Plague - 2

[??? pov]

Cold, oh so cold. The embrace of the gods, their cruel and anguishing touch. I could feel death waft over my body. 

Aches that seemed to never wash away, only to be amplified at the simplest of movements. A plague, one that I had hoped would be isolated. Yet when I fell to the floor, gasping for the easiest of breaths.

I found myself surrounded by the same symptoms, in ladies young and old. And yet, when I opened the door, struggling through the pain.

Trying, oh so desperately trying. All in order to provide some isolation between myself and the cloud of sickness that seemed to waft through the air.

Another sight filled me with despair. My one and only father, the one that had taken care of me so… had nursed me back to health… who had been there for me when I needed him the most.

He lay cold and lifeless, against the hard wood of the floor, not even a breath flailing from his dead body.

And for a moment I forgot to struggle, to breath, to think. Simply lying on the ground, the open air of the door bringing with it the smell of the dead.

I waited, for what else would be my fate, for my own death. Yet it never came. Only a pain so searing that I could do nothing as I fell ill to the symptoms.

Not even fighting, merely suffering.

"Don't worry… I have thee…" It was a foreign voice, oh so gentle. A man's voice. I tried to croak, to let him know to run. To save himself from the coming plague.

But not even the desperate pleas of my mind would command my body. I simply flailed over the ground.

Letting out pathetic grunt after pathetic grunt.

Yet a moment later I felt a breeze pass over my skin, my hands regaining their strength. And with it the strength of my eyes, of my fingers, of my voice. 

When I rose it was to the sight of an angel. No, a divine presence. He stood, his eyes closed, body hunched over mine in a sort of prayer. Wounds appearing on his face only to heal a moment later.

Was… was this some sort of god? Divine being who had come to save us from this plague.

"Are you well?" He asked, a silky trail to his voice that I practically melted at. Only I couldn't. As grief filled my body, taking the short lived strength from my arms. 

Letting my body fall to the ground. Only to be caught by small arms, wrapping around my neck and whispering nothings into my ear.

"Father… can… can you heal father? Please, I'll do anything!"

"Where, please guide me to him." 

I nodded ecstatically, bringing his hand into mine and leading the blind angel to my father. To his breathless side.

It was only when he touched upon his side, my father, that I gasped. Realization coming towards me.

He was blind, the angel that had saved me and who knows who else, he was blind. Completely deprived of the visage of the world.

Of any thanks that I could give him.

It was truly a tragedy.

Yet as the wounds of my father filled his body, sweat falling from his brows only to be healed once more. As father rose once more and gasped.

"Dad…" I gasped out. Tears in my eyes. 

"Thank you… thank you so much. I-" He shook his head.

"I have no need for thanks, I am merely doing as my heart desires."

He gave me this smile, it was beautiful. Yet when I looked at it once, twice, a third time. There was only sadness in it.

A deep sense of guilt that I couldn't find the source of.

And he left, hoppling over step after step, stumbling from the house and through the door. Where he fell more and more.

Even as he healed people. Leaving a trailing scene of miracles, of blood and soot that covered his once noble clothes.

"Go, help him. I can see it in your eyes."

I looked once more to dad, to those sympathetic eyes of his. Ones that had long lost their glimmer.

"I will." With that I ran from the house, grabbing with me the only thing that I could find. The sword that I had trained in, one that I had thought I would never use. Seeing as I had intended to become nothing more than a caretaker.

Keeping the house and store for my father, yet still he insisted I learn. And for today, I felt grateful for that.

Running through the door, I slammed it closed, barely bothering to look at the corpses upon the ground.

Only at the small tear trails that I could find on their hands, on their faces, on their bodies. Following until I found that man.

Hovering over another corpse. Over sick person after sick person. Healing them with that strange power of his. Never even stopping, as if he couldn't be exhausted at all.

Yet still I grabbed at his shoulder, expecting him to stop. Only to be shaken off and thrown to the ground. A growl echoing from his mouth as he threw himself against the sickened person lying on the ground.

"I…" I stuttered, barely able to muster a response. Yet after a moment had passed, as the lady on the ground stood up in audible relief.

I found that courage.

"Please, I just want to help. Let me please." 

He looked at me, no, it was more accurate to say that he looked upon my soul judging me in a manner I had never felt before.

Then after a moment of hesitation he agreed letting me take his hand.

"Lead me to the sick."

I shook my head.

"No, you are going to sit here, the others," I looked at those that he had healed, to the girls that found their bodies sore yet well, "Will help me bring the sick to you. I can't in good conscience let you roam around."

I would have preferred to just keep him in my house, never letting him out and grabbing him for myself. But I couldn't do that… maybe later.

'No' I shook my head. Judging by his outfit he was a noble and more than likely had a wife. And if he did then I would be executed for the sin of touching him.

"Ah, before I go can you tell me your name at least."

He stared at me, "Gabriel… Gabriel Lauragne."