David stands behind Nathaniel, watching intently as he tends to Gabriel's wounds that had reopened. The heavy scent of blood lingers in the air, clinging to the cold stone walls.
With practiced precision, a magical needle forms under Nathaniel's slender fingertips. Slowly and meticulously, he brings the flesh back together, one thread at a time.
David swallows hard against the knot in his throat, leaning closer.
"What did you call that again?" His voice is barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile threads holding Gabriel together.
Nathaniel pauses for a brief moment before answering.
"They are called Soul Threads." A magic needle rises into the air, twirling gracefully, then it does a little flip before disappearing into thin air.
Nathaniel continues his work, finishing reclosing the wound.
"How does it work? The magic behind it, I mean."
"It's pretty easy," Nathaniel explains, and begins to clean around the edges of the wound. "The magic takes the shape of whatever I desire, and depending on how much mana you infuse into it, it becomes stronger. I could technically make larger objects if I wanted to, but I was born with an exceptionally small mana-core. So instead, I rely on wires and needles."
"They're tiny, but can be incredibly useful if you know how to use them. A few hundred years ago there was a war against Barbarian tribes far to the West, and nobody wanted to actually stand against them. The only way they were ever defeated was with Guerrilla Warfare. It's cheap, but then again, nothing's cheap if it keeps you alive."
David, already jotting down notes in a small pocket journal he kept on him, nodding the entire time.
"Oh, you brought that thing with you?"
"Are you kidding? I wouldn't be caught dead leaving the house without my journal. How else am I going to remember everything?"
"Of course, you do like your notes."
"You said you call them Soul Threads. Can they actually do anything to souls?"
"Of course," Nathaniel replies, a grin crossing his face. "I can see the shape of a person's soul, and with a little poke, I can mess with it." He points a needle at David jokingly before lowering it.
But David holds his little notepad out, and Nathaniel obliges by explaining the anatomy of a soul as he draws it in vague detail.
The explanation drags on, it is incredibly boring, but David listens with rapt attention, determined to learn everything he can.
"Wow! That's a lot," David exclaims, once Nathaniel has finished. "I'll be sure to study it all later."
"Well, you know, David," Nathaniel says, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I barely had any magic before I reached my First Requiem. I'm sure you've still got time. You just have to exorcise a spirit, that’s all."
"Yeah, that’s easier said than done."
"Hey, I've got to finish up with Gabriel. There's still a few more things that need attention," Nathaniel adds, glancing at the door. "How about you go and see if Iris needs help with anything."
With that, David takes his leave, stepping into the pantry. The room is quiet, peaceful even, a stark contrast to the heavy air that fills the impromptu infirmary he came from.
He can see Iris sitting cross-legged on the floor, her head droops low and her eyes are closed. She looks at peace, almost ethereal in the faint glow of the candlelight. David hesitates, tempted to leave her undisturbed, but as his hand touches the door to close it behind him, she stirs.
"S-Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Iris shakes her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
"No, no. I wasn't sleeping, goofy," she laughs, and it rings like a delicate chime in the hushed space.
"I was checking out what the spirits in the area are seeing. And from what I can see, it looks like we're in a pretty peaceful corner of the world."
"Really? What do you see spirits as?"
"Huh? As people, of course. Why do you ask?"
She stands, and David flicks his notebook open to show the intricate drawing of a spirit that Nathaniel had sketched moments prior.
It was an impossible shape, a cube composed of countless smaller cubes that seem to defy logic.
Iris laughs again, a knowing glint in her eyes.
"Nathaniel drew that for you, did he? Everyone sees spirits differently, but for the most part, they’re just like people. Nobody knows for sure why some see them differently, but it's not always a bad thing. Nathaniel can do a lot of things that others can't."
Before David could respond, a putrid scent suddenly assaulted his nostrils. His face contorted in disgust as he pinched his nose shut.
"W-What's with that? I thought you said the food was sealed with magic or something?"
The laughter fades away as Iris glances up at the stored rations.
"They were, but... only the ones on the front shelves stayed good. The rest of it's gone bad, sadly. So we're going to have to do something about food. And before you ask why I was hanging out in the room with rotted food…"
"Why were you-" David begins, but is quickly interrupted.
"Strong feelings can help keep you rooted! That's why. I thought the smell would help my soul not get lost," Iris shouts in defense.
As if summoned by their predicament, Nathaniel appears in the doorway.
"We'll have to send someone grocery shopping. That is if all the coins haven't rotted away too."
Nathaniel’s attempt at humor falls flat, and he clears his throat shamefully.
"David, you should head on into town and do some shopping."
"Huh? Why me?!"
"Because, you don't have a lick of magic in you. Nobody will notice anything out of the ordinary. You see... When people like Iris and I go out and about, we...get stares. The common folk can sense mana, even if they don't necessarily understand what it is they're feeling. And people start to talk. Talking leads to rumors, and rumors lead to us being discovered."
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Iris nods in agreement. "That's right, and with a change of clothes, you'll fit right in!"
So, with a heavy heart and a lingering sense of dread, David sets off on his errand the very next day.
It wasn't difficult to get into town, it was a straight shot there. As he steps into the bustling village of Meadowbrook, the cacophony of haggling voices and clatter of wagon wheels assault his ears.
Dressed in plain garb, he feels like an intruder in this vibrant world, a stranger in a sea of life.
Meadowbrook was a sprawling mass of humanity, larger than any village he had ever seen. Rows upon rows of markets stretch out before him, their colorful awnings flapping in the wind like they were preparing for a parade.
David marvels at the sight, his breath catching in his throat.
He glances down at the shopping list that he clutches tightly in his hand, his nerves fraying like the edges of the worn parchment.
With determined resolve, he plunges headfirst into the throng of people, snatching up items from the list as quickly as he can. His fingers fumble with the coins, and he drops them more than once.
Each purchase goes with relative ease, and finally, David finds himself standing before the last challenge. The bread stall. The aroma of freshly baked bread fills the air, drawing him closer like a moth to a flame.
Yet, as he approaches, a wave of trepidation washes over him. The shopkeeper is a towering colossus of a man, his impressive mustache bristling like the whiskers of some great beast.
David had always longed to grow such a mustache, and the sight of it now was emasculating. David was sure this man would try and make fun of him in some way.
"Hey, how are ya?" the elderly man booms, his voice shaking David out of his thoughts. Panic seizes him, his mind racing as he tries to remember the script he had prepared.
"Gr...Great," David mumbles, his voice barely audible over the noise of the market. The man gives him a warm smile, which only serves to heighten David's anxiety.
"Well, that's great! What can I do ya for?" the shopkeeper asks, leaning forward expectantly.
"I need two loaves of br-" David begins, but is abruptly cut off by the man.
"You need em or want em?" he questions, raising a bushy pair of eyebrows.
David's mind goes blank. He quickly flicks through his notes. This wasn't in the script.
He would have to improvise.
"Well, I-I need it, of course! I'd starve without food." David's words come out awkward and clumsy.
"Of course, you need them. You're a strange critter, aren't ya? You know, I had a son just like you," the old man chuckles, his laughter rich and deep. David's cheeks flush with embarrassment, feeling both exposed and disrespected.
"The name's Tim. Since you're new in town, these are on the house."
He hands David three loaves of bread.
"I-I only asked for two..."
"It's at times like these that you're supposed to say thank you, son," the man laughs, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Uh, thank you," David mutters, clutching the bread tightly to his chest. With one last glance at the mustachioed giant named Tim, he turns and hurries back home.
Far from the bustling market of Meadowbrook, David finds himself swallowed by the dense forest as he wanders off the beaten path. He clutches the groceries to his chest, as if they would shield him from the unknown dangers lurking in the woods.
How did he even get this lost in the first place?...
Realizing that retracing his steps was futile, David decides the best course of action was to stay put and practice his magic.
The thought of conjuring a Soul Thread like Nathaniel had intrigued him, and he longed for even a sliver of magic he could call his own.
With each futile attempt, frustration gnaws away at his spirit, leaving him feeling helpless, like it always did. Desperate to find solace in some form of strength, David grabs a fallen branch with a pinecone attached to its end, and begins swinging it through the air with all his might.
"Just like Gabriel does," he mutters to himself, gritting his teeth as his makeshift mace cuts through the air.
Though his movements are weak and clumsy, his form bears a striking resemblance to Gabriel's own masterful technique.
But it wasn't enough; it never was. It likely never would be.
Defeated, David sinks to the ground, leaning against a tree as he tries to call forth spirits like Iris. Perhaps, he hoped, he would glimpse the world beyond the veil and find answers to his many questions.
Maybe he would learn why he was born into this family, only to be so talentless? Perhaps he’d learn how to grow a mustache? Maybe he would learn how to make himself useful?
If he just tried a little harder everyday, then maybe, just maybe his streak of bad luck would end, and he could help everyone, just like they helped him.
"And what’s your name?" A mysterious voice calls out.
David looks up to see a pale woman. Freckles litter her face, and she has long, brown curls with a pair of eyes that are just as blue as the sky. David had never been good at telling someone's age, but if he had to guess, she seemed to be around his age.
"David, David…" He tries his best to come up with a last name on the spot, but thankfully the girl is far too excited to allow that.
"Oh Davie, what a wonderful name!" She shouts, and practically jumps with joy. "I’m just so excited to meet someone new! Everyone in Meadowbrook, they just aren’t as lively as they used to be…"
"I know what you mean, I met some old guy with a mustache earlier. All he did was make fun of me, and then he wouldn’t even let me pay, like he thought my money was no good!"
"I know the one! The breadman, what’s his name?...Oh! Tim! He’s always ignoring me anytime I go to his stall, so… I quit going!" She exclaims, holding her hands on her hips as she recalls the memory.
"That’s horrible! I wish he would have ignored me… He’s not that great of a guy to talk to, so I don’t think you’re missing out on much."
"I’ll take your word for it.. So are you new around here? I know everyone around here, and I’ve never seen you before. Oh, my names Brooke!" Brooke smiles, holding her hands behind her back as she leans forward.
Her long, brown hair falls forward like a waterfall, and everything else fades away as David’s eyes lock onto the gentle features of her face. He’d never seen someone so beautiful, truly.
"Yeah, my family and I are new in the area. I got a little lost on my way home actually…"
"That’s no good, is your family as interesting as you are?"
"I-I…" David manages to stutter out.
"Yo-You?" Brooke retorts, in a teasing tone.
"I think that my family is much more interesting than me. You’d probably have a better time with any of them." David admits, looking down at the ground as he does so.
"If that’s the case then I never want to meet them!" Brooke declares, and David looks back at her in confusion.
"What do you mea-"
"CAW!"
David’s eyes follow the screech to see a crow sitting on a branch, staring right at him. Iris.
"I-I’ve gotta get going!" David exclaims as pushes himself to his feet, and he begins running into the distance. "But I’ll see you another time, Brooke!"
The woman waves to him as he runs off, and shouts after him.
"You better, I’ll be waiting!"
David follows the crow, and very soon finds his way home. As David approaches the entrance to their hideout, his heart races. He knew he was in trouble, but there was no turning back now. The door creaks open, revealing an irate Iris, arms crossed and expression sour. The dim light casts a shadow across her face that only serves to make her appear even more upset than she was.
"What took you so long? We were worried sick!" she scolds, but a pained expression coats her face, belying her anger.
David knew she was really just worried about him.
David held his hands up defensively, groceries jostling in his grip.
"I got lost, and then I ended up..." He hesitates, reluctant to admit his secret training session. Averting his gaze, he settles on a different truth. "I met a girl, and we ended up talking for a while."
"Really?" Iris scoffs, disbelief etched into her features. She snatches a pinch of bread from the bag before popping it into her mouth. "...You talked to a girl?"
From the bottom of the stairs, Nathaniel chimes in with the same question, his voice dripping with incredulity.
"David, you talked to a girl?"
David's cheeks burn as embarrassment and frustration simmer within him. He clenches his fists, the crinkling of the paper bags echoing through the tense silence.
"Why is that so surprising to everyone?!" David cries out, and he sounds just like a wounded animal.
