Chronicle 8; It’s Always the Quiet Ones
Iolar wasn’t-... really a mentor.
Eva had demanded he train her, years back.
‘I want to learn from the best! You’re a legend, so teach me!’
He’d refused. He’d refused ten different times. Eva had persisted, so many times. She wouldn’t leave him alone. He could still recall the fury in his veins, the spilled coffee from her suddenly dropping in at random intervals, and how loud Jace laughed when she actually managed to surprise him.
‘Fine, I’ll teach you!’
The bright look on her face when he’d agreed. Then the moment he started actually training her.
He only saw frustration, anger, and occasionally pain after he started. Part of him had felt bad, truly, but slowly, she got better. She had a steep learning curve, but excelled once she got the hang of it. Iolar couldn’t think of a way he could’ve been prouder the moment he saw her get it, even if he’d had- a hard time showing it.
Jace always said that when they first met, he thought Iolar hated him. For a solid three years. Why, Iolar never quite understood, but when Jace had said it around Eva, she concurred. She thought he hated her too.
He-... wasn’t that great of a mentor.
Which is why he wasn’t sure how to handle training Eloi.
Iolar watched Eloi get his bearings in the backyard to the haven. Iolar had started to turn it into a training yard, but his efforts thus far had been clearing it of obstacles and setting up a training rink. He had some padded flooring on order, but for now, it was just an dirt field that he’d cleared and leveled by hand. There were quite a few angry worms and insects from his actions, but that seriously implied Iolar cared.
Eloi kicked a bit of the dirt, walking the edges of the training ring, tracing it with his feet. Trying to figure out where it began and where it ended. Iolar gave him time. The boy still tended to struggle with his blindness,
“... Ready?” Iolar called when Eloi finished his tracing.
Eloi hesitated, looking up at him blindly. “... U-uhm... yeah... I think so.” Iolar did his best not to react.
The scars over his face were- severe. His eyes were both opaque, sightless, and it looked like a wild animal had gotten to him. Iolar felt badly for him. He wondered if Eloi- knew how obvious the scarring was. Everyone at the haven had known it was there, and managed their responses accordingly, but Eloi needed to be able to-...get out too. Get into the world.
“What are we-... gonna be doing?” Eloi fidgeted with his gauntlet, tracing the edges nervously.
“First of all, I need to know where you are as far as fighting.” Iolar folded his arms, stepping into the dirt rink until he reached the center. “Only after I know that am I going to teach you anything about the shadows, or the Rift. I need to know you can handle yourself.”
The teen swallowed, before giving a nod. “... O-... okay.... How?”
“Attack me. Try to take me down. Try to kill me.” Iolar stared at him, his eyes hard.
“K-kill you?” Eloi stammered, a bit of horror dawning on his face.
The reaction made Iolar question. Question if Eloi was truly ready for his training. Eloi seemed fragile, like trying to mold already set and cooled glass. The thief’s training wasn’t easy. It wasn’t delicate. Eva once quoted it as being ‘Like being tossed in a meat grinder and expected to run a marathon on the other side.’
“Yes.” Iolar stated simply, slowly glaring at him a little. The boy didn’t honestly think he’d hurt him, did he? Especially after having seen him fight Fletcher? Well... that wasn’t even much of a fight, now was it? He huffed, shaking his head. “I’m no stranger to fighting, Eloi. Don’t hold back.”
Eloi seemed nervous, still, but gave a small nod. He settled into a stance, taking a shaky breath, before rushing at him. He aimed a punch toward him, only for Iolar to catch his wrist and twist his arm, throwing him behind him with the teen’s momentum. Eloi yelped, starting to stumble, but catching himself. He gritted his teeth, before coming at Iolar again.
Every blow the teen attempted, Iolar blocked one handedly, or stepped off to the side, letting the boy fall. The shock of his blows was fairly strong, but Iolar had faced far stronger opponents. He didn’t even need to do that much in order to absorb the shock.
Honestly, Eloi wasn’t- half bad. But he was far too predictable. His movements were almost sloppy from his tension. He had a long way to go before Iolar felt confident in his fighting ability, but at least he knew something.
Iolar hadn’t really been fighting back this entire time.He finally rolled his eyes at Eloi’s charge and attempted kick. The thief caught Eloi’s leg. The teen yelped, trying to fight back, but Iolar’s grip was too much. Iolar threw him down to the ground. The thief heard the grunt of pain as Eloi landed. He laid there, stunned for a long moment.
For a brief moment, he wondered if he actually had hurt the boy. Until he saw Eloi roll over to his back, his face simply set in a tired grimace.
“... You’re predictable.” Iolar drawled, almost bored. “It’s far too easy to see your movements, and frankly, you’re not that strong or fast either. You need a fair bit of training, especially if you expect to survive.”
Eloi hesitated, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. He almost seemed distressed, but Iolar couldn’t place why.
“... O-okay... are we- going to do that today?” The teenager shifted, slowly sitting up and wincing slightly. Eloi pushed himself to stand, brushing the dirt off his t-shirt and jeans. Iolar could spot a couple scrapes on his arms from where he fell.
Iolar folded his arms over his chest, staring at Eloi. “... Yes. You have to get stronger if I’m going to take you into the Rift.” He straightened, watching the kid. “Loosen your stance.”
Eloi hesitated, but tried to take some of the tension out of his stance. But he was still- so incredibly tense. It was so unnatural for him to drop into a fighting stance. Iolar felt a prick of mild annoyance, sighing. Eloi tensed again, clenching his fists.
Why the boy was struggling to grasp the concept was beyond Iolar. Maybe it was a good thing he wasn’t being trained as a thief anymore. He wouldn’t have been able to make the cut in the end. Thievery was a profession that people fell into for a handful of reasons. Most of them led to a lack of discipline. That was exactly what got all too many of them caught. Or killed.
The elder man huffed, shifting his own stance. “Just-... just watch.” He muttered, taking a deep breath. He slipped into an easy defensive stance, one of the many he knew by heart. His muscles were fairly relaxed, but alert, as though ready to spring away, but fluid, ready to react.
He glanced to Eloi. The boy started to mimic the stance. He was still tense, but he- had the framework of it down. “No... you’ve got to relax.” Iolar sighed heavily. Eloi fidgeted, letting the stance slowly drop.
Iolar could hear footsteps. Eloi tensed again, looking toward the house. The elder man followed his gaze, letting his stance drop.
A teen only a couple years older than Eloi walked up with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was a mop of unruly brown curls, and behind rectangular glasses were warm brown eyes. He wore a plain, blue zip up hoodie, and jeans, but seemed rather at ease when he saw Iolar, giving a wave.
“... Chris. I wasn’t expecting you until much later.”
Chris started to give a friendly, bright smile, before it faltered. He looked to Eloi, frowning a little. Iolar knew the thoughtful look the teen had. He got it whenever he was concerned about his little furball, the stray cat he rescued off the streets. Iolar never much cared for Rasmus, but he could admit the cat was intelligent, and it seemed to be good for Chris.
It seemed pieces slowly clicked into place for the teen about what was going on. He fixed Iolar with a hard stare, gesturing for him to come over.
Iolar frowned. “... Eloi, keep practicing.” He muttered, before stalking toward Chris. He tucked his thumbs in his pockets, following as Chris turned on his heel and walked about halfway back to the haven. The teen didn’t stop until they were out of earshot of Eloi.
The shorter teen turned to face Iolar, his normally gentle and warm brown eyes unusually sharp. “What are you doing to him?!” Chris signed, using his hands rather angrily at Iolar as he spoke. “He is on the verge of an anxiety attack!”
Iolar clenched his jaw, starting to speak. “I’m training him, Chris-.”
“No, that is not training!” Chris glared at Iolar, his hands moving fast with his rather aggressive signing. “Can’t you see how fragile Eloi is?! He needs a gentle hand to guide him, not barking orders and demanding he do better!”
“I don’t know how else to train him!” Iolar snapped.
“Then step down! Tell Jace or Eva to teach him how to fight!” Chris almost snarled as he continued to sign. The sight honestly was intimidating. Iolar hadn’t seen him this angry in a long time, if- ever. The fire in his eyes reminded Iolar of arrows in flight; piercing and aimed with precision. “But you cannot have it both ways. You can’t be so aggressive and then tell me you don’t know how else to train him! You’re a thief! You’re self proclaimed master thief! Learn!!!”
Iolar stared at Chris for a long moment, hesitating. The teen was furious. The thief had always thought he had a soft heart, but it was clear right now that he also had an edge. Chris-... had a point. But-.... “How?” Iolar asked, glancing back toward Eloi for a moment. The boy had started to pace the dirt training ring, seeming really nervous as he seemed to try and walk himself through a couple fighting moves.
The thief sighed, closing his eyes. “... Fine, if I’m-... not doing this properly, then what do you suggest?”
Chris pursed his lips, before sighing softly. “... You take it slow. You ask questions, or watch his reactions. Don’t push him so hard, so fast.”
“... Chris, if he’s not up to par soon, he might die at the hands of the Rift. It’s not-... a gentle or slow place.”
“Then you protect him. You teach him, and while he’s learning, you protect him with the knowledge you have.” Chris gave a small, pleading look as he signed. Desperate. “... From what you’ve told me, the voices in the Rift-... they get worse when you’re in a heightened emotional state, right?”
“...Yes.”
“Then what do you think you’re doing to Eloi?”
Silence fell for a long moment.
Iolar took a deep breath, gathering himself. “... Fine, I’ll-... I’ll try.” He ran a hand down his face. He hated to admit it, but Chris was right. He had to be firm, but-... gentle, in some cases. He had to try and be- more attentive, he supposed. He sighed, looking back to Eloi. The teen had crouched down, nervously fidgeting with the dirt. When he spotted Chris starting to sign again out of the corner of his eye, he looked back to him.
“I’ll be with you. Just-... think back to how you felt when you were his age. When you first became a Rift Walker. He’s lost, and he’s scared. He’s-... only a little younger than I am. I know I’m not-... well, I’m not a fighter, but he’s not Eva or Jace. He needs a gentler hand.”
“... I know, Chris.” Iolar sighs, before shaking his head. “... Come on.”
Iolar started to walk back to the training area. The sun was starting to pass behind some clouds, making him grimace slightly. The moment he felt any rain, he was sending Chris into the house again. If Eloi was up to continue training, they would, but he wasn’t about to put Chris through that.
No, he still remembered meeting the teenager.
Chris hadn’t changed that much over the last four years. He got a bit taller, but his mannerisms were much the same. He remembered how uncertain the boy was in communicating, passing written notes. The thief was caught off guard by how intelligent he was, truthfully. Even back then, he was one of the best inventors Iolar had ever met. He’d only gotten better with time and the resources Iolar had offered.
But the day he met him, it was storming. He remembered how frightened he was, curled up in a covered bus stop and trying to block out his ears. The soft whimpers had caught Iolar off guard.
The thief had gently placed headphones over his ears, and turned his audio book to classical music. Iolar had stayed with the teenager until he got home. He didn’t learn why he feared storms until much later. Honestly... Iolar was surprised that Chris had ever said anything about it. Fears, regardless of their origins, needed to be respected.
But it was hard to teach Eloi.
Iolar saw so much of himself in the boy.
The teenager was about the same age as he was when he first received the gauntlet. He had fallen in with someone who he never should have. He was even training to be a thief. The difference was in the nature of their damage. Eloi shattered. Iolar lashed out.
Had it not been for Jace, and later Eva, Iolar would’ve been dead. Not because of some job gone wrong, nor an assassination attempt, or anything of the sort. No... without them, things would’ve been very different. Like father, like son.
“Eloi.” The teen jumped at Iolar’s voice. Iolar kept his arms folded over his chest, a bit uncomfortable. “... This is Chris. Chris, this is Eloi.”
The teen hesitated, but gave a small nod. “... O-okay. Hi, Chris.” He looked blindly toward the teen. Chris gave a small wave, smiling. Eloi seemed unsure of what to do with the lack of vocal greeting. “U-uhm....”
“Let’s get back to it.” Iolar shook his head. “... Eloi, how many times have you fought? Outside of training.”
“U-uhm....”
“... Right.” Iolar sighed. Chris cleared his throat a little, shifting to sit at the edge of the dirt ring.
The thief hesitated, grumbling a little before moving to pick up a dummy at the edge of the ring. He pulled it inside, setting it up in a pre-dug hole. It was filled with dead grass, the very same dead grass he cleared from the dirt ring, and stuffed inside an old leather jacket. The jacket had been Jace’s, but after several holes from- various activities, he’d surrendered it to the cause.
“... I want you to fight against the dummy. I’ll correct where I need to.” Iolar stepped back to stand closer to Chris. The mute teen looked up at him, a bit approving of the sudden shift in tone.
As Eloi moved to stand in front of the dummy, Iolar could hear Chris pull out something from his messenger bag. Iolar glanced down briefly, spotting one of the gloves he’d contracted Chris to make. His young inventor had made so many incarnations of these gloves until he found the design he did now. It was perfect blend of strong and discrete now, to cover and conceal the Rift Walker gauntlets.
This one was for Eloi.
Iolar looked back to the young teen, watching as he settled into a fighting stance. He frowned, keeping his mouth shut for the moment. Eloi threw a few punches, the dummy jarred from the force, but his movements were out of sync for his body.
“Keep your arm straight when you punch.” Iolar called out, folding his arms. “And don’t forget your footwork. Go close, and back off.”
Eloi made the corrections, rather well. It was slower, but at least he was making progress. But he seemed disjointed still, and Iolar could tell where his punches would land before Eloi even threw the punch. It was as though the fighting style simply didn’t work for Eloi. Yet again, from what little points he could see, it was a very-... visually based style. The teen seemed almost lost on the battlefield.
Iolar slowly tilted his head, watching closer. The pieces were slowly falling into place for him. Eloi had known how to fight, at least a bit. But due to losing his sight, he was lost.
Chris was right. Eloi was trying his best, and Iolar had been treating it as though he didn’t know anything.
He felt-... bad.
The thief was brought out of his thoughts. Eloi tripped, stumbling and falling into the dummy. The teen gave a yelp of surprise. The dummy started to fall. Iolar could see a sharp piece of wood about to pierce the boy.
Iolar bolted forward, reacting on instinct. He caught Eloi before he fell, letting the dummy fall to the ground. The elder man could feel Eloi trembling. Probably from the shock. He pulled Eloi back to his feet fully, letting him stand.
“... You haven’t done any training since losing your sight, have you?” Iolar asked, keeping his tone fairly calm as he took a step back.
Eloi shook his head, shaking. “I’m-... I’m s-sorry-, I-.”
“Don’t.” Iolar sighed. “... I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Eloi. So, I want you to forget everything you’ve learned about fighting right now. Fighting sightless is a completely different breed of animal.”
“... Th-then... what are- you going to do?”
“Teach you how to fight, sight or no sight.” Iolar turned on his heel, walking back to Chris. “... But not today. Chris, check the fit of the glove. I’ll be inside when you’re done.” He continued to walk toward the house, frowning.
Iolar needed a second to breathe, and to think. This all was striking a bit too close to home for him. He was-... tired.
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Chris watched Iolar go. The teen sighed softly. The thief needed to learn how to talk to people, but especially about his feelings. Chris had known him long enough to tell when he needed a second, but-... his friend tended to run away more often than he faced anything.
In many ways, Iolar was the bravest man Chris had ever met. In other ways... Iolar was as frightened or weak as anyone else.
The teen turned to face the younger teen, giving another wave, before he realized something.
He... couldn’t speak. And Eloi- couldn’t see.
Communicating was going to be a challenge, wasn’t it?
Chris grabbed his phone from his pocket, opening up a text-to-speech application. This was going to be the easiest option, at least for now. He typed out something, before letting his phone speak for him.
“Hello, my name is Chris. Iolar wanted me to see if this glove fits you. It helps to conceal and keep the gauntlet from shredding things.”
Eloi blinked in surprise at the electronic voice. He visibly hesitated. “... Why-... does your voice sound-... weird?”
“I have to use my phone to speak. Unless you know sign language?” Chris typed, offering an awkward smile.
The younger teen shook his head. “Then are y-you... d-deaf? I-. I mean-. ... U-uhm... okay, so you have- a glove for me?”
Chris smiled warmly. “You’re fine, Eloi. I’m not deaf, but I cannot speak. So... I just do things a little differently. As for the glove, yup! May I give it to you, and help make sure it fits?”
Eloi hesitated again, before giving a small nod. He stepped closer, so Chris could hand him the glove. The inventor watched as Eloi slipped it on over the gauntlet. It completely covered the gilded artifact. Chris held up his hands briefly, before slowly moving to rest his hands on the glove, moving predictably so Eloi could tell what he was doing.
It fit fairly decently, but it needed to be tightened down in some areas. Such small details were expected, but with it being somewhat larger, Eloi could grow into it. He tightened down the inner straps, making it snug and comfortable. He smiled after he was finished, looking to his phone again.
“I think that’s good. How does it feel?”
Eloi gave a small, nervous smile, feeling around the glove. “... Comfortable... and- and I won’t rip through it?”
“Nope. It’s the same design I use for Iolar, and while he’s broken more than a few of my gloves, it hasn’t been the gauntlet’s doing. More-... Iolar’s own doing.”
The younger teen gave a chuckle. “... K-kind of sounds like him. Is he- always reckless?”
Chris hesitated, scratching the back of his head briefly. Well.... “Pretty frequently, yes. But if he wasn’t reckless, most of us wouldn’t be here. So... as much as we joke about it, he does what few others would.”
Eloi seemed to understand. His smile faded, but he gave a small nod. He wrapped his arms around himself, looking toward the direction Iolar had disappeared. Chris wondered what was going through his mind. Eloi wasn’t-... that much younger than he was. He couldn’t imagine what going through all of this would-... do to someone.
“... Come on, let’s go inside. I’m kind of hungry, how about I make some sandwiches for lunch for us?” Chris gave a smile, uncaring that Eloi couldn’t truly see it.
Spotting the jump Eloi gave, Chris felt bad for a moment. But he seemed to recover rather quickly. “I-... I don’t need-.... I mean- I’m a bit h-hu-.... But I’m- fine.”
Chris quirked a brow, before typing another response. “If I’m making one sandwich, I may as well make two. Come on, lets get some food, Eloi.” He turned to go back to the haven, not looking behind him. A few moments later, he heard footsteps behind him. Chris smiled softly.
“... Th-... thanks....”
“No problem.”