concoctive | — The Story So Far

— The Story So Far —

ch. 0 — the great pestilence

mood music, pt. 1 — alfyn, the apothecary, mood music, pt. 2 — clearbrook, by the pristine waters

Slowly but steadily your body cramps up until you can't even hold a spoon. No one knows what's wrong with you, and Ma looks at you with worry creasing the lines in her face even further, taking your small hands in her weathered ones and rubbing, comforting. It's just the two of you - if one of you loses the other, then what will happen? You think that she doesn't deserve that, after you lost Dad. So you smile as best you can, clenching your fingers tighter and tighter until it's impossible, until you start to rub at these blotches that begin to crop up across you skin.

They darken. They don't itch, they hurt, and it's like a bruise blossoming to life every time you look at yourself. You're already something of a runt, but the exhaustion and inability to really eat much that makes you seem smaller as the purple blotches begin to spread across your body.

Zeph can't even bear to look at them, your best friend's brow creasing in worry as he comes to check on you.

No one can do anything. No one knows if there even is anything that they can do for you. There's murmurs of something called the Great Pestilence, but you don't know. You're just miserably laid out in bed, body tense, as your mother tries to soothe you as best she can.

Until a stranger comes to Clearbrook, blond-haired and dark eyed. You can't really make out his face clearly through bleary eyes, but you do hear him speak with your mother, with Zeph, before it's just the two of you. A soft clink of a bottle being set down somewhere nearby, and then he's gathered you in his arms to prop you upright. Something cool presses to your lips, and he aids you in drinking something as you close your eyes and whimper quietly at the pain of your throat working.

He soothes you, before carefully laying you back into bed.

"... there. That should do it."

His voice is calming, gentle, deep. Not like the rumble of earth, but something softer, soothing, and your eyes flutter shut while he steps away.

"You're a lucky boy, Alfyn. The disease had all but taken over. You had a day or two, at best." Oh, that's what some of the elders were saying, you think. "That I just happened to come along when I did, with this potion in hand... Fate works in mysterious ways. How long did I labor to brew this elixir? And from ingredients that I may never see again... "

But he sighs, something sad, wistful, as he tinkers with something you can't see.

"To tell the truth, it was meant for another... but that hardly matters now. If it saves your life, it will have more than served its purpose. Sleep tight, son. You'll be feeling better on the morrow."

And you do. You do feel better on the morrow, albeit groggy, sense full of cotton from healing. Body sore from all the time you've spent cramped up and tense. Skin itching from the blotches beginning to clear up. Your eyes struggle to open, and you see him - and you see Zeph peering so closely at you, eyes round, worry battling with relief. You see your Ma brushing away tears quietly behind this savior that smiles gently down at you, eyes kind.

"... thanks, mister. But... why'd you save me? We ain't go no money, y'know."

A soft laugh escapes him, and he comes to kneel at your bedside, sweeping back the chicken's nest of hair atop your head, freeing it from your forehead.

"Listen son, and listen well. I saw someone in a bind, and I helped him out. Simple as that."

These words are seared into your memory. More than anything else, they're something that you'll never, ever forget - not for as long as you live, and not for as long as you can stand under your own power.

Softly, awestruck, you say as you close your eyes again:

"... shucks. I hope I can do that, too, someday."

His words, the miraculous potions he made...

He didn't just save my life.

He gave me a whole new sense of purpose.

... and so I became an apothecary.