||One||-›The Arrival

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QOTD: Would you ever want to visit a different era if you could?.

Yet happy they whom grief doth bless,
That weep the more, and see the less:
And, to preserve their sight more true,
Bath still their eyes in their own dew

Andrew Marvell.

Journeys can be scarring or a blessing

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Journeys can be scarring or a blessing...

The Next Day☘︎

The clock's dial struck about 3:00 am, yet Julius Cadwell was already awake. In all honesty, he hadn't had a wink of sleep. Julius spent the entire night restlessly tossing on his laid ragged sleeping mat, thinking about his journey to Wellington today, especially after finding out he might spend six months to a year there.

To Julius, there was scarcely anything spectacular about leaving to the Wellington Estate. He was going to be a lower-class working man there, just as he was in Porlock, but at least this little village had all his family and friends. It also did not help that Julius wasn't provided any emotional preparation. Upon such a news there was immediate action to take place. He however understood the circumstances. The letter arrived to his father later than presumed, and the hack chaise Mr. Francis rented wouldn't be able to travel to Wellington till a fortnight.

His friends cursed at him for being so ungrateful, but he couldn't help it, that was just how he felt.

Julius Cadwell did not have much time to dwell on his thoughts, before he knew it, his father had awoken and so had his mother. The early morning involved a lot of hustle and bustle and silent despondency.

“You mustn't forget your food,” Fanny mumbled, head lowered as she handed him the hand-woven basket, which contained pickled whelk and a few ham sandwiches. Her son's departure left her dejected as it did he.

“Thank you, mother.”

Fanny's demeanour ignited a similar reaction from Julius. She gently caressed his face when she noticed his sad features.

“My dearest, I will miss you greatly, but this is for our good ...your good,” she muttered, engulfing him in an embrace.

“It surely doesn't feel like it,” mumbled the taller man into her hair, which smelt of flour and sweat. To him, that was home.

“Julius, when you return home, please do bring us lots of bread and milk.” Julius pulled away from his mother, eyes meeting with a doe-eyed Arthur. He crouched till he was at a height level with the blonde boy.

“I will bring you a whole barrel of milk and thousands of bread if you so much as wish for so,” he assured with a smile, ruffling the boy's hair.

“Oh golly.”

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