Post by WJChesek ((Evern)) on Sept 15, 2010 21:37:31 GMT -5
((Feel free to comment! They tend to keep me going. 
))
The world was wreathed in darkness. The only sound to be heard was the crashing of the waves against the cliffs below, and the pitter patter of two pairs of children’s feet, scrambling as quietly as they could from alley to alley, shirking the rare beam of light from one of the three moons overhead. The buildings themselves were built into the side of the cliff, and an odd style of ramp, carved from many planks of wood, for the most part taken from the desiccated remains of ships long since gone, each barely wide enough for a fully loaded cart to fit past. The children worked their way down the ramps in this fashion, ducking and weaving between close-knit buildings.
The children were clad in dirty rags that only gave slight deference to gender. The one in the lead was essentially wearing a sack with holes for her head and arms, both legs shared a larger hole in the old and weathered dress. While the other child, being dragged around by the hand wore two rags, the one on top a kind of shirt, and just below that were what amounted to a pair of pants. No shoes adorned their feet, or hats upon their heads, or even sleeves upon their arms. Besides the bare essentials of clothing, they wore dirt and grime, while not unlike the other inhabitants of this part of the city, these children were the lowest of the low. Unnamed, uncared for, the bastard children from a missing or dead mother. And twins no less, for they each had the same grey eyes, the same hair that, without the dirt, would be some dark shade. Ideal for sneaking about the confines of this small and insignificant city called Onec. Not that they knew that either, uneducated as they were.
Yet still they strove to make a life, slipping aboard the ships that made port for the night, making off with food as they had, every night, then retreating to a nearby hollow between buildings to eat and talk about their latest conquest over the food overlords of the floating mansions. Or at least, the girl spoke. The boy never spoke, not so much as a squeak left his mouth, but he listened to the girl when she spoke, and she was able to think of it as though they were carrying on a conversation, though she voiced all the parts. There was little else to be done as the days passed, week after week, month after month, this was their ritual. Sleep during the day, when the harbor city was busiest, then, at night, eat, and talk, and listen to the man in the home above their hidden hole beat his innocent wife.
Until one day, when the boy was awake, watching over the girl in her sleep. She slept soundly, unafraid of the consequences of their actions, nor caring to plan out any move, and though the boy did not speak, he could show he cared in ways other than words. The winter was coming, the boy knew, and they had two small rags for blankets, thoughtfully left out by some priest from the monastery at the top of the cliff, between the place where the rich and well off lived, and here, where those who worked with their hands called home. But today, the boy stood up and walked to the front of the alley, peering between passing peasants and noblemen, down towards the harbor, where a new type of floating mansion was just arriving into the port. This ship, decked in red and gold, and flying a high banner of the crown, sparked an interest in the boy, and he began to wonder what kinds of things that lay on that ship. Could there be a way to rescue his sister? Perhaps a way to save them both from freezing to death this winter? Would there be a price to pay? And at the very least, there had to be better food than the usual bread and rice that was on all the other ships.
That night, when the children were slinking down the ramps, the boy conveyed his idea to the girl, pointing at the ornate ship floating just off the edge of the dock, lights glowing from inside the main cabin. Undeterred, the children crept aboard, waiting patiently whenever one of them stepped on a loose board before continuing. They made it across the ship, to the opposite side from the dock, when they heard the loud footsteps of an adult behind them. In unison, the children turned about, staring wide eyed at the owner of the loud feet. The man was enormous, naked from the waist up, and looked, to the children, strong enough to lift the ship out of the water on his own.
The man glowered at the children, then looked up and to the left, towards the main cabin. The children followed his gaze; they saw a trio of men standing there. In front there stood a wide shouldered man, wearing what appeared to be a blue suit. The shoulders of the suit had three bars on them, and seemed to end in combs. Behind him, and to the right, there was a balding old man wearing the white robes of priesthood, he could’ve been called a little overweight. And finally, the tallest of the three, a man with his blonde hair slicked back into a ponytail, and what appeared to be a fancy red coat over a suit similar to that of the first man, save for the fact that it was black with a gold trim instead of a blue with a white trim. This man looked to the one wearing the robes.
The priest seemed to speak, coughing violently as he finished. “Bring me the boy.” The mountain of a man gave a short nod, then bent over and plucked the boy from where he stood next to his sister, yet still, neither child did a thing. The mountain slowly walked up the steps, holding the boy away from his head, at arms length, as though he were afraid the child would try to maul him with the small arms he did have. Once arrived at the foot of the priest, the man stepped back, turning his head and sticking his tongue out. The man in the red coat pulled a small square of cloth from his vest, and held it up to his nose, an eyebrow raised at the man in the blue shirt who did not react at all. The priest, apparently immune to whatever it was that was causing such odd behavior in the first two men, knelt in front of the boy. From where the girl stood, she could see his mouth move, mumbling the words of some ancient prayer. He closed his eyes, once, then nodded, standing straight again.
“This is the one.” The priest said, looking nervously at the man in red.
“Excellent, Admiral, set sail at once. Mister Jones, take care of the little girl, Brother Patton and I need to have a talk with her brother.”
“Yes, sire.” The two men answered in unison, and the girl gaped as the man in the blue shirt disappeared, or the girl didn’t see where he went, and the giant started lumbering back down the steps.
The girl stepped back, dangerously close to the edge of the ship now, water lapping up against the hull not three feet away from her heels. “What’s going on?” She asked, “Where are you taking my brother?” Nobody answered her, nobody except the giant man even acknowledged her presence. She shouted this time, repeating the first question, even as the massive Mister Jones reached her, and picked her up. By this time, the ship had started to move again, slowly turning away from the dock. At her third shout, the giant man twisted, pulling his head away from her in the same fashion that he had when he held her brother. And then, he tossed her towards the docks, letting the girl fly through the air, screaming, until she hit the frigid water, falling just short. His work done, the man turned around, dusting off his hands, and headed to bed, not caring about what he had just taken part in against an innocent little girl.
The innocent little girl in question pulled herself from the ocean, and was now standing on end of the dock, shivering in her rags, as she watched the ship leave. She swore that she would find them, someday, even if she had to sneak aboard every ship she saw until she found that one. Then she made her way back to her hiding spot, and spent the rest of the cold night slowly freezing. By morning, she had developed a wet cough, and had still not stopped shivering. Several more days passed in this fashion, and the girl’s condition continued to deteriorate. Until, five days after her brother had been taken, someone picked her up, and carried her to the end of the docks. She opened her eyes, looking over the man in the clean white suit, with a green collar. Vest, pants, shirt, all of it was white, and she murmured.
“Are you an angel?” The man merely smiled, stepping aboard a small ship, and carrying the girl into the bowels, finally finding a lone bed and setting her in it.
“No,” the man said, and as his form cleared, the girl saw that he spoke true, he was but a man, but a man with clean brown hair, brown eyes, and the beginnings of what would in the years to come, grow into a long beard. “But I am a man of cloth. Do you have a name, little one?” He asked, sorting through the trunk at the foot of the bed, mindful of the child watching his every move despite her illness.
She shook her head, then fell into a coughing fit before closing her beautiful grey eyes. The man took this in, and continued his search, pulling a vial with some sort of clear concoction from the trunk. He gently dribbled it down her mouth, whispering to her.
“Well then, I’ll just call you Tarra, and you’ll be my daughter.”
The man paused, then sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the girl’s hair out of her face with one rough hand, the other holding the vial in her mouth. After a while, he started humming, then softly singing.
))The world was wreathed in darkness. The only sound to be heard was the crashing of the waves against the cliffs below, and the pitter patter of two pairs of children’s feet, scrambling as quietly as they could from alley to alley, shirking the rare beam of light from one of the three moons overhead. The buildings themselves were built into the side of the cliff, and an odd style of ramp, carved from many planks of wood, for the most part taken from the desiccated remains of ships long since gone, each barely wide enough for a fully loaded cart to fit past. The children worked their way down the ramps in this fashion, ducking and weaving between close-knit buildings.
The children were clad in dirty rags that only gave slight deference to gender. The one in the lead was essentially wearing a sack with holes for her head and arms, both legs shared a larger hole in the old and weathered dress. While the other child, being dragged around by the hand wore two rags, the one on top a kind of shirt, and just below that were what amounted to a pair of pants. No shoes adorned their feet, or hats upon their heads, or even sleeves upon their arms. Besides the bare essentials of clothing, they wore dirt and grime, while not unlike the other inhabitants of this part of the city, these children were the lowest of the low. Unnamed, uncared for, the bastard children from a missing or dead mother. And twins no less, for they each had the same grey eyes, the same hair that, without the dirt, would be some dark shade. Ideal for sneaking about the confines of this small and insignificant city called Onec. Not that they knew that either, uneducated as they were.
Yet still they strove to make a life, slipping aboard the ships that made port for the night, making off with food as they had, every night, then retreating to a nearby hollow between buildings to eat and talk about their latest conquest over the food overlords of the floating mansions. Or at least, the girl spoke. The boy never spoke, not so much as a squeak left his mouth, but he listened to the girl when she spoke, and she was able to think of it as though they were carrying on a conversation, though she voiced all the parts. There was little else to be done as the days passed, week after week, month after month, this was their ritual. Sleep during the day, when the harbor city was busiest, then, at night, eat, and talk, and listen to the man in the home above their hidden hole beat his innocent wife.
Until one day, when the boy was awake, watching over the girl in her sleep. She slept soundly, unafraid of the consequences of their actions, nor caring to plan out any move, and though the boy did not speak, he could show he cared in ways other than words. The winter was coming, the boy knew, and they had two small rags for blankets, thoughtfully left out by some priest from the monastery at the top of the cliff, between the place where the rich and well off lived, and here, where those who worked with their hands called home. But today, the boy stood up and walked to the front of the alley, peering between passing peasants and noblemen, down towards the harbor, where a new type of floating mansion was just arriving into the port. This ship, decked in red and gold, and flying a high banner of the crown, sparked an interest in the boy, and he began to wonder what kinds of things that lay on that ship. Could there be a way to rescue his sister? Perhaps a way to save them both from freezing to death this winter? Would there be a price to pay? And at the very least, there had to be better food than the usual bread and rice that was on all the other ships.
That night, when the children were slinking down the ramps, the boy conveyed his idea to the girl, pointing at the ornate ship floating just off the edge of the dock, lights glowing from inside the main cabin. Undeterred, the children crept aboard, waiting patiently whenever one of them stepped on a loose board before continuing. They made it across the ship, to the opposite side from the dock, when they heard the loud footsteps of an adult behind them. In unison, the children turned about, staring wide eyed at the owner of the loud feet. The man was enormous, naked from the waist up, and looked, to the children, strong enough to lift the ship out of the water on his own.
The man glowered at the children, then looked up and to the left, towards the main cabin. The children followed his gaze; they saw a trio of men standing there. In front there stood a wide shouldered man, wearing what appeared to be a blue suit. The shoulders of the suit had three bars on them, and seemed to end in combs. Behind him, and to the right, there was a balding old man wearing the white robes of priesthood, he could’ve been called a little overweight. And finally, the tallest of the three, a man with his blonde hair slicked back into a ponytail, and what appeared to be a fancy red coat over a suit similar to that of the first man, save for the fact that it was black with a gold trim instead of a blue with a white trim. This man looked to the one wearing the robes.
The priest seemed to speak, coughing violently as he finished. “Bring me the boy.” The mountain of a man gave a short nod, then bent over and plucked the boy from where he stood next to his sister, yet still, neither child did a thing. The mountain slowly walked up the steps, holding the boy away from his head, at arms length, as though he were afraid the child would try to maul him with the small arms he did have. Once arrived at the foot of the priest, the man stepped back, turning his head and sticking his tongue out. The man in the red coat pulled a small square of cloth from his vest, and held it up to his nose, an eyebrow raised at the man in the blue shirt who did not react at all. The priest, apparently immune to whatever it was that was causing such odd behavior in the first two men, knelt in front of the boy. From where the girl stood, she could see his mouth move, mumbling the words of some ancient prayer. He closed his eyes, once, then nodded, standing straight again.
“This is the one.” The priest said, looking nervously at the man in red.
“Excellent, Admiral, set sail at once. Mister Jones, take care of the little girl, Brother Patton and I need to have a talk with her brother.”
“Yes, sire.” The two men answered in unison, and the girl gaped as the man in the blue shirt disappeared, or the girl didn’t see where he went, and the giant started lumbering back down the steps.
The girl stepped back, dangerously close to the edge of the ship now, water lapping up against the hull not three feet away from her heels. “What’s going on?” She asked, “Where are you taking my brother?” Nobody answered her, nobody except the giant man even acknowledged her presence. She shouted this time, repeating the first question, even as the massive Mister Jones reached her, and picked her up. By this time, the ship had started to move again, slowly turning away from the dock. At her third shout, the giant man twisted, pulling his head away from her in the same fashion that he had when he held her brother. And then, he tossed her towards the docks, letting the girl fly through the air, screaming, until she hit the frigid water, falling just short. His work done, the man turned around, dusting off his hands, and headed to bed, not caring about what he had just taken part in against an innocent little girl.
The innocent little girl in question pulled herself from the ocean, and was now standing on end of the dock, shivering in her rags, as she watched the ship leave. She swore that she would find them, someday, even if she had to sneak aboard every ship she saw until she found that one. Then she made her way back to her hiding spot, and spent the rest of the cold night slowly freezing. By morning, she had developed a wet cough, and had still not stopped shivering. Several more days passed in this fashion, and the girl’s condition continued to deteriorate. Until, five days after her brother had been taken, someone picked her up, and carried her to the end of the docks. She opened her eyes, looking over the man in the clean white suit, with a green collar. Vest, pants, shirt, all of it was white, and she murmured.
“Are you an angel?” The man merely smiled, stepping aboard a small ship, and carrying the girl into the bowels, finally finding a lone bed and setting her in it.
“No,” the man said, and as his form cleared, the girl saw that he spoke true, he was but a man, but a man with clean brown hair, brown eyes, and the beginnings of what would in the years to come, grow into a long beard. “But I am a man of cloth. Do you have a name, little one?” He asked, sorting through the trunk at the foot of the bed, mindful of the child watching his every move despite her illness.
She shook her head, then fell into a coughing fit before closing her beautiful grey eyes. The man took this in, and continued his search, pulling a vial with some sort of clear concoction from the trunk. He gently dribbled it down her mouth, whispering to her.
“Well then, I’ll just call you Tarra, and you’ll be my daughter.”
The man paused, then sat on the edge of the bed, pushing the girl’s hair out of her face with one rough hand, the other holding the vial in her mouth. After a while, he started humming, then softly singing.
From deep within fair full moons light,
A large port of the South.
There shall be found a child of dust,
Who holds a frightful fate.
A large port of the South.
There shall be found a child of dust,
Who holds a frightful fate.
