DESOLATION

13, Wilo - Potions

    I am a healer. I have minimal knowledge of potions but know best of which is healing and night vision. I do not know as much as an Ethellian, but I know enough. I remember something my father told me once, that he had been Ethellian. Nobody in Ethellia is blood born there. Theyre all Orphans, all castaways. Nobody there was wanted by there original village or family, tossed away to live in the hellscape.

    I think now about Steven, clutching his chest like the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He had crawled away like a wounded animal, fumbling for the door, shutting us all out. He had ignored me. I dont remember feeling my feet move but i feel the coolness of the door against my fist and hear the punding of it against it. My mouth moves on its own.

    "Steven, get out here this instant, you are hurt." Its truely just a habit, one I cant be sure is good or not. He seems to say something back but it isnt understandable, but his voice is hearably weak and strained. The door stays firmly shut, but we can all hear him moving around, tidying up. I just sigh and move back from the door, I can feel Laurens icy gaze on me.

    "Why help him? He's already a goner." Her voice is steady and even, her words bitten off at the edges. I just shake my head at her, their was no use in arguing with Lauren. She huffs at me and turns to walk away, giving us all a glare on the way out.

    "Drama queen..." Quincy mutters under his breath, shaking his hands like jazz hands in the air, his words sarcastic. "Quincy." Tesia warns, we all disliked when they fought, they got very loud, angry. "What, you think he should have to take that lying down?! She literally said he wished he had never been here, that she wished he had been dead instead. You know bad bad that is Tess?"

    Tesia is silent, she knows its bad. We all know its bad. We all work under Laurens orders, shes the leader of the group. Tesia is the craftsmanship, Stace is the mediator, the calm in the storm. Seara is the gatherer, hunter, she is our protection. I'm the means of survival, the one who heals and provides. We all have our roles, so does Steven, he gathers too, he also helps me make potions. Quincy does his own sort of thing, going arond to do his little orginizing of things.

    Everyone has their own chore in a way, their own little tasks. Except David, David does what he wants. All because he's older than us, in his fourtys while the rest of us are in our extremely early twenties. No ones gona boss big old grandpa David around. David usually makes arrows, he's pretty skilled in his craftsmanship of them.

    The conversation at hand drags me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. Quincy had obviously said something that surprised everyone, even himself, everyone staring at him in bafflement.

"I didn't mean... not like that no-"

He scrambles to find the right words to fix what he said, but he just closes his mouth and sighs.

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They're all falling apart, how sweet. But that's what love does, is it not what it does? It's not uncommon for people to forget all about people other than those they care about, that love can make you overlook so many things. Even the person you loves safety...

Nobody can help this, they're all destined to die no matter how hard he tries to keep it together, he will fall apart. Even the strongest glass can crack and fracture under the smallest tap.