Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 5, 2011 20:54:50 GMT -6
Alphonse' face had now dried, his hands numb and legs seemingly frozen to himself. The snow was cold against the lower half of his body as he sat on top of his bent legs in a kneeling position, a gravestone starring at him from the partly excavated snow. A barmaid had been with him just a minute ago to bring him to this place and she had disappeared not too long after they had arrived, the shaman that had been with him, Shadow, had gone back with here but not before trying to comfort Alphonse before departing.
Now he was left with an old man who owned a small cabin just a few yards from the gravestone, and he stood close to Alphonse with a stern face that one could chisel out some sympathy and pity hidden within it if they looked hard enough. He put a hand on Alphonse' shoulder without any reaction from him and began to speak in a rough but kind voice.
"It was a cold, that's all, there was nothing else to it. She didn't suffer and there is nothing to be avenged." He couldn't have put it simpler.
Alphonse felt the words creep into his ears through his muffled thoughts of dolor. He read the letters written clearly on the granite gravestone in his mind: Trisha Zsoldos, beloved Daughter. Each time he read it a wave of grief seem to crash into the back of his mind, but it no longer forced up his tears; he had run out.
(OoC: For those that don't know, Trisha is Alphonse' sister.)
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Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 5, 2011 23:02:34 GMT -6
The sun shined brightly as it had all day reflecting upon the snow with intensity which seemed to light up the whole of Ilia. Snow seemed to give away easily under Alphonse' feet as he trudged along through the softened snow, the old man leading him to a cabin only yards away. Small flecks of snow and ice fluttered away from the door as Alphonse and the old man entered and the recently stale air escaped.
"I know it's not much but..." the old man started but then seemed to suddenly remember something. "Oh yea, I almost forgot, my Fretheim. Thats it, just Fretheim."
The floor of the cabin laid blankly beneath Alphonse, it's cracks and lines seeming to grab all of his attention so as to distract him form the reality he had just learned. A cold wind very slightly brushed Alphonse as he walked in and the old man began to talk; he replied to him with an unconsciousness.
"Alphonse," he replied in a soft and almost inaudible voice directed towards the ground.
"Alphonse?" the old man asked rhetorically. "Well Alphonse, this place is where you'll be living with me for the time being I guess. Your rooms in the back, once you get all your belongings put away I'll go over a few things with you," he tried to end in an understandingly kind way, but it came off as more pitiful for Alphonse.
It was nothing impressive, in fact it looked more like a large storage closet, which actually wasn't too bad for Alphonse. He forced his neck to move his head upwards and examine the room; the walls were covered with a few animal skins, metal rods, knives, and empty shelves. A small bed was tucked away in the corner to the far left, but was covered with a random assortment of supplies which made it a bit hard to use at the moment. Light graced the wall just to the right of him the came from a small window from the opposite side of the room.
There was a clunk as Alphonse slipped off his boots and then set his staff gently against the wall. He unwrapped his cloak that sat on his left shoulder and threw it on the edge of the bed, which seemed like the cleanest. A sudden wall of silence seemed to collapse onto the room as Alphonse stood in the middle of the room, light from the window hitting the right side of his body as he faced towards it. The room was still for a moment and then time seem to return to what it once had been.
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Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 6, 2011 0:04:41 GMT -6
As Alphonse slipped out of the room Fretheim met him just as he came out.
"I'm sorry the rooms a bit of a mess, I'll clean it out," it said in a somewhat rushed tone. "I know my home isn't anything what they have in Etruria, but it's just what you're going to have to deal with for now." Alphonse gave a somber nod in response.
The old man gave a slight smile, which seemed to contradict his rough face. Which reminded Alphonse, he hadn't examined the old man at all since they had met, he felt he owed him the courtesy of knowing what he looked like. As Alphonse focused on Fretheim, what he saw somewhat surprised him: a tall, burly man standing about half a foot over him with balding white hair and a good sized white beard around his face; his clothes consisted of ragged wool pants (which he presumed he usually wore under his normal clothing) and a grey shirt that exposed his upper chest and most of his shoulders.
The old man put a hand on Alphonse' shoulder and walked him over to a couple wooden chairs sitting in front of a slate fire place, which funneled up to the ceiling quiet seamlessly especially with the absence of a true mantel piece.
They sat down in the two chairs, Fretheim leading Alphonse to one of them with his hand, and stared at the fireplace. The fireplace seemed to capture both their attention, as they both gazed into it as if they were watching an orchestra play the most beautiful music that lulled them into a kind of eerie calmness.
"She was a good women..." the old man started. "A hard worker too. She was always diligent in everything she did, especially after her father left she-" Alphonse cut him off.
"My father? He was here?" his words seem to struggle to escape his mouth chocked with puzzled bewilderment. "Where...?"
The old man shook his head. "It's been years, I honestly have no idea what happened to him; but I wouldn't look for him, he'll come back when he's ready." It was hard for Alphonse to accept this, but he agreed with what Fretheim had said; it was just what his father would do. But he couldn't but be filled with malice as he thought of his father abandoning his sister.
"But anyways, Trisha... your sister... was a good women, and she spoke often of you. I'm sure she would have loved to see you again, if she could I couldn't imagine what it would be for her," he ended trying to throw in a pleasant tone at the end.
A wetness glided down Alphonse' faces as tears had began before he had even thought of them. His faced dropped as tears dripped onto the floor and he bit his lower lip trying to keep the knot in his throat from escaping out his mouth. Fretheim softly placed his hand on Alphonse' back and he suddenly relaxed, releasing several sobs and large gasp, and continued to make quieter and quieter sobs as he looked into the fire place trying to find some way to break out of the world he was in and escape back to the past.
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Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 7, 2011 1:06:04 GMT -6
A few hours had past and now Alphonse had taken to bed. Fretheim had cleaned off the sheets as best he could and made room neater for him to stay in; though it still needed a lot more work. The sheets of the bed were unusually warm and the pillow quite firm, which Alphonse realized he shouldn't of taken notice to since it was Ilia and such things should be expected from a country perpetually stuck in winter.
It soon started to become dark quite fast as an orange hue enveloped the room with contrasted shadows and barely any light making it to Alphonse who lay mostly under the cover of his bed. He starred at the wall across from him, his body numb and mind empty, thoughts slowly growing into larger memories. His thoughts took him back to when he had been with Trisha.
"But this is way too small," Alphonse said holding up a small robe that was obviously tailored for a women's fit.
"Well deal with it, it's all I got. It's not like you're going to get to wear it anyways," Trisha said in a calmly mocking voice. "Maybe once you get older you'll get your own outfit, a priestly outfit and stuff."
"I guess so..." he replied in a slightly disappointed voice.
"God don't be such a baby, you're the guy here."
They continued to talk on and on, their youthful banter seeming to go on forever as they exchanged ideas behind their parents back. Trisha was slightly shorter than Alphonse at the time, she had long brown and light green eyes courtesy of her mother. Her eyes were the most noticeable part about her; they seemed to have a calm glow about them that also had a sense of strength and willingness, determined eyes that seemed to scan your body and suddenly know all your weaknesses.
Day by day they both aged together and nothing seemed to have changed between, they continued on with their usual conversations into the night, the usual defiance. These times were the best for Alphonse and the simplest, it was the times he missed above all else in his life.
Suddenly the room came back into perspective, only it didn't as night had fallen. His daydreams of the past were over and now it was time to sleep the real sleep. The bed froze after Alphonse had turned onto his side to face the wall closest to the bed and remained still for the emotional fatigue to drag him into sleep. And it did, slowly sleep grasped him and the world fell away.
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Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 9, 2011 0:59:23 GMT -6
The smell of fresh roasting meat had woken Alphonse as it had filled most the entire cabin. He slowly got up and stood next to his bed, his memory falling away every second and the nerves in his legs begging for him to lay back down. Sleep still seemed to grasp him, though it ever so slowly loosened with every step he took towards the door. As the door swung open Alphonse could see Fretheim cooking a couple of small animals over the fireplace as he sat kneeled in front of it.
Alphonse couldn't really remember what had conspired after that too well, but he remembered the old man had explained to him that a priest couldn't make it very well in Ilia (at least in in rural Ilia) and that he needed to learn to survive out here, to be able to fend for yourself and get food. The old man was going to have to train the priest, and it would probably take a few months, and they have to start today; Ilia truly is a cruel land.
Clouds now dotted the sky as cold weather once again dominated the Ilian climate. Alphonse wore a large coat given to him by the old man; it covered almost all of his body excluding his head and boots.
"Now you want to keep an eye out for any small critters," Fretheim began, the word "critters" seeming out of place to Alphonse. "When you see 'em, you pull out yer knife, run, lung, and into their neck," he played out the entire scenario he had just said with his hands a knife he had swung out.
"Um... alright," Alphonse said in an unsure and confused voice not really knowing what to think of the whole situation he was in. How the hell did I end up here? Why did this all happen? Why, damn it...?
Suddenly the old man tuckered down for a second, holding an arm out across in front of Alphonse and standing in his odd position silently. He sprinted forward towards a tree nearby and leaped crashing down on his knife and thrusting it into the snow. The knife was brought up and back down several times before leaving the bloodstained snow and walking confidently back to Alphonse.
"Quick and silent," he said showing Alphonse a bloody rabbit held up by its ears towards him. "You have to respect nature, for it goes both ways out here."
Alphonse had ignored what he had said after showing him the rabbit, after which he felt sick and could feel his stomach begin to creep up his throat and into his mouth. Fretheim gave him a puzzled and slightly disappointed look as he noticed Alphonse' condition.
"Boy, I know it's hard, but we're just gonna have to push through it." Alphonse nodded, turned, and let go of his stomach letting the contents of it spray into the snow.
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Alphonse
Priest
[M:0]
A flask? Without alcohol?! Blasphemy!
Posts: 73
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Post by Alphonse on May 15, 2011 0:42:30 GMT -6
It had now been a three weeks, or maybe four, Alphonse had really kept track. The old man had been pushing him fairly hard with training him to hunt, with almost seem to break open his emotional tension each day. Every night Alphonse would have to cry himself to sleep before almost over a week when he seemed to have run out of tears to cry. Fretheim was ever patient with him and worked with sedulous when training Alphonse; he seemed to understand his emotional condition but assumed that Alphonse would probably deal with that on his own.
As almost a month of living in Ilia passed by the old man prepared to leave for several days, going into town to trade goods and gather supplies that they may need.
"A book," Alphonse said in a quite voice with his head tilted down.
"A book? What'd mean?" Fretheim asked somewhat confused with Alphonse' request towards him.
"Yes, there's a small church in town is there not? They should have a library, and I'd like you to go there and see if they have anything of interest." The old man nodded his head, making no promises that he would find anything though vowing he would do his best.
Snow started to fall lightly as the old man left him and faded into the foggy horizon. The snow softly pushed backed against Alphonse' feet as he started on his way back to the cabin several yards away. He had little to eat at the house, a squirrel and a rabbit both fairly fresh killings; he would have to hunt for himself. For the time he had been training he had caught only a single squirrel and that was all, though he struggled with it and it ended in a sickening mess Alphonse would rather not think about. Maybe I'll be able to hunt better without Fretheim constantly looking over my shoulder, he thought to himself as he reached the door of the cabin and pushed it open with his shoulder, had on the knob. Or maybe it'll just be more boring around here... hell, it already is deathly boring around here. He continued inside where he took a seat in a chair in front of the fire place and relaxed himself, his head leaning towards the side, a tear running down one cheek.
He couldn't of sat still in there, he had to do something before he committed suicide or starved himself; they're pretty much the same aren't they? It didn't matter, Alphonse had gotten up, grabbed his knife and heaving coat and leapt back outside to practice once more.
The snow had not changed it's pace but it had started to come down thicker. Alphonse made his way to the normal side of the forest that Fretheim had always taken him to. Everything stood in silence, the snow eerily still, pine trees cloaking the ground with branches clinging to snow and sometimes letting it slide off, the small flicker of snow as an animal passed through it. He made his way into the trees and stood completely still, his heart slowing and his breath seemingly absent from him, he listened intently for the slightest rustle and looked for the smallest movement. A rabbit almost playfully jumped through the snow and stopped at the edge of a mound of snow at the edge of a tree. It turned and passed perpendicular to Alphonse, and once it passed it front he struck as fast as he could his blade slipping from beneath his white sleeve. An unpleasant squeal escaped the rabbit as he drove the knife into the rabbits back. Damn it, missed. Alphonse grabbed it by its neck with his thumb on the back of his head and then pulled the knife out of the rabbit and thrust it back into its neck, bending it and finally killing the rabbit.
"Sorry..." he apologized to the corpse with all his honesty, he hated to put it through so much suffering, but it's what he had to do. It was a lucky catch anyways, he'll be surprised if he can make even another catch. Alphonse slipped the rabbit under his coat and continued into the trees.
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