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1: Hector and Drew Talk about magic (set in the period of time where they're travelling to Redmire in book 1)
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Hector was sitting amongst the foliage, staring at the small book open in his lap. Drew was trying to keep his focus on skinning the dead ewe at his feet, but his eyes kept on drifting to the young boarlord.
“What’s in that?” Drew finally asked, Hector didn’t so much as twitch. “Ector?” He repeated.
Hector looked up and the notebook slapped shut.
“Yes?”
“Is that a spell book?” Drew asked.
“I suppose so? Really it’s just notes,” Hector said, “would you like to take a look?”
“Ah na, thas okay, wouldna be able to make anythin of it anyway.” Drew said. “Anythin cool inside?”
Hector huffed a chuckle.
“My master didn’t seem to think so.” He admitted. “They’re a few spells I collected from the archives of my family home before I was apprenticed.” He traced the cover of the notebook, it had the head of a boar embedded in the front. “Pretty useless, the lot of them.”
Drew cleared his throat.
“Why’d you pick them spells out then?”
“I wanted to take a little bit of home with me, to remind me what I was doing everything for... I suppose that’s a pointless notion now.”
It wasn’t as though either of them would be going home.
Drew turned his attention back to flaying the ewe as he tried to think of something to say. Truth be told, he didn’t really have any comfort to give. He moved the ewe’s pelt to the side.
“I’m sorry.” Drew finally let out.
“Don’t be” Hector’s voice was forgiving. It shouldn’t have been.
He tore through the ewe’s pink flesh stomach and began disemboweling it.
He missed when the world had been a softer place, full of family and sheep and warm hearths. It felt almost like a dream now, that mystical place he’d once called home. The only proof of that time was a heavy weight on his back, the sword his father had stabbed him with. He sometimes wished Duke Bergman had just thrown the thing away.
“I’ve actually always wanted to become an illusionist.” Hector said, Drew looked up from the Ewe.
“Yeah?”
Hector nodded.
“My father knew some, but my family have always been healers and herbalists, our knowledge is extensive and coveted, but learning the secrets of our lineage had always been my brother's dream, I just wanted to be like my father.” Hector mused. “All the magic in this notebook is illusionary, it’s a rather impractical form of magic, it takes large amounts of energy and when aware of certain tells is never a perfect imitation, it’s also very easy to–.”
“--I bet your spells are beautiful, Ector.” Drew smiled. “Give us a go?” He asked. Hector smiled a soft thing, but shook his head.
“It would take more time than we have.” Hector said, “But perhaps someday,”
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2: Drew experiences bi panic and they talk a bit about miscellaneous stuff (set in the period of time where they're travelling to Redmire in book 1)
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It weren't as though there were sumthin between Drew and Hector, which were awfully true given they were layin right up against eachother; but that weren't the type of sumthin Drew were talkin about. There weren’t anythin between Drew and Hector like there were sumthin between a boy and a girl.
Cannae be. Drew had never heard of such a thing. He were sure that the way his breath caught were nuthin but the chill. He were even surer that that same chill were the reason they were pressed together beneath his cloak for the night.
Drew knew all that. Clear as glass.
.
.
.
Drew’s heart were a bonfire.
Hector’s breath were hot on his neck. Drew’s blood were rushing thrugh his ears like– like some sorta a river roaring thrugh its path! He were desperately trying to hold back the flood but his loony heart just kept on beating.
“Drew?” Hector’s buetiful round face turned to Drew as he blinked off his sleep.
Drew released the breath he hadn't realised he’d been holding as his cheeks burned, he were grateful fer the dirt on his face.
“Are you quite alright?” Hector’s small brows pinched together.
“Aye.” Drew strangled.
“Pardon my prudence but you hardly seem to be, your heart is beating much faster than it should be.” Hector said as he pulled his body away to meet Drew’s face. His nose a few fingers from Drew’s.
Drew were ambushed by the memory of his parents' lips touching. His Pa were smiling a soft thing when he were with his Ma like that.
All he could do were look at Hector as the boarlord’s hand came to rest on Drew’s forehead.
“Yer hands are soft.” Drew’s mouth betrayed. Hector grunted.
“I’m well aware of my easy upbringing Drew, there's no need to point it out.”
Drew took Hector’s hand as it pulled away from his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak again and this time be heard.
Hector’s eyes were big and focused, full with honest concern. Suddenly whatever Drew had wanted to say were gone.
“Thank you,” Drew said. “Fer savin me.”
The other boy’s expression softened.
“You saved me, you’ve opened my eyes to this world, I owe you my life for that.”
“Hector, yer life is changed, nary fer the better. I ain’t have done any saving.” Drew said, honest as anything, there were a deep thanks he felt for Hector, an also a deep guilt. That were what set his body aflame, surely.
To Drew’s surprise, Hector chuckled.
“I must contest my dearest friend, my life might be changed, but it beats my old one tenfold. In these few weeks as a fugitive,” His smile was wide, “you’ve brought to me a freedom in my soul I have never experienced before, my life stretches before me and I am captivated by it, this new life, it can be anything.”
Hector’s eyes were sparkling like moonlight on the water. In him were stars, whisperin their dreams, and guidin him somewhere Drew yearned to follow.
Yer beutiful, Drew’s soul were wailing. He were looking at Hector and he were seeing sumthin grand.
“Yer beautiful too.” Hector said. He were lookin at Drew too.
Drew sputtered. He hadn't meant to say that. His face were tight, blood flushed to his cheeks and soon he were burryin his face in his hands like he were hidin.
Hector’s head returned to Drew’s shoulder.
“For a man who spent years alone in the Dyrewood you're remarkably easy to tease.” Teasin were it then?
“Fer a noble yer awful rude.”
Drew felt Hector’s little chuckle more than he heard it.
“You mischaracterize the upper class.” Hector returned. “They have hearts full of…” He were struggling to find one of his big fancy words.
“Shit.” Drew offered. “Hearts fulla shit.”
Hector nodded.
“That.” He murmured into Drew’s shoulder, he were making himself comfortable, ready to return to sleep. Drew were nay going to sleep anytime soon. He were in want of conversation, he’d spent so long without it and Hector’s smooth voice were an enchantin thing.
“Cannae we talk?” Drew asked, quiet-like.
Hector hummed.
“What of?”
“... I dunno.” Drew admitted. “I hadnae had someone to talk wi fer a long time.”
“Well my master and the prince were hardly conversationalists, so I wouldn't count on my skills either." Hector said. "We might just have to talk about something easy... how about... favourite colours? I like yellow." Hector offered. "I think there's a beauty in Yellow. It's a simple but happy colour."
Drew hadnae a clue if he had a favorite color. In the dark of the night he could nae even just look around and pick one. He were always about brown and green, the woods surroundin Motley, even the foundation of his home, but he didnae find them all that nice. He'd only seen purple a few times, in flowers and wrapped around some of the people of Brakenholme. And purple were a pleasing color, but it weren't familiar.
Familiar were a dirty cream, it were the color of the sheep, it were the color of his Ma's simplest dress and the wool they lined their clothes with. The hair around his pa's temple and Trent's knobby teeth through a cheeky grin. He missed dirty cream, it were a human color.
"I dunno anymore." He said simply.
Hector made a sound of sympathy. The night creatures went on humming and buzzing. The air were stagnant as Drew fumbled about for somethin else to say. His nerves were calmed in Hector's conversation, but the fiery thing within him hadn't sputtered at all. He wanted to kiss Hector, it were simple and plain.
'There are different forms of bravery' his father's voice boomed in his mind, he'd grabbed Drew's shoulder firmly and nodded to Erin, 'you must have the courage to ask for what you want, no matter how terrifying it may be, and then you must have the strength to withstand the answer.'