Numb

He could hear the sound of a crowd. The low background noise crowds usually made, at least. It was muffled, almost as if coming from behind a door or something. He wanted to open his eyes, but his eyelids were sealed shut with dried crust, and he could feel a weight pressing down on them as well.

He heard the rustle of cloth, and the sound of water dripping. Another weight pressed down upon his forehead. The weight of a wet, cool cloth. Only then did he notice the throbbing pain in his head.

Not a moment later, he noticed that he was still unable to move. His body felt somewhat numb. And that numbness allowed his recent memories to resurface. Fear struck his heart. Was he paralysed? How? Why? He hadn't fallen so badly, had he?

His heart began to race as he tried to feel his fingertips. He tried to move them, even if only a little bit, but his efforts were not rewarded.

A door creaked open, and footsteps neared him. "You can go now, thank you Sister Rebecca." It was a kind, gentle voice. One that was awfully familiar, yet he couldn't quite tell whose it was.

The rustle of clothes sounded again, immediately followed by footsteps leaving the room. The door closed behind the person that left.

"Let's see…" The gentle voice spoke again. He felt a pair of ice cold fingers touch his throat, then reach for the back of his neck. He shivered uncontrollably, how could someone's hand be so cold? It was almost unnatural.

"I know you're awake, young man." He heard the gentle voice speak. "We found you badly wounded in an alleyway, at the lower part of town. Well, one of our brethren did, at least." The fingers creeped down his spine a little bit. "They brought you here as fast as they could, but you were quite badly wounded already, there wasn't anything the sisters could do."

Aoric drew a sharp breath as he finally recognised the voice. It was that priest! The one he met in the cathedral! The same man who closed the city gates and trapped Aoric in Vesporum. The same man he was supposed to steal from.

It was almost like a game of fate. Falling off a roof, only to end up in the care of a man he was planning on stealing from. If he could, he would laugh.

"I can't say for sure, but I think you have a few broken ribs." The man continued. "And… well, your loss of motion doesn't seem to be temporary either."

His words sounded no different than the lid of a casket closing over Aoric. Desperation struck his heart. It would have been better if he died instead of this. Was this what his life was going to be from now on? A miserable existence, a mind trapped in an unmoving body.

If he could speak, he would have asked the man to kill him now. But he couldn't, and the man pulled his hand away. "I will come back soon, try to sleep a little." He said with that same gentle, caring voice. A kindness Aoric didn't feel he deserved, nor wanted.

The sound of his footsteps grew more distant, and a door opened, then closed. Left alone in deafening silence, the young man could do nothing but lay there.

"What do you mean you couldn't find him?" Irene shouted in a panic as the middle aged man stood by the door. "Go back and look more then!" She snarled, and the man immediately nodded and dashed away.

"You're too harsh on him." Ivy commented from the couch. She fiddled with the book in her hand, ran her fingers along its back absentmindedly. "I told you not to trust the thief too much."

"You also told me he couldn't get out of the city!" Irene shouted. She could see it already. All of her carefully crafted plans falling apart because that lowly human simply couldn't do what he was told. That selfish, vile idiot had escaped, taking her future plans along with him.

"I stand by that." Ivy said. "Vesporum is a large city, maybe he's found out something and isn't anywhere the guy can find." She gestured towards the door, indicating the middle aged man who had run off moments ago.

"If he can't find the thief, then no one can." Irene muttered.

"Or maybe he's dead." Ivy said.

"He will wish he was dead." Irene snarled through her gritted teeth. She couldn't believe the lowly thief would even try to escape her grasp. It took all of her self-control to not run out and drag him back herself.

"Or maybe the bats got him." Ivy suggested. "Then the rut wouldn't ever be able to find him."

"I doubt they did." Irene mumbled, though she couldn't quite rule out the possibility. Had they allowed the funeral to pass without incident because they got the thief, perhaps? She wondered, it was a possibility.

"If he's rotting in one of their mansions, then he's as good as dead." Ivy added. "Or, well… He might just come after you or me now since they could just turn him into one of their mindless servants."

Irene closed her eyes. "You're not helping, Ivy." She warned her sister.

"Well, what do you want me to do? Go out and search for him?" Ivy put the book on the table and sat upright on the couch. "We both know that if he's not dead, the rut will find him. And if he can't then he might as well be dead because no one leaves the bats' grasp alive." She glared at Irene. "Find another thief if you must, or handle this like a proper leader, as you should have from the very beginning."