David is an odd man.
For reasons Alexander ignores, the bard—the young enchanter has learned—is persuaded he can help Alexander with the woes that have plagued him for many a too years.
At first, the young enchanter believed it to be the alcohol in David’s system, that caused him to spout such preposterous claims. Yet, now that morning has risen, and that the bard is in Alexander’s kitchen, cooking a big, brown bird they hunted together mere minutes ago, David seems to be even more serious than last night.
Perhaps it was foolish of Alexander to accept his offer: travelling across these lands together, in order to find David’s friends? Although David does not seem like the type to betray others, one can never know who will turn out to be a traitor. The bard could lead him to his old village, where they would take Alexander as a prisoner, or execute him for his crimes.
Which is why Alexander has decided to spend a week with the young man, in order to better assess who he is dealing with here.
It is not a horrendous ordeal—there are men much worse out there than David’s kind. And David does respect Alexander’s boundaries, more so than those dratted spirits the young bard will likely have to face in a day or two. But it is odd, to have someone else in his home, after so long.
The young enchanter sighs. His shoulders slump as he makes his way over to the bard’s side. “You are certain you will not be missed, for an entire week? That is…” Alexander’s stomach growls at the wonderful scent of this man’s cooking. Internally, he curses his body for betraying the serious allure he is attempting to keep. “That is—” the young enchanter brings a fist to his lips, then clears his throat, “quite a long time to be away without warning a soul.”
As Alexander hovers over David’s shoulder to observe the bard’s nimble fingers at work, David glances up to the ceiling with a hum of agreeance. “I guess…” he mutters, “if you have people to warn, yeah. But,” he places water over a makeshift-plate Alexander heated with his magic seconds ago, and waits for it to boil. “The people I would have wanted to speak to before disappearing are missing. So, really, it’s not a problem.”
Ah? Alexander frowns. This man has no lover? he wonders.
And what about family?
His other friends?
A job?
He… has none of those things? Truly?
The young enchanter brings a hand to his chest. He shakes his head. Even though he wants to rejoice in the fact that perhaps, David is like him, Alexander strongly doubts it. Surely, David is alone because he wants to be—or, he is new to this area, and has yet to make the acquaintance of many. Unlike Alexander, who has no choice but to stay in this pitfall of a cave, for the remainder of his sad and lonesome life.
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“Hey,” David’s voice rips the young enchanter away from his thoughts.
The bard waves a hand before Alexander’s face, then kneels to get a better look at his expression. “You okay, there?” he asks Alexander, with both his eyebrows arched up as if he is in pain. “You… looked like you were about to cry.”
“H-huh?” Alexander does not mean for his voice to come out as softly as it does.
He takes a step back. The room is spinning. Although he wants to believe it is because he has not eaten in hours, the young enchanter knows this feeling all too well—his magic wants out.
Now.
He is feeling too much at once. His emotions are a wreck. This is bad. This is definitely, extremely, dangerous, and either David shouldn’t be around Alexander right now, or, Alexander, should not be around David.
“Excuse me,” Alexander mutters, as he swiftly marches out of his cave, toward the nearest body of water he can find, without ever looking back once.
His heartbeat pounds ugly warnings inside his eardrums—a reminder of why he initially left his village.
Because I only bring harm to others.
Because whenever something goes wrong, these wretched powers that live within me always beg to be set free.
And I cannot stop them. I cannot order them to cease, like all great mages do—for I am weak.
Alexander dips his feet into the river, then, his hands, too.
The young enchanter screams as his skin begins to burn, and turns chilled liquids into steam. And how he wishes he were not so angry with the world—with himself—all of the time. It would spare him greatly from this misery.
At least, he thinks to himself, if anything, I have managed to avoid hurting David.
Or, so, Alexander wanted to believe. Because when David runs out of the cavern to trace Alexander’s steps—when he stops before the young enchanter, bends over panting, with both his palms splayed across his knees—Alexander does not realize he is dealing with the bard, at first.
The young enchanter brings his arm over his chest to protect himself. He strikes out at David with a brief flash of iridescent light.
The sound of flesh being burned fills the once quiet and peaceful morning air.
David falls to his knees with a miserable thump. He brings his knees toward his stomach and recoils in on himself. The bard holds his injured hand and begs for mercy. He shouts obscenities, until his throat is dry, and all he can manage anymore are small whimpers, pitiful cries, before he passes out from the pain.
Alexander feels that most of his magic has been emptied with this one strike, however, now, he has a whole other problem to deal with.
The young enchanter rises from the water. As the stream’s sound brushes past his ears, he stares down at his hands, that have also been stripped of their skin. If he were not used to pain, it is likely he would have gone down, too, as David did.
The good news, is that the enchanter is a master at healing these types of wounds. However... Alexander bites his lip. He has never tried this before—healing two people in the same hour. And it is likely most of his magic will not obey with how little energy the young enchanter has left.
Alexander’s chest tightens.
He already, instinctively knows what he must do.
For it would not be fair, he thinks, as he steps over to check on the fainted bard, and ignores the searing pain that throbs throughout his fingertips.
It would not be fair, if David had to suffer, because of my mistakes.