The Darkest Dawn

Chapitre 4

It was a few hours before they stopped traveling again, only because Darius finally gave in to Lucien and Audie's complaints of being footsore. He had set up places for them to rest in the trees, seeing as sleeping on the ground was too dangerous. There were only two blankets, so Darius and Lucien shared one while Audie had his own branch. Lucien sat upright, his back against the tree trunk. Darius sat across from him. At first, Lucien had half his mind made up that they would fall. However, he soon realized the mass of the branch was enough to hold them plus Audie and then still have much wiggle room. The size didn't stop Darius from tying Lucien's waist to the branch using rope and then tying himself down a couple feet down the branch. It seemed Lucien was in for another sleepless night.

Lucien leaned his head back, listening to the sounds of crickets and a nearby owl of some sort. He never imagined himself as a free man, and if he did this was certainly not what he had in mind.

"Mr. P? Are you awake?" Darius called out softly. Lucien opened his eyes, staring at the pale man who was now sitting up as well.

"I am awake." The Frenchman replied.

"I'm sorry." Darius whispered, almost as if he truly was the ghost he looked to be.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Lucien asked.

"Well I've been rather nasty to you, haven't I?" Darius sighed. "I snapped at you, I insulted you, and now I've kidnapped you. I think that's the worst part. I took you from a lifestyle you've lived your whole life in, and haven't bothered to stop and think that perhaps you didn't want to be free."

"Well you can stop apologizing right there." Lucien stated. "I did want to be free, but I guess when I finally had the chance I was too afraid to take it." Darius looked relieved. It occured to Lucien that apologizing didn't come naturally to Darius. "It sounded like you were also saving me from something dreadful, what you said about the Pageant earlier." Darius nodded. "Which reminds me, how did you know about that?"

Those dark blue eyes, like stark hellfire burned into Lucien. "I was in one, once."

Lucien felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. "What?"

"I was in it. The first few parties were dress up shows and I remember my... fashion designer... being a patient man with me but my hairdresser was very temperamental. Then there was a time where I was being clad in armor. Being a former soldier, it clicked in my mind. I was tossed into the stadium with green lush grass." Darius recalled, struggling to mention the fashion designer. "By the end of it all, that green clean cut grass was matted down in red. I was covered in it, that awful thick red." Darius fell silent before speaking up again. "It wasn't until later I learned those who lost the fashion shows to last place were executed. Whoever won the stadium earned the chance to try to be a better slave. But I never stopped fighting. You do realize they make you go through the pageant before any sort of Reeducation?" Lucien felt his throat run dry.

"What of your fashion designer?" Lucien asked, his voice hollow.

"Mr. Witchlight. He climbed his way through Seivohn society to the job that was reserved for the most beautiful of slaves, so in a way he was free. We were perhaps... closer than we should've been." Darius smiled but it was an empty smile, sad and desolate. "He was the one who inspired me to fight my way to freedom. Breton didn't like the way I did it though." Lucien remained quiet. Darius and Mr. Witchlight must have indeed been close for Darius to call him by his christian name. Mr. Wood, Lucien corrected himself. As close as this Mr. Witchlight was to Mr. Wood, Lucien was a mere blip in Mr. Wood's life.

"It must be horrible to talk about. I regret asking." Lucien stated.

"It is not as painful to talk about as you might think, but I digress." Mr. Wood sighed. "The highlight here is that you forgive me for pulling a bag over your head and dragging you to the boonies. At least, I hope you do?"

"Dear God, absolutely not, you've trashed my favorite slave rags!" Lucien claimed displaying a torn sleeve, but he smiled to show he bared no ill will.

Mr. Wood chuckled, "Gracious me, what a fashion disaster." He pulled his hair tie out, and his hair cascaded over his shoulders. The blonde locks barely hid his precious jawline, now stiff. Lucien cringed.

"I'm sorry about your jaw." Lucien muttered, eyes focused on the blanket.

"That's fine, I was goading you on anyways. I wanted to remind you how monstrous Seivohn are, but I ended up offending you." Mr. Wood shrugged. Then in a soft voice almost inaudible, "Sorry."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over your ego." Lucien teased. Mr. Wood snorted.

"Huh? I didn't say anything, I don't know what you're talking about!" He retorted, snickering.

Lucien settled himself into the tree. "Goodnight, Mr. Wood." The englishman flinched.

"Oh... I suppose I did just call you 'Mr. P.' Don't you think we're close enough, Lucien?" He smiled hopefully.

"Perhaps we are, Darius."

"Lucien?"

"Hm?"

"I was just thinking about our situation. Care to listen to a poem?" Darius sat up straight.

"A poem? Very well, maybe it will help me sleep."

"There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground / And swallows circling with their shimmering sound / And frogs in the pools singing at night / And wild plum trees in turmalous white / Robins will wear their feathery fire / Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire / Not one would know of the war, not one / Will care at last when done / Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree / If mankind perished utterly / Even spring herself, when woke at dawn / Would scarcely know that we were gone." Darius recited. Lucien felt the poem was familiar.

"Sara Teasdale, if I'm not mistaken." Lucien replied thoughtfully. Darius nodded and lay back on the massive branch. The ropes shifted as he did so, and the blanket was pulled off of Lucien so it only covered his feet. Lucien opened his mouth but his protest fell silent as he watched Darius snuggle comfortably under the blanket. Lucien convinced himself that he could do without, but his body recoiled at the idea of going cold and began to shiver.