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An Angel's Respite (Chapter Nineteen)
Wood.
Alexander needed to get wood, does he remember why? No, maybe it was that he really didn't need it at all—but what did it really matter? If Alexander said it was to get away from Hester that would be the truth just not one he was ready to admit. Luckily that plan failed flawlessly.
Because Hester tagged along.
He didn't really care, but the monsters sure did. They kept pestering on and on about they're opinions, which usually contradict one another. Alexander found it slightly entertaining watching them squabble at each other while dragging his feet to the much bigger but farther away forest. He slid down the dip in the middle going below into the forest. Ignoring Hester behind him trailing like Alexander had forced him at knife point to be there—which he most certainly did not.
Alexander walked farther in finding a medium size tree and began swinging at it with far more aggression than what was necessary—he didn't even know why he was so angry all of a sudden. Like a weed sprouted uncontrolled and wild, leaving Alexander to pull at it endlessly until he either snapped it or pulled the thing fully out of the ground—neither of which was happening.
He heard Hester behind him, the same rhythmic thuds of his axe hitting a different tree. Alexander heared the crunch of the axe being ripped out of the bark and the thud of it being sent right back into it.
Alexander lifted the sharpened axe and swung again—this time with more of the grace of someone trying to chop a tree down and not one trying to attack it. Hester had told him that when he was teaching him a little while ago, 'and mostly you should probably just not cut down trees anymore mate'—he had said it slyly and malicious then, but Alexander didn't see it as being rude, he hadn't even commented on Alexander's prosthetic which was more than any person had ever done before.
Thud, a few more swings and this stubborn tree would fall, Alexander wiped his brow, taking a small breath before gripping the hilt of the hatchet tighter. Before Hester came, chopping trees was one of Alexander's favorite pastimes, there was nothing really to do out in the mountains and he usually over succeeded in most of his household chores. Some days taking as much wood as he could carry and collapses onto his bed. Now with Hester around, he had to walk to this forest and collect wood from here instead, to let the forest next to his home heal itself again.
Alexander sighted as the monsters whispered snickering to themselves, even though Alexander knew that wasn't true. They always wanted his attention Alexander could have ignored it, but.
Why did they have to be so loud?
Thud, the jolt of the axe momentarily stopped Hester before letting his consciousness drift back into his work. Hearing Alexander swinging somewhere in front of him, he ripped the axe out and pulled the weight behind him again.
The silence being the one of the worst sounds Hester had ever heard. No birds, or bugs, deers or even rabbits, it was like the whole world was avoiding him—maybe they were.
Maybe I just should have stayed with Wilbur.
Hester thought disappointed, but then a small intrusive thought found its way and Hester couldn't shake it off. Maybe I should have never left to begin with. Once the idea found its way into his head, it stuck—it was a horrible thought, and it made no sense at all and for one terrifying second Hester thought it might have well been true others wormed their way into his head too, he shook his head as if trying to knock them loose to no avail, he tried to ignore it.
I should just leave.
He raised the axe again, lining it up to the tree.
I should never have come here.
He lifted the weapon, breath quickening with anticipation.
This is all my fault, why did I have to leave—?
The axe halted mid-air cutting short the idea hanging on every thought , and questioned each intent it had alone with it.
Hester blinking drowsley up like he had just woken up from a long rest, his eyes blurred with tears—not ones with anger or sadness, but fear. Fear of losing someone, perhaps someone already long gone.
In one moment of weakness, he let himself slip.
Being tired of being afraid, he let anger take over his mind letting violence and hostility replace it instead. Carelessly swinging the sharp blade on the tree. Hester didn't notice but he was shaking, from the cold or maybe anger, it didn't matter. Because in that split second, he lost his footing and fell on his back, wings spreading out trying to catch the wind with his wings failing as a small yelp escaped as he went backwards hitting the forest floor, the little amount of air he still had in his lungs being knocked out of him as he stared confused for a moment, at the sky.
The treetops spun above him as he tried and failed to regain movement in his arms. Assuming the spots that he sees would only worsen if he got up, still pathetically tried. Scrubbing away tears from his face with an inconveniently damp hand, feeling the bite of the cold return and—wait why is my hand burning? Confused, Hester lifted his hand to his eyes, finding his answer.
A gash from the palm of his hand to the middle and inside of his forearm, Hester realizing the extent of his injury looking to the axe a few feet away once shiny now droplets of red speckled the surface, as the intentional shock wears off and the pain reveals itself. He sat up slightly trying to apply pressure to the wound involuntary writhing slightly and biting back a curse. Feeling the hot burning of the cut encapsulating his arm.
Why did it have to hurt so much?
Thud, Alexander ignoring the all-too familiar murmurs of the monsters as he grabbed the axe back from the tree, them whispering not even trying to keep the enthusiasm from their voices but instead taunting Alexander with it, none of them he listened to, he had learned to tune it out the first million times, still it didn't stop him from hearing the excitement and anticipation, like an audience eagerly waiting for a play to start.
Sighing, half resigned from collecting wood he lifted the silver hatchet about to swing, he heard a yell. Jolting him out of his tired trance making him survey the area around him. Remembering he wasn't alone in these woods and anxiously searched for Hester or as the monsters had creative called him 'the bird' stopping momentarily looking back to the tree wanting to past it off as him hearing things, but by then it was too late, they had started taunting again.
«»«»«»«»«»
Do you think that was the bird?
Maybe we should help, if it was.
He can handle himself just fine, he doesn't need you anyway.
We need to protect him!
«»«»«»«»«»
The final remark became an ear splitting migraine as Alexander slowly straps the axe back to his back and walks back to the last place he saw Hester, pushing past the low hanging branches from his view, finding and asking Hester only if it would make the monsters shut up.
"Um, Hester are you alr—"
Then he saw the blood, and there was a lot. He closed his eyes and bowed his head at the scene in front of him, but by then it was too late again. The monsters began to sing.
«»«»«»«»«»
Finally, something interesting!
He's bleeding! This is what we've been waiting for!
Poor birdy, he'll make a great meal.
Rip him apart!
Can't we kill someone else?
«»«»«»«»«»
Damn it, Alexander almost forgot how excited they get when they see blood, something weak and breakable—like his neck—one says anticipation rising as Alexander tries to process what to do. He rummaged through his beg. Trying to keep away from the scene and keep his eyes from wandering back to the disaster. The bag was a small satchel he kept under his cloak hanging on his hip, seeing if he could find anything useful—thankfully finding some wrapping and a remedy inside.
Still not looking at the carnage he silently threw the bandages and gently placed the bottle on the snow. The monsters were too loud to stay anywhere near Hester for right now.
He heard Hester scramble to get the bandages then made a sound of protest when Alexander began to walk away, keeping his gaze low and far from Hester, as the monsters chimed in rage and disapproval from Alexander's reaction.
«»«»«»«»«»
Oh, how the mighty have fallen so.
«»«»«»«»«»
Alexander wishes the comment hurt a little more than what it really did, he wished he could leave, he wished he wanted to leave, maybe find a new mountain, somewhere far, far away—and another part of him is proud he could help without really having to hurt something. He didn't need to hurt someone to help another. It was nice, even if the monsters disagree.
If only they weren't so loud, what could I really do then?
Hester scrambled trying to grab the bandages like someone was about to take it from him, in the process him ruining the pristine snow blood staining and breaking it as he moved, his wings feeling like the embodiment of frostbite taking the bandages and started wrapping it around his arm the blood immediately seeping through in spots. Hester knew it was horrible—the wrappings—it was uneven and could easily come undone but at least he wouldn't blood out.
The throbbing subsided slightly reaching for a small jar with a yellow almost clear looking liquid, something to ease the pain, maybe? Hester uncorked it and slowly tipped a drop on two of his fingers on his well hand and rubbed it in.
The pain stopped leaving a numbing feeling almost tingling like his arm had fallen asleep but he could handle it. Picking up the new bloody axe wiping it clean he looked around for Alexander, he was here a few seconds ago, why did he leave?
Does he hate me that much?
Hester turned back looking at the carnage and realized, no Hester thought, worried it's the voices.
Hester didn't even know what to do after that, should he look for him? Or, would he not even be himself by the time he gets there? Hester shivered at the thought then realized he was also shivering from the cold and pulled his cloak closer to his face, pulling himself up from the ground with a little difficulty without using his injured arm.
The wind blew slightly towards Hester as he wandered cautiously from tree to tree looking for Alexander—and finding him, not some monster with blood stained hands or a murderous smile. Just a kid? Hester knew better than to call it that but Alexander sat on the cold forest floor with his cloak wrapped closely to himself cross-legged, he really eerily represented a child. Hester probably would have missed him if he wasn't paying close attention.
Alexander sat on the snow, his back to a big pine tree one with no more interesting features than any other tree in the forest they were both in. He was looking down at his lap with his hands in them either not noticing or ignoring Hester as he sat on the other side of the trunk, back to it as well letting his wings wrap lightly around himself to save the little warmth he had left.
He didn't speak.
Not a single word, not a peep, the silence was comfortable but something was different—there was an edge to it like something was wrong but as always—Hester couldn't find what.
Alexander took a breath in, relaxing more, sitting cross legged looking to his hands like they held the secrets to the universe in them. Hester, never noticing the shift, shook the snow off his wings dismissively until seeing what Alexander was looking at, not his hands—his hand—more accurately his metal prosthetic, scratched and nicked, looking like it had seen better days. Alexander lost in his own head—as Hester could only assume—being lost in the past for a moment.
The feeling was known from both of them.
Even after everything, he could understand it. Being lost in the past, dreams turning to memories feeling like you're walking through murky water—then they turn to nightmares. Hester didn't know if Alexander knew he was there or maybe the voices were too loud? Could they even get too loud?
He stayed though, as the world still moved, as the sun stopped for no one, the clouds still rolling by.
Nothing stayed for Alexander.
Except for Hester.
Alexander blinked as if waking from a long rest, he didn't say anything to Hester as he got up shaking off the snow and walked away.
Hester didn't know if he was disappointed or excited.
The feeling was mutual.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art by stormymp on DeviantArt
Look, I know you probably don't care about these little notes, but it is currently 11:44pm I don't where I am or what is happening but I like how I used onomatopoeias to create transitions I guess, I took inspiration from an AO3 story I'll try to find it and post it here, have a great night I'm going to bed now. (・–・;)
© Unavailable
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Alexander needed to get wood, does he remember why? No, maybe it was that he really didn't need it at all—but what did it really matter? If Alexander said it was to get away from Hester that would be the truth just not one he was ready to admit. Luckily that plan failed flawlessly.
Because Hester tagged along.
He didn't really care, but the monsters sure did. They kept pestering on and on about they're opinions, which usually contradict one another. Alexander found it slightly entertaining watching them squabble at each other while dragging his feet to the much bigger but farther away forest. He slid down the dip in the middle going below into the forest. Ignoring Hester behind him trailing like Alexander had forced him at knife point to be there—which he most certainly did not.
Alexander walked farther in finding a medium size tree and began swinging at it with far more aggression than what was necessary—he didn't even know why he was so angry all of a sudden. Like a weed sprouted uncontrolled and wild, leaving Alexander to pull at it endlessly until he either snapped it or pulled the thing fully out of the ground—neither of which was happening.
He heard Hester behind him, the same rhythmic thuds of his axe hitting a different tree. Alexander heared the crunch of the axe being ripped out of the bark and the thud of it being sent right back into it.
Alexander lifted the sharpened axe and swung again—this time with more of the grace of someone trying to chop a tree down and not one trying to attack it. Hester had told him that when he was teaching him a little while ago, 'and mostly you should probably just not cut down trees anymore mate'—he had said it slyly and malicious then, but Alexander didn't see it as being rude, he hadn't even commented on Alexander's prosthetic which was more than any person had ever done before.
Thud, a few more swings and this stubborn tree would fall, Alexander wiped his brow, taking a small breath before gripping the hilt of the hatchet tighter. Before Hester came, chopping trees was one of Alexander's favorite pastimes, there was nothing really to do out in the mountains and he usually over succeeded in most of his household chores. Some days taking as much wood as he could carry and collapses onto his bed. Now with Hester around, he had to walk to this forest and collect wood from here instead, to let the forest next to his home heal itself again.
Alexander sighted as the monsters whispered snickering to themselves, even though Alexander knew that wasn't true. They always wanted his attention Alexander could have ignored it, but.
Why did they have to be so loud?
Thud, the jolt of the axe momentarily stopped Hester before letting his consciousness drift back into his work. Hearing Alexander swinging somewhere in front of him, he ripped the axe out and pulled the weight behind him again.
The silence being the one of the worst sounds Hester had ever heard. No birds, or bugs, deers or even rabbits, it was like the whole world was avoiding him—maybe they were.
Maybe I just should have stayed with Wilbur.
Hester thought disappointed, but then a small intrusive thought found its way and Hester couldn't shake it off. Maybe I should have never left to begin with. Once the idea found its way into his head, it stuck—it was a horrible thought, and it made no sense at all and for one terrifying second Hester thought it might have well been true others wormed their way into his head too, he shook his head as if trying to knock them loose to no avail, he tried to ignore it.
I should just leave.
He raised the axe again, lining it up to the tree.
I should never have come here.
He lifted the weapon, breath quickening with anticipation.
This is all my fault, why did I have to leave—?
The axe halted mid-air cutting short the idea hanging on every thought , and questioned each intent it had alone with it.
Hester blinking drowsley up like he had just woken up from a long rest, his eyes blurred with tears—not ones with anger or sadness, but fear. Fear of losing someone, perhaps someone already long gone.
In one moment of weakness, he let himself slip.
Being tired of being afraid, he let anger take over his mind letting violence and hostility replace it instead. Carelessly swinging the sharp blade on the tree. Hester didn't notice but he was shaking, from the cold or maybe anger, it didn't matter. Because in that split second, he lost his footing and fell on his back, wings spreading out trying to catch the wind with his wings failing as a small yelp escaped as he went backwards hitting the forest floor, the little amount of air he still had in his lungs being knocked out of him as he stared confused for a moment, at the sky.
The treetops spun above him as he tried and failed to regain movement in his arms. Assuming the spots that he sees would only worsen if he got up, still pathetically tried. Scrubbing away tears from his face with an inconveniently damp hand, feeling the bite of the cold return and—wait why is my hand burning? Confused, Hester lifted his hand to his eyes, finding his answer.
A gash from the palm of his hand to the middle and inside of his forearm, Hester realizing the extent of his injury looking to the axe a few feet away once shiny now droplets of red speckled the surface, as the intentional shock wears off and the pain reveals itself. He sat up slightly trying to apply pressure to the wound involuntary writhing slightly and biting back a curse. Feeling the hot burning of the cut encapsulating his arm.
Why did it have to hurt so much?
Thud, Alexander ignoring the all-too familiar murmurs of the monsters as he grabbed the axe back from the tree, them whispering not even trying to keep the enthusiasm from their voices but instead taunting Alexander with it, none of them he listened to, he had learned to tune it out the first million times, still it didn't stop him from hearing the excitement and anticipation, like an audience eagerly waiting for a play to start.
Sighing, half resigned from collecting wood he lifted the silver hatchet about to swing, he heard a yell. Jolting him out of his tired trance making him survey the area around him. Remembering he wasn't alone in these woods and anxiously searched for Hester or as the monsters had creative called him 'the bird' stopping momentarily looking back to the tree wanting to past it off as him hearing things, but by then it was too late, they had started taunting again.
«»«»«»«»«»
Do you think that was the bird?
Maybe we should help, if it was.
He can handle himself just fine, he doesn't need you anyway.
We need to protect him!
«»«»«»«»«»
The final remark became an ear splitting migraine as Alexander slowly straps the axe back to his back and walks back to the last place he saw Hester, pushing past the low hanging branches from his view, finding and asking Hester only if it would make the monsters shut up.
"Um, Hester are you alr—"
Then he saw the blood, and there was a lot. He closed his eyes and bowed his head at the scene in front of him, but by then it was too late again. The monsters began to sing.
«»«»«»«»«»
Finally, something interesting!
He's bleeding! This is what we've been waiting for!
Poor birdy, he'll make a great meal.
Rip him apart!
Can't we kill someone else?
«»«»«»«»«»
Damn it, Alexander almost forgot how excited they get when they see blood, something weak and breakable—like his neck—one says anticipation rising as Alexander tries to process what to do. He rummaged through his beg. Trying to keep away from the scene and keep his eyes from wandering back to the disaster. The bag was a small satchel he kept under his cloak hanging on his hip, seeing if he could find anything useful—thankfully finding some wrapping and a remedy inside.
Still not looking at the carnage he silently threw the bandages and gently placed the bottle on the snow. The monsters were too loud to stay anywhere near Hester for right now.
He heard Hester scramble to get the bandages then made a sound of protest when Alexander began to walk away, keeping his gaze low and far from Hester, as the monsters chimed in rage and disapproval from Alexander's reaction.
«»«»«»«»«»
Oh, how the mighty have fallen so.
«»«»«»«»«»
Alexander wishes the comment hurt a little more than what it really did, he wished he could leave, he wished he wanted to leave, maybe find a new mountain, somewhere far, far away—and another part of him is proud he could help without really having to hurt something. He didn't need to hurt someone to help another. It was nice, even if the monsters disagree.
If only they weren't so loud, what could I really do then?
Hester scrambled trying to grab the bandages like someone was about to take it from him, in the process him ruining the pristine snow blood staining and breaking it as he moved, his wings feeling like the embodiment of frostbite taking the bandages and started wrapping it around his arm the blood immediately seeping through in spots. Hester knew it was horrible—the wrappings—it was uneven and could easily come undone but at least he wouldn't blood out.
The throbbing subsided slightly reaching for a small jar with a yellow almost clear looking liquid, something to ease the pain, maybe? Hester uncorked it and slowly tipped a drop on two of his fingers on his well hand and rubbed it in.
The pain stopped leaving a numbing feeling almost tingling like his arm had fallen asleep but he could handle it. Picking up the new bloody axe wiping it clean he looked around for Alexander, he was here a few seconds ago, why did he leave?
Does he hate me that much?
Hester turned back looking at the carnage and realized, no Hester thought, worried it's the voices.
Hester didn't even know what to do after that, should he look for him? Or, would he not even be himself by the time he gets there? Hester shivered at the thought then realized he was also shivering from the cold and pulled his cloak closer to his face, pulling himself up from the ground with a little difficulty without using his injured arm.
The wind blew slightly towards Hester as he wandered cautiously from tree to tree looking for Alexander—and finding him, not some monster with blood stained hands or a murderous smile. Just a kid? Hester knew better than to call it that but Alexander sat on the cold forest floor with his cloak wrapped closely to himself cross-legged, he really eerily represented a child. Hester probably would have missed him if he wasn't paying close attention.
Alexander sat on the snow, his back to a big pine tree one with no more interesting features than any other tree in the forest they were both in. He was looking down at his lap with his hands in them either not noticing or ignoring Hester as he sat on the other side of the trunk, back to it as well letting his wings wrap lightly around himself to save the little warmth he had left.
He didn't speak.
Not a single word, not a peep, the silence was comfortable but something was different—there was an edge to it like something was wrong but as always—Hester couldn't find what.
Alexander took a breath in, relaxing more, sitting cross legged looking to his hands like they held the secrets to the universe in them. Hester, never noticing the shift, shook the snow off his wings dismissively until seeing what Alexander was looking at, not his hands—his hand—more accurately his metal prosthetic, scratched and nicked, looking like it had seen better days. Alexander lost in his own head—as Hester could only assume—being lost in the past for a moment.
The feeling was known from both of them.
Even after everything, he could understand it. Being lost in the past, dreams turning to memories feeling like you're walking through murky water—then they turn to nightmares. Hester didn't know if Alexander knew he was there or maybe the voices were too loud? Could they even get too loud?
He stayed though, as the world still moved, as the sun stopped for no one, the clouds still rolling by.
Nothing stayed for Alexander.
Except for Hester.
Alexander blinked as if waking from a long rest, he didn't say anything to Hester as he got up shaking off the snow and walked away.
Hester didn't know if he was disappointed or excited.
The feeling was mutual.
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
Art by stormymp on DeviantArt
Look, I know you probably don't care about these little notes, but it is currently 11:44pm I don't where I am or what is happening but I like how I used onomatopoeias to create transitions I guess, I took inspiration from an AO3 story I'll try to find it and post it here, have a great night I'm going to bed now. (・–・;)
© Unavailable
[[]][[]][[]][[]][[]]
