[1] WEEPING MONK // you're not what I was looking for

18| Anchor On To Me, Love

═ 𝘼𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙊𝙣 𝙏𝙤 𝙈𝙚, 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ═

[TW// drowning and near main character death. There is a moment where one character is physically sick, I have capped this with *** if you would like to skip that part]

Ari's life hangs in the balance as Squirrel and Lancelot fight to save her.

❖

I hear a storm is coming in
My dear is it all we've ever been?

❖

"Squirrel!" Lancelot shouted as he saw the boy reach for something on the ground. His tunic was covered in blood, so much so that he wasn't sure what was his and what belonged to the twelve or so Paladins he had just dispatched to the depths of hell. He ran as fast as his feet would allow him out through the dense trees as the ground began to slope upwards. And then his heart stopped.

Lancelot watched as a mass of red and earth tones fell off of the edge of the land. His lungs sank down into his chest and he felt like he couldn't breath. He stood lifeless as he watched the boy scramble over towards where Ari and the Paladin had fallen from. Get away from the edge. He wanted to scream but his feet picked themselves up instead.

Lancelot fell to his knees next to the boy and dropped his sword to the ground as he reached the edge, eyes darting to scan the flowing water below, nothing. The boy was crying, warm tears rolling down his cheeks as he sobbed to himself, shouting out her name. Lancelot could feel his face burning, his mind panicking, his fists clutching at the earth as he leaned over.

"There!" The boy exclaimed, pointing to the red cloak which had appeared at the surface of the river. Lancelot was hopeful for a second but that soon washed away.

"Come on," Lancelot begged desperately under his shallow breaths, his body twitching restlessly as his nails dug into the dirt. "Come on Ari," he prayed, hardly breathing. He didn't know who he was praying to but he hoped that they might listen to him.

Lancelot tried to use his senses to find her scent, wood violet and leather, but it was clouded and disfigured by the water and he wasn't thinking straight. He suddenly flashed back to the brook, where he had sat and placed his hand into the water and the water had moved for him. The cold air wished around and passed over him, carrying the faintest whisper that didn't make sense. Lancelot reached his palm out and the boy's helpless face turned to him.

"What are you doing?" The boy breathed out through his cries.

Lancelot did not respond, he had to focus. He wasn't sure how but he tried to force all of his energy into his palm as he pushed his other hand into the dirt. He willed for the water to move. The boy's eyes darted back and forth between his hand and his face, emotionless and concentrating. Lancelot thought of all the times the Father had beaten him down, scarred him, hurt him. Of how Ari had pressed the cloth to his forehead to clean his wound, how she held his hands and tended his palms. Lancelot felt his eyes glaze over, the burning on his face strengthened. He remembered the feeling of her hand against his chest earlier, the warmth that she gave him. How she didn't push him away. The thought of the boy next to him, how he was willing to charge into the trinity guards who threatened to harm him in the Paladin camp. He felt a breeze cross over him again, brushing at his cloak carrying whispers in the air, listen to the light. The world around him went numb.