The seventy-first day of Summer, 513 A.V.
The sun had set a good while ago, leaving behind an inky, thick sort of darkness that clung to itself, creating a thick blanket of hushed night all around the many cabins of the Warrens. In the distance could be heard the lonely howls of some wandering beast as it stalked the frozen tundra beyond the safety of Avanthal's walls, but Meville paid the noise no heed. His mind was entirely focused upon a small blotch of rusty brown on the floor directly in front of him. He sat there, upon the chilly wooden planks of the floor, with both hands placed firmly upon the ground, shoulders hunched and back rounded. His breathing came in irregular gasps, as if he could no longer subconsciously control the inflow and outflow of air without purposefully choosing to do so. Sweat beaded at his temples as his lips moved fervently, making slight clicking noises. His eyes, fixed upon the spot, quivered slightly, shifting marginally to the left and right. Despite the chill of the room around him, Meville found his body unnaturally warm.
He coughed, gagging on his lack of air, pushing his weight onto his hands and staring straight down at the grain of the wood beneath him. A few drops of sweat dangled from his eyelashes until they splattered onto wood, marring it. Meville grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, shaking with the effort required to hold himself up as the coughing continued. He tried holding his breath, but it couldn't stop the wracking convulsions that took him over as he wretched up his dinner.
Eventually, he was able to sit back on his heels and wipe his mouth with his arm, wanting to throw up again to get the taste of out of his mouth. He waited, not knowing what to do now that the intense wave of sickness had finally passed. Meville figured he should clean things up, wash out his mouth, address the problem... Anything to busy himself from the nothing he was currently doing. When he tried to do so, his body seemed to refuse his wishes, choosing instead remain even more dormant than before if that was even possible. Move. Move, gods damn it, move!
Finally, with agonizing slowness, he managed to stagger to his feet as a soft vertigo caused him to sway. A moan gurgled out of his throat, forcing him to spit out more bile into the pool in front of him as he moved a hand over his eyes and pressed on his brow to relieve the tension of his headache. As his feet shuffled across the floor, narrowly missing the mess he'd left, his toes collided with several glass bottles that clanked and cracked together as he passed, causing him to wince at the sudden cacophony.
"Gods damn it, Meville! Why can't you ever control that clumsy gait you call a walk?!"
He coughed again, leaning against the cool wood of the wall until the fit passed and he was able to move forward once more. His sweat had chilled now, causing him to shiver as his feet scooted along the smooth planks below him. He felt the cold press against his exposed skin, smoothing itself over his chest and legs like an unwelcome caress. Finally he came to the water basin where he weakly tumbled to his knees and wretched once more into the stone container. Clumsily, Meville groped around for the water pitcher bumping it enough that the biting nip of the liquid splashed out onto his fingers. He gasped in surprise, pulling his hand back before carefully feeling for the pitcher's handle until it was firmly in his grasp.
As the water poured over his face and into his mouth, relieving the bitter taste of what had once been the contents of his stomach, Meville coughed again, inhaling some of the liquid in the process. The pitcher fell into the basin, splashing about in the diluted substance inside as Meville pressed his hands against his temples to relieve the pressing headache that seemed to be splitting his mind in two. "Stop it. Just... Just stop.... I can't..."
A slow bubble of laughter leaked from between his paler than usual lips. His shoulders bounced up and down as his hands fell limp on either side of the basin. Meville's face twisted into a disgusted grin as the laughter grew and grew, aggravating the painful throb of his head to a near unbearable state. "Can't what, boy?" He cleched his right hand into a fist and slammed it down onto the side of the basin, sending the water he'd spilled at the beginning flying in all directions. "Tomas, stop it. Stop it right-" Meville shoved himself into a standing position, gripping the sides of the basin tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "How dare you, you impetuous little piece of shyke?!"
He coughed again, slumping slightly while maintaining the death-grip on the basin. "Wh-what?" He clenched his teeth, shaking with the effort it took to stand. "Why... Why do you always do that?" His voice was quiet - whispered but brimming with vehement hatred. "Wh-what?" He ripped his hands from the basin and slammed them down on its sides. "You mock her!" Meville screamed the words, slamming his fist again, panting now. "I don't-"
He yelled, his voice cracking in a furious battle shout as he crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down the corners of his eyes. "Die you petching parasite!" His voice escalated higher and higher. "Die! Die! Die die die!" At the final word, Meville broke into a fit of coughing once more. The rattling sound eventually faded, leaving him whimpering and sputtering on the ground where he lay. "Die..."
Common | Vani
