Post by Markas Virnala on Jan 25, 2020 22:21:31 GMT
“Are you sure you have everything?”
“Yes, I’m sure”
“Oh, but what are you going to do for food? I will make you some more to eat”
“It will be fine, I already have enough for a few days”
“Well what about after that? You never think ahead!”
“It will spoil by then anyway, I will.. I dunno, find some work”
...She looks worried. The same look every night he has this dream. Soon they will hug, she will talk about his Dad and tell him to write. He will tell her stop fussing... and he will walk out the door for the last time, again. Well, that is if he wasn’t woken up.
A sharp pain runs through his leg as the monk bolts up, scaring the fox off into the underbrush, yipping as it goes. It was a rude awakening but the fox can hardly be blamed for being hungry. That was something he could sympathise with. It had been a few months since Markas left home, almost a week now since his last meal. He looks gaunt, tired, the worn travel clothes hanging off of his almost skeletal frame. His hair, normally shaved, has grown out revealing the deep brown hair his mother always said he took from his father. Not that he remembers much of him, but the thought is a comfort nonetheless. Enough to get back up again.
A week ago, he found some work in a small logging town called Wexlip. It wasn’t a large town, consisting mainly of a large bunk-house, the Lumber Mill and a small Tavern, much like any number of other small work towns. The plan had been to stay there for a while and earn enough to stock up on supplies. Enough to last until he got to the next town, almost a weeks riding, maybe more on foot. He had no idea of what to expect in the next town of course, he never did. He just found some work and moved on again. Always moving, in the same direction.
It was, thinking back, not a wise decision to head into the forest that day. Doubling back would have meant coming through the town again and they were pretty angry with him. That was not something he wanted to do. It would have meant having some provisions for this walk through the woods of course... Some FOOD. The first day or two there was an attempt at hunting and Markas had been about as successful as the fox had been this morning. Now he was just too tired to try. Too hungry. Too much pain...He shouldn’t have come this way…
In any case, he was days out now and too far down the path to change his mind. All he could do was keep going. Step by brutal step. Keep walking and hope the foxes don’t get replaced with something bigger, something not so skittish. It was hard, more gruelling than anything he had done and it was only getting harder to keep going. But as long as he kept moving, he would reach the next town. Today was the day.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
“Ah, that would be Mickey, the bloody blow-hard. Ye were daft to be picking a foit with him now, not ta mention walkin all d’way here now. Here!” - A stale piece of bread lands on the table.
“Thank you… but I didn’t want to fight… I was jus-”
“Well it does’na matter now does it? oooh but he’s a bad one, spiteful he is mmmm”
“Well I di-
“Honestly, ye lucky I fount ya when i did! Daft boy, pickin a foit wi-…”
Kat’y continues to complain to herself as she wanders back outside, leaving her house guest squat on the floor eating the rest of the soup she had shoved in front of him. The last Markas could remember, he had been walking for what seemed like forever, each step blurring with the last until he wasn't even fully aware he was still walking anymore. The hunger had evidently become too much and he collapsed in the road. Fortunately, in his haze the monk had made it far enough to be spotted by Kat’y, who dragged him indoors before he died and started attracting wild animals (she had been very clear about that detail). It took a day to wake him up and she had been berating and feeding him since. The bread had barely been picked up before she’s back in the room,
“An you mean ta tell me Suzie did nuttin!?”
“Erm…. Suzie?”
“Inda-inn”
A bewildered look crosses Markas’ face
“Lawd…. THE LADY IN THE INN!”
“Oh, um…. Which one?”
“Lath’ save me. WELL, I’ll be haffin words wit her!”
“Erm….well, there was a lady who-"
Before he can finish she is back out the door again.
The soup is finished and he waits for Kat'y to come back, feeling like an awkward house guest in a house he wasn't actually invited into. An uncomfortably quiet 10 minutes go by before he hears her coming back and the door flies open,
"Ah, I-"
"Here" she throws his pack across the room to him, heavier than he remembers it, "ye can sleep at Connie's place up da Lane there. She has a room now her boy wen t'off with the Marlo girl."
"Oh but-"
"C'mon already, won't do ta keep 'er a waitin now!"
"I ju-"
"C'mon!" She bodily lifts him and guides him out the door
"Can I pl-"
"I won't hear nowt of it now, y'hear! Ye can come here in de morn n' give us a han' with de yard, now go on wit ya!"
Before he knows it he is outside, Kat'y has pointed up the road to another small house and vanished back inside, leaving him holding his pack. Not really sure what's happening, he drops the pack and knocks on the door again. Its takes just over a second for it to swing wildly open again
"Well?'
".... w… w…. What!?"
Kat'y sighs, exasperation on her face, "you need food?"
"....yes?"
"Somewhere to stay?"
"Yes"
"Can ya work?"
"Yes"
"Well get on den! Off wit ya! Ya can be back ere tomorra"
She gives him a stern look. A look you don't just simply argue with. He is too tired to protest at any rate. Unable to formulate the words he wants to say, he does the only thing he can think of.
He hugs her.
“ah… now go on you daft Ejit!”
Kat'y, as it turned out, was the unofficial matriarch of the small farming community on the outskirts of the town of Wexrush and had assumed, rather correctly, that Markas was in need of work and lodging when she dragged him in. Not to mention rescue of course. For his part, he had not planned anything further than just reaching the town so was thankful for being alive. A week or so after waking up, he had suggested trying to pay her back and leaving so as not to be a burden, gaining him a clout around the head and being told to go and help Connie.
A month after arriving and Markas had unintentionally become embedded into the small community, no-one seems to bother to ask anymore about how he got there, just happy for the help and the company mostly, even if he was fairly quiet most of the time. He spent most days carrying out odd jobs across the few farms on this side of town where “a strapping young man” was needed, whatever that was supposed to mean anyway. He him wasn't sure. In exchange, he was provided with food, lodging and new clothes. Connie had even cut his hair into a more presentable fashion rather than the wild mass it had grown into and Kat’y’s harsh tone had become soothing in its own odd way.
With regards to why he had come by, Kat’y and Connie had assumed that given his small frame, Markas had come off worse in the fight with Mickey and had run into the woods to escape. It was only when they had caught sight of him training that they started to think there was more to it, but he seemed nice lad, it shouldn’t be a problem. And that's how it stayed, at least for a while.
“Mark! Would ya come ere now, for a sec?” - Pat’s voice echoes out over the field. Markas had been out here the last couple days helping out tilling the ground. Jogging over, he sees the concern on the older man’s face
“What’s wrong?”
“Iss Kat’y, says she needs ya back at her howse”
“Is she ok?”
“Aaa She’s fine! Damned woman’ll be ere still when the rest of us er dust! Summint’s got a worryin tho, go on, I’ll get Billy ta help me finish ere”
Back at the house, for the first time, Kat’y isn’t talking as he walks in
“Hey Kat’y, is everything ok?”
“Mark, take a seat there now will ya… an shut da door!”
Markas obliges and sits opposite her
“....now… Ah need ta know, how did’ye come ta be out on de road that day.”
“....oh,'' Markas takes on a Sombre look, “I tried to say before but…. Well I gue-”
“Short version der mind, I ain’t got all day now!”
With a sigh, Markas recounts his last night in the logging town. Gathering in The axe (the local bar) after work and a few of the lads getting a bit drunk. Fights were common in every bar he had found himself in but being quiet meant he generally avoided most of them. In this particular bar though, that had not been the case.
Taking a seat at the bar, ordering a glass of water, the young monk was making some finishing touches to a drawing he had started in the day, when it caught the eye of the young, brown-haired lady behind the bar - “dat would be Suzie, now” - He hadn’t really spoken to anyone in town yet so was happy for the conversation, and she seemed to be asking him a lot of questions. He had spilled his drink when the large man, he now knows to be Mickey, stumbled into him but he wasn’t upset by that, it was only water. Not much later and the same man had come back asking his own question about the newcomer in town. For his part Markas was happy to be making friends but Suzie looked uncomfortable with it. It wasn’t long after this that the trouble started.
He had spent his time walking here thinking on it and wasn’t exactly what he had done to upset Mickey but still wasn’t sure. Maybe there was a cultural thing he wasn’t aware of. While talking with Suzie at the bar, he soon found the large man grabbing him out the stool and shoving him outside. A crowd soon appeared and began jeering. The man had lunged at him but he was able to sidestep him, only to be hit by one of his friends. It hadn’t hurt but did take him by surprise. A third had tried to punch him but Markas was quicker, landed two quick jabs to his stomach, sending him to the floor in time to fend off Mickey again. Between the drunken louts hammering blows, he managed to slip through his arms and plant an open palm to his jaw, sending him reeling back before shoving the second assailant away from him, kicking his feet out from under him as he does.
The crowd had gone quiet now as Markas turned back round to Mickey had drawn a small dagger from his belt. Fights were a common enough form of entertainment in the town but even in their drunk state most of the crowd seemed to sense the shift in the tension.
“I don’t want to fight” - But Mickey wasn’t in the mood for listening as he lunged towards him. A few quick, if sloppy, swings of the blade had Markas dodging out the way, one barely missing him before being backed into the wall of the inn. Mickey’s attempts to hit him were getting slower, allowing a quick duck and push from the wall to get Markas out the way again, only to further enrage the man. It was here the brown-haired lady and one of the nearby watchers finally tried to stop the drunk from thrashing around. He wasn’t sure who, but someone must’ve been caught by the knife as a flash of red catches the monks eye. Wanting to put an end to the madness before someone really gets hurt, he rushes forward, slips between the two trying to restraining him and leans into the punch he throws, connecting with his temple and levelling the man in seconds.
There’s a scream.
Suzie notices she is covered in blood. Someone grabs hold of Markas, dragging him away from the scene. He hears shouting in his ears. A few people are trying to pick Mickey up from the ground, others are leading the woman inside, more still turn on the monk. Through the shouting one face stands out, the man who grabbed him. He wasn’t sure of his name but he had seen him at work earlier in the day. Through the shouting and jostling he could only make out one thing: “YOU NEED TO GO”
So he did.
“An dats why ya walked t’here?”
“... yeah."
"Lath save me" the concern on her face is suffocating, radiating out and filling the room with its presence
"...I didn't mean to upset everyone"
“Well… they're certainly upset." An aged hand rubs her suddenly tired face as she sighs. A tense moment passes before her gaze returns to the monk, "Mickey's dead"
It feels like a boulder has landed on on his chest, trapping the breath in his lungs. His stomach has fallen out and been replaced with a tight knot, twisting on itself. Hands gripping the table, shaking with the force subconsciously being sent through them. She's looking at him but everything blurs as she mouths words he's unable to hear.
He's dead
Suddenly Kat'y has his face in her hands as she is talking
"MARK! Ye need ta think, are ya sure that's it?"
"........b….but-"
"Is there anytin else now?"
"N...n..no…. Hes dead?"
"Are ya sure?"
"How?"
She sits again, this affair seeming to age her far more than the years had ever managed
"Riley's been up town there t'day and words goin around now. Claimin some stranger's what kilt 'im"
"... I… I didn't mean to-"
"Mark, I don't think ya did now. You're a good lad. Simple, but youva good heart. I know ye didn't … but them folks are lookin for someone now."
"I should tell them is was me"
"What? NO, you fecking ejit! I won't be havin that now, no! Iss a sad thing there that happened to Mickey but I won't be havin you strung up over him now -"
Markas is silent as she goes on. This can't be right, he was trying to help, he never meant to kill the man. He didn't want to fight.
"- they'll come. Won't be long, oh my…. I'm sorry lad…"
She looks at the young man she had rescued and taken in, a face dominated by guilt and innocence.
"...You need to go…"
“Yes, I’m sure”
“Oh, but what are you going to do for food? I will make you some more to eat”
“It will be fine, I already have enough for a few days”
“Well what about after that? You never think ahead!”
“It will spoil by then anyway, I will.. I dunno, find some work”
...She looks worried. The same look every night he has this dream. Soon they will hug, she will talk about his Dad and tell him to write. He will tell her stop fussing... and he will walk out the door for the last time, again. Well, that is if he wasn’t woken up.
A sharp pain runs through his leg as the monk bolts up, scaring the fox off into the underbrush, yipping as it goes. It was a rude awakening but the fox can hardly be blamed for being hungry. That was something he could sympathise with. It had been a few months since Markas left home, almost a week now since his last meal. He looks gaunt, tired, the worn travel clothes hanging off of his almost skeletal frame. His hair, normally shaved, has grown out revealing the deep brown hair his mother always said he took from his father. Not that he remembers much of him, but the thought is a comfort nonetheless. Enough to get back up again.
A week ago, he found some work in a small logging town called Wexlip. It wasn’t a large town, consisting mainly of a large bunk-house, the Lumber Mill and a small Tavern, much like any number of other small work towns. The plan had been to stay there for a while and earn enough to stock up on supplies. Enough to last until he got to the next town, almost a weeks riding, maybe more on foot. He had no idea of what to expect in the next town of course, he never did. He just found some work and moved on again. Always moving, in the same direction.
It was, thinking back, not a wise decision to head into the forest that day. Doubling back would have meant coming through the town again and they were pretty angry with him. That was not something he wanted to do. It would have meant having some provisions for this walk through the woods of course... Some FOOD. The first day or two there was an attempt at hunting and Markas had been about as successful as the fox had been this morning. Now he was just too tired to try. Too hungry. Too much pain...He shouldn’t have come this way…
In any case, he was days out now and too far down the path to change his mind. All he could do was keep going. Step by brutal step. Keep walking and hope the foxes don’t get replaced with something bigger, something not so skittish. It was hard, more gruelling than anything he had done and it was only getting harder to keep going. But as long as he kept moving, he would reach the next town. Today was the day.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
“Ah, that would be Mickey, the bloody blow-hard. Ye were daft to be picking a foit with him now, not ta mention walkin all d’way here now. Here!” - A stale piece of bread lands on the table.
“Thank you… but I didn’t want to fight… I was jus-”
“Well it does’na matter now does it? oooh but he’s a bad one, spiteful he is mmmm”
“Well I di-
“Honestly, ye lucky I fount ya when i did! Daft boy, pickin a foit wi-…”
Kat’y continues to complain to herself as she wanders back outside, leaving her house guest squat on the floor eating the rest of the soup she had shoved in front of him. The last Markas could remember, he had been walking for what seemed like forever, each step blurring with the last until he wasn't even fully aware he was still walking anymore. The hunger had evidently become too much and he collapsed in the road. Fortunately, in his haze the monk had made it far enough to be spotted by Kat’y, who dragged him indoors before he died and started attracting wild animals (she had been very clear about that detail). It took a day to wake him up and she had been berating and feeding him since. The bread had barely been picked up before she’s back in the room,
“An you mean ta tell me Suzie did nuttin!?”
“Erm…. Suzie?”
“Inda-inn”
A bewildered look crosses Markas’ face
“Lawd…. THE LADY IN THE INN!”
“Oh, um…. Which one?”
“Lath’ save me. WELL, I’ll be haffin words wit her!”
“Erm….well, there was a lady who-"
Before he can finish she is back out the door again.
The soup is finished and he waits for Kat'y to come back, feeling like an awkward house guest in a house he wasn't actually invited into. An uncomfortably quiet 10 minutes go by before he hears her coming back and the door flies open,
"Ah, I-"
"Here" she throws his pack across the room to him, heavier than he remembers it, "ye can sleep at Connie's place up da Lane there. She has a room now her boy wen t'off with the Marlo girl."
"Oh but-"
"C'mon already, won't do ta keep 'er a waitin now!"
"I ju-"
"C'mon!" She bodily lifts him and guides him out the door
"Can I pl-"
"I won't hear nowt of it now, y'hear! Ye can come here in de morn n' give us a han' with de yard, now go on wit ya!"
Before he knows it he is outside, Kat'y has pointed up the road to another small house and vanished back inside, leaving him holding his pack. Not really sure what's happening, he drops the pack and knocks on the door again. Its takes just over a second for it to swing wildly open again
"Well?'
".... w… w…. What!?"
Kat'y sighs, exasperation on her face, "you need food?"
"....yes?"
"Somewhere to stay?"
"Yes"
"Can ya work?"
"Yes"
"Well get on den! Off wit ya! Ya can be back ere tomorra"
She gives him a stern look. A look you don't just simply argue with. He is too tired to protest at any rate. Unable to formulate the words he wants to say, he does the only thing he can think of.
He hugs her.
“ah… now go on you daft Ejit!”
Kat'y, as it turned out, was the unofficial matriarch of the small farming community on the outskirts of the town of Wexrush and had assumed, rather correctly, that Markas was in need of work and lodging when she dragged him in. Not to mention rescue of course. For his part, he had not planned anything further than just reaching the town so was thankful for being alive. A week or so after waking up, he had suggested trying to pay her back and leaving so as not to be a burden, gaining him a clout around the head and being told to go and help Connie.
A month after arriving and Markas had unintentionally become embedded into the small community, no-one seems to bother to ask anymore about how he got there, just happy for the help and the company mostly, even if he was fairly quiet most of the time. He spent most days carrying out odd jobs across the few farms on this side of town where “a strapping young man” was needed, whatever that was supposed to mean anyway. He him wasn't sure. In exchange, he was provided with food, lodging and new clothes. Connie had even cut his hair into a more presentable fashion rather than the wild mass it had grown into and Kat’y’s harsh tone had become soothing in its own odd way.
With regards to why he had come by, Kat’y and Connie had assumed that given his small frame, Markas had come off worse in the fight with Mickey and had run into the woods to escape. It was only when they had caught sight of him training that they started to think there was more to it, but he seemed nice lad, it shouldn’t be a problem. And that's how it stayed, at least for a while.
“Mark! Would ya come ere now, for a sec?” - Pat’s voice echoes out over the field. Markas had been out here the last couple days helping out tilling the ground. Jogging over, he sees the concern on the older man’s face
“What’s wrong?”
“Iss Kat’y, says she needs ya back at her howse”
“Is she ok?”
“Aaa She’s fine! Damned woman’ll be ere still when the rest of us er dust! Summint’s got a worryin tho, go on, I’ll get Billy ta help me finish ere”
Back at the house, for the first time, Kat’y isn’t talking as he walks in
“Hey Kat’y, is everything ok?”
“Mark, take a seat there now will ya… an shut da door!”
Markas obliges and sits opposite her
“....now… Ah need ta know, how did’ye come ta be out on de road that day.”
“....oh,'' Markas takes on a Sombre look, “I tried to say before but…. Well I gue-”
“Short version der mind, I ain’t got all day now!”
With a sigh, Markas recounts his last night in the logging town. Gathering in The axe (the local bar) after work and a few of the lads getting a bit drunk. Fights were common in every bar he had found himself in but being quiet meant he generally avoided most of them. In this particular bar though, that had not been the case.
Taking a seat at the bar, ordering a glass of water, the young monk was making some finishing touches to a drawing he had started in the day, when it caught the eye of the young, brown-haired lady behind the bar - “dat would be Suzie, now” - He hadn’t really spoken to anyone in town yet so was happy for the conversation, and she seemed to be asking him a lot of questions. He had spilled his drink when the large man, he now knows to be Mickey, stumbled into him but he wasn’t upset by that, it was only water. Not much later and the same man had come back asking his own question about the newcomer in town. For his part Markas was happy to be making friends but Suzie looked uncomfortable with it. It wasn’t long after this that the trouble started.
He had spent his time walking here thinking on it and wasn’t exactly what he had done to upset Mickey but still wasn’t sure. Maybe there was a cultural thing he wasn’t aware of. While talking with Suzie at the bar, he soon found the large man grabbing him out the stool and shoving him outside. A crowd soon appeared and began jeering. The man had lunged at him but he was able to sidestep him, only to be hit by one of his friends. It hadn’t hurt but did take him by surprise. A third had tried to punch him but Markas was quicker, landed two quick jabs to his stomach, sending him to the floor in time to fend off Mickey again. Between the drunken louts hammering blows, he managed to slip through his arms and plant an open palm to his jaw, sending him reeling back before shoving the second assailant away from him, kicking his feet out from under him as he does.
The crowd had gone quiet now as Markas turned back round to Mickey had drawn a small dagger from his belt. Fights were a common enough form of entertainment in the town but even in their drunk state most of the crowd seemed to sense the shift in the tension.
“I don’t want to fight” - But Mickey wasn’t in the mood for listening as he lunged towards him. A few quick, if sloppy, swings of the blade had Markas dodging out the way, one barely missing him before being backed into the wall of the inn. Mickey’s attempts to hit him were getting slower, allowing a quick duck and push from the wall to get Markas out the way again, only to further enrage the man. It was here the brown-haired lady and one of the nearby watchers finally tried to stop the drunk from thrashing around. He wasn’t sure who, but someone must’ve been caught by the knife as a flash of red catches the monks eye. Wanting to put an end to the madness before someone really gets hurt, he rushes forward, slips between the two trying to restraining him and leans into the punch he throws, connecting with his temple and levelling the man in seconds.
There’s a scream.
Suzie notices she is covered in blood. Someone grabs hold of Markas, dragging him away from the scene. He hears shouting in his ears. A few people are trying to pick Mickey up from the ground, others are leading the woman inside, more still turn on the monk. Through the shouting one face stands out, the man who grabbed him. He wasn’t sure of his name but he had seen him at work earlier in the day. Through the shouting and jostling he could only make out one thing: “YOU NEED TO GO”
So he did.
“An dats why ya walked t’here?”
“... yeah."
"Lath save me" the concern on her face is suffocating, radiating out and filling the room with its presence
"...I didn't mean to upset everyone"
“Well… they're certainly upset." An aged hand rubs her suddenly tired face as she sighs. A tense moment passes before her gaze returns to the monk, "Mickey's dead"
It feels like a boulder has landed on on his chest, trapping the breath in his lungs. His stomach has fallen out and been replaced with a tight knot, twisting on itself. Hands gripping the table, shaking with the force subconsciously being sent through them. She's looking at him but everything blurs as she mouths words he's unable to hear.
He's dead
Suddenly Kat'y has his face in her hands as she is talking
"MARK! Ye need ta think, are ya sure that's it?"
"........b….but-"
"Is there anytin else now?"
"N...n..no…. Hes dead?"
"Are ya sure?"
"How?"
She sits again, this affair seeming to age her far more than the years had ever managed
"Riley's been up town there t'day and words goin around now. Claimin some stranger's what kilt 'im"
"... I… I didn't mean to-"
"Mark, I don't think ya did now. You're a good lad. Simple, but youva good heart. I know ye didn't … but them folks are lookin for someone now."
"I should tell them is was me"
"What? NO, you fecking ejit! I won't be havin that now, no! Iss a sad thing there that happened to Mickey but I won't be havin you strung up over him now -"
Markas is silent as she goes on. This can't be right, he was trying to help, he never meant to kill the man. He didn't want to fight.
"- they'll come. Won't be long, oh my…. I'm sorry lad…"
She looks at the young man she had rescued and taken in, a face dominated by guilt and innocence.
"...You need to go…"
