Illeuid had a few days to himself to actually explore what it meant to be an Animated Menace. He noticed that lately the attitude of the servants had towards him was less antagonistic. No, they were not as reverent towards him as they were to the other members of the Veilkerhurst family. But they seem to actually care if he ate and made sure to cautiously greet him in the hallways.
It was fun seeing them squirm. As he was giggling, his eye caught the yellowish bruise that was on his arm. He recalled his last visit to the infirmary where he saw evidence of himself shifting more into his new role.
After the whole debacle at the training grounds, he skipped--yes, skipped--his way to the infirmary. He even hummed a little bit, his manic joy bubbling to the surface to match his erratic behavior. He felt a wicked cackle writhing in his chest, trying to get out. It would burst from the corners of his tightly pressed lips. This drew more attention from those in the hallway, who were already confused as to why this blood covered child was so happy to skip-to-his-loo down to the infirmary. He was usually whimpering in pain as he clutched a broken arm or wincing as he would limp to get aid.
Illeuid flew into the room with a flourish, his arms spread out like a magician who just showcased his most amazing feat yet. Then again, anytime he did survive a sparring match with Brakus was cause for celebration.
"I'm here," he announced his presence as if the healer's eyes were not working.
The other man's jaw dropped for a moment before he collected himself.
"Where are you injured this time?" he asked the youngest Veilkerhurst. He saw the dried blood from the corner of his lips. He could already ascertain that the boy was suffering from internal injuries. He already began to look through his supplies to see if he had the usual healing potion that he always set aside for the youngest Veilkerhurst. The boy just strolled jauntily towards one of the cots, his mood more bright than the healer has ever seen it.
The man studied him as he plopped onto the hard bed. When the boy began to swing his legs back and forth, he had to ask:
"Is this a new poison that your sister gave you?" He just could not comprehend how the boy was so jubilant at possibly losing a lot of blood.
"Nope!" came his reply, his voice strange and chirpy. "Brakus might have broken my ribs." At the doctors look, he could only giggle. Giggle. Like this was something to laugh about.
Loksha knew that many of the residents of the Veilkerhurst estate took pleasure in breaking those who were weak. The youngest Veilkerhurst was their main source of entertainment as he was so strange. He was too open with his feelings. He readily told his family members he loved them. There was even one time he hugged his sister when she returned from a mission hurt, relieved that she survived.
Priscilla did not take kindly to his worries.
Due to his strange personality, he was ostracized by his siblings. He had to deal with scorn, ridicule and harsh training that was under the guise of training. That was how Loksha met the youngest Veilkerhurst. He spent many a day in the infirmary recovering from an injury or two. The poor boy would be sullen, flinching from every movement the healer made as if he was certain that he would be hit by the other man. Now this child was talking animatedly about how his brother kicked him into a wall, as if it were of little consequence.
Honestly, if Brakus has used his full power then it was a miracle that the younger boy was alive.
"Do you think that this will make him hate me more?" The boy asked. This was a question that he had asked Loksha every time he had to attend to any injuries that the younger boy would have suffered from his brother. This time was different from every other time. The younger boy's head was tilted to the side, his expression blank. His eyes stared at him, almost like they were trying to bore their way into his soul. He felt his skin tighten with goosebumps.
"It is not a secret that Brakus is not fond of you," he has repeated these words without an issue. Yet this time, the words felt like rocks in his mouth. He spat them out awkwardly so as not to choke on them.
There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Loksha waited for the younger boy to say something. Anything. Then he realized that the boy had zoned out. Feeling irritation ignite within him, Loksha tried to administer the topical healing treatments on the youngest Veilkerhurst's bruises. When he gripped the boy's wrist and push up his torn sleeve, the boy shook himself out of his stupor.
Was this child wearing jewelry now? Loksha checked him over in confusion. Why am I hearing a cowbell? He decided that it was not important. "Now it's time to drink some medicine, young master." He turned to pick up the vial off of the small table he had set up next to the cot.
Instead of accepting the medication, Illeuid smiled sweetly. "No, thank you." He hopped off of the cot. he waved off Loksha's concerns. "I'll just sleep it off."
Sleep it off? The other man was taken aback by his lackadaisical attitude. He could very well also be suffering from a concussion and he wanted to sleep off his injuries? Despite his protests, he could only watch as the boy strolled out of his infirmary. His hands locked behind his head, a picture of nonchalance.
"...What is wrong with that child?"
............................................
Illeuid did return, though he was more sullen. Loksha smiled as he did accept a vial of healing potion. When he asked the youngest Veilkerhurst about what prompted him to be reasonable and take the medicine, the boy could only grumble something unintelligible. He couldn't very well say that the course of action was prompted after his system lectured him about not taking his health seriously. It forced him to realize that though he may have the skills of a cartoon, but he did not have the invulnerability of one yet.
Loksha raised a brow at his about-face decision but still gave him the potion. he watched as the boy limped out of his office. He should not have felt such relief at the sign of impairment. It was just seeing the young boy react with delight at his damaged body made his skin crawl with foreboding.
As much as he hated seeing the child hurt, he hoped that the boy would return back to normal.