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Homecoming (Closed to Alan, solo-RP)

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Homecoming (Closed to Alan, solo-RP)

Post by Alan Katlewande on 19/6/2017, 00:49

//OOC: This entire topic is one big story, concerning some lore stuff for Alan. It's a mono-RP, meaning it's not open to anyone. Basically, it's just here to get some things out of the way. Read it if you want.

The ride to Krolva was a relatively pleasant one. Alan decided to join a carriage aiding an elderly couple on their way back from the hospitals of the inner city, instead of taking a horse of his own. Sure, it made travel take far longer than it could be, but the company and the ability to read whilst traveling made it the far more tempting choice.

It was night time. The stars were peering down from their cloudy veil in the heavens. A makeshift camp was made along the road, out in the middle of the wilderness, on the way to the outer city. A lowly fire cackled, as the riders took turns watching over the sleeping party. Alan, however, was wide awake. He lay back on his soft woolen sleeping bag, and gazed at the sky, though his mind was elsewhere.

Alan was on his way to his hometown, Krolva. He had not visited since he joined the military, not even once. He himself was not sure why - he cared very much for his mother, and the rest of the family also held some significance to him. Still, there was something that sort of prevented him from returning - he always found something better or more important to do. However, after the most recent events  of his life, he decided that perhaps it was time to visit his home once more. After all, he's been through a lot - made some new friends, developed new skills, survived a titan attack, recovered physically and mentally, and was abruptly promoted to the rank of captain. Despite only being away for a few years, he felt like a completely different person.
Well, almost different. He was still bound by his selfless nature, and by his devotion to his mother's will. He was still quiet, still diligent, still too innocent for the real world.

Alan slowly drifted off to sleep, and was woken gently by the kindly old woman. "Get up, dear" she said, almost as if talking to her own grandson. Alan rubbed his eyes and adjusted his glasses, and looked up at her. Her face was unpleasant, to say the least, but her personality was charming and she always brought a smile to Alan's face. Alan thanked her for waking him up, and the party carried on their way. If nothing unexpected were to happen, they should arrive at Krolva before nightfall.
Alan passed the time by talking with the elderly couple, and reading from his book detailing the human body and efficient ways of training it. Alan wondered how many similarities there were between the anatomy of the titans and the ones of the humans. What bothered him more than that, however, was knowing that there were people who secretly knew these things, without sharing any information. Only a few days ago did he discover details concerning the Red Titan case. Details that still disturbed him.
The ride went by quicker than expected, and by the afternoon they were already in the city. It looked far more run-down than Alan remembered. Was this his younger self's memory playing tricks on him, or has the situation truly worsened? Alan was unsure. He bid the old couple farewell, and got off the carriage. He decided that he would like to roam the streets of his hometown a bit before finally visiting his family.

Alan walked through the crowded streets, looking around with a grim and curious expression. It seemed the population in these areas has only grown, which in turn meant there was less food per person. He had not walked a single street without seeing a homeless person lean on the side of a building with an expression of death on their face. This only made Alan grow more and more nervous. His family was not doing well financially the last time he has seen them. Were they okay now? Did they still have a roof to sleep under and food to eat?
Alan felt the stares of the passerbys as he tread the mean streets of Ktolva. He was still in uniform, after all. He had decided days ago that he should dress this way - better to get stares of jealousy and distaste than to be singled out as a target. With his feeble body and gentle-looking face, he would easily be picked as a simple target. Which he was, of course.
And so, Alan continued to walk and wander, as the poor and heinous stared at the Unicorn upon his back.

Alan knew he wasn't far from home. He still had a few minutes of walking until he got there, however. He looked around a street corner and saw young children with dirty clothes looking up at him with a worried expression. Were they scared he was going to take their parents away for some crime or another? Alan was filled with sadness. How similar had he been to them only a few years ago?
Alan thought he would feel pride as he walked his old streets in his uniform. As if exclaiming 'Look how far I've gotten! Look how good your lives can be! Don't give up!'
But instead, he only felt shame and embarrassment. Like he abandoned his people, forgetting about them and living a life free of pain instead.
Alan finally got to his old home. It looked much shabbier than the last time he'd seen it. He walked up to the small door, and nearly entered. It was then, however, that he noticed a sign by the door. It read 'Schmit' in small and ugly roughly-painted letters.
Alan immediately understood what that meant - this was no longer his home. Sombody else lived here now.

Alan knocked on the door a few times, until a woman answered the door. Her body was skinny but her skin loose, suggesting that she was once fat until losing much weight.
"What d'ye want?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Alan was in uniform, after all.
"Um." Alan began with the charisma of a particularly uninteresting stone "I am looking for the Katlewande family. They used to live here. Do you know where they are, maybe?"
The woman relaxed, probably happy the Military Police had no business with her.
"Ye. They're in that p'culiar wooden tavern north o' here. About time somebody put 'em out of business."
Alan ignored her remark, and promptly started heading towards the tavern. His memory didn't fail him. She was talking about "Hershel's Place". The local gambling house, where his mother spent most of her nights and lost most of their money. What was his family doing there?
Alan was growing more and more worried. He started pacing quickly, looking around frantically. All around him he saw shady looking people, some even amidst petty crime. He didn't bother arresting them. There were too many to begin with, and all of their actions originated from desperation, and not greed.
Finally, Alan turned around the corner and faced the tavern. His worried expression soon turned to one of shock, his mouth gaping slightly.
"Oh, no." he said weakly, as he stared at the large painted sign on the front of the tavern.
'THE PEARL - BAR, GAMBLING AND WHORE HOUSE'

Alan slowly entered through the wooden double doors, afraid of what he was going to find. The door croaked loudly, clearly not maintananced in a long time. Alan's eyes adjusted to the large, dark wooden room in front of him. It was filled with a few large round tables and stools, and a bar at the back, that lined few drinks.
It was empty of people except for one person, who was leaning over the counter, cleaning it with an old mop. She looked up at the visitor, and her dark-blue eyes froze.
Alan recognized her. He raised his hand slightly, but before he could say anything a wooden chair was flung at him, breaking upon impact with his face. Alan staggered back and fell to the floor, his glasses broken and his nose bleeding.
"YOU!" the young woman screamed as she ran towards Alan as fast as her dress allowed, raising it slightly with her hands. Her face was pure hate, uncontrollable rage and fury. She stumbled a bit on her way (And flipped a table by doing so) to the injured Alan, who got up to his knees. She recovered from her trip and socked Alan in the ja. Alan fell back once more, clutching his face in pain and confusion. The woman loomed over Alan like beast over dinner and grabbed him by his collar. She was looking him dead in the eye in rage as her body shook uncontrollably.
"W-wha-" Alan stuttered
"HOW FUCKIN' DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACE AROUND HERE?!" screeched the dress-clad lady as she slammed Alan into the wooden floor before raising his his by his collar again "YOU. FUCKING. BRAT!"
As the scene unfolded, loud noises came from upstairs. Two people came running down. The first, a man in his 30s, who was feebly attempting to buckle up his belt while running, quickly made his way through the front door with a worried expression. The second was a woman who seemed to be in a similar dress to Alan's assailant. She stared at the two with a shocked expression before running towards her friend and restraining her.
"Helga! Hel- listen to me! Calm down!" she shouted as she wrestled with her friend. Helga was trying to escape, gnawing at the open air like a feral beast.
Alan, his face a wounded, bleeding mess, dragged himself away from the crazed woman and leaned against the wall, carresing his head with his palm and looking distraught.
The woman finally managed to calm Helga down, who was now leaning on a table, breathing heavily and staring at Alan with an angry, tearful face. Her hand was covering her mouth slightly, as if she's seen a ghost.
"How fucking dare you come back here, Alan?" Helga asked, angry tears rolling down her face "Don't you know what you've bloody done?"
Alan coughed, and cleaned the blood from his face with a hankerchielf.
"Hello, sister" he said.

Alan sat across a table with the two young women - Helga and Maria. His older sister and her childhood friend. Maria was slowly treating Alan's injuries as best she could, which basically involved pouring whiskey on them and then bandaging him up with old cloth. It was painful, but Alan thanked her for her help. In the meantime, Helga sat as far away from Alan as possible, with her legs and arms crossed and her face a combination of anger, confusion and restraint. All in all, you could say she was rather cross with him.
Helga put two glasses on the table, for Alan and her, then proceeded to grab the whiskey bottle and down the drink directly from it. She put it down with a light gasp.
"I want him gone, Maria." she said, her voice cold but trembling "He isn't welcome here."
Maria sighed and turned to her friend "He's your brother, Helly. You can't treat him like this.
Alan stayed silent and looked at the two, analyzing and thinking.

Helga looked far older - no, more mature - since the last time he'd seen her. Like Alan, she was tall and slim, with dark and flowing hair that she kept tied up in a ponytail, except for long bangs she had on the side of her face. Unlike Alan, she packed a lot more muscle. She also had, um, certain large, prominent features. Alan was inclined to admit that even angry and moody, Helga was beautiful.
Maria, on the other hand, was far shorter, and looked a little bit chubby. However, her round face and large teal eyes made her easily likable. In contrast to Helga, she was gentle and jovial, which was a rare sight in areas such as these.
Both of them wore less-than-modest dresses that Alan did not particularly like.
Alan had no idea what all this was about, or why Helga attacked him beforehand.
Alan played with his glass and thought.
Clearly something had upset his sister. He couldn't think of anything he might've done during his service that could affect his family, so likely his leaving made something happen, which in the end resulted with Helga being cross with him.
Alan was very curious to know what it was, but felt it would be dangerous. Helga was still not very amiable towards him. He needed to talk about something else, to distract her a bit from her anger. Besides, there were other things he was curious about.

"So," he began "Do you own this place now?"
"Yup!" answered Maria, smiling "Your sister and I bought this place from ol' Hershel. Made a really decent business, we did."
"We got it real cheap, too;" said Helga, a thoughtful, less angry expression on her face "Since Hersh's been arrested and all."
"Oh yea?" asked Alan, looking up "What for?"
"Illegal gambling operation, of course" replied his sister, smiling. She gave out a small, wild and musical chuckle. "He was never quick enough when it came to hiding the cards. Stupid bugger."
Helga looked away at the bar, as if she was remembering good old times, and chugged a bit more whiskey. At the same time, she was tapping on the table with two of her fingers. Alan was glad to see some things never change, and Helga was as hyperactive as ever.
"Nice." said Alan, doing his best so his disappointment and disagreements could not be heard in his voice "So who runs the... Er, operations here?"
Helga put her drink down and sighed.
"It's just us two." she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand "We take turns working the bar, organizing the tables and fucking with the guests."
Alan started choking on the drink he did not have, and coughed loudly.
"Y-you what?" he managed to croak between his coughs.
Helga glared at Alan and blushed with a frown on her face.
"Hey! It's a living! It would be impractical to not do it! Besides, I rather run an illegal business and cheat people directly than do it through a veil of lies, rank and deceit like you guys do in the interior."
"'You guys'? Helga, I'm one of you."
Helga eyed him up and down quickly, her expression turning into one of sorrow.
"No you're not" said Helga without the usual edge in her voice "Not anymore."
She stopped tapping on the table and leaned closer to Alan.
"You USED to be one of us, Al. You did your part, like everyone else. Took the punches from mother, took the payment from your employers. A decent lad."
Helga looked down in pity. Her words expressed her sadness, her pain.
"...But then... you left. Never looking back. You forgot about us. While I became... this, you became a Captain..."
"What?!" exclaimed Maria, only now noticing the mark of the captain on Alan's military uniform. She wasn't slow, it was just that Helga was fast. Maybe Helga didn't have Alan's deductive skills, but her observations were even quicker than his.

"It's not like that, Helga..." began Alan, mortified that this was the way his sister saw him "I never forgot about you guys, it's just that-"
"I don't care for your excuses, Alan." Helga cut him off "I can see it in your eyes. The shame. The way you look down on us."
Helga straightened up a little, getting fiery. "So your sister's a drunken vile whore. At least she's a loyal drunken vile whore. At least she works hard for her self-made life, and takes care not only of herself, but of her friend and her father as well!"
It didn't take Alan long to notice something was wrong. "Wait." he said, hoping it was just her word choice "You only mentioned Maria and father. What happened to mother? And Henry?"
Helga's expression turned grim and stone-like. She looked away from Alan.
"Ma passed away a few years back."

Silence. The warm, lazy air in the room stood still. A strange buzzing noise started filling Alan's ears.
"What was that?" he asked, quietly. His voice unnervingly calm.
"I-I'm really sorry, Al..."
"I... Don't understand," Alan said, looking bewildered. He tried standing up as if he had to go somewhere, and sat back down.
"...How did it happen?" asked Alan, trying to hang on to causality.
"One night she drank a bit too much, and passed out on her way home. S-She was found dead in the early morning. Are you okay, Alan?"
Alan looked deathly pale, but at the same time a small layer of sweat covered his forehead. His eyes gaped wide open.
"Yea. I'm fine. I'm fine..." he said, and got up. He was definitely not fine.
Helga and Maria exchanged a look, then rose and slowly made their way to Alan.
"I'm fine. I'm fine. Im fine Im fine Imfineimfineimfine-" Alan started to mumble, tears starting to roll down his cheeks. He was completely in a haze, not thinking about anything at all. His mind, for once, was blank.
Helga got closer to the mumbling Alan, unsure of what to do. She was still cross with him, but it felt silly and stupid to her now. All that mattered was that her brother was there, mourning their mother.
She gently caressed Alan, who didn't fight back. She stroked his hair as tears kept rolling down.
Alan still, crying, gasped slightly and asked "What about Henry?"
Helga stiffened. "We don't need to ta-"
"WHAT ABOUT HENRY?!" Alan screeched, clearly unstable.
Another silence. Maria eyed Helga, unsure what was about to unfold.
"Mom sold him away to mercenaries in order to get money for her dept. She did it in the middle of the night, while father and I were sleeping. There was nothing we could do. I coul-"
Alan's legs gave out. He would have fallen forward were it not for Helga's embrace. She slowly lowered with him, hugging him closer.
Alan sobbed loudly, looking at nothing in particular.
"Oh. Oh." he managed. Soft, beaten sounds, more animal than man.
"I'm so sorry, Al..." said Helga soothingly as she hugged him close like a baby.
Maria stood there and watched, in silence. The only sounds in the tavern were Alan's whimpers and Helga's soothing voice trying to calm him down.


Alan woke up in is ragged street clothes, then weakly grabbed his head in pain. He stumbled through the wooden door of his room upstairs and into the toilet room, where he proceeded to throw up. The last few days have been sort of a blur to him - but generally speaking he has been extremely unproductive. He spent most of his time drinking or sulking about his mother, and his own life. He was filled with so much anger and sadness, that he latched on to anything of order. And to him - that was his mother's will. She wanted him to live away from danger, away from harm? That's what he was doing. In fact, he as living so safe, that nothing was happening to him at all.
Alan left the bathroom and started heading downstairs. He stopped, however, in front of his father's door. His father, Godfried, was sleeping like always in his bed. Alan didn't wake him up. He hadn't since he got home - he didn't see the point. Alan kept heading downstairs.
The tavern was a mess, like always. Booze and other liquids littered the floor, and even a drunk or two were sleeping in random corners of the place. His sister, of course, was still upstairs with one of her 'special guests'. The drinking helped drown out the sounds, that were pretty easy to hear through the wooden walls.
Alan headed out, to walk aimlessly through the streets. The sun shone dimly on the narrow, cluttered streets of Krolva. Even during daylight, Alan managed to spot shady activities littering the alleyways. However, he payed them no heed. Intervening wouldn't be what his mother wanted.
Alan's thoughts once again descended to his big dilemma... What now?

Alan still couldn't quite grasp the idea his mother was dead. Like, he understood she was no longer around, but it still felt like she was. He could still see her puffed, tired face etched into his memory. Has he been truly living away for so long, that her being dead or alive had no effect on him?
No. Of course not. Alan devoted himself even more to his mother's ideals. He was planning to return back to the capital on the morrow.
...So what gives? He has found himself planning to return each day, only to drink it away and remain. Why was he doing this? What was he waiting for? If mother was dead and he accepted it, what else did he have to do here?
Alan's thoughts returned to his living family - Helga, his father, and the missing Henry. They all met terrible fates since his absence. He felt guilt and grief over it, but knew deep down there wasn't anything he could do. Even with Military Police earnings, he couldn't pay to accommodate his family in a nicer place. And even if he could - what then? What would a whore and her sickly old father find in the life of high society?
Alan sunk deeper and deeper into misery. He was confused, and depressed, but more than anything - unmotivated. He couldn't keep fighting for justice, knowing how little he was doing. He couldn't keep helping people, knowing his mother would beat him for it. He couldn't believe he was good for anything, knowing how much strife he caused his family.
Alan kept on wandering, looking for a way out of his misery.

It was eveningtime when the captain returned, once more, to The Pearl. Inside, the regular scum were already seated. Alan was disgusted by all of them, and shamed how all of them reminded him of his mother so much. After all, she raised him and made him who he was today. How could he compare her to scum such as this?
He walked up to the bar and ordered the usual vodka. Maria gave him the same worried look she gave him every time, but stayed silent and handed him the drink.
Alan took a swig and coughed. He absolutely hated the vile drink, but it made coping with the pain easier. And that's exactly what Alan needed. He took another sip.
The folk were seated across the tables scattered around the room, dimly lit by the lanterns. They were waiting for the gambling services, which to their dismay were on hold until their hostess returned from her other occupation.
"Oi! Alan! Is that you?" Alan turned, and saw an old face, one he has not seen in a while. It was Walter Pruntz, garrison. He was one of Alan's friends before he enlisted 2 years prior to Alan. His chiseled face still looked friendly enough, but the blush on it made it pretty clear he was intoxicated. Nevertheless, Alan grabbed a stool and sat by him.
Walter slapped Alan's back, perhaps a little too violently "Ol' Al' it really is you! Finally decided to show your face around here! What're you doing now?"
Alan sat leaning over the table, firmly holding onto his glass. He wasn't feeling too chatty. He answered regardless.
"Military Police captain." he muttered, taking another sip of his drink, then coughing loudly.
The alcohol dimmed his senses, and he didn't notice the change in expression on Walter's face. It turned from friendly to angry pretty quickly.
"Ran off to the interior, did you?" he asked Alan, perhaps more loudly than he meant "Who did you have to bribe to become captain, you unicorn bastard?"
Alan noticed the change of tone. When he saw Walter's face, he understood his mistake. Prejudice against the Military Police was rampant, and for good reason.
"I gotta go," he said, and got up. The disinterested eyes of the people in the room were drawn to the unfolding scene.
Alan just wanted to get out without any fuss. His mother wouldn't want him to fight, because he would be put in danger by it. And so, he decided to avoid danger. He started walking towards the stairs.
"Running away, you unicorn cocksucker?" shouted Walter angrily at Alan.
When Alan didn't turn, Walter grabbed the nearest bottle and tossed it at Alan's head. Everyone watched in fixation as the bottle spun through the air, some of them shouting warnings, some cheering on. The bottle missed Alan by a notch, and smashed against the wall behind him, splattering him with booze. Alan stopped and turned, his expression hard to read.
The room went silent as Alan and Walter stared at each other.
"You think you can just stride in here with your ranks and money and expect people  admire you? You're a unicorn! You're as rotten as they come! You think you're better than everyone else, living the high life safe from the titans, while we here sweat and bleed and die."
Alan stared at Walter, expressionless. Walter just got angrier, and would have charged at Alan were it not for his friends holding him back.
"Run of to your castles, and rot away with your kind!" spat Walter, wresting to escape his fellow soldiers "One day you'll get what you deserve! THERE WILL BE JUSTICE!"
Walter's words hung in the air. Alan got awfully stern, and clenched his fists. His expression was inhuman, scary. His eyes open wide, as if they could see everything.
Right now they were looking at Walter.
Even he stopped fighting, flinching a little by the sight of Alan.
Alan wanted nothing more than to beat the living shit out of Walter. He was absolutely filled with rage. This person who didn't know him, accusing him of corruption, of injustice. Utter fool.
And yet, was he wrong? Had Alan not commited more crimes than before during his job when he saw it fit? Who was to say what Alan was doing was justice, when the poor lived and died?
Alan then remembered his mother's wishes. He must stay away from danger.
Out of sheer discipline and self-control, Alan turned and continued up the the stairs, but not before muttering the word "Fool."
Slowly, the tavern returned to its usual business, and the whole thing was forgotten. This was the timeless nature of bars, where people abandoned logic for sensation.

Alan slowly walked up the stairs, taking his sagged shirt off and untying his short ponytail. He threw the shirt onto the floor and kept walking. However, he stopped on his way.
There was light, weakly creaking from beyond his father's door.
Alan, astonished, slowly opened the door, and there he was - his father, awake, laying in his bed, reading a tattered book.
"Ah, Alan." the father smiled, putting his book down. His voice was frail, much like the man himself "I've been looking for you. Helga said you were home, but I couldn't catch a glimpse of you. Would you sit with me?"
Alan, too overwhelmed for words, entered the room and sank to his knees by his father's bed.
"F-father," Alan managed to mutter, trying to regain control "It's been so long..."
"That it has, Jeremy..." his father replied, eyeing him cautiously. He did look rather odd, shirtless, hair untangled, rattled and drunk.
"I tried to-" Alan began speaking, only to be interrupted by his father's hand. He shook his head slightly from side to side.
"Say no more." his father spoke "Let me gaze upon you."
For long minutes, the father looked at his son in silence. Alan, under his father's gaze, closed his eyes and relaxed. He hadn't felt such comfort since he got home.

Alan's father finally broke the silence.
"You've grown so much. Physically, but also mentally. I can see it on you, the weariness that comes with wisdom. Your sister tells me you became a Captain - youngest in the Military, she claims. She's so proud of you, Alan," he smiled "and so am I."
Alan looked at his father, clutching at the bed. He has seldom heard words of pride like this before in his life. They sounded like Auth talking about his plans, or Mitsuo talking about his inventions. Could such pride be taken of people as well?
It felt good to Alan. Really good.
Another emotion was tangled with pride on Godfried's face. It was shame.
"There is one thing I need to tell you, before you speak," croaked the father "I've wanted to tell you since the day you left. Now I realize I took too long. I apologize."
"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for being a horrible father. For not intervening when your wretched mother forced you to join the Military Police. For not stopping her from hurting you, from hurting the entire family. I knew you had it in you to become a dutiful Policeman, but I also knew you were capable of so much more. You could have become a Scout, like you wanted. You could have become a symbol, a savior. I let you waste your potential away, sitting ildly while that she-bitch ruined all of our lives. For s-sky's sake, I let her beat my children! I am so sorry! Please f-forgive me!"
Tears were rolling down the father's face, as the son stared astonished.
Alan was baffled. He felt a mixture of emotion - pride, happiness, sadness, confusion. One thing was certain, however. His father was forgiven.
"O-of course I forgive you." said Alan, holding his father's hand.
A voice spoke from behind him
"You still don't get it, Alan. I can see it on on you."
Alan turned, and saw Helga, leaning with an arm on the doorframe.
"You still didn't get the memo about mother."
Alan looked at her in silence, confused.
"Alan. Our mother was a horrid person. She ruined everything, everything our humble family had. The beatings were wrong too, but passable. She just wanted a better future for you," Helga spoke quietly, eyes gleaming "she could also see you were different. Like I said - you're not one of us. You're too talented, too driven, too good. It was too late for someone like me, who grew and thrived among the scum. You were different. You had it in you to make it out there. And mother knew that. That's why she sent you out. Possibly the only good thing she ever did."
"But that's beside the point. When you were gone, money grew scarcer. We had a hand less for work, even if we also had a mouth less to feed. Mother naturally turned to beat Henry and I, while that old fool watched on." she nodded towards Godfried.
"You were one of the only good things left in our lives, until you up and left. Then things just got more depressing, and ma's gotten deeper into gambling. When things got real bad, she traded Henry away to a group of mercenaries in the middle of the night. I still remember that awful day, waking up and realizing my brother was suddenly gone..." she trailed of, looking away for a split second.
"That's when dad and I truly came to understand what a monster she was, leeching off of us until we rot. We... We planned to kill her. To put and end to the nightmare. But in the end, she ended up taking her own life in a stupid way."
"For years, I blamed you for leaving us in this hellhole. Only after you returned I finally understood, it wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault you were forced into a life you did not want for yourself. If anything, you're the only one of us who had the strength to rise above. To escape mother. Even if not mentally... Then physically.
I am sorry, Alan. I...I Love you. Thank you for coming back to us."

For a moment, nothing moved. Alan had finally come to his senses, finally understood for the first time the true nature of his family. With the help of his sister and their father, he had undone the spell he was under and the lies he told himself about his mother. He felt surprisingly light all of a sudden, for he was now free of the shackles of his mother's will. For the first time, he was whole with who he was and what he wanted to do. He was finally ready to embrace his passion to help others.
A small grin appeared on Alan's face. He felt free, and happy, and loved. The smile widened.
"T-thank you, guys" he babbled, as awkward as ever "I don't really know what to say."
Helga walkes up to him slowly, smiling sympathetically. "Then shut up," she said as she hugged him close "And just enjoy the moment."
The world was a cruel place. It as filled with injustice, with evil, and with titans. Life was a meaningless struggle always resulting in death, and everything lacked meaning or purpose.
But for a moment, to Alan, none of that mattered. For a moment, everything was fine. In that moment, he felt calm and happy, at one with his inner self.
For a moment, there was real, true hope.

"Are you sure about this?"
Helga, Maria and Alan were standing on the edge of the town, next to a carriage. The mists of early morning were still hovering around, but he sun shone brightly nonetheless. Godfried was not present, however. He was bedstruck, and couldn't make it. Age took its toll.
"Yea." Alan nodded "If I stay away for any longer, the commander's going to become concerned. And he's rarely concerned in a  good way."
"You take care of yourself now, y'hear?" asked Marian, smiling. She was wearing a new dress she bought with money Alan had given her. It was far nicer than her previous outfit, at least in Alan's opinion.
"As much as I need to," Alan promised.
He turned to his sister.
"Um... Are you sure you don't want to...?" he began asking, a concerned look in his eye.
"Yea. I'm sure." replied Helga with certainty. She has a bitter-sweet smile on her face, but she as vindictive as ever.
Alan did his best to not show any of his disappointment on the matter.
"Alright, then." he said, with a reassuring smile. He hugged the two, then got onto the carriage, which was waiting for him.
"I'll come visit you soon!" shouted Alan back as the carriage rolled away.
"Will he?" Maria asked her companion quietly, a sly smirk on her face.
"He will." Helga replied with certainty, her face surprisingly serious.
She hoped he would.

The way from Krolva back home was a long one. Alan didn't mind, however. It gave him plenty of time to think, and that's exactly what he needed.
His family, hopefully, was going to be okay. He had given them practically all the money he had on him, so they may rest easier. He did not have the funds to transfer them to the inner city, but helping them out in Krolva was perfectly possible, as long as he payed them by hand. Sending a courier to Krolva with a bag of money was practically throwing your gold into the lake. Although...
Ala couldn't help but want his sister to move in. He could manage to fund an inn-room for a while, until she got a job. She may lack education, but her muscle and blindingly-quick observation skills could get her a very reasonable job.
Alas, she was too rooted in Krolva. Too many debts and friends, too much history. Perhaps in the future it could happen, but for now she had to take care of Godfried, and of herself, of course.
Alan was eager to return. He had so many things to take care of. First and foremost, however, he felt ready to take the next step. The first step torwards redemption.
It was about time the Greyblade made his appearance.
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Alan Katlewande

Posts : 116
Join date : 2017-04-02
Location : William's Bed

Character sheet
Strength: 4
Agility: 3
Intellect: 15

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