Afeallan

"Chapter" Three

Rýnelic woke up in a chair that was not meant to be slept in. His heavy eyes opened to an unfamiliar room. Everything tidy. He heard sounds from a distance. His blurred eyes focused on a face that was as familiar as his surroundings. The face had dark hair falling behind a woman’s neck. Rýnelic wished he could remember the night.

 

“Are you alright?” asked the voice in front of the hair. “I’ve never seen someone drink that much and walk.” Rýnelic nodded slowly and painfully. He forgot why he was nodding. “Good. Do you remember what happened?” Rýnelic nodded as to pass for a lie. She saw through the lie. She proceeded slowly and cautiously. “You said something. I’m not sure what, but it seemed important. Some men near you caught you as you fell. I thought you might need some place to stay. I helped you walk back to my place. I knew you wouldn’t be dangerous.” She put extra emphasis on the last word, as if she were teasing. Or testing. Rýnelic took no notice. “Don’t you remember any of this?” she continued. “I asked a friend to help take care of you for awhile. He should be here shortly. Is everything alright? Do you have a place to stay? Where are you from? I have to go now. He should be here soon.”

 

Rýnelic kept nodding, even after she was done talking. He wondered, after the fact, who was coming. He was happy to be where he was, before the realization of where that was sunk in. This was the first time in a long time he had woken up in a place he was content to be. She continued to stare at him until she fulfilled her declaration of having to leave. As she stood up, she decremented her profession by asking for curiosity: “Aren’t you afraid to die?” Rýnelic had fallen asleep.

 

He woke up to a new, wide-eyed face. “What happened to you?” asked the dark, friendly face full of unconscious concern. The face had a bushy, unkempt beard that led up to neatly trimmed hair on the top of its head. Dark-colored eyes were nestled neatly in between.

 

“They’re all oblivious” replied an incoherent voice from behind rough lip and a dry mouth. The voice was still not awake. The voice spoke in hyperboles. Discombobulated. Disconnected. The voice fell back to sleep. It was well afternoon that the body belonging to the voice woke up again, with an energy that feared the day and was inclined to run from it. Two faces greeted the body that belonged to the voice, which was just now becoming reacquainted to the whole.

 

“What happened?” asked the darker of the two. Rýnelic sat up quickly. “You were just angry, weren’t you?” he asked with a hint of hopefulness. Eyes stared at the wall behind them, not ready to focus on anything too complex. The body in the chair tried to move but was apprehended by pain. An unapologetic pain in the spine. The body sat there, waiting for the next voice. No one spoke. The two faces studied the body until it was ready to move. The body made a sudden, hasty break for the door, which it was not familiar with, and ended up backed into a corner. The two coordinated bodies blocked the door, the only escape, and nudged the renegade body back into the chair. They stood towering over Rýnelic, looking down at him as if from a pillar. He remained silent as if he was being tried for a crime he was not sure he committed.

 

“Where are you from?” asked one of the voices.

 

“Everywhere,” replied Rýnelic with the vague arrogance not permitted to one in his position. He remained slumped in the chair as the two exhausted their energy and pursued more practical recreation. Rýnelic smiled smugly as if he had won some kind of contest. “Who are you?” he asked as soon as they had turned their backs. They returned to him like a confounded philosopher.