Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Imythess, the border between dreams and reality. We hope you enjoy your visit.

Imythess is a creative writing board where you narrate the story of a character in the medieval land of Imythess, on the planet Chaon. Each topic is an opportunity for your character to interact with the world and its peoples by cooperatively writing pieces of a story with other members, one post at a time. We call this role-playing, because you assume the identity of your character as if it were your own.

In order to play, you must register an account for each character you would like to write about, and begin their tale by filling out their basic profile information: Race (human, elf, demon, etc.), class (warrior, mage, etc.), physical appearance, and any other personal details you would like to describe. You are also encouraged to come up with some background history information for what your character's life has been like up to the point at which their story in Imythess begins.

There is no approval process or application required to join, so long as you follow the rules then you are free to write whatever character details you choose. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Create a character now!


If you're already a member, you can log into your account below:


Username:   Password:
Reply
[P] Run
Topic Started: Sat Oct 14, 2017 3:59 pm (625 Views)
Marion
Member Avatar


Running meant you were in trouble. Running made the constables ask questions. To run in Balefire was to incriminate yourself whether you were guilty or not.

So Marion didn't run. She walked. Each confident step brought her closer to the warehouse where her friends met up, and took her farther away from the secluded mansion miles away where tonight the lords indulged themselves in an extravagant party. After climbing a trellis and breaking into a second story window, Marion could hear the dull instrumental music radiating through the floorboards. While she rummaged through bedside tables and dresser drawers, she imagined the painted aristocrats in the ballroom just below her kissing hands, talking frivolously, gorging themselves on food she'd never tasted before in her life and never would. After she found the jewelry box, and swiped from it an assortment of diamond-studded and ruby-encrusted necklaces, Marion descended the trellis and started making her way back to Balefire proper.

Her boots clicked with satisfaction against the pavement. The inside pockets of her black coat were laden with priceless heirlooms. It was impossible not to smirk a little bit at her success; later tonight, or maybe tomorrow, some pathetic woman would find her jewelry missing. She would cry, and scream, and demand the authorities to investigate the matter. She would accuse everyone who attended the party, creating rifts in her false friendships and losing political allies.

Who would suspect a teenage girl from the slums of Balefire would walk three miles into the Gloomwood just to ruin a stranger?

The lanterns at the door of the abandoned warehouse weren't lit. They sat as empty and dark as the building they guarded. The windows were boarded up with planks of wood, and the brick outside was chipped away and crumbling. The door's rusted hinge groaned as Marion opened the door.

She expected her friends—who weren't her friends, not really, but rather fellow criminals close to her in age—to whoop and jeer when she returned, but no one even noticed her. Frowning, she watched as the oldest in the gang, a boy in his early twenties, made a scrawny kid show off his ability to pick locks.

"He's valuable," said the young man, "we can use him—"

"I can pick any lock, any day of the week," Marion said, her voice sharp. Stepping forward, the click of her boots resonated in the empty space. It reverberated against the walls and the high ceiling, where pigeons cooed in their roosts. Unfastening the buttons of her coat, and unbuckling the coat's belt, she opened herself to reveal the many necklaces and rings she'd successfully pilfered. Purple amethysts glittered in the orange light cast by a lantern on a nearby table.

She dropped her lapels, letting the flaps close without handing over any of her winnings. She gestured to the new boy.

"Who's the twerp? If all he can do is pick locks, I don't want him around."
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


He'd been working at his bench when they'd come back.

Eshan had a magnifying lens hovering over a clockwork device, carefully tweaking some of the finer parts when the door opened. Had he forgotten to lock it? To flip the sign? Eyes darting around the room, he made certain he hadn't lost time.

The boys had come in a pair, one near his age and one several years their senior; Quite a feat for any street rat in Balefire. Usually age in any unaffiliated criminals meant they were newly down on their luck or had what it took to survive the hard city streets. They flipped the sign to face "Closed" outside.

He had forgotten after all.

Double-checking the clockwork wall, he listened to the tick. It was slow. A slight hitch, nothing too severe but enough to throw off the time.

"S-sorry. We're not open." He stammered, facing the larger of the two but looking to his left at a shelf beside him. His eyes flicked from object to object quickly, paying attention to tiny details but never at their face. "Hear tha'? Said they aren't open. Good thing, cause we was looking for ya." The younger one piped up. "Don' want you missin' good work."

Eshan found himself holding a cleaning rag, squeezing it in one hand. "If you come back tomorrow I can help you." He looked at the bigger boy's chest, avoiding the one speaking to him entirely. "Come on. I have some work for you. You'll like it."

Eshan didn't respond, eyes flicking away as if resisted by the bigger boy's frame physically. The younger one put a hand on his shoulder companionably. Eshan flinched away from the contact, scratching idly at the spot as if trying to pick off something stuck to his shirt.




He was herded into the warehouse by the pair a long walk later into the shadier districts. Hunched and holding a small roll of cloth in both hands, he shied away from his new 'friends' as he was led into a small group. They'd been called around a table with several locks on it, two loose and a small, rusted strongbox. Fixating on the locks instead of meeting anyone's eyes, he took small and shallow breaths.

They wanted his help. He could be useful. Be valuable to someone. They were talking to him, but he just looked around the warehouse and twisted the small bundle in his hands. The shorter of the pair to fetch him was saying something insistently, but he didn't want to hear that one.

The hand shoved him forward at the table. Eshan staggered like a baby deer as he lay the bundle on the table with shaky hands. They laughed. He fumbled with a clasp, rolling out the roll to show a few fine tools of standard quality for worling with fine machinery, along with a very definitely nonstandard set of lockpicks.

Picking up each lock in turn, he turned the loose mechanisms in his hand. Setting them down, he adjusted them in a straight line and ran his fingertips over the front and top of the strongbox.

Someone new joined the group. She was loud. Rude. Didn't want him. That was fine by Eshan. Not being wanted was his default state of being. All he wanted was to be left alone so he could work in peace and go back to his quiet room at night. But word traveled, and his father's thugs had been talkative.

"Damned halfwit hasn't said a word since we left. Won' even look a' anyone. You sure about 'im?"

Picking up the picks, he went to work. They slid into each of the loose locks, moving in precise, unwasted motions as he slid the pins where they belonged, visualizing their positions and turning each in smooth order. The rusted strongbox was more problematic.

He got the pins to their places with a little extra effort, but the lock wouldn't move. It was rusted shut. Frowning, he tried again. Nothing.

His hands shook as he froze up, staring at the box. His eyes were moving quickly again, searching. Picking it up, he turned it this way and that. Turning it lock-down, he threw it onto the warehouse floor without hesitation.

He registered a general mix of laughter and grumbling as the kids scrabbled to pick up the coins. There were a couple of comments about it not being all that impressive.

"Wha' do we need you for, then? Mari can do tha' much." The younger boy walked right up to Eshan, leaning in close. Too close. Eshan looked away, watching one of the coppers roll toward Marion's feet. He didn't answer the boy, instead looking determinedly at the Rude Girl's shoes.

The boy scoffed and walked off to catch up with friends, talking about scoring some pilfered brandy. Eshan kept hunched in on himself as he removed each of his tools and put them away in order, shooting glances back at the Rude Girl's shoes.
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


Crossing her arms, Marion watched from a short distance while the New Boy tried his luck with the locks. She was tall enough that she could see over the shoulders and heads of the other rapscallions who had crowded around him, barely giving him any room to move his elbows while he showed off his talents. From the look of his tools, he didn’t use standard picks and pins to achieve the victorious click of unlatching.

Didn’t matter to Marion. A fancy lockpick and a bobby-pin could achieve the same end. Just because his stuff looked better than hers didn’t mean he knew more than she did. That much was evident as he struggled with the rusted strongbox, uncertain how to get its lock to give, before he tossed it to the floor. The sides split open in a metallic huff, and coins splattered across the floor. One copper piece rolled right toward her. With a smug grin on her face, Marion leaned down and swiped it up. It was enough to buy a little blood from a vendor she trusted.

Disappointed in their little tinker-toy, the boys began to file out, grumbling about wasted time and saturating the night with brandy. One of them shoved her shoulder as he walked past her. Marion shoved back harder and glared. The boy cackled, and Marion rolled her eyes.

“They constantly make me prove myself,” Marion spat, “and you show up and I don’t even get to show off the goods I got. I climbed a trellis and broke into a manor house in Gloomwood with a party going on right underneath me. Could you ever do a thing like that?”

Scoffing, she stepped forward and looked down at him. Just looking at him gave her the answer to her question. He was a bit smaller than she was, which filled her with a sense of pride. The gang wouldn’t have respected her as much if she were shorter, smaller—part of the reason they kept her around to begin with was because of her intimidating stature.

“Can you talk at all?” One of the boys had said he hadn’t talked, hadn’t looked at anyone. “What’s a runt like you running around with us for?”
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


Eshan scratched at an ear with the opposite hand, hanging the hand on his shoulder as if hugging himself with one arm. The Rude Girl was talking at him. The knot in his throat eased a little as the majority of the boys left. The oldest was last to leave, watching him with a little smile as he went to join the others.

He knew what he was good for.

"Knows my uncle." he muttered quietly as the girl interrogated him. Her breaths smells like copper. "Supposed to help family." He shrugged, as if that would explain everything.

His family hadn't let him in. He wasn't good enough for them, but he could try to be good enough for other people. People that knew his family and needed other things. His uncle had explained to him how he would be very grateful if Eshan could help some of his friends. Said he'd send family to come pick him up when he was needed.

Raising his head to look at her throat, he shrugged again under her stare. After a moment, he flicked his eyes to her face for a fraction of a second before looking up to the rafters.

"I heard the loud boy say something about a girl they know. On the way over. I listen. They don't think I do, but I hear them." His brow furrowed, as if in thought.

"Why do you let them call you names like that if you're trying to prove yourself?" He looked off at the entrance to the warehouse. Despite his words and the possible taunt, there was only a real question and genuine confusion on his face.

"You smell different. Like dirt and metal. And you're rude."
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


Eyes narrowed, Marion surveyed Tinker-Toy and tried to make sense of him. A bit shorter than her, more slender—a somewhat nervous disposition, too. He gave brief answers and seemed to expect that was enough. Cocking her head to the side, Marion stared right at him, with a stare cold enough that it could have drilled ice right through his skull.

“So, what, you’re related to them?” With an incredulous laugh, Marion gestured with a thumb over her shoulder to the door where her friends had filed out. Looking at him now, this boy didn’t seem anything like the ones she palled around with. Timid, shy, unable to respond to a taunt or even look her in the eye.

But not incapable of sharp words.

Her eyes widened. Her eyebrows lifted. Furrows of surprise creased her forehead. Then all at once the bewildered look dissipated, replaced by a deep frown and a glare.

“What do they say about me when I’m not around? What did they say to you?”

Despite the question, she could imagine well what they might say. She was one of the few girls in a group of crass, roughened teenage boys. An ashamed, furious heat rose into her face, but it barely changed her complexion. Even with her skin burning, she remained pale as death, and even the slight trace of pink now blotching her cheeks was nearly impossible to discern with the orange flicker of the lantern.

Taking the collar of his shirt in her fist, Marion twisted his body around so he had to face her. Not necessarily look at her, but at least orient him in her direction.

“I’d rather be rude than stupid,” she said. “What did he say? I could kill him. And you, too. That’s blood, not metal.”
Edited by Marion, Sat Oct 14, 2017 6:16 pm.
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


He began to smile as she riled. It wasn't out of any joy at getting a rise, but more out of sokmeone else dislikking the other boy. He pursed his lips at the questions, however. Questions were direct. Confrontational. Suddenly she moved.

She was holding him.

Eshan lifted his hands to pry her hand off him, but seemed torn between wanting her hand gone and not wanting to touch her skin. Seeming to decide he wanted his space back more than anything else, he used his shirt as a barrier between their skin to try to push her hand off, but she was stronger than he was.

"I know it is. Did you know we aren't really smelling the metal in blood? There is only three or four grams of iron in the human body. That's not nearly enough to pick out." He winced, trying to pry at her fingers.

"He said something about 'that little bitch'. If I remember right, that implies a girl. Are you a bitch?" His wince turned to a grimace.

"I don't like him. Or you very much. Please let go. I don't want to hurt you."
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


Smartass,” Marion hissed. She didn’t want a lecture on the amount of iron in hers or anyone else’s blood. The threat was supposed to scare him into cooperating; instead he seemed entirely unaffected by the revelation that she could kill him. Maybe it was because she never had killed anyone—did he somehow sense her bluff?

Are you a bitch?

Marion’s patience plummeted. At once she shoved him away roughly. A moment later she thought better, and lunged at him to tackle him down to the unstable floor. The warehouse was old, and in more than one place the wooden boards were weak, unable to support the blow of a body’s weight. There was no basement, just dirt and weeds and tribes of ground-dwelling animals beneath the foundation.

The wood cracked where her knees landed as she straddled him, and though she yelped with pain she was more concerned with wrestling him down. Grabbing his wrists, Marion tried to pin him, and sat heavily on him in case he tried to squirm free.

“I’m the biggest bitch in Balefire,” she snarled. “Did they all say that? Or was it just the tall one?” Her fangs glinted in the lantern light while she spoke. She did this on purpose; she wanted him to see how her body was a weapon. “You are so stupid. Why would anyone here need you around? Are you some plant by the sheriff?”
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


She shoved him away. For a moment he was okay. Being shoved wasn't new. He staggered and caught his balance, trying to smooth his shirt out. And then things got much, much worse.

She was on top of him. He hadn't seen her coming, hadn't even registered what was happening until she was sitting on him pinning his wrists down. She was touching him. Far, far too close. He tried to suck in, making every physical effort he could to get her away, but she was straddling him and hunched over him.

The fangs never entered into it.

After his efforts to escape proved fruitless, he began to shut down. Clenching his eyes shut, he began to mouth the same few words over and over. Muscles contracted, trying to curl in but her hold wouldn't let him. His hands clenched into fists, nails biting into flesh. Blood welled around his nails, knuckles white as his body shook with the effort of trying to escape the woman invading his space.

"Get off. Get off getoff getoff" he hissed through his clenched jaw.

"What's the matter, Mari? Got a thing for runts? You know if you hurt him the guilds will be breathing down our necks. Some bigshot uncle or something. Let him off." The bigger of the boys had returned, tossing a leather pack on the table.

"Besides, he's our meal ticket. Going to get us past the magic tech on the Coher estate. Unless you want to pass the golems to try your hand at a boobytrapped safe." He tilted the bottle of brandy toward the pair, waving it invitingly at Marion.

Under her, Eshan was breathing fast and shallow, visibly trying to sink as far from her touch as he could.
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


“The only one with a thing for runts is you, Griffin. You brought a total weirdo back here,” Marion snarled at the boy who returned. The insinuation that she had a thing for runts—especially a boy like the strange, squirmy halfwit beneath her—boiled her blood. For just a moment longer she watched Tinker-Toy; he was afraid of some part of her, but she couldn’t discern what. Was it the fangs? Her height? The fact that she wasn’t human, or the fact that she was so close to him? Whatever it was, he wanted her off. He breathed like a frightened rabbit, and she could hear, distantly, the sound of his racing pulse.

Her stomach growled.

Throwing herself off him, Marion turned on the larger boy with a sour look on her face. As soon as she was off of Eshan, it was like she had completely forgotten he existed in the room. After dusting off her kneecaps, which had previously fallen through the floor and were now scraped where the wood split open her trousers and sliced her skin, Marion marched forward and took the brandy. Tossing her head back, she took a long swallow from the bottle, and wiped her mouth with her wrist when she was done.

“Hey, Tinker-Toy,” she said, “have a drink. Mea culpa, and all that shit.” Though she extended the bottle toward him, it was without any semblance of warmth or invitation. She actually seemed to be mocking him; she had a feeling he wouldn’t take the bottle knowing that anyone else’s mouth had been on it.

Then she turned to the larger boy, Griffin, who had entered and kept her from pulverizing the little wimp. A knowing grin spread across her face.

“I heard you called me a little bitch.”
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


He took the bottle, looking at the scant amount left for a moment. Rather than drinking from the bottle directly, he poured a couple swallows into a flask and set the bottle aside.

He had been disheveled by the scuffle. Not that his clothing had been anything too impressive, but it had been one of his best sets. He'd found a light jacket of dark olive cloth with the sleeves rolled tidily to the elbow, just heavy enough to help keep the bite of Balefire's chill off. His shirt and pants were simple things, a tan and dark brown-grey respectively.

Screwing the lid of his flask tight, he slipped it into a pocket and got to his feet, brushing dust and dirt off his pants as best he could. Taking off his jacket to dust off the back showed his too-skinny frame, even for an orphan. He even went as far as to pull a small rag from a jacket pocket, bending down to scrub at a couple of dirty spots.

Doing so caused the back of his shirt to ride up, showing part of his lower back. Little line scars speckled here and there, growing denser as they went up under the shirt. Whip marks.

Eshan wasn't looking at either of them when he thought they were looking his way, but gradually kept drifting to the girl and coloring a little. His pulse slowed as he tidied himself almost compulsively. Folding his jacket, he lay it beside his tools neatly, adjusting a protruding sleeve away.

Walking back to the bottle of brandy, he wetted a clean corner of his rag and wiped down the mouth and neck of the bottle, making sure it was sanitary before he took a pull himself.

He started coughing right away.

His eyes watered at the burn, face twisting as he forced himself to keep the drink down.

Griffin sneered his way. "Tinker tell you that? Going to trust a halfwit's word over your family's?"

Eshan's flush deepened, standing a little closer to Marion. He mumbled something inaudible.

"What's that?"

Eshan's gaze found its way to the rafters. "Family should respect each other." His head jerked to Griffin, grey eyes stormy as he made eye contact. He held it, far longer than was comfortable between strangers. "You're taller than she is and you aren't very nice either. Does that make yoy a big bitch?"
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


That Tinker might have made it up hadn't occurred to her. Griffin's sneer cut through her; at once she felt ridiculously small and stupid for having believed what must have been a blatant attempt to arouse unrest amongst the ragtag group. In an attempt to cover for her mildly bruised pride (how could she ever have thought poorly of people who accepted her?), Marion shot Tinker a smug smirk while he coughed on the brandy. With this expression on her face, she looked like the cat who had cornered the mouse and was in no hurry to make a final strike.

And then Tinker asked if Griffin was the big bitch, and Marion burst into a loud, harsh laughter that filled the entire warehouse with its staccato ring. Her laugh was low-pitched, powerful; it came right from her belly with a mean-spirited edge. Thrusting her hand out, she grabbed Griffin's shoulder in a gesture that was meant to hold him back and offer her support while she doubled at the waist with the force of her joy.

When at last she gathered herself—which took some time—Marion could not wipe a shiteating grin from her face. "Yeah, he's the big bitch, all right," she confirmed, looking not at Tinker but at Griffin. Winking at her fellow thief, Marion squeezed his shoulder in a veiled warning—Let that one go, it was too good—before making her way over to the table and shrugging off her coat.

Tinker wasn't the only scrawny one. Marion had muscle, a more decidedly athletic build, but there wasn't much extra weight on her. Her loose fitting, age-worn clothes could only somewhat obscure the true size of her figure. Finding someone who trusted her enough to let her feed from them wasn't easy. Her parents wouldn't feed her; they preferred to lock her in the basement or in a closet when she got hungry. There was only one blood vendor in Balefire who she trusted not to spike the stuff. In an effort to eat without hurting anyone, she often just went without eating.

Marion began to empty its pockets onto the table. A diamond necklace. A ruby necklace. Amethyst, emerald, pearl. Two gold rings. She gestured to the night's winnings with pride.

"Should be able to trade these in for a good bit of coin," she said. "And I figured if we're sneaking into the Coher estate, well, this crap might help us look like we belong. Well. Help me look like I belong. I didn't know how much sneaking around we'd have to do." With a shrug of her shoulders, she looked between Griffin and Tinker.

"When are we getting on with this, anyway? Hasn't he got a bed time?" She gestured to Tinker, smiling meanly. "Don't want him turning into a pumpkin."
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Hearne
Member Avatar


Eshan wore a perplexed look as Marion burst out laughing, looking between them for a moment before giving a shrug. The matter seemingly defused, he let himself have a little smile as he moved back to the table, lifting a bag from the floor onto the table across from the girl as she unpacked her pockets. He skimmed her frame with a frown, small smile fading away into a grim look as he packed away his tools and jacket. Gooseflesh covered his arms, but he didn't seem to mind the cold at all.

Griffin looked angry enough to chew nails, but at Marion's hold and comments he eased a little. Relaxing some, he frowned at the boy, shaking his head and plucking the bottle of brandy off the floor where Eshan had left it. "Tomorrow evening. Supposedly that pumpkin's running the show. Ask him whatever you want, I'm heading out for the night." He passed by the pair, grabbing up the gold rings on his way by and smirking at Marion. "These should pay for a few good drinks."

Eshan watched the boy go, having no problem watching his back as he lifted another object from the case. This one was long, roughly an armspan. Setting it on the table with a heavy thump, he unwrapped a bulky crossbow, the bow folded in and metal blackened with oil to hide most of the shine. Resting a hand on the crossbow's grip tenderly, he watched Griffin a moment before easing and looking over Marion's take for the night.

"These are very nice. You're going to have trouble getting rid of them. It will take too long to fence." He shrugged self-consciously, beginning to oil and clean the crossbow without consideration for where he was. Where he touched it his hand no longer trembled, his movements seeming stronger and steadier.

"Do you want to go out tonight? I need to get something for the job tomorrow."

His intent look at the bow and not anywhere near the girl, along with the pink tinge to his ears, were the only obvious tells to his thoughts. He was burning with embarassment, not so much from asking a girl to accompany him tonight as much as asking anything of anyone.

"It's okay if you don't. I can get it." He was a little easier now, without so many people around.
Edited by Hearne, Sun Oct 15, 2017 5:38 am.
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


Marion rolled her eyes at Griffin as he picked up the rings and walked out. Everything came back to drinking with those boys. Brandy, whiskey, wine, beer, ale, mead, absinthe. Alcohol swallowed all their earnings, as if there wasn't anything else in the world more deserving of the coin two gold rings could fetch.

Even after he left, Marion stared at the door.

"I could have eaten every day for a month with those," Marion said. "And he's going to buy drinks." And not even invite her. Frowning deeply, she recalled what Tinker had said, that family ought to respect each other. Time and time again she proved just what she could do for this ragtag group of outcasts; time and time again they reaped the benefits of her hard work.

Marion looked at the crossbow Tinker freely cleaned up in front of her, then at the jewelry. "What am I supposed to do? Eat it? Someone will buy." Her voice was harsher for her new frustrations. She should have kept the rings. There were still a few pieces of jewelry in the coat that she hadn't revealed, pieces that might be easier to sell or pawn, but gold was gold. And she'd been stupid enough to let Griffin have it.

The invitation caught her completely by surprise.

The other boys never asked her so politely if she would join them. It was always Mari, come on!, or Mari will go for us!, or Don't be a pissbaby, Mari, go on then. It didn't bother her any; if they tasked her with a job she really didn't want, she could push and shove and insult her way out of it. The fact that Tinker gave her an option not to go without making her fight about it was what sealed her decision.

"You're only asking me to go because you've never had a girl on top of you before."

Stuffing the jewelry back into her inside pockets—she wasn't about to leave it here—Marion pulled her coat back on, buttoned it up to guard against the night's chill, and fastened its fabric belt.

"I'm Marion. You can call me Mari."
Edited by Marion, Sun Oct 15, 2017 6:01 am.
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Tinker
No Avatar


"I don't think that would be wise." He looked dubiously at the necklaces, checking the catch that sprung out the bows, locking them firmly in place. Sighting down it, he nodded and folded the bows back in, clipping a strap to the butt and front, folding it all up and tucking it back into the bag. He moved mechanically, each task separate and precise.

Throwing the bag over a shoulder, he didn't seem swayed by the weight of its contents. Wiping his hands off on his brandy-dampened corner of the rag he tucked it into a pocket, turning to look over Rude Girl's shoulder.

Her statement made him pause for a moment, brow twitching in the start of a frown. Then in a creeping wave he began to turn crimson from the neck up, face heating magnificently.

"I would like someone... bigger than I am to carry my parts. You seem good for that much, at least. A little skinny for my liking, but you'll have to do." His eyebrows lifted, eyes flicking around the room, never resting on one point for more than a second or two at a time.

"Most people call me Tinker. My name is Eshan though." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, hunching against the cool night air and heading for the side door, opposite that which the boys had used to leave.

Heading into the night, his eyes darted to every alley they passed, on the lookout for anyone crouching in wait. Every lantern could be a Sheriff on the lookout, every cast shadow could be hiding a Dancer. Balefire's streets were never quite empty.

Shortly after leaving the clockyower came into view, towering over the structures around it. He paused to look at it, a small smile spreading. "Someday I'm going to get to go into the clocktower. I wanted to work there when I grew up, but there's too much work to do. The family needs me." He looked back at Mari, a frown on his face.

"When did you die?"
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
Marion
Member Avatar


The satisfying click of her boots against the pavement somehow mirrored the look on her face. A sly, toothless smirk coiled on her lips, and her eyes were smug with the acquisition of new knowledge. Tinker had blushed from his neck to his ears. A shy, sensitive, inexperienced thing—the kind of boy Balefire could eat alive, even after the Taming. Eat alive. He was alive, gloriously alive, and full of blood that could heat and color him, full of blood that could feed her—

Marion's stomach twisted with anticipation. Flicking her gaze to the clock tower, Marion focused on its giant hands and magnificent spires in an attempt to force her focus elsewhere. Pausing on the corner to watch the tower, she saw the minute hand groan forward, then kept following Eshan.

"[removed] your family," said Marion. "Come on. This life is yours. If you want the clock tower, why are you here? What's your family ever done for you?" That he cared so much about family bewildered her. Most of the boys in the ragtag group were orphans, bastards, or wished that they were. She was no different. Part of the reason she'd come with him was because, if she didn't, she had two options: spend the night in the gutter, or go home. "That includes the guys. What've they ever done for you?"

They'd never done anything for her, but Griffin called them her family. Sometimes she felt like they were an improvement from the family she was stuck with by blood. Other times she felt that the guys weren't so different from her parents after all.

She didn't shy away from his question.

"Born dead," she said. "My whole life, dead." She never had a heartbeat. Food that interested babies and living humans never interested her. Her parents had known how to help her, but at every turn they refused to do so. "I couldn't tell you why. One of those creepy Balefire things, I guess."

Hunger nagged her more steadily now. After a couple moments of deliberating, she said, "Hey, Tink, on the way back we've got to make a stop. I've got to see my vendor." She grinned. "Maybe he'll take a necklace as payment."
Offline Profile Quote To Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Fully Featured & Customizable Free Forums
Go to Next Page
« Previous Topic · Balefire, the City of Lanterns · Next Topic »
Reply

Top RP SitesVote for Imythess at Top Site List Planet
Top Site Lists
Misty Woods created by Helena & Cory of ZNR