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 Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 7:12 am
One of the small things that Tumelo found enjoyment in was how people described their world before their own eyes. From what he could tell with Zekiel's description, the sky he knew was much like his own. That pleased him, and a small bit of hope that things, at least environmentally wise, weren't all that different. He found himself staring into Zekiel's eyes as his expression shifted around a bit, admiring their glow and lack of colors before they shyly shifted away when his gaze was caught and a smile was given.
Upon agreeing to eat and watching Zekiel leave the room, the feeling of intense hunger hit him, his stomach churning and growling and screaming hatefully at the boy who had been so foolish to deny it the nourishment it craved. How many days were they at sea? How many days had he been asleep originally? Perhaps someone had forced something down his throat during that time, for he could see no other explanation as to how he still lived... And that was fine. When Zekiel returned the food was well received.
"Thank you... I will eat what I can, but I would like you to eat everything, if it's okay to request that you do.." There was no mistaking the fact that if he were to eat too much, his body would only reject the food consumed, and then Zekiel be left with a much worse situation to clean up, not just a dribble of liquid here and there. Tumelo met the offer to aid in his eating with a small shaken 'no' and with only a little exertion, he held the tray in his lap.
"I do miss the sky and it's stars... On a cold night in the northern country, sometimes the sky would be clear. Just an infinite blackness dotted buy little white lights... I would look up from whatever inn window or tent I was in, and just stare... I always felt tiny, insignificant, but not afraid... I've never feared living or death, even as I faced the later head on... Welcomed it because some naive part of him truly believed that maybe the gods would not find a place for me in the next life and would cast me to the stars instead." He chucked slightly, stirring the soup in his lap ever so slightly before taking a small sip. What a strange taste... Not wholly unpleasant, but not what he had expected. Quite frankly, he had no idea what he had expected. No complaints came from him, instead he took the biscuit as well, tearing it up as best as he could with one hand and dumping the pieces into the bowl. He always did love dumplings in his soup and stew.
"I have no black sky or pale stars... But... I do have your eyes... And though they are not nearly the same, they are similar in color and in warmth and even in the faint glow that comes from them... I see them, and they smile at me and I am confused and upset, and I hurt and hate all that is within me in my infinite weakness, yet I am unafraid." Tumelo managed a faint smile, his eye relaxing to a much more relaxed expression, though looking far more tired than before. He felt plenty of awake and alertness, however, and continued to slowly stir the soup and mush until it was soft enough that he could just swallow it whole without chewing. His own gods were deemed cruel and uncaring in his mind, and he wholeheartedly turned from them without a second thought... He had nothing to give them, but maybe the gods that Zekiel spoke of knew more kindness... And maybe they heard his prayer.
"I think... Your eyes are stars... And you as a whole just radiate light, not as intense as the sun, but comforting like the furthest of stars in the sky... Perhaps I was sent to the stars, but the star they sent me to was
you..." This time the very thought caused him to laugh, soft and raspy for just a moment before it turned to a cough that rattled his bones in the most unpleasant of ways. Even after the fit he smiled, wiping the blood from his lips onto his arm. His smile even reached his eye, which almost reached warmness expected from a delighted child. He was but a child, after all.
"I suppose my prayers should be more specific next time, but I am... I think am not upset with the situation. My heart still calls out to return to the gods, but a rest here first is not a terrible thing... Not if your kindness is what I receive... And if you are the stars they sent me too, perhaps I should call you Sir Starlight instead."
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 2:11 pm
“Yes, of course.” Zekiel met the first question with a hastened nod.
He couldn’t say why the other would likely care how much or little he ate himself, but he did usually aim to eat all his food regardless, and he certainly aimed to please, so doing so upon specific request was a given. Taking his own bowl into his lap as he sat, Zekiel watched, assuring himself that Ottolo could indeed eat without pain or mishap — or at least not exaggerated pain from that which was already a constant — before beginning to eat his own soup and listening.
Between Ottolo’s voice, the picture it painted, and the multitude of flavors in even the simple broth, Zekiel was woven wholly into the moment and all its details, the salt, the warmth, the texture and taste on his tongue, the smooth metal of the spoon, and all that might be overhead at this very moment while he swallowed.
“I think,” he said as soon as his mouth was not full, “that is how I feel always. To sit and know that every moment, the world is so large and great we cannot ever imagine all that goes on even if we had all our life to examine that moment, but that is true of every moment…and so we must always try to see all that is wondrous that we can because in each instant, the gods work great magic beyond our imagining, moving the stars and the wind and the breath of every living thing and all their hearts and minds…”
Zekiel dipped his eyes to his soup, stirring and watching the ripples before lifting another spoonful to his mouth and wondering who had sewn the seeds and who plucked the harvest and who carried the fruit and who cut the vegetables and—
He looked to Ottolo, blinking.
Setting his food momentarily aside, he took up the washing towel, dipping the tip into water to soften it and spreading the dampness so that it didn’t drip before moving over to Ottolo and cleaning where the blood wiped. “If it pleases you,” he said, smiling. “Starlight is beautiful and far grander than I…but I will be the best star I can for you if that is what you need.”
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 5:42 pm
After only a few bites, Tumelo found himself utterly full, though he did manage to squeeze in one bite of the soft fruit before he put the tray back on the small table beside his bed. The muscles in his face started to ache from the smile he had as Zekiel spoke of understanding how he felt so he relaxed them, his expression not upset or scowling, but just relaxed, giving him a look of slight wonder. His father did always used to say that he was a soul that was exceedingly curious... And now that his entire world had changed and he had calmed down, he could gradually begin to feel that curiosity again.
Exhaustion was beginning to set in again after his belly felt full, and once Zekiel kindly cleaned up his arm, Tumelo leaned back against the wall again.
"Sir Starlight... You have already done so much for me, and it feels so greedy to ask more of you, but I have one last request for now..." His eyes went out and gazed at the sad grey bricks around him. It seemed almost horrifying that this could be the last thing a sad soul could see before they passed... But maybe since it was a church they had someone who was kind enough to hold the soul's hand as they returned to the gods... Tumelo wondered that if his time were to come, would they be kind enough to hold his hand?
"I would like something to use for entertainment, when you have some time... It is quiet and lonely at times, as I said... Only you come to visit when I am awake... If you could provide me with something that would make my time trapped down here a little easier, I would appreciate it greatly..."
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 6:25 pm
When Ottolo parceled apart his biscuit and dropped it into his soup, Zekiel tipped his head, watching with curiosity, for he’d never seen anyone do so before, before mirroring the move himself. Then, taking up his own spoon, he ate.
And ate—and ate, and ate.
Because he hadn’t eaten since the previous day, his stomach — accustomed to regular meals at breakfast, noon, and evening — was greedy, thinking itself famished, and consumed with relish. Ottolo, too, had encouraged him to eat, so there seemed no reason to hold himself back. He finished his bowl in about the time it took Ottolo to take the handful of spoonfuls that he did and nibble the fruit.
After, he set the bowl aside, ignoring for a moment the fact that a single bowl and biscuit did not quell his own hunger in its entirety. That could wait. For now, Ottolo had a request, and the moment it left his lips, Zekiel’s focus was there.
“Of course! It is quite dark and simple here,” he said. “The room is wondrously sturdy, but there is perhaps little else to it to keep your mind busy. When the city folk come to pray, they often bring their little ones, some too small or excitable to be kept quiet in the prayer hall and we have a place for them away from the sermons with soft cushions and trinkets and dolls, and often they forget their things…I will find some extras that can be brought for you, and next I have an assignment, I will come to visit with you if you are lonely—”
As quickly as the thought of schoolwork in his mind triggered, Zekiel thought of Fallon, her help to him on work done in the past, and with it, another thought.
“—do you like books? They have so many words in them, though I do not know if they are shaped the same as words that your people use, but we have books and some of them have pictures. I could not make them so beautiful as they are, but someone did and sometimes the pictures are so lovely I forget the words exist, though I’m meant to pay more mind to the words, you know, and I do think they must be important if someone thought they needed to be put so carefully and permanently onto paper…”
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Posted: Sat Sep 24, 2016 9:17 pm
Tumelo had not expected the first thing that would have come to mind for entertainment purposes would be children's toys. In fact, the idea had stunned him so much that he held his mouth open for a long moment, searching Zekiel's eyes to see if he were talking in jest. All he could find were signs that the man meant everything in earnest. As mortifying as it seemed to be given such an item, anything at all would be better than just grey.
"Please do not do anything that goes out of your way to assist me..." The mention of books brought up feelings of shame and he averted his gaze to look at the thin blanket that covered him.
"I do like some books, ones with lovely drawings or diagrams... But I cannot..." Tumelo gripped the sheet in his hand, wishing he could just hide under it for the moment.. "I did not learn how to read... I do not know how..."
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Posted: Tue Sep 27, 2016 12:28 pm
“Of course not,” Zekiel said, smiling. “Anything to aid you is part of my way, not out of it.”
Zekiel tipped his head, though, watching with curiosity as Ottolo diverted his gaze, almost visibly retreating as though in an effort to escape scrutiny despite his confined circumstances. The admittance, however, rolled off of Zekiel, and as simply as that, he was tripping into his next reply.
“Oh, no matter, then,” he said. “I will find you books with pictures. There are many with great illustrations in our library, of buildings and of creatures and of persons and of far away places from across the great sea and of weapons and of ships and of plants…it does depend on the book. Which sort are your favorite? If you would like to know the words, I can read them to you and tell you what they are, though…I am sometimes slow.” His smile softened, the barest hint of sheepishness slipping in. “But, if it would please you I will do my best. Words are such wondrous things you should be able to recognize them.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 29, 2016 7:04 pm
Part of his way... That sounded so pleasant to hear. If it was truly just on his way, then there was no reason for Tumelo to feel guilty about it. And yet he still did. He wanted to be glad and gracefully accept the man's assistance, but how could he? It seemed like there was so much the other man was willing to do for him, but there was absolutely nothing to do in return.
He said nothing about this.
Instead, he turned his thoughts to the idea of reading, of being able to understand the words and phrases that were set before him so many times before. Numbers were easy to understand, their meanings never changed, A One was always a One, and a Two was always a Two. And they just got larger the more numbers you combined. But letters were never the same. Letters floated about a page arranged in a seemingly nonsensical fashion, but apparently still combining and changing to create the speech he already knew on parchment. It was honestly just confusing to think about, even more so the idea of learning to write them. How was one supposed to memorize what letter went where? And then there were words that sounded the same but were spelled differently and meant different things.... It was all too overwhelming.
But it wasn't as if he truly could go anywhere, not when his body was like this. Not when he was bound to this bed and locked in the room like a prisoner. If the gods granted him anything and it was time to think. Not all the words were fine thoughts... Not many were pleasant or comforting or even showing a lick of hope that he thought he should feel. But still, they were there.
"I do not have a favorite book. I cannot read, so how can I tell?" Perhaps his words came out a little colder than before and in his shame he looked down, studying a loose thread instead on the sheet. "Anything will do... But perhaps simpler books would be better, something a Child would learn from. But you really should be going on to your duties, should you not?"
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