Ruin Maketh Me

28 - He sprouted love like flowers, grew a garden in his mind

     Surprise strings through my mind. I had expected Set or some other servant to come fetch me, but Ralphus? Well, that's something quite out of the blue. A small spark of thankfulness squeezes its way into my heart, at least he helped me before in that classroom, it was he who cut the magic.
     His eyes light on my left arm and sling, "I'll heal that for you."
"No," I say walking towards him, "The Lilith has forbidden it."
A spasm passes through his right brow, "Has it been properly reduced?"
"Yes." Lilith sure wasn't kidding when he said no one would disobey his command.
Ralphus gives a small nod, "Going by portal will be quite difficult then. Here," Brief golden light splashes from under his hand and a transparent sort of bubble wraps around my left arm, "I'll take you back to the dormitory."
I prod the bubble gently, it's stiff and strong and acts like an airbag of some sort. He holds out his hand again, and I take it firmly.
     "Please hold on tightly." He says like a mantra.
     Then the ground disappears, and I'm falling like a rag doll, swung here and there. Nausea rises in growing waves, and in a burst of colour, I'm back on the ground again somehow.
     My stomach flips and a groan slips out, "Uhh."
     Ralphus crouches, goes to support me with an arm then freezes.
Even after the dizziness and mind numbing sickness subsides like a withdrawing tide, he's still crouching down, arm half raised, frozen like a statue. So still others could've mistaken him for a sculpture. His head is thrown down and covered in shadows so that I cannot see his face.
"What's the matter?" I ask.
Ralphus does not answer and remains so still, I can't even see the rise and fall of his chest.
"Sir Ralphus?" I ask louder.
Something's not right with him. I turn to face him directly on, analysing the grim line of his lips. What the fuck's matter with him again? Yesterday night I can understand, he was vulnerable and traumatised. This morning I can somewhat understand too, he was in a bad mood. But now? His temper changed way too quickly.
"Sir Ralphus are you feeling ok?" I place a hand gingerly on his broad shoulder.
He draws a long breath, in, out and stands up again.
I follow suit and rise to my feet through all the shaking muscle and creaking bones.
"Those wounds..." He trails, "Who?"
I look at him blankly, "The wounds on my back?" He must've seen the bruises through the back of my collar, "Those were made by Set and the Inquisition." I say nonchalantly, making my way to the glass doors of Servant Dorm 10.
"Let me heal those wounds."
His voice is just as balanced as before but his words are clipped and his tone tightly constrained.
"I'm afraid I can't Sir Ralphus." I say warningly, "I appreciate your goodwill."
      He remains silent, and in the glass I see his reflected figure several metres away. His face is withdrawn and facing down, a plain of shadows in the backdrop of the dim sunset glow. What is he thinking standing there so solemnly? His head rises, eyes pierce my back with a certain pain and helplessness and confusion that shine radiantly even in a reflection.
     "Have you applied any ointment or cream?" The underlying tone of his voice is just as tense and tightly bound.
     I eye his figure in the glass, "Yes, I have, but I'll apply some more later."
     His eyebrows draw even lower over his eyes, and he seems about to say something, but he stops himself last second.
     I give a faint shake of my head, swing open the glass doors and throw him a distant, "Thank you for sending me here" before entering the darkened lobby of the dormitory.
     Hoplin's not here again, and I was hoping they could give me the information on Ralphus. Three to four days was it? Was it really that difficult to find? Ralphus's lost gaze descends into my mind again. Whatever information it is, it'll be worth it.

    I stare up at the pale morning sun then down at the narrow stone path I'm standing on. Just where the fuck am I?
I had been exalted when I woke up and found that Set had not crept into my room. But that exhalation had quickly faded when I realised she had left me a map and expected me to find my own way to the Kade Mansion. Ignoring the fact that the pain thrumming through my body was nearly the same as getting run over by a car, the map itself looked intricately drawn and the instructions sounded coherent.
I had expected to find the mansion quite easily.
But just where the fuck am I now?
I grip the thick creamy paper of the map tighter and trace the black ink. Turn right, go straight, turn left... Yes, I did turn left! But where is the Mansion? I swing back to the path I'm on, there's nothing but a row of leafy trees either side. No Mansion or any other building in sight.
I massage my temples and release a long breath. Should I go back or should I continue on? Set hadn't specified any time on her note, but it's very obviously not time limitless chore. I bring the map closer to my burning eyes and sift through the black lines. Assuming that I'm somewhere near the vicinity of the Mansion, there should be a line for the path I'm on.
Nothing.
There are too many thin lines expanding into all directions. I run a hand through my hair and turn around to look at the long, long path extending back the way I came. I might as well just carry on and enjoy the fresh morning air and sun. Folding up the map, I place it in my pant pockets and carry forwards down the grey tiled path.
The leaf weighed branches of the trees sway surreally in the wind and in the near distance, there seems to be an end to this long, straight path where the trees open up into open space. I walk quicker towards the bright light, maybe the Mansion is just there, beyond this path.
I burst out into the small clearing and my feet slow to a halt. Covering the emerald grass of the circular clearing is a sea of blooming flowers. Pastel pinks and purples and blues shower my eyes and the scent of blossoms is tenderly sweet and indescribably inviting. My heart sings and for a fleeting second, I'm almost thankful to God for showing me this sight that I will never forget.
I stumble disjointedly on the small path through the sway of flowers, towards the stone pavilion in the centre. Someone, a man sits leisurely at the rounded glass table in the shade, staring out at the extending expanse of petals. My feet falter in their step. With whom do I share this spectacular sight with?
The man half turns in his seat, and I take a slow pace forward. Long black hair hangs like an onyx river over the back of the wire chair, thick lashes flutter once and red eyes meet mine in the space between us.
Julius Kade.
What is he doing here?
A small smile blooms on his dark lips, and he looks at me not with the usual interest, like he's looking at a commodity, but with a relief and a faint surprise like he's been waiting for me.
My feet stick to the ground. Something about him is different like a reflection is different to the true object. There's an unguardedness about him, a lightness in his air that somehow changes and purifies him drastically.
He stands, walks unhurriedly out into the tranquil morning sun. He says nothing, and yet the serene curve of his lips and slight tilt of his eyes speaks a thousand times louder.
You're here.
He stops a small pace away from me and simply stares down at my face with that strange, chest constricting expression. What is he doing?
"Mast—
Julius places a hand on my shoulder, holds my chin with the other, tilts my face up and before I can even jerk out of his grasp, kisses me with a sweetness comparable with this sea of flowers.
His velvet lips caress mine fondly, and they suck my lips softly as if in tentative exploration. I fall a step backwards, but his grasp on my shoulder is firmly assertive. He licks the seam between my two lips lazily, and with a forceful push, his tongue prises my lips apart. A shiver runs down my spine, and my knees weaken downwards, but his arm moves from my shoulder and cup the small of my back. He seems to laugh in his kiss, and his tongue roams my mouth harder, tangling with mine in a hot embrace. Another tremble runs down my back, and he pulls me closer, tongue lapping the sensitive membrane of my mouth whilst his hand strokes my waist through the fabric of my shirt.
Shit, I've always been weak to kisses.