@drachenblood asked: It hurts even to whisper, every syllable is blood and sand against his throat, yet he’s tugging on Alberic’s sleeve, forcing the words forward. “My… karakul.”
while he cannot say he regrets the decision of taking the boy under his care, with each day that passes, alberic starts to understand more and more just how horrifically out of his depth he truly is. he’d known it would be difficult, of course. after the terrible losses estinien has suffered, after the way alberic had found him in the rubble of his village, clinging to his parents’ lifeless bodies, he’d held no illusion on how hard the path forward for the lad would be. yet somehow, he’d not expected himself to get attached so quickly ━ nor had he ever believed himself to start caring so deeply.
yet care he does, much to his own detriment. each flinch away from his touch cuts at his heartstrings. each struggle to get the lad to eat, to sleep, to interact with him or anyone snaring his throat. each day he has to face estinien’s grief and disappointment that alberic is not who estinien wishes it would be rankles up old grief of his own thought long outlived; and the thought of causing him any more pain seems nigh unbearable. mayhap it is the fact that he no longer labors under the eye’s influence that he feels everything ten times harder. mayhap it is because the lad reminds him of himself. either way ━
when estinien asks about his flock, alberic knows he should dissuade the boy of the hope that any of them might yet live. even if the karakul had found sustenance without the guidance of their shepherd, no predator trawling the lands would deny themselves such easy prey. he knows the chances are minimal and yet, with estinien clutching at his sleeve, that earnest plea despite the sandpaper roughness of his voice tugging at alberic’s heart, those eyes so dark and hopeless like he is expecting alberic to disappoint him once again, he finds that he cannot.
“ i’ll see if i can find them, lad, “ he promises, his own hand carefully folding over estinien’s as he kneels to look him in the eye. the words feel raw on this tongue, like ash and blood, knowing the likely outcome of his find. “ to the best of my abilities, i’ll look for them for you. “
the ride back to the eastern highlands, back to ferndale, is done on chocobo’s back. for once, fortune seems on his side, neither beast nor dragon barring their path, the weather remaining cool yet sunny. it does not stop him from feeling restless, however, pace spurred on by the guilt of leaving estinien behind at the observatorium as he set off on this task. though alberic doubts not the capability of the others of looking after the lad in his brief absence, this certainly not being the first time he has had to travel on his own for the lad’s safety, facing the look on estinien’s face ━ that resigned, empty acceptance ━ never gets any easier.
he lingers only briefly in the scorched remnants of what was once a thriving village, long enough to gather some blooms so he may put them on the three unmarked graves he’d dug for estinien’s family, reciting a small prayer to the fury for each in turn.
then, with a heavy heart, does alberic set off t’ wards the grazing hill where estinien had left the flock of karakul in the wake of nidhogg’s deadly and destructive rampage.
‘t does not take him long to find them; or whatever remains of them anyway. his heart sinks further, a deep and abiding regret filling his lungs as his suspicions prove true: for each carcass he finds bears traces of having been fed ‘pon by the land’s predators. the number he finds is smaller than what it should be, but even that does not fill him with hope. some, he knows, will have been carried off by wyverns. still he looks, determined and nigh desperate, the knowledge that he will have to disappoint the boy after all clogged thickly in the back of his throat.
when the sun has passed its peak, following several more moments of fruitless searching, does he finally resign himself to the truth: that none of the karakul survived.
yet halfway down, he finds himself stopped in his tracks by the somehow miraculous sound of soft and rather pitiful bleating. he spins on his heel, eyes wide, frantically looking for the source of the noise ━ and then there, in a crop of bushes, does he espy tufts of black.
he hardly takes note of the scratch of thorns against his elbows as he pushes foliage aside, the bleating coming louder and a little more scared. neither does he take much heed of the way it tries to kick or bite him as he wraps arms around the trembling body, carefully extracting the animal from its hiding place. instead, alberic finds himself nigh gasping with relief as he sinks to his knees, pressing the karakul to his chest, weakened but very much alive. it struggles briefly ere, clearly exhausted, it stops trying and sags against him instead.
the tag around its ear marks him as estinien’s. alberic can hardly believe it. “ how in the fury’s name did you survive? “ he questions, voice nigh trembling with shock and relief, as if the animal is capable of responding.
all the others he’d found had been white ━ this one, however, sports black wool instead. it seems fitting, somehow, that this one then would prove itself the survivor. a wily one too, for other than starting signs of undernourishment and lack of grooming, he finds no other signs of injury or struggle.
there is no question about what he must do now, despite the obvious difficulties: he’d not expected on having to bring one of the karakul back, so certain had he been of their demise. and yet ━
he would have brought them all back. he’ll not break his promise.
he takes a few days to get the karakul to the nearest village still standing to have the animal properly checked over, taking that time to procure a small chocobo cart and supplies for them both for the journey back. the importance of reintegrating the animal into a flock pressed ‘pon him, alberic feels even more secure in his decision to attempt this, sentimental as it may be.
the trek back takes considerably longer. he sends a missive to the observatorium to inform the men, and by extension estinien, that he is on his way home. he makes sure the karakul is kept fed, watered and warm, his own doting and fretting bringing a small, rueful smile tinged with bitterness to his lips. if only his former master could see him now, he thinks, former azure dragoon demoted to glorified caretaker of traumatized orphans and karakul.
it matters little. he is yet a knight, and proud of it too, but can no longer regret warming to the idea of being a father-figure either, regardless of how his own thoughts like reminding him of his folly. his goal of making estinien his pupil and train him to be the next azure dragoon is not abandoned, after all, his purpose and goals still clear.
but somehow, estinien’s happiness has come to matter too; and nothing makes that more clear than seeing the look of utter shock ‘pon the lad’s face when he finally returns with the karakul in tow, followed by heart-rendering gratitude as estinien sinks to his knees to bury his face into the wool much like alberic had, the karakul immediately pressing close like it remembers.
alberic knows ‘tis not nearly enough to soothe the grief and the anguish. ‘tis not nearly enough to forget all the pain. but it is something. it is something.
he kneels down alongside them and gently brushes a hand over silver hair, not trusting himself to speak.
for the first time, estinien does not flinch.
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