the Horadrim at all, but he figured that would change in the very near future – whether this bunch liked it or not.
- So what is the tactic for pulling the team back together as fast as possible? – he asked then.
- I can send out a few messenger shades, perhaps.
This new voice made Lyndon and Quiet jump in their seats and snap their heads towards the entrance. A tall gloomy man with black hair and pale skin stood in the door, carrying a battered skull that missed its lower jaw and most of its teeth. The necromancer (what else could the guy be…) was clad in full black, his eyes were light grey. His facial features were rather average however, he could have easily disappeared in a sea of people any day, had it not been for his obligatory doom-and-gloom attire.
- My apologies. Zayl here likes to move around silently – Lorath sighed, waving at his companion.
- I was not aware we would be having visitors today – the necromancer said coldly.
- And quite the weird bunch, eh?! – came another voice, and Lyndon needed a moment to realize it was telepathy and came from the skull.
Immediately, Quiet's breathing hitched. The child scuttled back on his seat with wide fearful eyes trained at the talking remains. Lyndon had to catch him and pull him onto his lap and into a protective hug, before he could fall off.
- Humbart – Zayl growled at the skull.
- What? I was just saying!
- You are scaring a child.
- You are dragging a talking haunted skull around and you are surprised it scares children?! – Lyndon shouted angrily.
Quiet mewled and tried to melt into the man's coat.
- Again, sorry about that – Lorath stood up and walked between Zayl and Lyndon. – Zayl, what was that about the messenger spirits?
- Like I have said. I can send some out, given I prepare the spell in advance – the necromancer nodded, not looking the least guilty for scaring the guests. – They can forward a summon to our comrades in their dreams… although some of them might think it to be a demonic trick, certainly.
- Hey, it's better than nothing. I will also think about what we can do beyond that – Lorath shrugged.
- I take it is of important matter? – Zayl turned his grey eyes on Lyndon.
The scoundrel fought the urge to scowl at the man. He looked and acted way too much like Rathma did, understandably. Lyndon tried to remind himself that if Tyrael was working together with this man closely, then he was probably not an actual jerk. Only woefully inept in social interactions, as all necromancers were.
- You have no idea – Lyndon blew the air out in frustration. – Potentially another Sanctuary-threatening event.
- Something connected to the "kid" in the illusion there?! – Humbart spoke up again sharply.
- What? – Lorath turned around.
Lyndon was immediately on his feet, setting down and pushing Quiet behind him. He had no idea how the skull could see the magic, but it apparently could. Maybe it was the remnants of a Clear-seer, just like him.
-… Yes – he admitted uneasily. – I told you, Lorath, "it is not like that". It's complicated but I can explain!
- He called you "father"!
- I am his surrogate father, basically.
- You come in here, you tell lies—
- Not lies! I'm just not getting into details, it would be too long to explain everything, Lorath!
- Well, you'd better start, scoundrel—!
- He-he is my papa, and I l-love him… please don't hurt him…
The small voice broke the tension in the air. Quiet was holding onto Lyndon's coat, he glanced up at the adults with tearful eyes:
- He is good, he h-helps people, I p-promiss. He taught me how to be good. Please don't fight…
-… Nobody is going to fight, little one – Zayl bowed his head slightly, finally stuffing that horrible (and complaining) skull away into a leather pouch. – I am sorry. We did not mean to startle you.
- Yeah… yeah, we are good, it's all good – Lorath scratched his blonde hair too, dropping his tense pose. – It's just very frustrating to try and piece everything together.
- I know, trust me. Been through a hair-rising story myself not long ago – Lyndon eased up as well.
That could have ended really badly, he realized. He would have to learn to handle such situations much better. So much for being a "good leader"…
- This kid, Quiet, he needs an illusion around himself, because he is not human, alright? – he tried to explain. – He is an angel, and I am going to tell you all exactly what kind of angel. I promise. Until then, just… please get the band back together, alright?
Lorath and Zayl shared a glance from a distance.
- This is getting weirder and weirder – the young warrior mumbled but then he shook himself. – Alright, I take your word for it.
He did pause as he looked at Quiet, now seeing his real form. But then he quickly moved on, credit where credit is due:
- He really is… Alright. So… so, do you two have accommodations? We have a lot of vacant rooms around the house.
- A place to stay would be nice, thank you. If we are not bothering you, we would stay here for the time being – Lyndon nodded in gratitude.
Gods knew they needed some proper living quarters finally.
- No, not at all. Stay, if you want. Right, Zayl? – Lorath turned back to the necromancer but the man was already gone from the door.
- Cheerful fellow – Lyndon grumbled under his nose.
- He probably left to start preparing the spell. Might need a day for it or something, I don't know – Lorath shrugged. – Zayl is like that all the time, do not take it personally.
- Oh don't worry, I had just experienced having a very similar personality around for a bit…
- Well then, take up whichever empty room you'd like. The others have some personal belongings in their rooms already, you will be able to spot those – Lorath collected the plates and cups. – I will look into some kind of emergency summon. Tyrael had taken care of those before, but I am certain I can find something.
- Got it. I am going to have to take care of a few more things in town, but after that I can help, if you need me – Lyndon nodded.
- Oh and Lyndon – Lorath finished gathering the utensils, shooting one last very pointed glance at him. – This story has better be worth all this trouble and allusion.
- Sanctuary is probably on the line once again. It will be, believe me – Lyndon nodded solemnly. – Although by the end, you will wish it wasn't.
With that he and Quiet finally retreated upstairs, the child still holding onto his coat like it was his lifeline.
oooOOOooo
Quiet really didn't need that big sker from the talking skull, if he had to be honest.
And he most definitely didn't need the even bigger sker when Leendonn told him he would be leaving to meet Maltael.
- NO, DON'T GO! HE WILL HURT YOU! – he screeched from the top of his lungs, practically hanging from the brown coat.
- Quiet, it is alright—
- NO, NO IT'S NOT! HE IS BAD! HE KILLED MANY PEOPLE! YOU TOLD ME!
He demanded that the floor not let go of him as he pulled Leendonn back by his coat in their new room. The wooden planks listened to him after a moment, and dutifully wrapped themselves around his feet. His papa stopped when he saw that and he let out a deep sigh. He finally turned back and sat down on the fluffy bed next to them. Quiet immediately scurried after him, sitting on his lap, hoping to keep him here that way.
The little angel was very very skerd. Bad and sad thoughts constantly surfaced in his mind, he thought about his injures, the injuries of his papa and his friends, the skerry dead man, the even skerrier Johhana-Lilit. He didn't want to think about his bad wing at all, but he did sometimes. He missed Ashava very much, he missed the others but at least they were all alive. He recalled the many bad fights he had been in, and they all looked so much skerrier now than when he was in them. He felt pity for stoopid pale man Linaarian for staying alone but he was also still angry with him for that horrible boat fight where a lot of good people died and Teeriel and Quiet almost died too…
There was a lot. And now his papa wanted to go see another very very bad person for some reason. Quiet couldn't allow that!
- You are right, I have told you that – Leendonn massaged his neck as he looked up at the ceiling. – And I'm glad you want to protect me, firefly.
- You always protect me! I don't want you to get hurt either – Quiet sniffled, wiping some small tears away.
He got really really skerred, he couldn't help it.
- But you know, Quiet. I have a very… interesting story to tell you – Leendonn looked down at him with a small smile. – When we were separated in that red marsh, remember? I ended up in a big underground city and I accidentally found Maltael down there.
- Did he attack you?! – Quit gasped, grabbing his papa's hand.
- No! I mean… he was trying to, but he was very weak and very slow – Lyndon gently kissed him on the top of his head. – Let me tell you the story…
So for the next hour and a half, Quiet heard the most insane tale ever. His papa and Maltael got stuck together, then they met a wise man named Abbd Al Hazeer who could do magic with books and letters, then they all accidentally puffed to a very old big fortress where they fought a lot of monsters, including a big dangerous demon and a very big man made out of earth, and then they made friends with warrior ghosts who told them a lot of interesting things, and then they traveled back here to Weztmarch and then Maltael realized his friends got stuck here instead of safely going back to Heaven and he got very sad and he stayed with Abbd in a big house full of books (called a library) in the city.
- That… that's a lot – Quiet managed to find his voice after his papa finished the big story.
- A lot, yes. And often very skerry. I'm not saying I enjoyed it – Leendonn sighed deeply, clearing his throat.
Quiet quickly conjured up some water in a cup for him from the fabric of the blanket. The big story, skerry and very strange as it was, helped calm him down a bit and he once again had a better hold on his magic. Leendonn accepted it with a smile.
- So… so Maltael changed? – the child asked, trying to connect the dots.
- Yes, absolutely. He helped and protected us in all those fights. He is still not the friendliest and most cheerful guy around, but he is very different from that terrible monster he had once been. And I know, I had fought him when he was at his worst.
Quiet fell silent, pondering. He knew he could trust his papa to be very smart, so Maltael probably wasn't that bad or dangerous anymore. Still, the child hated the idea of seeing his papa go, even if for a short while. What if something crazy happens that separates them again? He did not want that!
- Although… - Leendonn suddenly spoke up, also thinking.
- Yes, papa?
- Maltael mmmight be able to help us, actually. Or at least have some ideas about your wing and how to heal it. I hope at least. He is Wisdom, he might have seen something like this – his papa looked over him.
Healing his wing would be very nice! It would help Quiet feel better, certainly. Not being able to feel his wing was constantly a part of all those bad sad thoughts he was having lately. He was very grateful that his papa and his friends helped him with it and that they didn't laugh when he fell over a lot, but it was still bad. He always felt like the ground could suddenly move under him at any second.
- So… I can go along? – he chanced the question.
He still wasn't sure if he wanted to see Maltael, whether he could help or not, but Quiet didn't want to let go of his papa just yet, not after being apart for so long. Leendonn was about to answer but just then a strange piece of paper flew in through the window like a butterfly and landed straight on his head. It looked very tattered as if it spent days out in the rain or something.
- What the hell? – his papa blurted out in surprise, reaching for it.
- That's a funny paper – Quiet noted.
Leendonn quickly read the message, his eyes growing really big.
-… Alright, I didn't see that coming – he muttered to himself.
- What does it say? – Quiet try to peak over, but he could only recognize a few letters.
It was really nice handwriting, though.
- "Dear Leendonn. If you are in town, please please come and help. Maltael wants to become an Arkivist but the Hicurator and the six Fellows are not convinced. We are allowed to enlist the aid of an outsider to try and convince them, and I could only think of you. I know you and Mal are not on the best of terms, but I think you understand how important this is. I assure you he wants to mend his ways! This message will allow you to visit us in the Great Library, and we can discuss details then. Gods, I hope it reaches you, truly! Best wishes, Abbd Al Hazeer"
-… Hicurator and Fellow are strange names – Quiet commented thoughtfully after a moment of pause.
- "High Curator", firefly. It is a title, worn by the man who leads all the Arkivists. I am not sure about the Fellows, though… they must be high ranks as well – Leendonn pondered over the paper. – This complicates things, but I guess at least it solves the problem of getting to Abbd in the first place.
- So we can go! – Quiet hopped off of his papa.
He could even move his injured arm so well, if only this wooden frame wasn't in the way. He began pulling at it, hoping to finally be rid of it and the heavy bandage around his arm.
- Only I will go, Quiet – Leendonn stood up from the bed as well.
But before he could take a step, Quiet's free hand already curled around his brown coat. The child looked up at his papa with determination.
- We will go – he said firmly. – I don't want to be away from you, papa. Something might happen!
- Quiet…
- I mean it! I don't want you to leave! – Quiet stomped in helpless anger, tears filling his eyes again. – I love you, papa!
Leendonn stared at him, then he bent down and lifted Quiet up from the floor. He wiped the tears away and kissed Quiet on the cheek.
- And I love you, son – his smile was so warm and friendly, it reminded Quiet of the very first memory he had ever had about his papa.
"Everything is going to be alright."
It made him forget about the many bad and sad thoughts just for a little bit, and Quiet felt happy.
- Alright. Let's go to the Great Library and see how we can help – Leendonn gently set him down again, taking his hand into his.
Give Tyrael your energy, cupcakes! Poor angel's been through so damn much…
And finally, the Nerd Duo shall return next chapter! I hope you will welcome them back warmly! It's been a damn while.
Thank you for your patience, as always! Thank you for reading, even more for commenting! See you all next time, hopefully in May!
Lore & Trivia corner
- Kvass is a fermented, cereal- (mostly rye)-based beverage with little to no alcohol. It is an incredibly old drink of Russians and Slavic people in general. Originally it was used to recover from fatigue quick and to relieve the muscles after a long day of work, thanks to the massive amounts of vitamin B, antioxidants, fibre and other nutrients in it. It is incredibly easy to make at home, and only needs half a day of fermenting roughly to be ready.
- Quiet's art projects are making a glorious comeback from Ch20! It's been a while, huh, cupcakes?
- Intarsia: a form of decorative woodwork which involves laying different types of wood, often differing in color as well, into a foundation of woodwork, creating patterns or entire scenes. It can be used on floors, on walls, furniture, objects, whatever. As you can imagine, it can get incredibly expensive fast, especially if noble types of wood are involved. It had been practiced since ancient times, but it was the renaissance in Italy that brought it back from a long slumber.