Chapter Text
The wind whistled creepily down Arthur’s fireplace. To Arthur, it sounded like the spirits of the dead were screaming, and he shuddered at the thought. Tiredly, he got up to stoke the fire, trying to brighten his dark cabin with bigger one. He wanted tea, dammit! It distracted him from his fears of storms.
Luckily, the wind outside decided to calm for a bit, and so the fire was able to keep his cabin warm and boil his water. Walking over to his ‘kitchen side’ of the cabin, Arthur opened some cupboards and frowned. Taking out a small box, he opened it and sighed. His tea was almost out, and that wouldn’t do! At least there was a little bit left for his nightly routine.
“I guess I’ll have to go to town for more...” He muttered, and then immediately cringed. Worry started to bubble up but he did his best to swallow it down. Arthur knew he should've spoken in his fake, monotone voice instead of his actual voice! Mentally berating himself, he shook his head. It was a good thing he spoke lowly to himself, and that he lived a little ways off from town. He hoped his Voice hadn't gone that far; after all, who knew how powerful a siren he could be? It was dangerous for him to use his own voice, as his family told him long ago. Otherwise, the people who lived around the area would hunt him down and kill him. Many thought sirens and magic were abominations to the world; a strong evil that must be rid of. Just to be safe, Arthur went over to the darkened window and closed the ragged, old curtains. It was always a good feeling to feel secure his home, and to know that no outsiders could look in.
When his tea was finally brewed, and he had sipped the last of it away, Arthur got ready for bed. Slipping on his brother’s big sweater and some loose stretchy pants, he opened his bedside table. Carefully, he lifted out a blarge coin bag. The coins jingled as he dumped them on the bedspread. Then Arthur started to count them. He needed to to know how much money he had left.
After counting the cold, round coins, and feeling satified with what he had, Arthur set down the bag on the small table and went to sleep.
Arthur awoke to birds chirping faintly outside, a much nicer contrast to the stormy winds heard from the night before. He glanced up at the dulled sunlight, and moved the curtain aside to let some light in.
“Uhh... I’m too tired for this...” He moaned. Sighing, he got up and changed into his ‘town clothes’: a nice, unwrinkled pair of pants, a crisp white shirt accompanied by a brown sweater vest, and neat, styled blond styled hair--well, as neat as he could manage. His hair was always wild and scraggly looking, and to top it off he had large eyebrows that ruined his 'respectable hermit look'.
Grabbing his money from the bedside table's surface, and slipped it into his travel bag, along with his fine, town shoes. After checking that his boots were tied firmly--because they were once his brother's--he clunked all the way down to the beach. He always wore the boots when he went places; they were the only shoes that kept his feet clean.
As he walked, the thunderous ocean waves seemed to call to him, and the seagulls called out to the bright, clear sky. TNo cloud could be seen. A nice, cool wind blew his hair into a more entanglement, but Arthur was already thinking it would be a lovely day! Until he saw a body, looking stiff, washing up on the shore. Splinters of wood floated around him, some already getting buried on the beach. Arthur had to do a double take, his stomach summersaulting.
The water was repeatedly shoving it away, immatating a child refusing to take something. Arthur stopped walking. Was the person dead? Should he check and see if they were alive? And; if they were alive, would he nurse them back to health? Or would he run and get help (although Arthur didn’t really want to share his location to the townsmen just for safety)? Who would even pay for the doctor’s bills?
Arthur was still quite a few paces away, slipping a little on the sand, but he could tell that the body was facing up; so the person’s face wasn’t in the water. He hadn’t seen a deceased body since he’d escaped from his hometown with his brother, and his father’s corpse too. It plagued him greatly. Drawing a deep breath, Arthur knew he had to do the right thing. He sprinted fast to the body, convincing himself this was the right course of action. He should take in his fears and help this person--either alive or dead! He could bury them next to his brother if they hadn't made it.
As he got closer, Arthur realized that the body was a man’s. A handsome man, might he add. He had wheat gold hair, and pale skin. His dark blue clothes were so dampened that they clung tightly around his figure.
His chest, Arthur noticed, was still heaving, though weakly. Was he dying, or could he be saved?
Arthur latched his pack over his shoulders more securely. Then he bent down, and gingerly lifted the man up under his armpits. Good lord he was heavy!
Making his way back to his cabin felt like an eternity. Arthur didn’t even know how he managed to half-carry, half-drag the man up to his home. Luckily he didn't lived far from the beach.
As he laid the mysterious young man down on the floor, and grabbed a towel to put under his head, Arthur leaned against the door. It was going to be a longer day than he planned.