-- Innocence --

List: 100 Prompts

Words: 621

Drabble:
There was little Boudewijn loved more than his morning constitutional. Everything seemed to glow in the morning light as the sun pushed away the night's shadows. These morning walks were ideal in their utter solitude. When he had been a scholar, in the years before the drink, his constitutionals had been in the early evenings - when the Ancients’ tendrils crept up from the cracks in the earth. Their tendrils had cradled him in those years and brought his mind close to theirs.
Those had been dark days.
Those had been euphoric days.

Boudewijn was glad they were gone. He no longer cared for shadows or mysteries. All he wanted now was solitude and the light of the coming day.
"Doctor Agthoven?"
If Boudewijn's knees had worked any better he would have jumped clear into the air. His nerves were disappointingly frayed, even now. Was it too early to begin drinking? He was in company, after all. But...
"May I join you?" Miss Wicks asked quietly. It seemed that she did not want to disturb the morning either.
"Of course." Boudewijn replied before he thought about his answer. No, you may not. This is my solitude. Please. "The path is wide enough for two."

Wicks turned out to be a near silent companion. Every now and again one of the two would make a casual remark on something they passed and after a short affirmation of understanding from the other, they would continue their walk with only the breath of wind to listen to. Boudewijn was not content with that either. Not now that Wick was beside him. Humanity was a loud, social creature. The demons were the quiet ones - their voices gave them away.
But the Wicks girl was one of the paranaturals, wasn't she? Thrust into the world of the Ancients by an accident of birth. Or was it the purpose of her birth? Had she been selected by some dead or dying Ancient as revenge upon another? Despite her stern face, she was just a child. A child whose Ancient abilities had found her in the maw of death. Perhaps these abilities gave her the demonic tendency towards silence as well.
Ach. He was forming theories again. It was too early for theory. There was not enough alcohol for it.

"Why do you keep stopping?" Wicks asked, breaking Boudewijn's train of thought.
He looked over to her questioningly, making sure to turn his gaze on her golden hair rather than her eyes.
"Do I? My apologies. I'm not used to sharing my walks."
"It's no issue. I'm only curious."
Boudewijn felt sympathy for her. Curiosity was a terrible, wonderful feeling. It was a joy to release, to find answers. It was a dear shame that releasing curiosity was such a dangerous thing.
"I have a fondness for the changing leaves." Boudewijn answered, "Red is, as silly as the notion is, my favourite colour."
Wicks didn't press it further than that, which Boudewijn was grateful for. Whatever thoughts she had on the exchange were her own, and he was more than willing to let them stay that way. Perhaps she thought that this was nothing more than innocent enjoyment in the reflection of light.
Innocent. Him. What a novel concept. He had been innocent as a child, as all children were, but his studies had killed that innocence. The Ancients had killed that innocence. He gave Wicks a sidelong glance, wondering if her paranatural abilities had killed her innocence as well. That theory quickly dissolved. She was still curious. She was still innocent.

There was suddenly far more at stake on this trip to Afrika than the impossible mission they had been sent on.
Innocence was at stake.