31, Fall 519 AV
Sometimes, Baelin’s gotta think that there’s something sincerely wrong with him. Ever since he’d seen the neighbor’s kid―beaten and bruised―drag his father back to their apartment only chimes after the drunk asshole had beaten him… Baelin hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. It seemed like every time his mind would wander, it’d circle back to that kid.
It wasn’t right. Sunberth was a lousy place to be a kid.
But what could Baelin do about it? It wasn’t like there was an Omen he could notify. Petch, even Syliras and Ravok had their own version of peace keepers, but here in Sunberth? What recourse did anyone have here, the gangs? That was so unsettling it was almost laughable.
Shyke, he’d been so lucky growing up, and he’d never even realized it.
It ate at him; guilt that he hadn’t done anything to fix it. And shame that it must still be going on. While his neighbor’s apartment had been quieter since that night, Baelin couldn’t imagine the issue would have just miraculously went away. That’d be naïve.
Which was why he had started spending the nights after that encounter lying awake in bed, listening for every little sound coming from his neighbor’s apartment. And―after a few all-too-sleepless nights―he’d decided to go outside and breath some fresh, nighttime air.
It was then that he saw the reason why it’d gotten so quiet next door.
The kid had been right there outside. Out of sight and perhaps out of mind from his abusive father, the kid had leaned casually against the outside wall of his apartment, scraping at a piece of wood with a small knife.
Baelin had stared for longer than should have, and the kid had eventually looked up and asked what he’d wanted. With no answer to give him, Baelin had turned around on his heel and gone right back inside.
Definitely not one of his better moments.
But it had least spared him the sleepless nights. Because now he could just pop his head outside, check that the kid was outside whittling away, and then go to bed secure in the knowledge that―at least for now―there’d be no abuse to overhear. It was a habit that was absurd to have developed in the first part. But Baelin had.
And―as unhealthy as the habit might be―he was now resolved to enable it even further. Baelin sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a block of softwood and his new knife. The knife had been easy to get―just a quick purchase where he worked. But for the wood, he’d ended up buying scrap softwood lumber. Pine, if the seller could be believed. Baelin wasn’t really sure what it actually was, but―whatever the wood was―he could dent it with his fingernail. Which should hopefully make it easier to carve up.
Yeah… This was a bad idea.
But―bad idea or no―he was determined to do it. Then at least he could tell himself that he was doing something. No one seemed to be lining up to take this kid in; he didn’t have the same kind of good luck Baelin had had when he’d been a boy. If Baelin was ever going to hope to repay back that debt, he needed to man up and be better.
Baelin pushed off of the bed and crossed his room. He hesitated for just a tick at the door, fingers twitching over the handle. Hissing through clenched teeth, he snatched the handle and shoved the door open
Same as the nights before, the kid was outside. He didn’t look up from where he was working a knife against wood, but Baelin got the distinct impression that the kid had his ears trained on him.
Pulling in a careful, slow breath, Baelin shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He switched the knife to his right hand, held up the softwood lumber scrap, and set the edge of the blade down on the surface.
He had no idea what to do; didn’t really have any pressing interest in whittling either. But he did want this kid to think that there were people out there who’d step in if things got out of hand at home again. No way was Baelin the best person for that job, but… there had to be at least someone.
The steady scrap of the kid’s whittling stopped as Baelin continued to debate how he was going to start. Noticing the sudden silence, Baelin glanced out of the corner of his eye to see the kid had turned to face him, his attention now directly focused on Baelin.
Sometimes, Baelin’s gotta think that there’s something sincerely wrong with him. Ever since he’d seen the neighbor’s kid―beaten and bruised―drag his father back to their apartment only chimes after the drunk asshole had beaten him… Baelin hadn’t been able to get it out of his head. It seemed like every time his mind would wander, it’d circle back to that kid.
It wasn’t right. Sunberth was a lousy place to be a kid.
But what could Baelin do about it? It wasn’t like there was an Omen he could notify. Petch, even Syliras and Ravok had their own version of peace keepers, but here in Sunberth? What recourse did anyone have here, the gangs? That was so unsettling it was almost laughable.
Shyke, he’d been so lucky growing up, and he’d never even realized it.
It ate at him; guilt that he hadn’t done anything to fix it. And shame that it must still be going on. While his neighbor’s apartment had been quieter since that night, Baelin couldn’t imagine the issue would have just miraculously went away. That’d be naïve.
Which was why he had started spending the nights after that encounter lying awake in bed, listening for every little sound coming from his neighbor’s apartment. And―after a few all-too-sleepless nights―he’d decided to go outside and breath some fresh, nighttime air.
It was then that he saw the reason why it’d gotten so quiet next door.
The kid had been right there outside. Out of sight and perhaps out of mind from his abusive father, the kid had leaned casually against the outside wall of his apartment, scraping at a piece of wood with a small knife.
Baelin had stared for longer than should have, and the kid had eventually looked up and asked what he’d wanted. With no answer to give him, Baelin had turned around on his heel and gone right back inside.
Definitely not one of his better moments.
But it had least spared him the sleepless nights. Because now he could just pop his head outside, check that the kid was outside whittling away, and then go to bed secure in the knowledge that―at least for now―there’d be no abuse to overhear. It was a habit that was absurd to have developed in the first part. But Baelin had.
And―as unhealthy as the habit might be―he was now resolved to enable it even further. Baelin sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a block of softwood and his new knife. The knife had been easy to get―just a quick purchase where he worked. But for the wood, he’d ended up buying scrap softwood lumber. Pine, if the seller could be believed. Baelin wasn’t really sure what it actually was, but―whatever the wood was―he could dent it with his fingernail. Which should hopefully make it easier to carve up.
Yeah… This was a bad idea.
But―bad idea or no―he was determined to do it. Then at least he could tell himself that he was doing something. No one seemed to be lining up to take this kid in; he didn’t have the same kind of good luck Baelin had had when he’d been a boy. If Baelin was ever going to hope to repay back that debt, he needed to man up and be better.
Baelin pushed off of the bed and crossed his room. He hesitated for just a tick at the door, fingers twitching over the handle. Hissing through clenched teeth, he snatched the handle and shoved the door open
Same as the nights before, the kid was outside. He didn’t look up from where he was working a knife against wood, but Baelin got the distinct impression that the kid had his ears trained on him.
Pulling in a careful, slow breath, Baelin shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He switched the knife to his right hand, held up the softwood lumber scrap, and set the edge of the blade down on the surface.
He had no idea what to do; didn’t really have any pressing interest in whittling either. But he did want this kid to think that there were people out there who’d step in if things got out of hand at home again. No way was Baelin the best person for that job, but… there had to be at least someone.
The steady scrap of the kid’s whittling stopped as Baelin continued to debate how he was going to start. Noticing the sudden silence, Baelin glanced out of the corner of his eye to see the kid had turned to face him, his attention now directly focused on Baelin.
Expenses :
WC: 774