Post by Aeneas on Nov 10, 2021 0:43:26 GMT -5
Shadows grew long beneath the waning sun.
The land became like the stars, wreathed and flickered torchlight.
And at the core, a house adorned in firelight, shadows stretched like the sun itself blossomed.
He still couldn't tell what it was that brought him back. He had to travel halfway across the clover kingdom jumping from caravan to trail to foliage and forest. It showed on his clothing, marred with dirt stains and flicks of old blood. He was sulked and sunken over at the side of their walls and gates. There weren't any laws saying he couldn't. He imagined it would be implemented soon. He looked outwards, one of the lamps were shuddering in the late-night just enough to illuminate the guardsman eyes, as they metaphorically dug his grave. Aeneas found little worry in it. He seemingly had the jitters and that didn't make a foreign man of disheveled look any better.
He had only arrived a few hours ago. He had been made tired, foot prints behind him left with an eclectic rhythm. Half forced steps mixed and mired with the tire and rigor his body had been ripped apart by. He had been on the run for two months, a nun and her group of wannabe guardsman had been dog-headed in his chase. A child like him didn't just turn up from the streets every month. And while her care may have been useful, it had long since grown tiresome in her belief that she knew best. And knew what was best for him.
'Delusions of Grandeur' 'Hard Work' 'You don't know the world.'
She'd cried.
'I can achieve them!' 'I didn't say it would be easy' 'I know more than you think'
That is all his life had been for months. Aside from his moments of quite.
Arguing.
Quelled.
It had been a chaotic life of misery and repression as far as he was concerned. The law didn't always know best. It was a guideline. And one that had guided him the wrong way when he was on it, and beat him down when he wasn't. Now it was trying to both. Chewing not too far at his heels but at the very least he was free. The gates of the Shadow Kingdom was all that stood in his way, and with half asleep guards and a penchant for sleuthing the dark of night proved more than amble for him to sneak through the gates. He could hear the guard crack from slumber as he cracked a misaligned tree branch on his final step into the city, but a short scramble solved that issue all too well. It had been a month of survival. Now survival in the big city was a new game. A new scavenger hunt. Food laid on those streets like beasts to water and yet still he couldn't taste the lathered meats. On one hand due to the night and on the other, he knew the nun would take residence. At least until he could dissuade her he had already moved on.
Or succeeded.
His goal was in the center. This new world stretched out like a river from a mountain, flowing as far as it could stretch and every year a little further than that. It was formative, the ocean hadn't been found and the river twist and turned with strange formative dances around the landscape still too nascent to crack and create it's territory to it's own make just yet. But it was too far away. Not achievable just yet. His body still ached and stung with thimbles of pain. Like his body had it's own tunnels of pain twisting and turning with the delicate grooves of his body. He could do little more than to ignore it for now. He had a few hours ahead of them, like an injured seal turning through beds of weed and other fish to keep the shark distracted and confused. He could only bleed for so long though. And only so many turns and twists he could manage in an ocean of stone.
He knew bits and pieces of this world. He wasn't well known, but he knew well enough. Enough to know at the south gate there was a shelter only a few meters in. He had only worked here for a few years, running in part with his dads trade lines and the other out of boredom. So unless any of his dads military were hanging around. He was doubtful there would be any issue or strife for him to face. His strife was with failed midwives afterall.
It wasn't long, the trek to the refuge, one could call it a hole in a wall. But a hole had shape, curves and form. This was more like some crack, jagged and cruel, and partially filled in with leftover refuse and spillage. It had gained a notorious group of folk around it. From the beggars and the lepers, the forgotten and the sick. There was a healthy blend of destitution from birth and destitution from failure. Knowing both panged like sickness in his throat, like everything he had attempted to achieve in life had piled itself in front of him in a monument of failure. One he had to come to a knee and bend at and pray.
He was hesitant. Though that wasn't right. It's what he wished he was. It was a fear imagined in nightmares. Anthropophobia. Though even that wasn't quite right. He had to twist it in his mind. He didn't fear people. Get along maybe not, but fear wasn't it. But these people. He was fearful of their acceptance. Of their cloaks taking him in. Of convincing him this was his new world. That there was nowhere to go from here. He was scared he'd grow content and thin on what little rations people deigned him worthy of.
His steps were long and few.
He was an oddity. Young. Injured but vibrant. The colors of his clothing hadn't been coated in the trickles of bonfire ash. It hadn't been fettered in a slosh of mud from wet nights. Injured he may be, but vibrancy spoke with it's own terms. And it done well to speak to these homeless he wasn't quite them. Not just yet at least.
He held his Grimoire tight, the stained copper grimoire twinkling only when an invasive shred of light managed to trickle between his clasping fingertips. The homeless paid it little attention dismissing it as a last commodity and prize of a life once lived. To them they saw attachment and to Aeneas, a ticket. He was at the back of the line as he was approached, a homeless man he thought but with a lustre of life in his eyes, that flare for the next big thing. It was woefully familial as Aeneas tried to avoid it. But it kept felling on him like a lion to an injured deer. Hungry. Ravenous. Consuming. He could almost feel him licking his tongue against the nape of his neck as words rolled like thick slathers of saliva, still filled with fresh thicks of carrion.
"You new here?"
The words rung like a seductive dance.
"No."
Aeneas'. Did not.
His eyes snapped with cautionary movement. Like a babe told no to candy, a man told no to women and a starving man told no to feed and warmth. Though it was momentary. That failure of a charade dissipated when a smile weaved through his face like an industrial made tapestry.
The line shortened by one.
"Well. I ain't ever seen you before."
"I didn't want you to see me.
The line shortened by one.
"Than why have I seen you now.
That was... A well structured cut. Like a knife through the bend of armor. Aeneas' was stopped halfway to his next step before shuffling forward. The line shortened by one.
"Because I wanted you to."
He lied.
"Good. So you know who I am."
"What."
The line shortened. There were a few spaces left.
"What do you mean?"
"I know what you are."
Step.
"So you know what I am?"
"Your going to give me a place to sleep. And in return I work right?"
Step.
Step.
"Than we've got a deal."
He was at the front of the line, a tired woman passed a bowl her eyes looking into the emptying pit of a pot before Aeneas shuffled along. He still wasn't sure what happened. The stranger behind him hovered, there was a moment of him realizing what he had agreed too. He was still a child and he had made a strange deal with an adult whose words rang like honey but burnt like peppers. Aeneas draw a finger through the old stew, the steam barely slithered on the meat as he took a bite of the part uncooked, part cold meat. It was food at least, he didn't particularly care what kind. Though he was sure it rhymed with god. Aeneas stopped a little, the man behind him done the same. "Where too?" He wasn't ready to look at his face. All he saw was the arm outstretched. Where it was placed he clearly dwarfed himself. Aeneas was quick to follow where his arm pointed. He was lacking in hair and a long burn mark seemed to stretch over wounded skin. Aeneas was a babe to the slaughter but had little control of it all.
They trailed through a winding path, the man knew it a little too well. As if he parted on specially placed footprints. It was a decript thing, a ramshackle building with strapped together houses as if built itself atop a mountain of gorged litter. The inside was little better. It at least wasn't as filled with nee'r do wells and dropouts as he suspected, but it was only a fraction better than his roughhousing he had managed for the better part of a month.
The straw was dirty, the man was now coated in shadows as even the light of the street candles didn't dim their light this far off course. There were a few snores around him. He slowly creeped into bed, he had long since picked clean his bowel of stew and threw it to the puddles of trash that nested around the heap. The man whispered sweet nothings. Aeneas could at least be confident no Nun would stumble upon him here. In the dank and miserly of the world.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe he was delusional.
For everything around him right now, was no dream.
There was no window yet light poured in, the warmth of the sun stinging his face in splotched patches. His eyes flittered open looking to see the sunlight slipped through jagged cracks and old leather strips. He ran a hand over his head. Still thumping. His other hand gripped the strands of straw. Still dirty.
Yeap. This was reality.
He rolled over only to see a man. Features like a vulture and limbs like a gorilla. It was a strange mishmash that had to have been worked with magic to manage it to look intimidating. Aeneas wasn't thrilled. Around him was a pack of hyena like folk, sunken features, eyes lost to the winds of wild mind's and gnarled teeth. The air grew with a thick and lazy haze and Aeneas was quick to cover his mouth. These were the cretins that snored as he fell into his well earned slumber.
"You sleep well."
"Your bedding did little to accommodate."
The man gave a chortle as the kingpin of a collective of dregs. Eyes withered of their purposes and now based around whatever lusts and thrusts they could manage. Aeneas was slow to roll over, matching the mans eyes from the bedding. He looked down, there were flecks of blood where his legs were placed. He wasn't thrilled as to where he had ended up.
"Heh. It has that effect."
"So wha-"
"The work? Glad you asked."
The mans tongue bit back quick, Aeneas was quick to leave his mouth shut. "You look like a bright kid. Fresh faced too. Fresh Grimoire I take it?" It was practiced and rehearsed, the man seemed to be lacking in the emotional department so replaced it with speed and corporate speech craft. "No need to answer. Aftercall, I've already paid you. Now you just got to do some light work to pay me back. Nothing too big. Unless you get a taste for it."
Aeneas was still a child.
He snapped back with wise-cracks.
"The taste they've gotten?"
"What these guys? They don't work. Call it... Retirement."
Aeneas couldn't let it slip. But this was all unnerving. His pale skin couldn't get much paler than it was so only met him with empty eyes. He just had to think empty thoughts. Gambling. It was doing it, leaving him feeling despondent. It was a bad emotion. but it left him from feeling vulnerable. As if he was in some slither of control. It was quick to fade.
Smiles and pageantry laced his sharp features as he stood up. Aeneas knew he was tall. And he figured he was big. But this man was scary. Not just from the aforementioned states. But the way he walked. It wasn't quite a stride or a march, but it had conviction. An earthy motion. Effective and cold. He bore himself into Aeneas with that same commercialized smile. His pack of smiles behind him turning and looking. Magics flicked into the air. Aeneas gulped. His eyes steeled. But he could tell. The way this man looked. The way he acted. Aeneas charade did little to trick him. "Now if you would like a retirement. Do as I say. The first. Was no. Need. To. Answer." His words reverberated. There was no magic form him, just the other despondent that gathered around something Aeneas wasn't old enough or experienced enough to figure out. He had been in military situations before. Had gamblers banging at his door. He was use to pressure. To stress.
But fear?
He kept his mouth silent, the man's lips twisted into an O at first, than reverted back to the empty smile. His large hand cusped Aeneas cheek, giving it a pinch and with ease a shake. Aeneas didn't need to resist to feel the pressure. The oodling pack turned back to their devices. "Now, it's simple work. Dead easy too. Gotta test the merchandise out." His words spat out like venom, fast and precise. It was becoming unnerving how long he had managed this.
He snapped his fingers.
Tclick
A spryly little thing
"See. It sucks. I can't really go outside during the daytime." He walked over, putting his arm into the rays of the sun, "Not a vampire. Dun worry they're made up. Probably." He continued, "But I am, a wanted man. You shoulda been able to figure that one out right?" There was a beat. "Yea right now ya picking up what I'm laying down." He pointed at Mickey than back at Aeneas, "But you two? Well you two can. And I got a trade to a trade for a couple of hours. Soo...."
He grabbed Aeneas by the collar. The crack in the wall was small, but Aeneas was smaller, and with a heavy handed toss Aeneas body snapped the leather cords and was quick to be followed by Mickey. His face was scuffed by the dirt as the towering man looked through the hole. "Now. Mickey here, absolute angel that she is. Well she's gonna do the talking. You just gotta carry. And if Grimoires get pulled well..." He shrugged, his lips curled his nasty teeth revealed half made of chewed silver, "Guess it's just a bad investment. Don't worry I'll avenge you. No one messes with my boy..." He rolled a hand, waiting for an answer, Aeneas was about to give it before he filled in the blanks, "Ya know. It's funny but you can tell if ya get back."
He was quick to tie up the loose end of the strips. Aeneas looked to Mickey. She seemed... Nice. She was scratching at her lips. Aeneas hadn't actually been given the product yet, so when he looked at Mickey he slowly learnt what he was about to do. Well... He at least wasn't dealing obviously illegal paraphernalia.
It didn't take long to see how it worked. Mickey clearly wasn't retired and knew her back alley trail well. Aeneas was just there to collect the money. Aeneas wasn't thrilled to have to listen. And Mickey was quick to bounce from client to client swinging and moving more like a metronome than a person. It wasn't until her fifth client he got a feeling for his job and what he was actually meant to do. She clearly had little faith in the child. The client wasn't burly, but he didn't seem to need it. His grimoire burnt with magical energy and while Aeneas hadn't become accustomed to a lot of magic in the world the thick scent of tree sap gave it away. Mickey tried to get away with only Aeneas to burst into the room to see her attempt failed, her Grimoire was a scraggily little thing, a dull sheen of copper and if this was her line of duty he doubted she spun tricks from the book.
The man turned on a heel. Magic spewed from his grimoire as Aeneas rolled against the cold floor, keeping his grimoire tightly in hand as sap limply splashed against the door. Aeneas hadn't gotten a feel for much of the situation, assessing the situation Mickey was useless and the man fired off another glob of heavy sap at Aeneas. It was slow moving but accumulated on the floor as Aeneas slid again. This was far more familiar than the rest, being a soldier without a grimoire Aeneas was far more accustomed to dodging and weaving in a fight than taking a hit, though his scraggily little frame wouldn't allow a hit to begin with. The man was growing frustrated, wasting precious magical power that Aeneas could only assumed was untrained. With another shot he fired another glob at Aeneas only this one was split. One to each of his sides as he fired a magical bullet down the center. Aeneas. Was trapped.
Ba...
Run...
Bump...
His heartrate quickened.
His feet steeled.
His grimoire unfurled.
Raising a hand, the magical bullet flung towards him before he released his own spells, his tongue twisted as magical light flared with horrid color, the sap suckled and nurtured by a great many vines that seemed to bite and chew at the sticky sap boring themselves from the cracks of walls to the seems of the sheet. Tendrils of green erupted as the sticky enzymes wrapped and coiled around the slowly being covered man, his grimoire snatched and tossed out a barricaded window. Good thing those things were mostly invincible. Could break anything if thrown hard enough.
And as the man's spell dissipated, Aeneas had not, his features sharp as he drew closer to him his thickets of sap slowly wasting away as Mickey spun herself free. He had caused quite a ruckus and the day had long since turned to the evening. Mickey was quick to scramble, getting dressed as she grabbed him by the arm and sprinted rom the building, shoulder charging and cracking open the door with a manic look. It wasn't the door that seemed to crack on the impact, he could hear her arm had done most of the same.
The lights were starting to be lit as Aeneas was quickly dragged along with her, some points following the manic pack dog and at others being dragged and pulled by her calloused fingers. He only had a moment to see the devastation he had caused, his weeds had blossomed and bloomed throughout the building, the whimpers of the man soft underneath the cracking of the buildings structural integrity and what he could hear were guards approaching from behind. He only had a moment before he caught a glimpse behind him. They were on their trail. That unforgettable mark of a holy woman rushing with wild determination.
Aww...
Crap...
Baskets...
He however, didn't bring it up to her. In fact, he kept his mouth shut nice and tight. He wasn't about to hear those words. He refused to hear her tell him 'I told you so!' with that cackle and shriek. So he was quickly bubbling a plan in the back of his mind.
It was only a few minutes, maybe a decade of minutes passed for Aeneas to manage the plan. Every here and now he slowed her down. Maybe he tripped. Maybe he pointed in a different direction. There was a reason she kept grabbing him. Every time he did he could feel the bloodhound in her hunting him down, using the sound cues of the Golem as a mental place marker on the map. He had a solid three minutes to prepare when he finally got into the monument of trash and ripe gutter refuse.
Mickey burst into the door, spun around and locked it. The vulture man was quickly at the door, rotating around her and inspecting her. Aeneas was panting, he had a few minutes of respite. He moved over to his bedding and sat down. The hyenas seemed to have slithered around the building. Mis-mashing themselves in different dirty corners with the thick scent of poisonous smoke in the Air.
The man smiled, though it was faint to see.
"So how was the first day on the job, Sport."
"Well. It was exciting to say the least."
He snapped back.
The man was quick to loom over him. Moving away from the door as Mickey seemed to find her own little private haven. He went to Aeneas own. "Oh. Do answer me. I'm dying to know." He ran a hand over Aeneas' cheek. "Well. I got to listen to her. Seems good at the job. Than I got to deal with a rowdy clientele." He answered back, The man's manufactured smile grew long, "Oh well that is such an exciting day. Good to know my merchandise was put through the ringer." He dragged it back around, running at the tip of his jaw as he lowered his head and met Aeneas' eyes. There was lust in those eyes. There was desperation in those eyes. Aeneas simply smiled back. "Oh, and than I had to deal with a drug bust." He waxed back, "But don't worry. I escaped."
For a moment, he didn't quite get it. Like one of the cogs were missing, until Mickey walked back over to him and jammed the piece into his skull. "What do you mean... I?" The machinery was broken, jamming a cog didn't fix the cog, and in fact it made it worse. Aeneas simply gave back his own smile, a cheeky I played you smile. The man bashed his hand into the wall just above Aeneas, hard and cruel eyes replaced lust as his words rung with oil and spittle.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
'I know more than you think'
Carried on bitter winds.
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WC: 4136