To interact fruitfully with Beraiah, one must first understand what the world looks like to a man like him. Only nineteen years old, heâs been on the front lines of a siege that no one else has noticed. Heâs watched the adults that give his life direction and parameters preach and rave and snarl, every word conjuring the great, inescapable evil of the world, hatred and sin encroaching from all sides. They have made a garden to protect themselves, to protect the children, but there is always someone trying to breach their barriers and ram down their gates. Ber has been raised for that, the constant vigilance, the hair trigger judgement. He cannot afford to hesitate. One mistake and all the children die. One mistake and everything the Heralds have built for them goes up in flames.
So a man like that looks at a man like Paul with mounting wariness. He becomes all guard dog in these moments, staring intently at those that would loiter at the border, neither in nor out. Perhaps that is why he remarks it to the apothecary, not yet unfriendly, not yet meaning harm. There is a choice and it cannot be avoided forever. Paul wants to help, Ber can see that. Paul wants people to be safe and happy. So why not finally take the leap? Heâd feel better for it, away from the hateful ignorant sinners that inhabit the rest of the county. He, too, could be safe from what is to come.
He is silent as Paul clumsily evades the topic. He is silent as he approaches the truck and begins unloading crates. Perhaps he moves a little too close as he reaches into the trunk for the medkits. Perhaps he can smell fear. With the way the Chosen eyes Paul, itâs anybodyâs guess.
âWeâre expecting some births soon. Gonna need vaccines.â He remarks after a while. A list is produced and presented. âBy the end of next month we need to have that stocked. Can you handle it?â Having the order flown in is possible but an unnecessary hassle. John prefers to shop locally. At least in this respect.
âSomething bothering you, doc? Youâre sweating.â
Thereâs no using any kind of handtruck heâs got stored away with his haul. The groundâs too wet and muddy. All itâd do is stick and make the job harder. Theyâll need to load them a few at a time up to where the drop off point is. Always at the very edge of the gate. He never goes past it. Never goes in. Heâs not been invited. Lately. He was in the beginning, but they stopped. Maybe his reaction was enough to stave off the invitations (for now). Always too busy, always needing to rush back and get the rest of his work done. Always needing to go, go, go because what was behind those gates? He had no idea about. (His brain wanted to remain blissfully ignorant on purpose.)Â
And he wanted to keep it that way.Â
Remain blind to whatever was left that he couldnât remain blind to. The twisting in his belly. The chilly way he felt when heâd see one of the helpers, or thatâs what he thought they were, go walking by. Barely noticing he was there. Or if they did. They looked at him Lost and hungry and..something else.Â
Two heavy boxes in his arms, he feels a chill against his side when Ber comes close. They meet eyes regardless. Paulâs dont drop or budge away. He holds eye contact well. Respectfully. Without hesitation in spite of his guard being up. Heâs not there to judge. Heâs there to make sure they have the things they need to be healthy. Taken care of. Swallowing over the lump in his throat, a brow quickly jerks up.
âY-eah, Iâm fine. No. Nothingâs bothering me.â His smile is wide enough to show teeth. Bright white. It even makes his eyes pinch at their corners. âLong day on the road,â the smile fades and his head dips into a nod. âOf course. I can get those for you.â His apothecary can get vaccines through the pharmacy easy enough. The townsfolk donât ask him many questions. They know he helps more people than Hope County regulars. But with the tensions the way they are? Paul makes sure they donât know the depth of who.Â
âLead the way..â His chin tilts towards the gate as he hikes up his boxes with one knee and goes to follow.
