Chapter Text
Alistar groans as he is punched in the stomach, slumping against the wall behind him as he gets pummeled by the three men that he had tried to pickpocket. One of them smashes their head into his, and he cries out in pain as his head hits the wall, blood seeping into the blonde of his hair.
Satisfied with their efforts, the men then pick him up, and it’s not too hard, as Alistar is currently limp, cradling his head. They then throw him onto the ground outside the alley, steal the limited money that Alistar has, and run off, jeering at him the whole way.
Alistar lies on the ground for a few moments, whimpering as pain sears through his head, his hands now covered in the blood that is coming from his head. He rips a piece of cloth off of his cloak, and ties it around the wound, sincerely hoping that’ll be enough to stop at least some of the bleeding.
People walk past, stepping over Alistar’s bloodied and bruised body, and if Alistar could speak he’d most likely be cursing them out right now.
He pushes up, pain searing through his arm as he places his body weight on it, but he perseveres, then hisses as he stands up, a shard of glass piercing through his foot. He leans against the walls of the buildings he passes, taking more than usual to reach the closest tavern.
Alistar winces, limping into the tavern, cloak covering his hair, which is streaked with blood. He makes his way towards the bar, shaking off the feeling of being watched. Everyone in here is too drunk to notice him. He should know that.
Alistar knew better than to get into a fight while he was feeling like he was about to pass out, which is why he had gotten this badly injured. Alistar was ashamed of himself, falling asleep in the middle of a fight, but even more ashamed that he had gotten caught stealing in the first place. He was supposed to be silent, but silence does not get noticed.
He reaches the bar, pulls up a chair and slumps against the bench slightly, very much aware of the warm blood trickling down from his ear. The barkeep looks up from where he’s making another customer’s drink, and raises an eyebrow, but does not move to accommodate the bruised and beaten man.
Alistar stares at the rows of drinks lining the shelves of the bar, reading all of the labels in an attempt to focus on something, anything, to make sure he doesn’t zone out and accidentally fall asleep.
The barkeep finally comes around and stands in front of Alistar.
“What do ya want,” The barkeep asks, a thick accent lacing his speech, and Alistar raises a broken finger, pointing at a random drink, that looks extremely poisonous, and the barkeep nods, grabbing the bottle and pouring a glass.
Alistar grabs it, downing it as fast as he possibly can, then gags and coughs, feeling bile rise in his throat. He stumbles out of his seat and trudges to the bathrooms of the tavern, slumping down on the sink. He tries to keep it down, but soon enough, he throws up the minimal contents of his stomach into the sink, watching as the chunks of food slide down the sink.
He leans on the sink, staring at his unrecognisable face, covered in both dried and fresh blood. His lip is busted, but he can see drool dripping out of his mouth slowly, and his eye is half closed, eyelid stuck in the position.
Alistar slumps over the sink, his cloak finally falling off his head, revealing the substantial bleeding that has seeped through the torn fabric wrapped around his head.
Alistar can feel the sleep overcoming all of his other senses, yet he still tries to fight it, despite knowing very well that he can’t stop it. He closes his eyes, his head resting against the tap as he passes out, his body going entirely limp.
—
Alistar wakes up on the cold hard floor, a hand rested on his shoulder, lightly shaking him. He opens his eyes slightly, staring at the man in front of him, who is kneeled down, a slightly concerned look apparent on his face.
Alistar flinches away from the hand, and the man steps backwards, standing back up, heels clicking on the floor. Alistar once again pushes up, although he leans on the wrong arm this time, stumbling and falling into the older man’s chest, who catches him, then swiftly pulls him up into his arms.
“C’mon mate,” The man says, as if Alistar has any decision in the matter, as he is currently crumpled in the man’s arms. If Alistar was any more conscious, he would be ashamed to be seen in another man’s arms, almost passed out while being carried out of the tavern door, in front of all the other tavern-goers.
He could not give a shit however, instead trying to focus on anything else but the pain coursing through his body. Alistar resists the urge to throw up, some common decency still in the broken head of his.
“D-didja pay the… the… the guy?” Alistar slurs, the pain suddenly hitting, and making him feel drunk. That combined with the alcohol makes him feel the urge to laugh, and he lets out a giggle.
Alistar can’t see much through his bloodied vision, but he notices that the man is walking pretty fast, either meaning that he is a very tall man, or for whatever reason, is used to walking faster than most.
He focuses on the clicking of the man’s heels against the concrete ground, trying to once again distract himself from the pain searing through his entire body. He tilts his head slightly to look up at his “saviour” and the first thing he notices is the silver hair that is slicked back, grease shining in the setting sun.
The second thing that he notices is the silver glasses that rest on his face, and Alistar smiles giddily.
“Nah. He’ll be right,” The man says, bringing him towards an empty horse and cart. Alistar is laid on the floor in the cart, whilst the man goes around the front, grabbing the reigns of the horses and whipping them.
Alistar barely feels the cart moving, laughing loudly as he lays against the wooden bench in the cart. The cart hits a large pothole, and his laugh is cut short as his head is slammed against the hard wood.
He cries out in pain, and immediately passes out, the pain too much for his already injured body.
—
“You said you found him in a tavern?” Are the first words Alistar hears when he wakes, wincing as the bright light filters through the gap in his eyelids. He opens his eyes, then suppresses a gasp at the lack of pain.
“You awake?” Alistar hears the voice of the man that saved him, and he sits up, swiveling around to look over at him. The man smiles lightly, then holds out a hand, for Alistar to shake.
Alistar takes it, then looks down at his arm, shocked. Where many bruises and broken bones were, is an almost perfectly healed arm, only a few traces of the wounds that were once so much more visible.
“I healed you,” Alistar turns to look at the green haired boy on the other side of the bed, who looks no older than fifteen. He looks tired, clear eyebags visible beneath his eyes, and his hair is extremely messy, falling down just below his shoulders.
“Ah, yes, he’s our healing mage,” The man says and Alistar nods towards the boy in greeting, and he smiles lightly.
“Where am I?” Alistar asks the older man, raising an eyebrow.
“The guild, of course. You can call me Proteos by the way,” The older man (or rather, Proteos), explains, which truly does not help much because Alistar has absolutely no idea what ‘the guild’ is.
“You have good instincts y’know,” The boy says, “even while you were sleeping you wouldn’t let me touch ya. Took a couple hours to get everything healed ‘cause you’d keep avoidin’ me,”
“What?” Alistar asks, his mind blank. He has never, ever done that before. He usually just passes out and then stays there until he wakes up.
“I swear I cured his deafness,” The boy mumbles to himself, turning away and leaving the room, probably to have a nap by the state of him. Alistar turns back to the man, who once again extends his hand.
Alistar takes it and pretends not to be shocked when he’s pulled out of the bed, stumbling slightly as his newly healed legs are not prepared for the sudden pressure of actually standing.
“I’m taking ya to your room,” He states, letting go of Alistar’s hand, but somehow, Alistar still feels like he’s being dragged. They walk through the halls of the building, twisting and turning, and going up what seems like thousands of flights of stairs.
How big is this place? Alistar asks himself as they pass yet another flight of stairs. He can hear the voices of others in the building, all of them speaking in hushed whispers that he can only just hear through the walls.
Alistar is snapped out of his confusion by a child running into him. He begins to cough as his lungs are absolutely smashed by this young child’s head. Alistar lowers to once knee as he coughs into his hand, eyes stinging with tears.
Once he finishes his coughing fit, he stands back up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Proteos looks over at him, his head tilted with what seems to be concern. Alistar looks down, staring at the boy who ran into him.
“I-I’m sorry sir!” The boy yells, bowing his head down, and Alistar is taken aback. Proteos, however, simply just puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and points him in the direction of another room down the hall.
The boy nods, running back down the hall without another word, and Alistar watches as he sprints down the hall, stumbling towards the end. He watches the space where the boy once was for a few moments, before Proteos grabs his shoulder steering him towards a nearby door.
Alistar opens the door, and is greeted by a long hallway, with multiple doors off to the side. People are outside in this hallway, unlike the other ones in the building, and Alistar feels sort of uneasy by the way they all rush into separate rooms when the doors open.
Proteos whispers something Alistar can’t quite hear, then ushers him over to the closest room. Alistar places a hand on the doorknob and opens it. Proteos steps in front of him, and Alistar is pushed backwards awkwardly.
“Boys, this is your new roommate, Alistar,” Proteos says, looking towards the three others in the room. The boys all nod, and Proteos pushes Alistar forwards, then closes the door.
Alistar glances back, before stepping forwards. One of the boys flinch, and Alistar stops.
“Uh, hi?” Alistar half-asks, and the one on the bunk bed waves, swinging his legs down over the edge.
“Yo. I’m Aukin, the jumpy one’s Aklan and the guy below me is Abraham,” he says, still waving at Alistar, who smiles.
“That one’s your bed, and we have a calendar on the wall of our schedule, so check that out soon because it’s pretty strict,” Aukin explains, and Alistar nods, moving over to read it. Aukin continues talking while he does so.
“Boss is pretty bad at explaining things to new recruits, so here’s the basic rundown,” He begins, “Where you’re at right now is the dorms of the rogue's guild. Most people live here, and the dorms are sorted in alphabetical order of first name.”
“Oh, so this is one of the A dorms?” Alistar asks, looking up from where he’s intensely memorising the calendar. He then stops.
“I never told Proteos my name?” He says out loud, and Abraham shrugs.
“Probably stole your legal documents or something. You never know when it comes to Boss,” he says, staring at the book in his hands. Alistar raises an eyebrow, concerned.
“Isn’t that illegal?” Alistar asks nervously, and Abraham barks out a laugh.
“Mate, this is the rogue's guild, our entire existence is illegal,” he says, still laughing at Alistar’s question.
Alistar decides to not question that one either, and instead climbs into the top bunk of the bed Aukin had pointed out. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he passes out, as usual.
This isn’t right. The voice in his head cries.
I don't care. He responds. He then realises that he is absolutely insane for talking to himself and actually succumbs to the sleep.