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 Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 6:21 pm
For a moment Wickwright felt offended- of course Hopkin could talk, he wouldn't have written a stupid book- but he caught himself. He wasn't sure whether he saw Hopkin as a person, Hopkin was his book, yes, his contribution, yes, but a person, that was something Wickwright wasn't ready to think about. Jawbone Men didn't accept people as contributions. "He's something else," he settled for.
Still, Meschke had a point, as much as he hated to admit it. "You can speak to him," he offered grudgingly, rubbing his temples. "I apologize. It's been a long day." He was apologizing to a cultist-c**-murderer. The day loomed even longer.
Still, it was hard to think of Meschke as a murderer when he seemed to be so opposite of the type. Though Wickwright kept trying to make the two images fit, the facts wouldn't click for him.
"I was making a point. I don't let people into my wagon, you are an exception on account of a series of unfortunate events that have transpired against us both."
Something occurred to him, and he looked down at his feet. "And I'm not joining the cult."
Hopkin, who was apparently calmed again by Wickwright's denial of joining the Cult and Meschke's tone of voice, peeked out from his new hiding place. "Did you really kill someone?" he quavered, eyeing Meschke hopefully.
"Don't lie to him," Wickwright suggested, "It only gives him a headache."
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 6:51 pm
"He's something else," resonated in Dragomir's head; of course he was, he was a plague. He smiled a little when he was again allowed to speak to Hopkin; the little being was more than a little interesting to Dragomir.
"Thank you. I don't want to hurt him or anything." He shrugged lightly, "I've just never met one before, so it's pretty interesting to me."
He nodded again when Wickwright explained his point, and he nodded at the fact that Wickwright was not joining the cult. "Yes, thank you for allowing me in here. I still remember I'm not to touch anything, and Hopkin is, needless to say, included in this."
He smiled a little, trying to be disarming, before Hopkin felt the need to ask him if he was really a murderer and he flinched - he would have said no if it weren't for Wickwright's warning, the little thing seemed almost hopeful that Dragomir would say no, though he didn't want to cause the Plague any pain so he was fully intent on telling him the truth.
He cleared his throat softly and looked down at his shoes yet again. "Yeah, Hopkin. I did." He was quiet, in which he shook his head quite vigorously to get rid of the images that insisted on lingering quite annoyingly. He rammed his fingers through his hair again, smoothing it back off of his face; this was one of the only motions Dragomir possessed to mark him as a male without first speaking to him, and he used it, usually, with a modicum of pride. Now, however, he just wanted to yank the images of those lifeless eyes staring at him out through his hair. As of yet, it hadn't worked.
"Sorry to... tell you it's true." He added softly, barely more than a whisper.
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 7:19 pm
Hopkin sagged.
"Why?"
He couldn't think of why. "Was he ugly? Or cruel? Did he lie to you? Did he ruin your books?" He saw Wickwright looking at him appraisingly and hastily added, "If you want to tell me, I mean you don't have to, but I don't- I've never-"
"I don't understand," he admitted in frustration, wringing his little bronze hands together. He hated admitting it. He was supposed to know things!
"Hopkin," Wickwright warned, not sure if they should continue this line of questioning. However, Meschke seemed more open to answering Hopkin's questions than his own. Wickwright was beginning to this that he could use this to his advantage somehow, but of course there was no way to communicate with the plague. He just had to hope that as long as Hopkin kept asking questions, there was enough of Wickwright in his mind to make him ask the ones that Wickwright wanted to know. Hearing Hopkin talk t someone other than himself also had a certain degree of value in it, it was interesting to hear his book communicating with someone else, echoing thoughts and questions that came from him, but were filtered through that strange otherness that made up the part of Hopkin that wasn't his handiwork, Hopkin's own sentience. It was like reading a bad translation of Ardenian, the original meaning was somehow changed and it was something else entirely.
It wasn't entirely a bad thing, he decided. Almost refreshing.
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 7:44 pm
"I was told to. There was no other option to join the House and there was nowhere else for me to go." He snorted softly. "My parents were a part of the House and so no one else wanted me, like I had contracted the plague or something."
He rolled his shoulders, quiet all of a sudden, and his eyes fell onto the floor. "I was trapped. And so... I did what they told me."
Dragomir shuddered violently, almost sick just thinking about it. "He didn't... hurt me or lie to me, though. Not me personally. Maybe to someone else."
He sighed softly to himself, "Sorry to let you down, Hopkin. It was... very senseless. I -" He shook his head, speechless.
Oddly enough, where these ideas or questions would have irritated Dragomir to no end, he found the little Plague to be endearing in the oddest and most indescribable way. To be quite frank, he almost wanted one of his own before realising that was an incredibly absurd thing to wish for.
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 8:04 pm
"Nowhere else for me to go," Hopkin mumbled. He wondered what he would have done.
What he would do, he corrected, thinking of the Jawbone Society. The answer was, of course, whatever Wickwright said he had to do. Would he kill a man though? A man who hadn't hurt him or lied to him? Was if different for him because he was a Plague? A human man was not flesh of his flesh. What would Wickwright think? He wished they were alone so he could ask him without feeling self-conscious. Wickwright always told him the right things to think.
"I think forgive you," he told Meschke tiredly. "I don't know if he does. I probably do." He paused, trying to articulate himself. "It's all detached for me. I can't feel for someone I don't know, Dragomir Meschke. I can feel for you, you're here in front of me. I feel for you, Dragomir Meschke."
He hesitated again and stammered, "I-is that right," looking at Wickwright for confirmation.
Wickwright had steepled his fingers and was watching the pair of them. Looking down at Hopkin, he shrugged. "Is it correct to you? I can't give you opinions, and I can't give Meschke absolution. He has to give himself absolution. His faith already has, so the only thing giving him guilt is himself."
"O-oh," stammered Hopkin hastily, "Then I don't know, Dragomir Meschke. I can't give you forgiveness, um, can you?"
"You don't have to forget what you did, but don't let it consume you, Meschke," Wickwright advised. "What you did was terrible, make no mistake. But I've heard worse stories from less repentant people in these dark times, and if you let it drive you to drink, you'll never be able to fix the problem properly in your head."
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 8:21 pm
Dragomir shook his head. "I had to. Or at least I felt like I had to, but no one really has to do anything, right?" The question was actually a question because he knew the answer was no but he hoped that, for once, he would be told that he had had no other option in his decision. He shook his head and moved on.
"You are right... I knew from the start that drinking would just make it worse and not fix anything. Still had to try. Maybe I'd end up being wrong and getting drunk would fix everything - it didn't, of course." He sighed softly, then rubbed his arm. He thought on it for awhile, still staring down at his feet as he did so. He couldn't decide right away whether he'd be able to forgive himself any time soon but the little thing seemed worried to hell about it.
Which was, again, cute in its own endearing way. He smiled a little, a soft smile that lit his eyes in the strangest way (mostly because he hadn't done it since he was a toddler). "I think I can try, Hopkin, at least. Since you and Wickwright are right and I guess I do have to forgive myself eventually."
Or die of drinking. Either way.
And he was really, really not looking to die anytime soon. He ran his fingers through his hair again, hoping he had put the little plague at least slightly at ease.
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 9:01 pm
"No one really has to do anything," Wickwright confirmed, "And yet we compel ourselves to anyway. The man who does nothing is hardly a man, and the man who does everything is more than one. It's what we choose to do and to refrain from doing that define us." He thought of the mother that he hardly saw and ran a hand through his hair. "Not all our decisions are good, but none of our decisions can never be redeemed through perseverance."
He quirked a faint smile at Meschke. "At least that's what I believe." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hopkin fervently trying to mouth the whole speech to himself. Good money said that from now on, that was what Hopkin believed, too.
"I hope you find a way to forgive yourself, Dragomir Meschke," Hopkin said finally, as he finished whispering what Wickwright had said to himself. He looked up at Wickwright and asked, "Since Dragomir Meschke knows I'm here now, may we continue our lessons?"
"Hopkin is my pupil," explained Wickwright. "Do you mind, Meschke? We can drop you at the next town if you like, but if you don't get off there, I'm going to have to ask you to pay for the ride with money or work. I'm afraid that we only have enough supplies here in the wagon for ourselves."
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Posted: Sun Feb 27, 2011 9:11 pm
He listened to Wickwright with interest; it sounded... good. Not cleansing right this second, but it gave him something to work for, which is all he needed; he would, he had almost decided, create a new life for himself elsewhere and he would redeem himself from this murder. He would become something better. It at least sounded good; he would be certain to adhere to the ideals of redeeming himself through perseverance as long as he humanly could before his body refused to do it any longer. It made him feel... acceptable again. Not as though he had to crawl into the nearest ditch and wait for death to consume him.
He nodded slightly when Hopkin wanted to continue his lessons and Wickwright asked for permission. "No, I don't mind. Go ahead. I'll mind my own business." He rolled his shoulders with the faint smile still painted on. He paused for thought at the last bit though.
It was tempting to go with them but he had nothing of his own belongings and the shofar at least was valuable; he would need to collect it. "I'll get off at the next town. Thank you for taking me this far."
It was with that that Dragomir fell quiet, listening to the lesson and listening to Hopkin learn from Wickwright, staying quiet and soaking it up in his own way. When they got to the town, Dragomir disembarked from the wagon with a slight wave, another - surprisingly heart-felt - thank you, the mental note to remember this man for later, and a considerably lighter heart.
It had been a better trip to the bar than he had been expecting. "'Til next time," he murmured as the wagon left again.
Somehow, he knew there would be one.
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