The Lost Watcher

New Beginning

Grian hummed quietly to himself, his back carefully leaning against the door of someone’s base. He quietly stroked Jellie, who was sitting closely next to him. As he sat, Grian heard the sound of voices speaking through the door behind him. Quietly, he tilted his head back in a subtle attempt to listen.

“Scar,” he heard a voice speak, “I know that you mean well, but-”

“He doesn’t have anyone, X." Scar’s voice cut in, "He was just there by himself, freezing in the storm, and he looked so.. scared. I couldn’t just- leave him there!”

“Scar, I understand that,” the other person, presumably “X”, replied, “But you don’t know who this boy is! You don’t know where he’s from, or whether he has any family, or if he’s a threat-”

“He isn’t a threat!” Scar interjected. Grian could make out the sound of a foot stomping, which he could only assume was Scar making his point. “I laid my sword in front of him," he continued, "I was left there, defenseless. If he’d wanted to, X, he would’ve hurt me.”

Grian heard a faint sigh from X. "Okay, remind me to at some point have a conversation with you about not laying your weapons down in front of random strangers," he said tiredly.

Grian pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped a dirt coated arm around them, while he kept his other arm free to pet Jellie. He tiredly rested his head on his knees. Grian felt exhausted, yes, but the longer he sat there the more he felt…

Burdensome.

The voices of Scar and X grew quieter, almost fully suffocated by the sounds of the wind. It was evident that they didn’t want anyone to hear what was being discussed inside.

A familiar, heavy feeling began to grow inside of the depths of Grian’s stomach. His mind returned to memories of when he was younger, how he had grown accustomed to the voices of his parents arguing. Sometimes they were loud, other times they were quiet, but Grian knew that one thing remained constant:

He was always the topic of discussion.

He let out a tired sigh and buried his head in his arms, both of which now rested semi-comfortably on his knees. Grian continued to hum to himself, the quiet melody comforting him in the otherwise deafening quiet of the night. Jellie’s ears subtly pricked up as she listened to the sound.

After several minutes of waiting, Grian had finally had enough. He felt foolish and downtrodden by all of this. After all, what had he been thinking, really? Following Scar, coming here to this server. He had known, deep down, that it had been too good to be true.

And now, here he was, causing problems and inconveniences all because he had held onto hope.

It had been a hollow hope at best.

With a sigh, Grian pushed himself off of the ground, attempting to ignore the ache that rocked his whole body. As he stood in the quiet of the night, he idly tugged at his ragged sleeve, his mind going back and forth in a debate as to what he should do. Jellie's eyes followed him in close watch.

Finally, Grian made his decision. He dusted off his worn cloak and pants, although the dirt that stained them had been embedded there for years, and it seemed almost impossible to dispel now. Grian found it almost funny, how the dirt didn’t move, clung to him like the terrible ache inside.

“I'm sorry about this, Jellie,” he said quietly, kneeling down to pet the cat one final time, “But I think it’s time for me to be on my way.” Jellie looked up at Grian and sang a confused meow in response.

Grian stood and turned away, pulling his withering green cloak around himself tightly. He felt the attack of the cold wind blowing through the small tears that littered the worn fabric. He could always fix it later, but right now he thought it best he didn’t bother with it.