Renounce

Chapter 4: Acknowledgement & Ignorance

☀️ Ashton

Ashton was not feeling very optimistic waking up on Friday morning.

He had poked the snooze button of his smartphone's shrill alarm a dozen times before he actually stumbled stiffly out of bed.

Dressed solely in heart-printed boxers, Ashton stared at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He groaned at the appearance of the dishevelled person it revealed.

Ashton's face was pale and clammy, his hair had dirt and twigs still embedded in it, and the look of his wounded shoulder was alarming.

The injury had ceased bleeding but was still a bit of a mangled mess. A throbbing and stinging sensation persistently remained where the creature's sharp teeth had snared and punctured through the muscles of his shoulder. There was a similar pain of pounding in his head.

The shoulder, and thus arm connected, felt numb and as Ashton rolled his shoulder blade to relieve some tension, painful pops accompanied the motion.

Ashton's heart fell as his suspicions deemed viable. He was aware these were potentially the signs of a fenin bite. If that was so, and the creature from the other night was indeed some kind of strange strain of fenrin; he was in trouble.

With how Whittle's had previously dealt with fenrin bites, this was going to have to be another secret to keep well away from them.

Ashton scanned his messy bedroom floor to find his clothes from the night before. Eventually, he located the attire to discover his pants, although dirty, seemed okay. But his top-wear had not been so lucky.

The thick jacket he had been wearing was missing a big chunk where it had been met by teeth. The far thinner undershirt he had worn underneath had not faired better and was severely torn. Both were soaked in blood. He shoved the evidence under his bed and left himself a mental note to dispose of them when his parents were not around.

A quick shower provided little relief so Ashton found some common pain reliever pills in the bathroom cabinets to try to ease the pain.

A high-collared sweater seemed like the wisest choice to hide the creeping, swollen, rainbow of bruising that surrounded the bite. Ashton let out a chorus of painful hisses as he tentatively dressed his upper body in the grey sweater.

Heading out of his room and towards the front door, Ashton's parents, who were standing in the lounge room, both stopped mid-conversation to look at him. Their serious expressions shifted into displeased frowns.

His mother shook her head.

"You have lessons with the council. You should have already left."

Ashton rolled his eyes but kept his tone calm.

"I'm heading to them now. I'll still arrive on time." He said as he continued to slip out the door.

☀️☀️☀️

Ashton absorbed barely anything from his three-hour spell and casting lessons. He was rather thankful the majority of today was theoretical revision for community standards, as standing too long to practice abilities- even with the pain-killing drugs in his system, made his head pound and the world unsteady.

As per usual, Ashton kept to himself, unwanting to commerge himself in with the other all-female castor-in-training members. The old council professor had a loud voice and prattled on as she always did. But occasionally Ashton could still hear the odd whispers of gossip about his betrothal. It seemed word had already spread, and spread fast. The marriage arrangement had gotten out with no official statement needed.

Ashton could not get out of that old, ex-church building fast enough. He was practically walking on autopilot as the lesson ended and he exited the doors. Passing blissful couples and families as they shopped for the holiday season, Ashton's heavy steps were determined to make their way to his hideout in the forest. However, he faltered as he made his way down the street.

The sound of Tiffany Rugel's familiar carefree laugh made him turn back to look at her. She was happily chatting with a friend beside her, who was a tall girl with short brown hair and freckles that scrunched up around her nose when she caught sight of Ashton looking at them.

As Tiffany followed her friend's gaze, her smile too faded. They stopped walking and their interlocked hands fell away from each other.

Tiffany approached Ashton, the dark curls that were exposed out from under her beanie bounced as she stomped boldly toward him. Her friend did not move, but watched spitefully and waited in the background with her arms folded.

"I didn't see you at class, future wifey," Ashton remarked sourly.

Tiffany's lip curled into a disgusted scowl.

"I don't need the extra practice. My spell-casting skills are flawless." She responded sharply.

"Yes, well. Hopefully, your reproductive capabilities are flawless too. Because what the council really wants from you is more castors to brainwash."

"You're a pig."

"No, I'm a Whittle. Which is worse."

The anger drained from Tiffany's face as she let out a sigh. She looked back at her companion who still had her arms crossed and was tapping her feet irritatedly.

"I'm not happy about this decision either, you know." She remarked flatly. "My parents agreed to it. To prove their loyalty."

Ashton glanced up at the storefronts that were decorated for Christmas. Not the blue, silver, and raven-themed decore of a covered-up Whittle gathering; but the commercially exploited red, green, and gold for the actual Christmas. Ashton wasn't Christian. But there was a jealousy present for everyone else who got to celebrate with their own spin-off of the holiday, religious or otherwise.

"I overheard them talking. My parents are scared that being associated with Leah would bite them in the arse. So they couldn't go against the council's request."

Ashton was suddenly very interested in Tiffany's words. A serious tone replaced his sarcastic disposition.

"Associated with Leah Whittle?"

"Allegedly," Tiffany abbreviated.

"You know her?"

"Everyone from the caster circles knows who Leah is. She has a damned bounty on her head."

"Associated how?" Ashton pried.

"I don't know," Tiffany said with a shrug.

Ashton narrowed his eyes at Tiffany. She returned his suspicious judgement with a roll of her own eyes.

"All I know is that my mum was friends with her back in her high school days."

"There must be something more to it than that." Ashton insisted doubtfully.

"Even if I knew anything more; I wouldn't tell a Whittle pig like you." Tiffany shot back.

"Touché," Ashton snorted.