Post by Aramis Aldin on Jun 30, 2010 23:24:06 GMT -5
((This is going to be Aramis' IC summer, but since we are not anywhere NEAR that in plot, and this is going to be playing out only a small part of the actual story [so I don't borrow Bre's character and play them WRONG XD] we're going to play the conversation here. This is probably only going to show until the end of the phonecall.
Edit: Then again...))
Aramis sighed, dropping his bags on the floor. His room was almost exactly as he had left it. There was a lot more dust, which didn’t surprise him much, and a few new books that he didn’t intend on reading but probably would anyway, but it was still his room. He’d half expected his parents to turn it into a guest room, or a junk room, but they hadn’t. Oddly, that relieved him. Maybe they’d gotten over the panic his parents had exhibited upon their discovery of his abilities.
Aramis spent a few minutes cleaning; reorganizing his bookshelves, including those he’d brought back with him from school, dusting, and changing his bed sheets and blankets for something less dusty, and then just sighed. None of the clothes he’d left here fit anymore, nor did many of the clothes he’d brought back from school. Aramis sighed and sorted through them, tossing the clothes that didn’t fit into a box. He’d need new uniforms for next year… If he was even going to be allowed to go. He’d heard his parents talk about how the ranch had been losing money, and knew it was because he wasn’t there, doing all the little things his parents had never noticed. Giving up when he found he was down to two pairs of pants and about four t-shirts for his entire wardrobe, and that the t-shirts were all a bit tight across his shoulders, and the pants just barely long enough, Aramis headed downstairs.
The first thing he heard from his mother was that he needed a haircut. The first thing from his father was that he was going to have to earn his keep. He told his mother he’d think about it, and his father that he’d get right on that, then headed to the kitchen. The food on the plane had been pathetic, and he hadn’t been given time to get anything at either airport. Maybe I should try to get some food from Rhythan for the trip home next year he mused, finding some cold chicken in the fridge. He pulled that out, sniffed it to see if it was safe, then pulled out some bread and other sandwich fixings, making himself the first decent food he’d had all day.
“Dinner is in two hours, Aramis!” his mother scolded, standing at the door. Aramis had to swallow his rather substantial bite before he could reply.
“I haven’t eaten all day, Mom. Trust me, I’ll be hungry for dinner,” he told her, then took another bite as he put everything away. The kitchen wasn’t as neat as he remembered, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because his mother had gotten lazy or if the kitchen was always clean because of him. Taking a Coke out of the fridge, he finished his sandwich and cleaned the counters carefully. “Besides, I’ve got chores to get started on don’t I? School’s never changed that, and I can’t work on an empty stomach.”
His mother looked almost insulted, then sighed. “You’ve only just gotten home, do you really have to immediately get to work?” she said almost regretfully. His father bellowed something incomprehensible from the other room through his newspaper and Aramis gestured at the doorway leading toward him.
“You know how he is. I’ll just go get started on some things…” he planted a quick kiss on her cheek and barely noticed her flinch away. He brushed it off as unfamiliarity and just grinned at her. “It’ll be just like always.”
His mother only nodded slightly and left the room without another word. Aramis watched her in confusion, then shook his head and headed outside. The dogs tackled him before he’d managed to get the door closed, and he had to push them away before they got inside and caused real havoc. Settling them down took a few minutes, and then Aramis headed out to the stable. The horses all nickered at him, one even catching his sleeve to get his attention. He patted it on the nose and headed to his stallion’s open box stall. The door to the pasture was open, so Aramis whistled.
The rumble of the animal’s rapid return was deafening, and Aramis backed up before the stallion slammed his head into his chest. Smiling, he scratched the stallion’s forehead, rubbing his hand over the perfect bolt between the large dark eyes. The stallion tossed his head and reared, then spun and ran outside again. Aramis smiled and turned, grabbing his tack and checking it over. At least that had been as well cared for in his absence as he usually cared for things. The stallion ran back in and Aramis calmed him gently, then saddled him and tossed the bridle over the stallion’s head. Aramis never used the bit with him… the stallion tended to get the bit in his teeth and go wild, or buck off anyone who put pressure on his mouth. Leading the stallion out, Aramis mounted and looked around, carefully looping the reins around the animal’s proudly arching neck.
That was about as far as he got before the stallion took matters into his own hands, so to speak, and jumped from a standstill into a gallop. Aramis yelped and leaned forward, getting as close to the horse’s neck as he could while trying to regain control. They were most of the way to the pond on the other side of the ranch before the stallion finally stopped, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Aramis gently smacked him over the ears.
“It’s too hot for that, you moron,” he told the animal, urging it to turn around and walk back toward the stables. The stallion tossed his head, but finally consented to do as it was told. Aramis walked it back to where the tools were kept, then gathered everything he’d need to repair the fences, then let the stallion drink his fill. The stallion raised his head, water still dripping from his lips, then looked over his shoulder at Aramis.
“No, we are not running again,” Aramis told him firmly. “We are walking, and checking all of the fences. By the time we’re done with that, it’ll be time for your oats and my dinner.”
Snorting, the stallion danced slightly in place until Aramis rapped between his ears with his knuckle. “Enough of that. We have work to do, and while I know father’s mostly just been breeding you, we’re going to get you back into proper shape.”
The stallion visibly winced, then pranced again. Aramis covered his face and tapped his heels against the stallion’s flanks. The stallion responded by trotting forward, and Aramis winced but sighed. “At least you remember that much.”
As he’d predicted, they’d finished checking the fences around the perimeter of the ranch in about two hours, and Aramis had barely finished brushing down his stallion when the dinner bell rang. He brushed the horse hair off his hands and his clothes, then came in and washed up.
Dinner was an awkward, silent affair. Aramis wasn’t inclined to talk, not that he ever was, and his parents seemed to think they couldn’t ask him how school had been. Finishing his salad, and beginning to start on the roast his mother had obviously spent all day on, Aramis finally sighed. This was odd; his parents usually filled the room with conversation, talking about what they’d done or business, or the latest book the two of them had finished. He cleared his throat.
“So I finally read the Silmarillion this year…” he said, looking at his plate. Neither of his parents responded and he looked up at them. They quickly looked away and Aramis just blinked in confusion. His brow furrowed, he tried again. “I actually found it pretty interesting, especially the stuff in the beginning, and the story of Beren and Luthien…”
Again, he was greeted only with silence. Aramis sighed and gave up, eating his food and leaving the table with a mumbled request to be excused. He washed the dishes that were there, then headed up to his room.
The next few days were nearly identical to the first. Every meal was silent, and he was mostly left to his own devices. His father occasionally gave him specific chores, but mostly Aramis just did what he felt like doing, or what he saw needed doing. The house rather quickly became as spotless as his own room, with the floors and walls scrubbed. The stables too were cleaned out at least twice a week.
It was at dinner in the end of June that Aramis finally grew sick of the silence. He’d tried yet again to actually start a conversation with his parents, about their favorite subject (books), and had been met with only silence. It irritated him; yes, he was usually quiet, but his parents weren’t, and their silence was grating on his nerves.
“Alright… if you won’t do small talk, then we’ll talk about the real issue here,” Aramis said coldly. His parents looked up at him in surprise. His dark eyes burned into his parents’ and they both flinched. “You’re both afraid of what I can do. Of what I might do. You have no real idea of what I’m capable of, or what parts of what stories you’ve read might apply. I’m not going to go mad with power, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to be anything like Raistlin, but neither am I going to be Gandalf. I’m still just me… Nothing has changed, except I have a bit more skill in things that I’ve been doing since I was eleven. I’ve saved lives, and I’ve gotten pretty hurt, and I’ve actually made friends. I am not going to fly into a rage and turn you into a pile of ash. For one thing, I’m not skilled with fire, and for another that’d be a very good way to have to deal with a large number of people either stronger physically or magically than me. I’m not going to use my magic if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, but I think I could really help. I could prevent any lost foals, and help keep every animal here healthier than a vet could. I could help with the crops, and with any illnesses. And I can do most of that with just my hands, and not with any magic. I’m not something for you to fear.”
By the end, he was pleading, his expression turned from anger to pain. “I’m still just your son. Usually quiet, a hard-worker… I haven’t used any magic since coming home, but you both seem terrified of me. If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it years ago when I was still learning to control my magic. Now all I’ve learned is how to refine it, and even greater control. Can’t you trust me?”
Neither of his parents answered. Aramis’ expression twisted further into pain, then he just put his head down. “What would it take for you to trust me again?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“You’re a freak, how are we supposed to trust you?” his father finally snapped. Aramis stiffened, raising his head to look at his father incredulously. His father continued relentlessly. “You are a danger, something that should not exist. Humans should not have the kind of power you have!”
Aramis’ eyes blazed and he stood up, towering over his father. His vision swam slightly with tears as he dug his nails into the table. His father stood as well… and Aramis remained towering. A tiny voice in the back of his mind pointed out how small his father looked, how much Aramis had grown and yet how much his father had shrunk, but it was ignored. Aramis’s voice shook, “A danger? When have I ever harmed you? When have I ever shown any sign of wanting to harm anyone?”
“You don’t have to! You don’t even have to get very angry, and you could kill people without even trying! You could cause a heart attack and there’d never be any proof. You shouldn’t exist!”
Aramis jerked as if it had been a physical blow. The tears that had been standing in his eyes overflowed and he felt the wood splinter under his hands. The sky outside darkened and his mother screamed. The wood splintered a bit more and Aramis straightened, shoving away. “That’s what you really think?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying and yet clearly audible. Outside, thunder crashed and the dogs started barking, whining. Aramis could feel himself shaking, and the ground beneath him imitated him. His mother screamed again and there was a strike of lightning just outside. The horses screamed.
“Get out!” his father demanded, though his voice shook in fear. Aramis licked his lips slightly, narrowed his eyes, and nodded.
“As you wish, sir,” he said softly, his voice tight. Rage now overcame the pain he’d felt at his father’s words. He hurried upstairs and threw a few things into a pack; his few clothes, his cash, a tooth brush and a hairbrush, a razor, soap, his laptop and cell phone and their cords… and on a whim, his year book and a few of the books his parents had given him. Almost unconsciously, he grabbed the Tolkien novels, then swung the bag on his back and headed outside. The storm was still going, rain beginning to fall in huge drops that somehow completely avoided him. The dogs cowered away from him, and when he went into the stables, nearly all of the horses too.
His own stallion stood quivering, watching him with the whites of his eyes showing. Aramis spoke softly to him, gathering a few more things that he kept in the stable and throwing his tack on him quickly. The stallion continued to stand quivering, but allowed Aramis to saddle him and put the packs on his back. Aramis swung into the saddle and urged the stallion outside. The horse snorted and rolled his eyes, rearing slightly before hesitantly and delicately dancing outside.
“You aren’t taking him!” His father hollered from the porch. He looked scared, but angry that Aramis was trying to take the best horse on the ranch.
Aramis laughed at him, “You can’t take him from me. He’s mine, and the paperwork to prove it is at the county courthouse! Good bye and good riddance.”
He knew the pain he had buried would hit him again once his anger had burned out, but for once, he reveled in the heat rage had caused in him. Lightning struck near him and his stallion reared with a scream, then bolted. Aramis leaned down, close to his neck, and let the animal run, his heart racing and the rain now soaking them both. He threw a quick shield over his packs, not wanting what little he had to get soaked; especially that laptop.
They ran for nearly an hour, though the storm cleared up after only a few minutes. The stallion finally stopped, hanging his head and breathing heavily. Aramis felt himself beginning to tremble again, half shivering and half the emotional stress he’d been shoving back for an hour. Sliding off the stallion’s back, Aramis’ legs collapsed beneath him and he fell, leaning against the stallion for support as the tears burned down his cheeks. His sobs tore at him until his throat and chest felt as raw as his cheeks, until he couldn’t seem to cry anymore. Pulling himself up again, and holding onto the saddle for support, Aramis led the stallion off the road and into the small forest beside. Town was another three hours by horse, or as far as Aramis could tell, and neither of them was in any shape for that ride. Aramis realized he hadn’t grabbed any food, and sighed. At least he’d just finished dinner… tomorrow he could worry about getting more food. Tomorrow the two of them could go into town.
Sleep refused to come to Aramis that night, and soon he got up and saddled his stallion again. The horse had calmed and rested, and the two of them finished the trip into town as the moon set. It was full, and a wolf’s howl made Aramis shiver. Memories of full moons at school came to mind, and he shook himself. There probably weren’t any lycanthropes here… besides, that wolf had a pack, which had called not long after the first howl. The horse shivered too, and seemed pleased to enter town. Aramis paid for a room and for board for his stallion, then threw himself on the bed in his hotel room.
What was left of the night felt like an eternity. Aramis tried to call Carmen, but his phone refused to make an international call. In desperation, after breakfast, Aramis started flipping through his yearbook. He knew he’d gotten a ton of numbers, but… Jason and Zeph were just as far as Carmen, and neither of them were really who he wanted to talk to. Finally, Aramis found a number. He didn’t really know Hitomi exactly, but he knew she would at least listen, and it would be a familiar voice.
He dialed the number quickly, and listened to the ring. When Hitomi answered, Aramis nearly sobbed in relief. “Hey, Hitomi… It’s Aramis. I know this is really weird… but I really need to talk and I can’t think of anyone else I can reach. Please…” his voice broke, and he felt it crack a few times into a childishly high alto rather than his normal tenor.
Edit: Then again...))
Aramis sighed, dropping his bags on the floor. His room was almost exactly as he had left it. There was a lot more dust, which didn’t surprise him much, and a few new books that he didn’t intend on reading but probably would anyway, but it was still his room. He’d half expected his parents to turn it into a guest room, or a junk room, but they hadn’t. Oddly, that relieved him. Maybe they’d gotten over the panic his parents had exhibited upon their discovery of his abilities.
Aramis spent a few minutes cleaning; reorganizing his bookshelves, including those he’d brought back with him from school, dusting, and changing his bed sheets and blankets for something less dusty, and then just sighed. None of the clothes he’d left here fit anymore, nor did many of the clothes he’d brought back from school. Aramis sighed and sorted through them, tossing the clothes that didn’t fit into a box. He’d need new uniforms for next year… If he was even going to be allowed to go. He’d heard his parents talk about how the ranch had been losing money, and knew it was because he wasn’t there, doing all the little things his parents had never noticed. Giving up when he found he was down to two pairs of pants and about four t-shirts for his entire wardrobe, and that the t-shirts were all a bit tight across his shoulders, and the pants just barely long enough, Aramis headed downstairs.
The first thing he heard from his mother was that he needed a haircut. The first thing from his father was that he was going to have to earn his keep. He told his mother he’d think about it, and his father that he’d get right on that, then headed to the kitchen. The food on the plane had been pathetic, and he hadn’t been given time to get anything at either airport. Maybe I should try to get some food from Rhythan for the trip home next year he mused, finding some cold chicken in the fridge. He pulled that out, sniffed it to see if it was safe, then pulled out some bread and other sandwich fixings, making himself the first decent food he’d had all day.
“Dinner is in two hours, Aramis!” his mother scolded, standing at the door. Aramis had to swallow his rather substantial bite before he could reply.
“I haven’t eaten all day, Mom. Trust me, I’ll be hungry for dinner,” he told her, then took another bite as he put everything away. The kitchen wasn’t as neat as he remembered, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because his mother had gotten lazy or if the kitchen was always clean because of him. Taking a Coke out of the fridge, he finished his sandwich and cleaned the counters carefully. “Besides, I’ve got chores to get started on don’t I? School’s never changed that, and I can’t work on an empty stomach.”
His mother looked almost insulted, then sighed. “You’ve only just gotten home, do you really have to immediately get to work?” she said almost regretfully. His father bellowed something incomprehensible from the other room through his newspaper and Aramis gestured at the doorway leading toward him.
“You know how he is. I’ll just go get started on some things…” he planted a quick kiss on her cheek and barely noticed her flinch away. He brushed it off as unfamiliarity and just grinned at her. “It’ll be just like always.”
His mother only nodded slightly and left the room without another word. Aramis watched her in confusion, then shook his head and headed outside. The dogs tackled him before he’d managed to get the door closed, and he had to push them away before they got inside and caused real havoc. Settling them down took a few minutes, and then Aramis headed out to the stable. The horses all nickered at him, one even catching his sleeve to get his attention. He patted it on the nose and headed to his stallion’s open box stall. The door to the pasture was open, so Aramis whistled.
The rumble of the animal’s rapid return was deafening, and Aramis backed up before the stallion slammed his head into his chest. Smiling, he scratched the stallion’s forehead, rubbing his hand over the perfect bolt between the large dark eyes. The stallion tossed his head and reared, then spun and ran outside again. Aramis smiled and turned, grabbing his tack and checking it over. At least that had been as well cared for in his absence as he usually cared for things. The stallion ran back in and Aramis calmed him gently, then saddled him and tossed the bridle over the stallion’s head. Aramis never used the bit with him… the stallion tended to get the bit in his teeth and go wild, or buck off anyone who put pressure on his mouth. Leading the stallion out, Aramis mounted and looked around, carefully looping the reins around the animal’s proudly arching neck.
That was about as far as he got before the stallion took matters into his own hands, so to speak, and jumped from a standstill into a gallop. Aramis yelped and leaned forward, getting as close to the horse’s neck as he could while trying to regain control. They were most of the way to the pond on the other side of the ranch before the stallion finally stopped, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Aramis gently smacked him over the ears.
“It’s too hot for that, you moron,” he told the animal, urging it to turn around and walk back toward the stables. The stallion tossed his head, but finally consented to do as it was told. Aramis walked it back to where the tools were kept, then gathered everything he’d need to repair the fences, then let the stallion drink his fill. The stallion raised his head, water still dripping from his lips, then looked over his shoulder at Aramis.
“No, we are not running again,” Aramis told him firmly. “We are walking, and checking all of the fences. By the time we’re done with that, it’ll be time for your oats and my dinner.”
Snorting, the stallion danced slightly in place until Aramis rapped between his ears with his knuckle. “Enough of that. We have work to do, and while I know father’s mostly just been breeding you, we’re going to get you back into proper shape.”
The stallion visibly winced, then pranced again. Aramis covered his face and tapped his heels against the stallion’s flanks. The stallion responded by trotting forward, and Aramis winced but sighed. “At least you remember that much.”
As he’d predicted, they’d finished checking the fences around the perimeter of the ranch in about two hours, and Aramis had barely finished brushing down his stallion when the dinner bell rang. He brushed the horse hair off his hands and his clothes, then came in and washed up.
Dinner was an awkward, silent affair. Aramis wasn’t inclined to talk, not that he ever was, and his parents seemed to think they couldn’t ask him how school had been. Finishing his salad, and beginning to start on the roast his mother had obviously spent all day on, Aramis finally sighed. This was odd; his parents usually filled the room with conversation, talking about what they’d done or business, or the latest book the two of them had finished. He cleared his throat.
“So I finally read the Silmarillion this year…” he said, looking at his plate. Neither of his parents responded and he looked up at them. They quickly looked away and Aramis just blinked in confusion. His brow furrowed, he tried again. “I actually found it pretty interesting, especially the stuff in the beginning, and the story of Beren and Luthien…”
Again, he was greeted only with silence. Aramis sighed and gave up, eating his food and leaving the table with a mumbled request to be excused. He washed the dishes that were there, then headed up to his room.
The next few days were nearly identical to the first. Every meal was silent, and he was mostly left to his own devices. His father occasionally gave him specific chores, but mostly Aramis just did what he felt like doing, or what he saw needed doing. The house rather quickly became as spotless as his own room, with the floors and walls scrubbed. The stables too were cleaned out at least twice a week.
It was at dinner in the end of June that Aramis finally grew sick of the silence. He’d tried yet again to actually start a conversation with his parents, about their favorite subject (books), and had been met with only silence. It irritated him; yes, he was usually quiet, but his parents weren’t, and their silence was grating on his nerves.
“Alright… if you won’t do small talk, then we’ll talk about the real issue here,” Aramis said coldly. His parents looked up at him in surprise. His dark eyes burned into his parents’ and they both flinched. “You’re both afraid of what I can do. Of what I might do. You have no real idea of what I’m capable of, or what parts of what stories you’ve read might apply. I’m not going to go mad with power, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to be anything like Raistlin, but neither am I going to be Gandalf. I’m still just me… Nothing has changed, except I have a bit more skill in things that I’ve been doing since I was eleven. I’ve saved lives, and I’ve gotten pretty hurt, and I’ve actually made friends. I am not going to fly into a rage and turn you into a pile of ash. For one thing, I’m not skilled with fire, and for another that’d be a very good way to have to deal with a large number of people either stronger physically or magically than me. I’m not going to use my magic if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, but I think I could really help. I could prevent any lost foals, and help keep every animal here healthier than a vet could. I could help with the crops, and with any illnesses. And I can do most of that with just my hands, and not with any magic. I’m not something for you to fear.”
By the end, he was pleading, his expression turned from anger to pain. “I’m still just your son. Usually quiet, a hard-worker… I haven’t used any magic since coming home, but you both seem terrified of me. If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it years ago when I was still learning to control my magic. Now all I’ve learned is how to refine it, and even greater control. Can’t you trust me?”
Neither of his parents answered. Aramis’ expression twisted further into pain, then he just put his head down. “What would it take for you to trust me again?” he asked, his voice muffled.
“You’re a freak, how are we supposed to trust you?” his father finally snapped. Aramis stiffened, raising his head to look at his father incredulously. His father continued relentlessly. “You are a danger, something that should not exist. Humans should not have the kind of power you have!”
Aramis’ eyes blazed and he stood up, towering over his father. His vision swam slightly with tears as he dug his nails into the table. His father stood as well… and Aramis remained towering. A tiny voice in the back of his mind pointed out how small his father looked, how much Aramis had grown and yet how much his father had shrunk, but it was ignored. Aramis’s voice shook, “A danger? When have I ever harmed you? When have I ever shown any sign of wanting to harm anyone?”
“You don’t have to! You don’t even have to get very angry, and you could kill people without even trying! You could cause a heart attack and there’d never be any proof. You shouldn’t exist!”
Aramis jerked as if it had been a physical blow. The tears that had been standing in his eyes overflowed and he felt the wood splinter under his hands. The sky outside darkened and his mother screamed. The wood splintered a bit more and Aramis straightened, shoving away. “That’s what you really think?” he asked softly, his voice barely carrying and yet clearly audible. Outside, thunder crashed and the dogs started barking, whining. Aramis could feel himself shaking, and the ground beneath him imitated him. His mother screamed again and there was a strike of lightning just outside. The horses screamed.
“Get out!” his father demanded, though his voice shook in fear. Aramis licked his lips slightly, narrowed his eyes, and nodded.
“As you wish, sir,” he said softly, his voice tight. Rage now overcame the pain he’d felt at his father’s words. He hurried upstairs and threw a few things into a pack; his few clothes, his cash, a tooth brush and a hairbrush, a razor, soap, his laptop and cell phone and their cords… and on a whim, his year book and a few of the books his parents had given him. Almost unconsciously, he grabbed the Tolkien novels, then swung the bag on his back and headed outside. The storm was still going, rain beginning to fall in huge drops that somehow completely avoided him. The dogs cowered away from him, and when he went into the stables, nearly all of the horses too.
His own stallion stood quivering, watching him with the whites of his eyes showing. Aramis spoke softly to him, gathering a few more things that he kept in the stable and throwing his tack on him quickly. The stallion continued to stand quivering, but allowed Aramis to saddle him and put the packs on his back. Aramis swung into the saddle and urged the stallion outside. The horse snorted and rolled his eyes, rearing slightly before hesitantly and delicately dancing outside.
“You aren’t taking him!” His father hollered from the porch. He looked scared, but angry that Aramis was trying to take the best horse on the ranch.
Aramis laughed at him, “You can’t take him from me. He’s mine, and the paperwork to prove it is at the county courthouse! Good bye and good riddance.”
He knew the pain he had buried would hit him again once his anger had burned out, but for once, he reveled in the heat rage had caused in him. Lightning struck near him and his stallion reared with a scream, then bolted. Aramis leaned down, close to his neck, and let the animal run, his heart racing and the rain now soaking them both. He threw a quick shield over his packs, not wanting what little he had to get soaked; especially that laptop.
They ran for nearly an hour, though the storm cleared up after only a few minutes. The stallion finally stopped, hanging his head and breathing heavily. Aramis felt himself beginning to tremble again, half shivering and half the emotional stress he’d been shoving back for an hour. Sliding off the stallion’s back, Aramis’ legs collapsed beneath him and he fell, leaning against the stallion for support as the tears burned down his cheeks. His sobs tore at him until his throat and chest felt as raw as his cheeks, until he couldn’t seem to cry anymore. Pulling himself up again, and holding onto the saddle for support, Aramis led the stallion off the road and into the small forest beside. Town was another three hours by horse, or as far as Aramis could tell, and neither of them was in any shape for that ride. Aramis realized he hadn’t grabbed any food, and sighed. At least he’d just finished dinner… tomorrow he could worry about getting more food. Tomorrow the two of them could go into town.
Sleep refused to come to Aramis that night, and soon he got up and saddled his stallion again. The horse had calmed and rested, and the two of them finished the trip into town as the moon set. It was full, and a wolf’s howl made Aramis shiver. Memories of full moons at school came to mind, and he shook himself. There probably weren’t any lycanthropes here… besides, that wolf had a pack, which had called not long after the first howl. The horse shivered too, and seemed pleased to enter town. Aramis paid for a room and for board for his stallion, then threw himself on the bed in his hotel room.
What was left of the night felt like an eternity. Aramis tried to call Carmen, but his phone refused to make an international call. In desperation, after breakfast, Aramis started flipping through his yearbook. He knew he’d gotten a ton of numbers, but… Jason and Zeph were just as far as Carmen, and neither of them were really who he wanted to talk to. Finally, Aramis found a number. He didn’t really know Hitomi exactly, but he knew she would at least listen, and it would be a familiar voice.
He dialed the number quickly, and listened to the ring. When Hitomi answered, Aramis nearly sobbed in relief. “Hey, Hitomi… It’s Aramis. I know this is really weird… but I really need to talk and I can’t think of anyone else I can reach. Please…” his voice broke, and he felt it crack a few times into a childishly high alto rather than his normal tenor.