Feyhaven

Burden of Atlas

          "Thank you, Atlas, those specters have plagued our home for a century. Hells, my father told me stories of the harm they would do to people who walked the halls alone. We can finally live a calm life. With all the kids around, it'll still be lively anyways," the homeowner finishes with a laugh.

         Atlas laughs along with him, responding with, "Thank you, but you should still keep some palo santo with you and burn it anytime that negative energy seeps back into these walls. Besides that, if you follow any kind of worship, prayer can help too. My job is finished here I suppose."

         "I suppose so. Where are you headed now?"

           "I'll follow the road and where it takes me. If I am needed the world usually has its way of finding me. I did my fair share in Mausil, but I felt a sort of metaphysical pull to the West; like something is calling me there."

          The man stares for a moment, "Well, I'm sure you'll accomplish good things, whatever you end up needing to do."

            "I hope so. Thank you for your hospitality."

          With one last goodbye, the exorcist begins his walk into the long night. Mile after mile, step after step, he finds himself growing more and more restless. The twinkling motes of possibility burning brighter than usual in the midnight sky dance on above him as he walks. The sounds of the wildlife, the music from bards trying to keep morale high on the carriages that pass by, the light pitter patter of the rain on cobbled roads. The chaotic nature of the world is a shockingly calming thing for him. 

        As he walks he ponders what could be dragging his attention from home. Some kind of force stronger than anything he'd ever felt. He'd never had the chance to experience true love, but he imagined it to be the closest it could be. It felt as if it were borderline divine intervention, and thus he deemed it worthy to follow through. If some sort of deity found a purpose for him, who was he to break away. He isn't afraid of fate, but he didn't want to waste away in a nobody town. Mausil raised him, but the sands there desolate, and lifeless. He needed more.

         Atlas eventually reaches the next town, and his body grows more tired than his mind. He slowly crumbles to a sitting position, resting outside of the inn: no need to pay for a room. As he finally closes his eyes, a voice jolts him to consciousness.

        "Excuse me sir, do you know where I could find travel around here? Maybe on uh," the man stumbles over his words for a second, "What do they call them again? Horses?"

         "If I'm being honest with you I have no clue, just rolled into town and to be even more honest, I haven't slept in a while. You might have better luck with the tavernkeep or his patrons."

          "Oh, apologies sir, I haven't slept much lately either. And, well? You see, they wont help me for some reason. Something about me seeming rude or condescending."

           "I don't get that from you off the bat, but I will admit I've only just met you. How's about this, you set on down next to me here and we can rest for a while. When we both wake, we can both go find travel."

         The man looks as if he's beginning to tear up, "Thank you genie-man, I can't remember such kindness being shared to me ever, but I don't remember much. Either way, I appreciate this, mister-?"

           "Atlas, Atlas Mori. And don't mention it, brother. As much as I don't want to believe someone hasn't gotten to experience kindness before, I don't doubt it. The world is growing more and more rude by the day it sometimes seems. What did you say your name was again, fellow 'genie-man'? "

          "Loch, and if I am being honest right now, I can't remember the rest."

          Atlas ponders for a second, then bluntly responds, "What happened to you? Forgetting little things is normal, sure. But you seem to have forgotten a lot. Did you get into an accident and hit your head or something?"

           "That hurts my feelings a little, but I can let it slide. And no matter how hard I try I, can't remember. My last name, my home, family, or even what caused this evades me. All I know is Loch. That's it."

           "Ah I understand and I apologize, maybe it's a chance to start anew? The world loves to throw chances like that around at a whim. Who's to say you didn't catch one yourself?"

            "As much as I'd like to think of it like that, some part of me wants to figure it all out. Maybe I never will, or maybe I'll die trying, but I want to know."

           Atlas takes a quick swig from a small, metallic flask in his dull orange, sand-damaged jacket, letting the dark amber liquid flow into his mouth and replaces it in a smooth motion, "That's some conviction, Loch. I have my own, but your's is strong. Either way, I feel like this would be a good conversation to continue over breakfast. Get yourself some sleep and it will be my treat."

          Loch settles down and lays against Atlas' shoulder, causing Atlas to shift slightly.

         "Thank you again, Atlas."

         "Don't mention it, Loch."

         With those final words, the two drift off to sleep in the early morning hours.

       Dreams find Atlas as they usually do. Back in Mausil, in the sandswept wasteland he called home. A certain shop front, and the consistent squeak of a worn door hinge, and the scent of many candles that have probably been burning for too long. He approaches the woman at the counter and a certain face fills his vision. They embrace and he gets to hold her once again. Deep down, he wishes he had the chance to do it in the real world once more, but the fates are cruel mistresses, and they are no fan of the half-genie Atlas Mori.

(Going to publish as I write more. The world will expand and new members will join the crew. Stay tuned to hear more!)