Bab 27: 26: Imprint of Soul
Beta'd by SnowyEgrett
When Drystan walked out of the forest, he saw Eleni sitting anxiously on a bench with Father Altair by her side, trying to pacify her.
As he dragged himself closer to them, he caught the quiet conversation between them.
“Don't worry, Lady Yaxley, Marquess Meyer will be back anytime now.“
“But,” Eleni said weakly. “Everything was so dangerous and I had to run away like a coward! I couldn't even help him.“
“I do not need your help, My Lady,” Drystan drawled. Upon hearing his voice the two of them promptly stood up and walked towards him.
“Drystan!“ Eleni called out, fretting as she drew closer only to stop abruptly because of the blood splattered on him along with the scent of blood coming from him. “Don't you want to clean up?“ She said in a hesitant tone.
Drystan shook his head, removing his gloves, he wiped his fingers as he discarded them to the ground.
“We have far more urgent matters to take care of,” he said, as he urged Eleni to go into the church.
As he watched her trudge towards the building, he slowly withdrew his gaze and turned to look at Father Altair.
“Father,” he nodded calmly.
Father Altair smiled slightly as he spoke. “Don't worry Marquess, the ceremony will be without interruption.“
Drystan let out a sigh, “That's a relief.“
Father Altair walked ahead of him, as Drystan rushed to catch up with Eleni, who was already at the door of the church.
Stopping by her side, Eleni held onto his arm nervously. “What if Martin isn't here?“
“Impossible,” Drystan denied as he pushed open the door to reveal the inside of the church's wedding hall. “See, I told you.“
Inside the hall, before the altar stood Martin, his entire being radiating nervousness. Adrastus stood by his side, awaiting Drystan and Eleni.
Upon seeing them, Adrastus nodded at Drystan and walked down the aisle towards them.
His eyes never left Drystan as he scanned the taller male. His eyes stopping on the blood staining his face, his dress and the telltale slashes on his sleeves and a rather shallow cut on his neck as well as some wounds here and there.
“What on Earth happened?“ He asked with a frown, as he stopped before Drystan.
“Duke Yaxley might have sent some people to bring Eleni back.“
Adrastus' face turned frosty as he spoke in a faint voice. “And you fought them?“
Drystan shook his head slowly, answering in a low voice. “I killed them.“
Adrastus froze.
“That's alright, I suppose.“ He answered stiffly and turned his attention to Eleni. “Go stand with Martin.“
Drystan nodded and passed by him, their hands briefly brushing against each other. He instinctively drew his hand closer to himself.
Standing behind his nervous best friend, he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She's here, why are you so jittery?“
Martin shook his head jerkily as he voiced his doubts. “What if she doesn't want to marry me? What if she's doing this just to get away from her family?“
“Nonsense,” he rebuked faintly. “Does she look like someone who'd do that?“ He shot Eleni a quick glance.
“Of course not.“
“That's what I thought.“ Drystan nodded before apologising. “Sorry Martin. You must never have thought your wedding would be so lacking. It's your special day after all.“
“It's fine,” Martin turned to look at him, a grin hanging on his lips. “It's fine if it's her.“
“Ew, mate, no need to sound so besotted.“
“Shut up and focus on your dear Duke.“
“It's nothing like that,” Drystan rolled his eyes as he stepped back when Father Altair assumed his position at the centre of the altar as the officiant.
“Let's not delay any more.“ He said looking at them. “The bride, please come forth, we have no time for formalities.“
At the other end of the aisle, stood Adrastus and Eleni. He was fulfilling the absence of her father and walk her down the aisle.
Gently, he nodded at his cousin, who hooked her arm into his own. Slowly the two of the walked towards Drystan and Martin.
The two men standing before the altar stared at them, enraptured. Drystan resisted the urge to gape at the glorious sight of the Duke of Yorkshire walking down the aisle, subconsciously, he found himself ignoring Eleni.
As soon as Eleni was near enough, Martin quickly walked to her and held out his hand for her.
Eleni looked at him, her lips blooming into a slight smile as she blushed and took his hand in her gentle grip.
Martin brightened, visibly delighted. Adrastus looked at him, his face as cold as ever.
He said in a deep voice, “You better not make her sad, Huxley. Keep her happy and safe.“
Martin nodded, “I swear to do so, Duke Esmeray.“
Adrastus nodded, his eyes wandered to meet Drystan's, who stood rooted next to the altar.
He gave him another nod as he walked back to the chairs arranged and sat down watching the ceremony commence.
Father Altair stood between Eleni and Martin, his eyes gleamed with curiosity as he looked back and forth between them before clearing his throat.
Drystan being absent-minded as he was, zoned out for most of the ceremonial part, his eyes involuntarily falling to Adrastus as sharp throbbing pain shot through his stomach, making him press a hand against the wound.
He paled, gritting his teeth, he thought. Hold on, just a bit more.
The pain pushed him back to himself, instinctively glancing at his friend, he closed his eyes. Father Altair's gentle voice pierced into his ears.
“Do you, Eleni Yaxley, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love, comfort, honor and keep, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?“ Father Altair asked looking at Eleni through his glasses.
Drystan could help but snort, mumbling to himself. “Not so lawful I would say.“ Another sting of pain tore through him.
He wasn't too sure from where the pain itself came from. His wounds were many and fresh.
His eyes were starting to blur as a shiver travelled through his body like a current. His entire body felt light and the floor beneath his feet seemed to be shaky as he slowly held his head with his other, free hand.
He let out a shuddering breath, Martin's voice ringing in his ears.
“... I do.“
Drystan felt relief washing over him as he took a shaky step down the altar and called for a nun standing closest to him.
“Excuse me,” he said with some effort. “Do you perhaps have a place I could get changed or address my wounds?“
The nun held a stoic expression on her face as she nodded. “Please follow me.“
Drystan gave her a shaky nod as he followed her to the cottage behind the church building.
“Father Altair lives here,” the nun explained. “You will find muslin bandages to dress your wounds, Marquess Meyer.“
Drystan nodded his head gratefully. As the nun walked back into the church, Drystan slowly climbed up the stairs holding on the railings, his other hand pressed on the wound in his stomach.
Temporary dressing would work for the time being as he couldn't afford to lose no more blood than he already had.
Heavily sitting on the chair beside the drawer Drystan let out an exhausted sigh as he slowly removed the dress from his person, his hands shook violently from such actions.
He wished he was in Wales, he would have easily addressed wounds alone or with the help of Butler Ross.
Slowly, he removed the clothing, his body was barely covered with just a white full sleeve undershirt wrapped on his torso along with a pair of semi-tight trousers stained in his own blood. As he did so, a rancid smell washed over the room.
He gritted his teeth as he tightly wrapped a long strip of cotton cloth around his midriff. A sloppy dressing would have to do for the time being.
Sweat beads oozed from his forehead as he applied pressure to the stab, that man did get him good after all.
A pained grunt escaped his lips as he wrapped another strip of cotton cloth around his arms, he was having trouble while tying it up.
A hasty knock made him pause right on his tracks.
“... Who is it?“ He asked after a beat.
“It's me,” Adrastus' voice sounded, coming as an unexpected relief to Drystan.
The man swallowed dryly, stuck somewhere between sending him away, away from the vulnerable sight he was, but also wanting to let him stay, to have him see that Drystan was more than just an apathetic artist or a murderer.
Moreover, he needed help with his wounds for he was this close to losing consciousness.
“The door is open,” he mumbled through the exhaustion.
A silence fell between them as Adrastus spoke, his voice holding a rare hesitation.
“May I come in?“
“Sure.“
The door opened with a click as the blond male stepped into the room, only to freeze as soon as he caught the sight of Drystan sprawled on the chair in a veritable mess and assessed the extent of his injuries.
His expression hardened as he approached the seemingly defenseless man.
“Bloody hell,” he whispered softly, glancing at Drystan's pallid complexion. “How did you manage to hold on till the ceremony?“
Drystan flashed a feeble smile through the blood seeping from the gash on his neck.
“Do you want to hear the truth?“
“Yes.“
“Through sheer willpower.“
“I knew it,” Adrastus face held an exasperated but tense... Fondness as he knelt before Drystan and drew closer to him.
His eyes were focused on the wound on his neck. Drystan briefly wondered if he realised the close proximity between them.
Adrastus drew back as if realising the situation and started dressing his wounds, aside from the stab in Drystan's stomach, nowhere else was as serious.
Dabbing the blood clean with the help of a wet muslin cloth, Adrastus murmured into Drystan's ear.
“We'll treat the stab in Yorkshire.“
Drystan side-eyed him as he took faint breaths, too nervous at their closeness to breath loudly.
“I can do that in Wales too,” he whispered.
Adrastus scoffed, his fingers brushing against Drystan's throat as he wound the bandage around his neck.
“And die before reaching there?“
“Ye... Yeah, right.” he croaked tensely, feeling embarrassed when he heard his own voice. The Duke's touch had made him stiffen subconsciously.
Adrastus raised his head and looked straight into his eyes. He did not speak for a while as Drystan held his gaze in silence.
“Next time,” he started slowly. “Don't do something like this, please,” he paused. “I can't afford a loss like that. You turned my moral world upside down...“
He pursed his lips tightly as he drew in a sharp breath.
“... Now, if something happens to you, Drystan, I wouldn't know what to do.“
Drystan's pupils shook as he looked at the rare vulnerability displayed by the Duke of Yorkshire.
Pressing a bloody hand against on Adrastus' that was on his neck, he answered in a low voice.
“I won't go, trust me.“
Adrastus broke into a wry smile.
“Alright.“
.
Lin FenXiang closed the door behind him slowly, his mind somewhat muddled as he scoured through his suitcase for a suitable attire for the concert.
After finally choosing a suit, he went into the bathroom and leaned against the door, his ears ringing.
As far as he could think, Lin FenXiang lacked the ability to accurately discern between musical notes.
But Drystan possessed that ability. It was kind of a pity, that he had what most musicians wished, much to his displeasure.
Despite his ability, he ended up being an artist. It was also this ability to discern musical tones and notes, that he was able to recognise Adrastus when he heard the man playing piano years later after listening to him play back in Oxford.
Lin FenXiang sighed, massaging his throbbing temple, he wished this ability was left behind with his original life.
But no! It had to follow him even after death.
It was hard being a reincarnated person.
Bai XiNian knocked on the door as he called out.
“FenXiang? Are you ready?“
Lin FenXiang nodded, fixing his tie, he answered. “Yeah!“
As he walked to the door, with his hand on the handle, he turned to look at the opened sketchbook with Adrastus' sketch in it.
With a heavy heart and a wry smile, he said in a low voice. “See you, love.“ Then, he left.
The London rush was no joke. By the time, the two of them made it to the Music Hall, most people were already there and unfortunately, the Symphony concert had already started.
As he approached the gate of the hall, Lin FenXiang could vaguely hear the notes of La Campanella spilling through the place.
No need to mention that his curiousity was piqued.
Lin FenXiang frowned, his strides growing bigger as a restless emotion bubbled in his heart.
It was an ache, a familiar ache, a familiar feeling.
As soon as he stepped through the door of the hall, his eyes fell on the dimly lit stage. The sole musician on the stage with the orchestra accompanying him played his violin and he seemed to be deep into the music.
From the distance, his face was fuzzy and unclear.
Lin FenXiang felt his heart thud against his ribs, the ache was too fresh in him.
It was impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
He staggered wishing that he could cover his ears, block the beautiful melody filling the hall. He felt tears swelling in his eyes as he stepped back.
The music in the hall forcibly overlapped with the ethereal melody of his memories, of his heart. He gasped softly, tears falling from his eyes.
Music was a sacred beauty, music was the life of a musician, music was the religion for them. It was something they poured their heart and soul into. It was something holy to them. It was something that came from their soul.
Just as no soul was the same. No song, no melody, no music from two people was the same. It could never be the same.
For it was... The imprint of their soul.
No two different musician's intricacies of the music could ever match.
Then why?
The why did this man's music and his sound the same?!
Why did this man's music match perfectly with Adrastus' ?!
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Author has something to say:
Adrastus (drawing his sword with a sneer): Who stole my music?
Author (sweating): Honestly, you need to calm dow—
Adrastus (raising an eyebrow): Do I?
Author: Haha, no of course!
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