December 1805
Christmas Day
Metz, France
Half a year, six months, a span of a hundred and eighty-three days, equating to four thousand three hundred and ninety-two hours. Regardless of the configuration, the duration since Ilyas last graced his familial abode stands resolute. In full transparency, he enjoyed the time away. He was having a good time at school, as hard are it is to admit that. The only thing that was a downer about boardingn school was the fact that it was all boys. Luckily, the girls school was just across the way. The frigid embrace of the chamber cradled Ilyas in slumber’s gentle clasp on this night. His mind embarked on a journey through fleeting dreams, a tapestry woven with recurring threads.
Invariably, Ilyas finds himself within the familiar confines of the ancestral bank, a realm he is destined to one day inherit. It was always dimly lit and there was an echo that he could hear coming from one of the hallways. The echo never resembled a voice, it was more of a clanking. He always found himself running towards the vault, but the faster he ran, the longer the hallway became. The higher up the stairs he found himself. The clanking sounding further and further away. Soon, he is ensconced within his father’s sanctum The office that Ilyas was expected to call his own someday. The office that had a balcony just over the grand entrance. The balcony he stood on as he watched robbers run away with all the money from the bank. He leaned over the railing. There was always someone walking behind the robbers, dangling a set of keys off their finger. That same clanking now coming from the figure below him as the keys hit each other.
As the dream tore through his mind, he tossed and turned in his bed. In no time he found a comfortable position nustled deep in his blanket. The air in the room felt crisp thanks to the drafty windows. When the room was filled with the rest of his classmates, it seemed to stay quite a bit warmer, but with just Ilyas and Corin here for the entirety of winter break it seemed chillier than usual. The winter storm not doing any help for them either. He hated to admit he missed his room back home. At school, he was a far distance from the small fireplace at the end of the room, but at his home estate, his bed was strategically placed. The fireplace right at his feet. He always thought he had the best room back home, possibly even better than his parents suite.
Bloody devil! Ilyas shouted as he sat straight up. His head covered in snow, that was now also falling onto his shoulders. He shook it off quickly and stood as fast as he possibly could. Corin you damn bootlicker, Merry Christmas, he offers, the phrase familiar, though the excitement understated.
Ilyas was never one to enjoy holidays, really any at all. It was mostly his mother fault. She tended to go all out for holidays adn well Ilyas usually ended up ruinign them in someway. Then he would get a stirn talking to from his father about how much of a disappointment he was and he needed to apologize to his mother. Then the evening ended with him in the greenhouse and his pottery. He could always hear the laughter and music bustling from the dancing hall. The ball or gathering his mother was throwing, not missing Ilyas at all.
Ilyas’s feet trugged a few paces behind Corin. Ilyas had a small smile on his face. Was he giddy? The companionship he shares with Corin alleviates the chill, fostering a realm wherein his inner boyhood is rekindled, shielded from the accelerated maturation expected of him. What is all this… An opulent sight awaits them beyond the chamber—gifts abound, accompanied by an exquisite spread of sustenance. Got me feeling like a gigglemug. He started to wonder when the h*ll Corin woke up to do this all and how hard was Ilyas himself sleeping! There was enough food to feed a group of sailers. Had Corin made this all himself? What a keeper.
A sense of vulnerability swells within Ilyas. Ilyas felt his shoulders drop ad he put one of his hand on his waist. He held up a finger to motion, give me a moment. He walked back to the bedroom in silence, listening intentley to the creaking under his feet from the old wood. He sat on his bed, taking in a sharp breath. He had never had anyone care this much for him. Especially not someone he had only known for 6 months. Half a year. 6 months. 183 days. 4392 hours. He slumped over a bit, letting his elbows rest on his knees and his head fell into his hands. Why did Corin even like Ilyas’s presence. It really puzzled him honestly. He wouldn’t let himself cry, he couldn’t even if he wanted to but in this moment a normal person would’ve cried tears of joy. Tears for a pure, loving friendship. Instead he reached down under the bed, pulling out a hat box that once belonged to his sister. He kept his dear items in here. He sighed in relief as he pulled out a piece of fabric that contained what he would gift his friend. Why hadn’t he thought of christmas presents? What an idiot. He mentally scoled himself. He stood almost too quickly that he stumbled to find his footing.
He turned on his heels as he searched through the rest of his things for anything to wrap the metal item in. An old letter crumpled around, a lacey piece of pale pink ribbon, that had come home with him after a night out, and a lopsided bow. It was not nearly as beautiful as Corin’s gifts, but it was all he had. He carried it in his hands, almost resemblinng the way you would carry a wounded bird. “Eh, it’s not much, afterall you have done this morning.” Ilyas told Corin as he outstretched his hands. Ilyas was proud of it though and hoped his friend would like it. Ilyas had been back to Germany only a few weeks ago. While he wasn’t there long, it was long enough to find a brass pocket compass. It was suited with a small carving of some wheat and hung on a heavy chain. He had been told it was a hutners compass, but hoped that wouldn’t make a difference.
“Now, no more warm and fuzzies. He gave his friend a nudge with his elbow as he walked past him and over to the food that was drawing him in. How was he not drooling yet? His fingers grasped a delicate macaroon. Had he told Corin they were his favorties. Ilyas smriekd as he took a bite. Letting the sweet taste take over his mouth. Not that I enjoy the snow, but I have never built a snowman. He told his friend with a raised brow, almost as a challenge. What else did they have to do? Might as well try adn enjoy the snow sicne they had a few feet of it now outside by the looks of it.
@DandelionKate