#{/Orbas is the kid mentioned in his novella; his friend he was crushing on}

[blindedguilt]

//So that essay I did. I ended up writing VERY VERY thinly veiled DOD fanfiction for the prompt which was basically “Write a first-person initiation into adulthood based off one of the stories in the textbook and a comparative essay between the two after” and so I ended up bullshitting the essay only reading the stories after I made the narrative lol i got a 96/100 anyways //I figured as it was about everyone’s favourite bilf of the bog that I’d post it here, but... //Reminder: This is my first time really solidly writing in first person since I was like nine, so it may be a bit rocky. First person is NOT my area of expertise lol //And ofc obvious trigger warnings for mentions of paedophilia and stuff (Nothing explicit though, of course!) //Enjoy!

“...And we’ll be married. You’ll see.” “I never saw you speak to each other.” “I said, you’ll see.”

So the banter had gone by so frequently then, and now stood I alongside his wife and his child, and mother on the other side, staring at the curves of his face and how it had thinned, still soft and child-like yet aged and grown in such a way none could have explained by any normal means. Perhaps, then, it was in the sight of those definitively unchanging eyes and how they gleamed the same way under the sun that had caught my attention, and in turn, his, and he turned to look back with some strange sadness that I had averted my gaze in some feeling between either abashedness or fear of any hint of understanding to be held. “...Why her?” “Her? Leonard, look at her.” “I do see her.” “Don’t you? You hardly even looked. Well…” “She… Is kind, isn’t she?” “Yes! And one day, I will make her my bride.” And so the village men had gone and lined up near the forest break on the army’s cart, the showing of the backs of their unnaturally cut hair settling an odd knot in the stomachs of I and who I was certain, the other few men who stayed behind. Orbas’s hair had been a similar length of the day I met him, so I had recalled, though the ends were splayed and framed that once pale neck in such a way that reminded me of the small leaves of a flaxen bush or perhaps a spring tree, though there was one small, favorite piece that strayed off the side of his face — His son, such a small child, had already inherited it — And so he had frequently kept tied and twined with the same strip of leather worn by men and women here. For Orbas, it was no more. I had thought to pick up his son at that moment; for his sake, his father’s sake, and as well my own. Near four and almost the same image as his father, that I had at times troubled myself in remembering his mother, and to see and grant his father’s own personal wishes of caring for that stray hair in his place (So as I had when we were mere boys), tying the silk strands in place, to have “him” so completely and totally reliant on me, it was comforting. The feel of the warmth from such a small body, held in my arms and placed against my own, the grip of small hands pulling against my cloak, was comforting. It was wish fulfillment, in a way. The circumstances in which we had met were entirely on Orbas’s own will. How he darted so confidently up to the smithing corner with frail legs that seemed ready to snap under his own weight, and I, feeble and feminine in mind as he was in body, having apparently gained some semblance leaning towards haughty self-bravado thought, ‘What does this mad fool think he’s doing? Who does he think he is?’ and was only further driven in such convictions when he spoke as if we had never once been strangers before. For Orbas, all it took was a single conversation —  And still, for all the good I’ve come to speak and feel for him, I think not once have I changed in my belief that he was completely mad that day in having tossed all pride aside to speak to the mollified mute of Atheren. 

He had dragged me from my crafts, introduced me to friends who would soon become my own, and had not once ceased for a day after to visit me in my practice there. Father was pleased at first, until he wasn’t, as I had gone from smithing and not speaking to speaking and not smithing, and following his harsh, booming rebuke towards the shaken lad as I could only offer my embarrassed gaze lowered towards the dirt, and bits of green with hints of metal in-between, he would come every other day instead. When we went out, with others or by ourselves as we later had, it had always been Orbas there to lead the way, the conversation, to give directions and warnings unless I knew better in my caution, to where I would try to speak — But I was merely a follower. I have always been, a fact with no shame in admitting and a fate I would think to show no more than indifferent contentment towards. “Why me?” I had asked. Another walk. “We never spoke before.” “Can you keep a secret?” I nodded. Something in my heart fluttered and leapt with those words. “Well… Haven’t you seen yourself?” Something must have been spoken in my silence as confusion or hurt in a way he didn’t need to look over his shoulder to see, prompting him to explain. “You never spoke to the adults or children your age, but only the animals and infants lost by their mothers. You panicked, but always found them home. We saw it. We all did, then, you know.” “...” “When you saw a fly being eaten by a spider, you would take a stick to it and try to ward it off. If you couldn’t reach, you’d find somewhere else to go that you didn’t have to hear it. Your father yelled at you because you had trouble baiting a fish hook. Other children… Normal boys, at least, we saw it and laughed. You, already bigger than the rest of us and yet hardly able to look anyone in the eyes. The girls fancied it, though, called you a gentleman and all, and so one day I thought, ‘I wonder if there’s someone he’s trying to impress with all this?’ and I began to get curious.” “No. I… I’m not trying to impress anyone.” “Well you certainly are when you follow every stupid order I give you.” I stared at the back of his head. A few more steps, and he peered over his shoulder at me, whatever look I wore causing those soft lips to curl up into a laugh. “There has to be someone.” “... There isn’t, honest.” “Say who. We can help you, Leonard, and you’re set to be wed before any of us. Haven’t you always spoken about wanting children? Yours and mine can be friends, and your sons will be older and teach my sons all about everything, just like us!” Something in those words had risen and tightened the back of my throat, and I spoke as I did back then, before I met him — Unable to look him in the eye, look at him at all, and my voice had grown so faint the sound had barely reached my own ears. “It is a secret. That is all.” … And as the years passed, that secret and I grew up and spent our years together, the “Secret” got married at fifteen, and I was sixteen, except he had grown out of being a “Secret”, and once I did, I thought to myself, “I am free” —  But I never did find a wife. When the friends of my childhood pointed them out, “That one’s pretty”, “I spoke to her, she is interested in you”, I only could only ever offer another soulless nod along to the increasingly agitated and growing band of married men, all who later had their sons I loved and adored just as I would have my own, and some had daughters, too. In that same year Orbas had gotten married, I moved on to another secret picking berries in the woods, another fixation skinning their knee on the ground, but after him, I never knew it as I did then — “Such a thing would be impossible,” I always told myself — And I continued life as a blacksmith’s son, a follower, and a coward to the war that brought itself to our town in search of new hands for slaughter. “Security” had been the word spoken to me that day, who chose to stay behind (The child incapable of baiting a fish hook or accepting nature in near all its form), in contrast to him, whose bravery sought the peace of the world, the heads of red-eyed monsters, all the glory and fame reflected back the small village of Atheren, even at risk of his own family, foraged and built. A family, one woman and her four year-old son, unable to fend for themselves. Once again he acted in a way that any madman might, entrusting his sole unmarried friend to care for a wife and son in his absence, and then again, perhaps not mad — Explicitly had he stated his trust with a laugh in that I had come “This far” without any luck, and furthermore went to cite our own, personal trust we had built in each other — He knew they would be fine because he simply knew me. Always the protector, and where I never did find a wife, I made my home among the children of the village. And as the cart started away through the woods with a forward jerk, and Obros, the sweetness grown out of his face, looked over his shoulder at me, his tiny son held in my arms, and smiled with that worried look, I smiled back. I gave him a nod in reassurance, and he slipped through that canopy of pine and birch and away towards war beyond. It’s alright now. Now, I am fine. He’ll be alright. He’ll be alright. It’s okay, because now, I’ve finally found someone. Someone I love, just as I loved you. It was a secret.

#||Relevant|| #{/I wanted to post this yesterday but ended up playing DOD1 instead and fell asleep immediately after at 3AM....} #{/Would this count as that one remake of his novella I always talked about writing? MAYBE; ACTUALLY???} #{/it was never intended to be but now that i think about it; i always did intend it to be something somewhat like this} #{/Perhaps less written in a retrospective tone as much as silhouettes into different parts of his life; but...} #{/The crush on his best friend's son was (gonna???) be present in that too. XD} #{/Orbas is the kid mentioned in his novella; his friend he was crushing on} #{/ofc; it wasn't so much his crushing on his friend as a kid that bothered me in the novella as the direction they took it in...} #{/I thought it was pretty neat; if anything!!! and with certain ~details~ about Leonard's character told in Mag Neg (heh heh) I wanted to} #{/make him a bit of an asshole... sure; he DID mean well 80% of the time but when he was a kid he was a condescending jerk LMAOOOOO} #{/His name was taken off the demon Orobas; who's said to appear as a.... Lemme check} #{/From the site used to find his name: He appears both as a small unusual looking dark-haired man or a boy with medium blonde ring curls} #{/So there ya have it. XD} #{/I hope it was alright!!}