[PRP] In the Light of Corpses Aflame (locked)

[Mriae]

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In the Light of Corpses Aflame

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WHOM
Langston Beufort (The Leech Festival) & Alae Greaves (Mriae)

WHERE
Aureola, Helios

WHEN
In the late evening; the sun has set, and it is officially dark out. Few stars dot the night sky.

 

[Mriae]

The journey from the capital of Imisus to home back in Nyelle, the capital of Auvinus was a long one. Too long, some might say. By a standard cart ride alone, the trip would probably take a few days, if not a week or so. This was the Rhyker Greaves’ main mode of transportation when he came to pick up his daughter to take her back home, so the journey would be a trying one. Aside from that, the elder man came to the decision to make it even longer. For some reason, and she didn’t know why, but he seemed keen on wanting to show her Helios. The country was the very center of Panymium, after all, and the simple farmer wanted to show her daughter what it was like there. This would be the trip of a lifetime, more than likely, as both of them knew they probably wouldn’t be back to the country anytime soon. Still…it made their venture just that much longer, and all the former confectioner wanted to do was get home.

Alae Greaves was in need of a drink. Not a glass of water; not a simple cup of tea to relax her. She wanted something hard – some form of liqueur to burn going down her throat and drown out her senses. She wanted to feel numb, but that wasn’t going to be happening anytime soon. The young woman had made her father a promise: no more drinking, and with God and the help of her family, her father told her that they would help to see her through. Right. Mmhmm. It still didn’t hide the fact that she was desperately in need for something to drink!

Those thoughts had to be pushed aside as the father and daughter duo approached a tiny inn an hour or so after arriving in Helios. It wasn’t much to look at. With a few rooms, and a communal dining room where all the guests took their meals together, it was far from top-notch, but it would have to do. The Greaves’ never had much money, and so long as it could provide a roof over their head and a warm place to sleep, Rhyker seemed happy. Alae didn’t complain. Instead, she zipped her lips shut and kept her thoughts to herself as the two of them began to unpack their things in the room they had decided to stay in. The living quarters were cramped, and not to mention a bit stuffy. For a few nights, it would manage, but still the woman couldn’t shake the feeling like she was being suffocated. She needed to get out for a bit: go for a walk, clear her head. Yeah! That might make her feel better; it always did back home.

”M’goin’ out,” was all she murmured, but it got a nod of approval from her father, so she didn’t linger before he could get another word in.

A cool walk outside in the later evening would do her good. The temperature was just right – not too hot, not too cold. The streetlights were dimly lit, and if she looked up, then Alae could see a few stars scattered about in the heavens above. That was refreshing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had paused to gaze up at the stars. It was a nice touch. The fresh air would have been a nice reprieve from the bustling city of Gadu as well, but after the young woman was a few minutes away from the inn she could tell that it wasn’t so fresh. There was a scent accentuating the air, something smoky with a hint of something vile. Someone nearby was obviously burning something, but what? Intrigued, Auvinian made her way toward where the smell was coming from, eager to see what was going on in the area. There was something…not quite right about the town they were in. Alae could feel it, and there would be no way she’d be able to sit still now without knowing what it was.

She was going to get to the bottom of this.  

[The Leech Festival]

The heat of the fire stung his eyes and he roasted under his insulating wool coat, but Langston held his position and tried to keep up with the pace of his fellow soldiers; for this was a district of speed and efficiency, where the hauling of plague-ridden carcasses was of no more consequence than making a patrol, or sharpening one's weapon. His relocation had been not two weeks passed and he was already in the midst of his second mass cremation. Where his old area of patrol could boast low disease casualties and proper funerals, this new one saw to the gruesome demise of cartloads of victims. It was not as barbaric as, perhaps, the slums might be, but Langston despised this chore all the same. From what he'd gathered, the death rate of this community far exceeded what most of its inhabitants were able to afford. The Black Death was responsible for a large portion of these losses, as it was a very catching disease and the homes here were in very close proximity. And so, every week, whatever poor soul had met his end in the previous seven days would be dragged out from wherever they were stored and onto a wooden wagons and hauled unceremoniously into a large bonfire. The goal was to complete the entire task in the course of a single, back-breaking day, which locals and soldiers simply referred to as Bonfire Days. The structure of Bonfire Day was exceedingly simple: there were those that did the hauling, and those that guarded the area from bystanders who might interfere with the hauling.

Langston fell into the former category. This was his father's doing, no doubt. The reassignment as a whole obviously, but also the young man's new position as a grunt soldier. It seemed like the rugged, character-building sort of thing that Beufort Senior would approve of. Though still sour over the matter of his relocation, Langston tried his very best to absorb as much manliness as he could from the situation. He had feigned eagerness over Bonfire Day despite how exhausted he already was from his modified sleep schedule. He helped with the carting and arranging the firewood in such a way that increased its base surface (to fit more bodies). Even now, the man blinked back tears as his eyes were assaulted by cinders, his nose the stench of decay, and his hands the sensation of loose skin. His hauling came nowhere near the level of professionalism exhibited by his fellow soldiers and he stumbled with any little shift of weight or balance, but still he continued.

There was only one small problem. He did not feel any more like a militant than he had before he started. He still found the whole ordeal disgusting and better suited to men of stronger stomachs.

With a grunt of effort, Langston and his hauling partner (the purpose of partners was so that one soldier could grab the legs and the other the shoulders) flung yet another bloated corpse into the flames to be charred and curled to nothingness.

"You have to put yer back into it, lad!" This came from Langston's partner, a man who, since the beginning of the day, had felt inclined to advise him about every little thing.

"Work with the momentum, not against it. The body should take the path of an "S", down and up from the swing and then an arch while its in the air." Ah, the sweet poetry of a grunt soldier. Surely there could be no rival.

"I'll keep that in mind next time, sir."  

[Mriae]

The pyre of flames didn't take long to find; perhaps, only a few minutes or so. With a combination of the billowing jet-black smoke, the stench of the fumes and the bright light of the fire, it was easy enough to spot. Alae made a beeline straight for it once she got it in her sights like a bug to a lantern. However, her stride on over to the bonfire was cut short at the sight of the soldiers. Darn! With them there, she wouldn't have been able to get any closer than that. A few hefty men were on guard on the edges of the pile of burning wood, probably to do just that: keep people out. There was no need to risk getting in trouble. It wasn't worth it, and besides - she was close enough to see what was going on, anyway.

It wasn't just wood the men were throwing on to the fire. They were hurling bodies as well. Corpses. It seemed that the town they were staying in wasn't safe from the Black Death's gnarly reaches, either. What a comforting thought! As two of the soldiers tossed another body on, all the former confectioner could do was watch. She stood, transfixed, with her eyes on that one body. That corpse...it was once alive. That unfortunate person probably had a decent life of his own before succumbing to that dreaded disease. Life could be cruel, Alae knew, but perhaps there was a reason those who had been afflicted with the Plague got sick. Everything happened for a reason, after all, and who knew? Maybe God was justified in making those people suffer.

Still...at the sight of the dead body, she couldn't help but have her thoughts rush in a million different directions. Mainly, they focused on Franz Ulstein, an elderly man who had been a neighbor and former friend of hers back in Auvnius. It was unfortunate for him because she heard after leaving the city he had suffered the same fate. "God help us..." the woman murmured quietly to herself, trembling a bit from a mixture of a sudden chill and the need for a drink. In an attempt to warm herself, she hugged her arms around herself and just continued to watch. If she stood there silently, she wasn't being a bother. Alae wouldn't interfere with the soldiers, and the soldiers wouldn't interfere with her. The Auvinian woman would just linger and take in the scene while letting her thoughts wander all the while.

All that death and the eeriness of it all was unsettling enough so to remind her of one thing nagging in the back of her head:

'...I could really use a drink...'  

[The Leech Festival]

Despite the free flowing advice from his partner, it seemed that Langston Beufort was not destined to perfect his hauling techniques anytime in the near future. More than once, the misbalance of weight had very nearly sent him stumbling into the bonfire along after the sorpses. It was rather unnerving, having one's life and wellbeing threatened so frequently in the course of so small a period of time. At least his darkened uniform edges and fingertips would be proof of this deed to his father later on. At least they were already more than half finished.

Langston and his partner reapproached their cart for their next body. It became immediately apparent that this one was quite a bit older than the rest and was overdue for perhaps two or three Bonfire Days. This happened with men and women that lived alone and whose remains were not discovered until a curious neighbor checked in, or the smell became such that the soldiers took it upon themselves to force their way into a home and bring out the odor's source. He'd seen his comrades do this a few times. The victims were usually bloated, discolored, and deformed with swelling and boils, much as this man lying in front of him was. With some hesitation, Langston hooked his hands on either one of the pitiful creature's underarms and waited for his partner to do the same with the legs. With grunts of effort from the both of them, they slid the corpse off the edge of the cart and skittered sideways toward the bonfire, struggling over his weight. He was nearly naked and the skin depressed where they held him.

"Lord Almighty, this one's putrid, isn't it?"

"I try not to think of it."

"Weak stomach, eh?" Normally he would've laughed after a comment like that, but that would risk of accidentally breathing through his nose. "Alright, lad. One..." Swing back, swing forward. "Two..." Back, forward. "Heave!"

Yet again, the order to heave caught Langston off guard and the corpse's legs went flying toward the flames before the torso. The young soldier managed to weaken his grip quickly enough not to be pulled along after it, but just barely. The overall weight of the body was so heavy that the momentum alone jerked the shoulders out of his grip and the length of the arms slid across his hands, accompanied by a sensation of slipperiness. It wasn't until the corpse had landed with a resounding thud at the fire's base that Langston realized that the limp weight still laying in his hands was flesh so thin that it had apparently peeled right off in his grip. Impulsively, the man let out a cry of disgust and whipped his hands this way and that. This had by far been the most repulsive thing he'd seen, felt, or smelled in his life and he was immediately overcome with faintness and nausea. His vision and sense of direction flickered momentarily and when he regained his senses, he was leaned against one side of the cart, drenched in cold sweat. His stomach threatened to bring up the contents of his last meal.

In his peripheral vision stood his partner, concerned, as always, for the poor, helpless new recruit. He was going on about something, but the confusion and the noise made him difficult to understand. A few moments later, Langston felt hands on his arms and was pulled back to a stand by two young soldiers on either side of him. He was still somewhat dizzy, but other than that, didn't really require their help. "M-my apologies sir, I--"

"He's had enough for today. I want you boys to take him for some rest and a drink." This was followed by a simultaneous 'yes, sir' from the two unfamiliar guards

Langston tried again. "But sir, it's nothing, really. I was only startled by--"

"Mind your elders, Beufort. I've no use for sick men in my party." The other man leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "They're overworking you on purpose. Your father's orders. Trust me, when you find an opportunity to rest, you'd best be taking full advantage of it." And then as if nothing had happened: "Off with you, now. I'll deal with any expenses later."

And with that, Langston was whisked off to go enjoy the rest of his day with his two comrades (both of whom appeared quite pleased with having been sent off). The memory of what had happened earlier was still too fresh in his mind to allow for his fully concentrating on what his partner had said, but all the same, he couldn't help but feel terrible about it all. If nothing else, all of this just reaffirmed how naturally ill-suited he was to soldiering.

"Enjoying the show, miss?" Langston glanced up from the line of guards he had just finished muscling through. One of his escorts was addressing a young, wispy woman who was standing nearby. From the expression on her face, it seemed highly unlikely that she was 'enjoying' anything about the scene in front of her.  

[Mriae]

It was the words of a man that snapped her out of her trance-like fixation on the burning flames. Her thoughts immediately jarred from recollections of her old neighbor to the question that he had presented her. "Enjoying the show, miss?" It was a simple enough question. The way it was worded, also, showed that the soldier asking her had a bit of a sense of humor. Or, at least, he was trying to be lighthearted about the whole situation in front of them that she was looking at. Mossy green eyes turned and looked, instead of at the man who was addressing her at the moment, but directly at Langston. He was the one closest to her line of vision.

"Oh, immensely," she said, trying to put a little perk or cheer into her voice to make her sound less than exhausted or creeped out by the whole scene. It probably didn't work too well, but hey - at least she tried! Her head then turned, and this time she did moved to gaze at the soldier who addressed her. "I just love the smell of burning corpses in the evening." A pause. Alae gave time to let her words sink in, and while she did she gave one last glance over toward the fire. All those poor souls, all of that suffering...this plague, it was relentless, and it didn't care who it touched. The mere fact that had hit a part of the town they were staying in, that was unsettling enough.

She was tired of being there. Her body ached for her to move. She had to get somewhere again. Anywhere but at the inn she was staying at or by those flames. This was when a thought came to her: perhaps the militiamen that were leaving would like a bit of company? Besides, it's not like she had anywhere to be or to get to. She would enjoy talking to some other people. Turning, the young Auvinian began to walk along side the men, her steps catching up with their stride relatively easy.

"Care for someone to chat with," she asked them all, curiosity and hopefulness probably apparent in her eyes. "After seeing all this, it'd be nice to just...get my thoughts off things, I guess, and going back to the inn I'm staying at doesn't sound all that promising." Boy, was that the truth! Alae would do anything to avoid going back there. The less she had to see her father and his disappointed gaze, and the less she had to think about his detoxification regiment the better.  

[The Leech Festival]

Her solemn expression was gone in an instant, replaced by a light and joking one. The response earned smirks and chuckles from either of his escorts and a polite smile from Langston himself, who's insides were still in no condition for such charming gestures as a well-timed laugh. It would have been difficult in any case, as the exchange had just barely deterred their beeline to the nearest inn. If he remembered correctly, it was but a short stroll from where they presently stood, but his comrades seemed to have no intention of loitering about this area longer than they had to.

The lady, it seemed, had similar ideas. "Care for someone to chat with? After seeing all this, it'd be nice to just...get my thoughts off things, I guess, and going back to the inn I'm staying at doesn't sound all that promising."

It seemed an odd request, as the soldiers of this area made for notoriously rowdy company. All three of them stopped.

"I don't see as it would be a problem, Miss," said the soldier who had greeted her in the first place. He turned to the other. "Didn't Bogard tell us not to fret over expenses?"

"Aye, he did," replied the second before himself turning to face Langston. "Well? We've been excused on your behalf; shall we treat the lady?"

The third, the young soldier in the middle who had never once been asked his opinion on anything by a fellow soldier, stood there for a few moments, somewhat at a loss. The other two seemed eager for the woman's accompaniment, and he too admittedly found it infinitely more desirable than making a show of pretended manliness and military inclination for his comrades. He had already proven himself a handicap--a liability that Bogard was willing to pay for. Would it really make that much of a difference to put an additional drink and meal on his tab? Surely, this young woman had made her request out of considerable hunger or loneliness. With these two options in mind, it would have been impossible for her to turn her away in good conscience.

"I see no harm in it." Langston extended one arm and gave a small bow, inviting their new companion to be at the head of the group.

"May I be so bold as to ask the good lady's name?" This question came from one of his escorts and while the question was innocent enough, there was something about the way he said it that sounded suspicious. He would have to keep an eye on his seemingly friendly and good-natured escorts.
 

[Mriae]

Finally - someone else to talk to! It was a nice reprieve from having to spend more time talking to her father. Not that her father was a bad or annoying man; he wasn't. It just got a bit tiresome and old with having no one else to talk to but him, so spending time with these militia men was a welcomed treat. They seemed nice enough, despite the work they had just been doing a few moments before. Dealing with the dead and burning plague-ridden bodies was a gruesome task, but someone had to do it. Average people weren't as keen to handle the bodies, so the task usually fell to the military. They worked hard in their tasks, so...the least they could do is relax afterward.

When Langston bowed, Alae nodded her head in return. She would have curtsied, perhaps, if she didn't have to stop in order to do so. The last thing she wanted to do was to hold up the men in getting as far away from the flames as they could. The stench was vile, and she was pretty sure all of them wanted to be rid of it as much as she did. Then came a question from one of the other men. He wanted to know her name. "Bold, indeed," she murmured softly before chuckling. Such behavior was rather typical of men, really. Always asking a woman's name before giving their own.

No matter! She could deal with that. The former confectioner gave Langston a quick glance, and then turned away from all the men in a coy fashion as she walked with them. "Where to, gentlemen," she inquired, slowing her pace a bit as they got closer to the other parts of town. "As for my name, you'll just have to guess for now. Use your imagination...until we get to our destination, at least." A slight smirk tugged at her lips. These men may have been eager to learn her name, but she wasn't going to give out information that easily.  

[The Leech Festival]

A rather coy one, she was. And not too bad at it, either. The man who had originally asked the question wasted no time pouncing on her little game. "Beatrice? Margaret? No, no, you look more like an Eleanor to me... No...?"

The four of them continued on their way at a slightly less relaxed pace. All the better for Langston, who was eager to settle his stomach.

"Jasmine? Lillian? No, I didn't think so. Victoria?"

"Anne?" This came suddenly from the taller and broader of the two escort guards. Evidently, he had been mulling this over during his previous silence.

The first tutted mockingly when that guess was also denied. "Pardon my friend here, milady. He's unacquainted with very many women and will only have a limited number of guesses--ow!" The two lagged behind to glare competitively at eachother, one holding his spear with the butt facing outward and the other standing on one foot and holding the other in pain. The ordeal only lasted for a few moments. Within moments they had jogged back to their respective positions on either side of the party and their bickering seemed to be nothing more than playful (if aggressive) banter.

And such was the tale of their short, but entertaining inn-bound adventure, with the two other guards making occasional verbal jabs in an attempt to discredit the other in front of the nameless lady. Mostly though, the three men occupied themselves with throwing out any female name that came to mind, calling out any who accidentally put forth a guess that had already been made earlier. Langston's suggestions were decidedly less interesting and exotic than those of his comrades, but by the time they'd reached their destination, their companion's identity had still remained elusively out of reach. Being contesting sort of fellows, it seemed that the two escorts (or the more talkative one, at least) would go at it for the rest of the day if they needed to. Their arrival at the inn didn't deter them in the slightest and Langston, for fear that they would overwhelm or annoy the woman, waited for the proper moment to interrupt. It came in the form of both guards taking a moment to greet the innkeeper.

"I would suppose we've done enough guessing for now." His gaze flicked over to the lady. "Can we offer you anything to drink? A meal, perhaps?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten her promise... name first, drinks later."  

[Mriae]

If she wanted a form of amusement for the night, she probably couldn't have picked a better group of guys to spend time with. Listening to the three guards go through name after name was really enjoyable, and she had to fight with everything she had to keep from laughing at the guesses they threw her way. Beatrice, really? Please! With all of the suggestions they gave her, they weren't even close! Her name was a bit different from normal ones, then again, but still...she had no intention of dropping hints or anything of the sort.

Alae's smile seemed to fade when they reached their destination. She had expected a pub, or maybe a different inn. Some place aside from the hotel that she and her father were staying at for the night. Inwardly, she could feel her stomach tightening up. What if her father was awake and downstairs instead of up in the room? If he caught her with these soldiers, he'd certainly spirit her away for sure. No...no, she couldn't think like that. Besides, the farmer would be up in their room asleep, for sure. He had been tired from their long day of traveling to their side-stop of Helios. The notion of spending time with the seedy members of town also didn't seem to be that high on Rhyker's priority list, so that was good. For the moment, she could push her worries aside - she wouldn't have to deal with him for now.

Instantly, at the offer of a drink, she immediately perked up. A meal, too? Boy, did all of this sound promising. Yet, in the proper female fashion, she couldn't accept the offer outright. "Oh...I couldn't do that.." she replied quietly, allowing herself to glance down at the ground in a shy manner, her words trailing off. "I wouldn't want to impose." That was partially true. For a meal, she didn't want anyone to go out of their way, but for a drink or two...they could spare a drink or two, couldn't they?

It was then, at one of the guard's statements, that she remembered their deal. She had made an arrangement with them, hadn't she? "Guess it's time to own up to my part of the deal, hmm?" She shook her head as she thought back to all the names they had tried earlier, none of which were even remotely close. The confectioner then gazed up at Langston, smiled, and proceeded to make true to her word for all of them. "My name is Alae. It's nice to meet you all, and if it isn't too much trouble..." Her voice trailed off again as she pondered her options. Should she take the drink they offered, or deny it as a good woman should? Mmmmm...no. She couldn't. Not today. "I'll have whatever you gentlemen are having."

Hopefully, for her sake and for the sake of her father later on, it wouldn't be something too strong.  

[The Leech Festival]

The three of them tipped their hats respectfully, tripping over one another to assure their companion that it was no trouble at all and the pleasure was all theirs and so forth.

"Now that we're on the subject of formal introductions," the thinner guard started, motioning to himself. "Anthony Tremain or Helios. My chum here is Rupert. And this is..." Anthony trailed off, extending an arm toward the the third man of the group.

"Langston Beufort. Of Mishkan."

"Anyhow, Rupert and Langston would I'm sure be glad to show you to a seat, milady. Meantime I'll place our orders and have a word with the innkeeper." With a superfluous bow, Anthony was off to do just that, leaving Miss Alae and his not nearly as suave comrades to their own devices. The inn was rather empty for the moment, not nearly as crowded as it would be in the evenings, but their small party, loud and colorful as it was, had managed to become the center of attention. Langston felt his soldiering uniform especially conspicuous, what with inns of this area and in general having a reputation for housing all sorts of travelers, from vagabonds to criminals.

There was a small, isolated table at one end of the room, just next to a fireplace whose fire was starting to die. Taking the lead, Langston walked toward it, taking care to hold his guard weapon in as least a threatening way as possible. "I can't help but notice that your name is unusual for this area, Miss Alae. Are you a traveler, perchance?" Ah. It seemed innocent enough when he'd thought of it, but now Langston wondered if it was an appropriate thing to ask so early into a conversation. He couldn't help it, though. Having spent so much of his life in homogeneity, the young soldier could not help but be intrigued by diversity of any sort, good or bad.